#this is the coworkers get along well show

[peppermintquartz]

Christopher calls Denny the day after the latter is allowed to go home.

"Hey man," Denny says. "You missed a lot here for Halloween. Didja go trick or treating in El Paso?"

Chris hums. "Nah. Didn't feel like it. I'm glad you're okay. What did you go as?"

"I was the Scarecrow from Wizard of Oz," Denny says, putting his phone on speaker so he can reach for the stick he's using to scratch inside his cast. "Mara was Dorothy and Jee was Toto. My mom was the Lion."

"Sounds awesome. Send me some photos."

Denny knows he isn't supposed to ask, but he's curious, and Chris is his friend. "Hey, why are you in Texas anyway? It was so sudden. I'd have gone over and helped you pack if I knew you were going away, y'know? And maybe play a couple games before you left."

Chris laughs, but it's an ugly sound, like he doesn't find anything funny. "My dad screwed up. I didn't wanna stay where he is, he's just... He hasn't even apologized, can you believe that? He said, and I quote, 'I didn't mean for you to see this'. He's embarrassed that I saw him kissing my dead mom. I don't think he even thinks that it was wrong in the first place."

That's a lot to process. Denny lets the words sink in, but one phrase keeps popping up.

"Your dead mom?"

"Not her like in a corpse kinda way. Some bitch that looks exactly like her." The bitterness is new, and so is the language. Chris inhales sharply. "Sorry. Got angry there."

"Yeah, no, I mean, I'd be angry too." Denny knows he can't pry further and he can't share this knowledge with his mothers. "But, on the topic of dead bodies, did you hear about the corpse of the cowboy Buck brought into the station? Man, I wish I'd seen it, that must've been so cool!"

"How does he even find a dead cowboy?" Chris cackles on the other end of the line. "Seriously, dude, he gets into all the weirdest situations."

"Oh, you're lucky you didn't see his boils. They were so gross. I can't believe I saw his boyfriend kissing him while he's got, like, a dozen pus-filled boils on his face. Ugh."

"Ewww! That is disgusting," Chris chimes in, laughing. "Hey, but Tommy's cool, right?"

Denny grins and looks down at the doodles all over his casts. He misses Chris. "Dude, I gotta send you a photo of the chopper he drew. He's super cool." After a pause, he adds, "You coming back to LA?"

Chris pauses too. "I don't know, Denny. It's nice being here."

Sighing, Denny says, "Well, don't forget, you're also my friend, ok? We gotta call or text regularly. I'm not losing the best gamer friend I have to Texas."

"You're stuck at home the next few weeks, yeah? I'll send you my schedule, we'll arrange to play a couple games."

"Alright!" Denny hears the key in the door, and his mom calls out a greeting from the kitchen. "Hey, I gotta hang up. Unless you wanna say hey to my mom?"

"Nah. Bye, Denny."

"Bye Chris."

[beloveds-embrace]

Fuck it, we ball, I hope that disrespectful anon gets hemorrhoids and they can't get them removed until next year, AND that their insurance doesn't cover it. I'm here thinking about your Omega idea where omegas normally do the pursuing, but with a slight twist; the boys being the omegas. An alpha who is for sure down bad for the boys, but thinks "ah, theyre out of my league, I should be aiming lower, manage my expectations". Only 141 is just as down bad for them, and they're doing everything just short of screaming "PICK UP ON THE HINTS, COME INTO OUR HOUSE AND BEDS AND LIVES AND STAY FOREVER PLEASE"

Johnny is about to say fuck decorum and just show up in reader's house wearing nothing but a ribbon and a tag that says 'free to a good home' (your home is the good one, please keep him, there is no receipt so you can't return him).

Price has the brain cell normally in terms of trying to gently coax you into getting you to say you're into them, he has a 15 step plan that may or may not involve using his various contacts to get you spending more time in close proximity to them. Also he for some reason is always baking, he always comes over asking you for sugar? (He'll take any kind of 'sugar' you're willing to offer, he loves making a variety of cream pies)

Gaz is always gently inviting them to attend 'friend' things, things that could be a date but that he can excuse as 'well we're coworkers/friends/neighbors, we should get along :)'. It's just a coincidence that various other people seem to bail except for any of the other boys, now why don't you sit beside him so you guys can share popcorn at the movies (you both always seem to be reaching for it at the same time, if your fingers touched anymore you might as well be holding hands)

Simon is chasing off any omegas he thinks are a threat to them getting reader, that is THEIR alpha, paws OFF (rip to anyone reader was halfheartedly going on dates with, this man is gonna become those people's sleep paralysis demon)

Hope you enjoy!! :3 💕💕 i lovedddd writing this sm omg

See, the thing is, you’d always thought of yourself as a decent Alpha. Not overbearing, not egotistical, not a demanding freak- just capable and steady. But you weren’t extraordinary. Not the kind of Alpha Omegas like them would look at twice. And so, while you worked alongside the men of Task Force 141 you convinced yourself to be content with just admiring them from a distance.

You couldn’t help it. They were perfect, as far as you were concerned. Perfect, and fully out of your league.

Surely, Omegas like them would want someone better. Someone stronger. You’d told yourself that so many times it was practically your mantra, the only way you’d be able to stop yourself from pursuing them. They deserved someone more charismatic, more confident- an Alpha who could match their brilliance. Not someone like you, fumbling through conversations with them, struggling to keep your feelings in check.

But they’d already decided. They didn’t need a flashy Alpha or someone who tried too hard. What they wanted was you. The only problem? You didn’t seem to realize it, no matter how obvious they made it.

John took the lead, naturally. He knew you were cautious and perhaps a little insecure when it came to relationships (it was fucking visible in you, silly Alpha. He scoffs each time you draw back, frustrated), so he made it his mission to draw you in- slowly and subtly. His plan was meticulous: get you comfortable, build trust, and create opportunities for you to spend more time with them so you’d see that they only want you.

Maybe then you’d break out of that stupid shell you’ve put yourself in.

He’d started baking regularly, a habit you hadn’t even known he had. At least once a week, he’d show up at your place with a tin of cookies, a loaf of fresh bread, or a perfectly golden pie. “Thought I’d share,” he’d say casually, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. He peers at you, letting his scent coil just a bit more. “I hope you don’t mind the amount of cream. I happen to like cream pies a lot.”

The way to an Alpha’s heart is through their stomach, and all that.

If he wasn’t offering you baked goods, he was asking for your help to make said baked goods. “Ran out of sugar again,” he’d sigh, handing you an empty container. “Mind sparing a bit?”

It was ridiculous, downright unbelievable how often he supposedly ran out of baking supplies. But his visits became a highlight of your week, and the lingering looks he gave you left your heart pounding long after he was gone.

The one time he’d handfed you, watching you lick the syrup from his fingers with half-lidded eyes, still lives in your mind rent-free.

Kyle took a softer, more personal approach. He wasn’t above using the pretense of friendship to spend time with you, often inviting you to casual dates- grabbing coffee, going to the movies, or just walking through town and shopping. Every invitation was framed innocently, but there was always a little extra effort behind it. He’d pick a movie he knew you’d like, suggest places he knew you’d find interesting, and ensure that others you unfortunately knew joined just enough to make it seem less like a date.

Somehow, though, those other people always mysteriously canceled. It was never anything dramatic- just a sudden cold, a scheduling conflict, or a “something came up, sorry.” Eventually, it would be just you and a very smug Kyle, sitting close enough that your knees brushed or reaching for popcorn at the same time. Once, right as the bowl emptied and you both reached for it, Kyle simply thought fuck it and held your hand.

On one occasion, you both shared a bowl of spaghetti and ended up with the scene from the Lady and the Tramp.

It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Except you.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Kyle muttered to Johnny one evening after you left, both of them sitting in the spot you were in, bathing in the leftover warmth and scent. “How can they not notice?”

Speaking of Johnny; he’s barely keeping himself together. Subtlety in missions are a must sometimes, but he doesn’t want to that with you anymore. He was just so, so, so frustrated with your obliviousness. What more does he need to do to show you that he- that they- want you?

He’s been dropping so many hints; half-jokes about Omegas waiting begging to be swept off their feet, suggestive winks when you compliment him in that lovely, adoring tone of yours. Once, while watching a romantic tv show, he’d sighed loudly and very pointedly said: “If only someone would claim me.”

“If ye don’t figure it out soon,” he growled at the others one night, pacing back and forth like a wild beast and probably on his way to leave a dent in the carpet, “I’m showin’ up at their doorstep with nothin’ but a red bow, like some bloody Christmas prezzie, I swear to god.”

John sighs, rolling his eyes. “You do that, and I’m leaving you on their porch.”

“That’s exactly what I’m askin’ for!”

Simon took the quietest but most direct approach. Just not exactly direct towards you. While the others worked to get closer to you, Simon focused on eliminating what he saw as obstacles: other Omegas who thought you were free for the taking. It didn’t matter if they were serious or just someone you’d gone on a casual date with- Simon saw them all as threats.

He didn’t have to say much to scare them off. A single cold glare from across the room, sharp bursts of his scent, or a low, menacing comment was usually enough to send them packing. He didn’t care if it was excessive.

You were his Alpha. You were their Alpha, and no one else had a right to you.

But even Simon softened when it came to you. He couldn’t put all his thoughts, all his feelings into words, so he did them with his actions. Quiet protectiveness, gentle, careful touches. Moments of fleeting vulnerabilities shared between you and him.

He was always there for you. Even if you didn’t know you need him with you.

Still, despite all their efforts, you remained convinced that they weren’t interested.

In the end, to no one’s surprise, it’s Johnny who snaps. Johnny, so close to his heat, so absolutely done with your obliviousness and the Omegas that aren’t them talking with you when you should be only focused on them.

He doesn’t care; leaves the carefully made nest with your stolen shirts and none of the others stop him when he just. Drags your surprised self to the nest.

“Johnny! You-“

“I want you.” He hisses, bares his teeth all sharp and desperate. “We want you. And damn it, we will have you.”

And well, who are you to even say no when this is all you have wanted?

[stealingyourbones]

DPxDC the Olympics AU.

Jazz is competing for sharpshooting

Dick is competing for team gymnastics

Y’all can work it out from there :)

[lovealwayssay]

When I die, I want to come back as a male actor on the show Supernatural.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Guy who won’t stop pitching surreal plots for Star Trek Voyager: Hey guys what if there was an episode of Star Trek Voyager where Tuvok and B’Elanna had to take care of each other’s childhood selves (because of alien bullshit) while trying to make their way back to the ship and each other after a shuttle crash?

[dykedragons]

bro talking w other queer + autistic ppl is rlly a healing thang... like at work im usually pretty quiet and masking all the time but then i met an acquaintance who also works there (different department, i never see them) and it was like oh yeah! haha! im alive again! i remember how to speak! amazing!

[kitkatt0430]

Tales of Symphonia was the first game I played in the Tales series which I've been hooked on ever since. It was probably the first video game i played with queer coding in it, most notably in the form of Zelos Wilder absolutely flirting with Lloyd.

The game came out originally on the Game Cube and it had two disks so I knew when I rented it the first time that I was not gonna finish it before I had to return the game. I wasn't really sure what I was getting into play style-wise, but the description on the back of the game sounded like the kind of fantasy novels I loved to read so I figured it was worth giving a try. I was hooked.

I was in high school at the time and my sister was off at college so it was fairly easy to negotiate having the tiny tv brought up to my room and to bring up the GameCube too. My parents were likely replaying something on the N64 (Ocarina of Time or Banjo Kazooie maybe?) so they were fine with me playing in my room since they trusted me to get my homework done on time.

It was definitely a near thing, though. But I didn't want them taking away the tv + video games in my room privileges. So homework was done.

Anyway, I convinced my parents to let me rent the game for another week after the first week was done and they did. But they wouldn't just buy the game for me. My mom wasn't super thrilled with it since during week number 2 of renting I did have to bring the GameCube back down since Mom wanted to play... Starfox Adventures? Maybe? Could have been Windwaker. Whatever. And, uh, during my turn to play she may have heard Lloyd drop the very few big cuss word in the game when he called someone a bastard. (Actually might be the only time a cuss word of that magnitude is used, but it has been a while since I last played.) So she didn't want to buy it for me and dad was like 'convince your mom'.

But Grandma sent me money for my birthday that year. So guess who used their birthday money to buy Tales of Symphonia for themself and just got an amused, if somewhat frustrated, sigh from their mother about it? Hahahaha

I've replayed that game so many times and I still adore it. There's a lot of cliches, but it's very much a cliches done well type storyline that subverts expectations in interesting ways. There's so many layers to everything in the game. And also if the right titles get earned you can use the characters as dress up dolls.

It's at it's core a game about everyone having the right to live. No matter how different they may be. And that's something worth fighting for, be it for one person or a whole world. I mean... is there any wonder I got obsessed with this game when that's its message?

[victory-cookies]

fighting for my life trying to find someone to come see mbmbam with me

[alienzil]

Nanny Danny

“That is a whole ass baby,” was the only thought running through Lex Luthor’s head when the scientist proudly showed him the tube containing Project KR. It was not remotely the sort of thing he would normally think and most definitely not what he had expected to be thinking the first time he saw the clone.

He’d been pleased when he’d read the reports indicating the success of KR after years of failures. Lex had poured millions of dollars and literally his own blood into ensuring a clone of the alien could be made, one that would be under his total control instead of the unknown aspirations of Superman.  He’d wanted to see the fruits of his labors personally but this…

It. No, not an it. He scrunched his tiny face and smacked his lips and…did he smirk? Was that HIS SMIRK on that baby’s face?! No. No. Babies this small didn’t smile or smirk. They passed gas and their sleep deprived and addled parents mistook it for an intelligent response. He’d heard enough inane conversations in the Lexcorp office about the various progeny of his employees to pick up on that but still. This child had Kryptonian DNA, not to mention his own contribution. Surely, he was far more advanced than the dribbling potato shaped lump of an infant whose pictures he’d been forced to smile and nod over when Mark from accounting had rudely shoved them in his face at the last quarterly budget meeting. Yes, that was definitely a smirk. His, that was his smirk.

“So as you can see its growth is well within expected parameters and we’re planning to start phase one of accelerating the maturation process tomorrow once the testing is do-”

“Take him out.”

“Sir? The testing can all be accomplished while it remains in the tube. There’s no need to-”

“I said, take him out. The project is cancelled.”

“What?! Mr. Luthor you can’t!”

“I think you’ll find I can. Now get me my son.”

*****

Two years later

“Call them again”

“Sir, I’ve called them seven times. They won’t answer.”

“Then call another agency!”

“There isn’t another agency, Sir”

Lex glared at his assistant who stared back at him impassively. Mercy stood by the door staring off into the distance and pretending she didn’t notice him being bested by his own secretary.

He stopped himself from shouting again and took a deep breath before asking, “Then what, exactly, do you propose I do Mrs. Anderson? Adjust my entire schedule around naptimes? Find a toddler size lab coat and safety goggles and bring my son with me to tour the new clean energy project on Thursday? Perhaps buy a tiny business suit while I’m at it for the next board meeting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, Mr. Luthor. I’m telling you that no childcare agency in Metropolis will return my calls anymore. Most won’t even answer.  You’ve gone through 27 nannies in the last 3 months. You need someone better suited to your son’s…special needs.”

Lex snorted. “Special needs might be a bit of understatement. He can lift a car over his head and his favorite word right now is No.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Thank you for…clarifying the situation, Marjorie. If there’s nothing else, you can leave.”

His secretary didn’t move. She looked at him like she was waiting for something and now that he was paying attention, he saw she was holding a file.  “Did you have a suggestion?”

Looking pleased with herself she responded, “Actually, yes, I did.”

“Well?”

She set the file on his desk and flipped it open. He looked down at the first page and raised an eyebrow, “What am I looking at here?”

“This,” she responded pulling out the top set of papers and spreading them out, “is the employee file and background check for Daniel J. Fenton, an intern that started in our engineering department about 4 months ago. He has one sibling, two parents and several close friends he regularly meets with. His current supervisor has nothing but good things to say about him and reports he gets along well with all his coworkers.”

She set out the next set of papers, neatly arranging them on the desk to be easily seen. “These are newspaper articles and screenshots of social media posts regarding a small town vigilante locally known as Phantom. The same small town, Mr. Fenton is from coincidentally. Also coincidentally, Phantom made his first appearance only a few weeks after Mr. Fenton was involved in a minor accident in his parent’s home laboratory when he was 14, the medical records for the incident are included.”

“Hmm,” Lex said observing several photos of Phantom and a younger Fenton arranged in order of similar poses and facial expressions and printed out side by side.

“Finally,” she said handing him the last set of papers directly, “this would be a report from the lab Mr. Fenton works in from an incident that happened yesterday. A test with a new protype went wrong and started a fire. Everyone evacuated per protocol when the alarms went off but one of the other interns was working on a programming issue off to the side of the lab while wearing headphones and didn’t hear the alarm or notice the fire. Mr. Fenton noticed his absence and returned to the lab to get him out.” She stopped talking and let him look at the last several pages in the file, a series of photographs of the lab.

“Is this ice?”

“Yes, it is. It’s several inches thick and covers half of the lab. It completely put out the fire leaving minimal damage.”

“This machine was moved?”

“It was. It was very close to the flames and would have required replacement if exposed to extreme heat or cold. That particular piece of equipment also weighs several thousand pounds and was bolted to the floor.”

Lex read through everything in detail then clasped his hands under his chin and stared at the photo of Daniel Fenton for several moments before turning back to his waiting secretary.

“Have HR send Mr. Fenton up. I’d like to offer him a promotion.”

[silly-mode-cilia]

today's happiness is my coworkers being as happy to see me around campus as i am to see them <3 <3 <3

[deadsetobsessions]

Ghost King Phantom was an odd addition to the League. J’onn was often the last to find others odd but from the get-go, Phantom was the only quiet spot he’d have in his telepathic field. At first, it was off putting as most of the people that slipped beyond the reach of his immediate field tended to be villains and the like. But as Phantom remained in the Justice League, J’onn had come to learn to appreciate the calm spot in the turbulent sea of his friends’ and coworkers’ thoughts.

“You have taken to me faster than the others. Why is that?”

Phantom hummed purringly, another peculiar sound that J’onn had yet to see any of his human or alien heroes recreate with any success. They sat at their usual spot, face facing the cosmos and backs guarded by their friends. Plus, J’onn and Phantom could look directly into the sun without painfully loosing their sight.

“I guess I’ve always been fond of the stars. Of space, and everything in it. What about you? Why did we become friends so fast?”

J’onn shook his head, a human motion he’d learned a long time ago to imitate. “No, we became slower friends than most, as my telepathic abilities allow for easier communication and understanding of one another’s motives. With the exception of Batman but I have found he is often the exception to most expectations.”

“That checks out,” King Phantom laughed. “Well, I’m glad we became friends. It’s very cool to meet a Martian. Space is one of my Obsessions, you see.”

J’onn nodded. “I see. I am sorry that I am the only Martian you will meet.”

“You are?”

J’onn nodded again, slower. Sadder. His facial muscles, in this form, does not imitate human patterns well and he knew that most people could not pick out his emotions without his verbal expression.

Intuition tells J’onn that Phantom knew regardless.

“Would you mind telling me what happened?” His voice is gentle, the emotions that Phantom pushes at him are gentle and questing, but not demanding. It has been a long time since anyone has asked him of memories he clung to. And so, J’onn J’onzz speaks in the way that was natural to him, the way his people communicated.

With his mental voice flowing into Phantom’s head, J’onn tells him of the wonders that used to be his home. He provided images and sounds of how his home shone as the sun rose, how the shadows that fell when the sun dipped beneath the horizon felt as comforting as a Martian’s first telepathic cradle. He tells Phantom of his twin brother, grief and agony entwined in the memories of someone he had loved. He spoke of his wife and their daughter, and their cozy home on the windswept plains of Mars.

King Phantom sat still with him as the Watch-Tower moved along, around a king and his friend who was recounting the stagnant grief of his past.

J’onn tells him of the virus, borne of his twin’s hatred, and how he watched everything around him burn. How he had desperately tried to prevent his wife and daughter from using their telepathic abilities. He spoke of his failures. He wove together a tapestry of insanity and grief, built upon the burning bodies of his wife and their beloved daughter. He tells Phantom how the Mars now was just ashes and dust of his former home. How he could not look upon the planet and not see the shades of his wife and daughter and parents and friends, walking upon a barren planet that no longer held anything familiar to the last Martian.

Phantom had hummed again, a soothing rumble. Sadness dripped from the edges of his consciousness.

“If it was not for the Doctor, I would be dead and shattered.” J’onn spoke for the first time in three hours. “It is… less painful to live. I have purpose.”

“I am glad that you are not either of those things.” Phantom stood. “Come with me. I have to show you something.”

J’onn trusted Phantom, and thus followed the king into the glowing green portal.

They flew past many doors, Phantom often glancing at him before shaking his head and changing directions.

They stopped at a door that felt familiar. J’onn knew it from somewhere.

“Go ahead, open the door. But know that you can’t stay long. You don’t belong to this realm quite yet. Not for quite a while.” Phantom moves, hand gesturing towards the door without a knob.

“How..?”

“How else? You have telekinesis, don’t you?”

J’onn blinked. Right. He opened the door and- oh.

The door warped with the screaming storm of grief and love and oh-how-I’ve-missed-you that J’onn unleashed.

Because there in front of him were M’yri’ah and K’hym, his wife and daughter.

The door was an imitation of his home, back when he had not known true loss.

“Impossible,” he stumbled back.

“You are in the realm of the dead. You didn’t think the title of the Ghost King was for fun, did you, J’onn?” Phantom smiled and- a move J’onn would definitely engage in petty payback for, later after he’d gotten over the shock- pushed him flying right into the room.

M’yri’ah and K’hym cradled him with telepathic swirls of love and husband!-dad!-love-love-love-safe!

And J’onn shuddered and gathered the his world in his arms to say goodbye.

——

[sexlapis]

✧. ┊  5 TIMES YOU SAT ON NANAMI’S LAP

── .✦ nanami kento x gn!reader

s4w, fluff, cuddling, teasing, petnames, hand feeding, ooc nanami, sitting on nanami’s lap

⤷ nanami’s lap is your favourite seat. luckily for you, he is fine with being your…chair.

based off this post

a/n: #needthat #wantthat #sexyman #hotguy

[_____] = your name

masterlists

*

1 - NAP TIME

The rain droplets pelleting on the living room windows is what wakes you up, along with the deep chuckle of thunder that follows shortly afterwards.

One second it was all sunny with bright skies and now, it is dim and dark, and the only light in the room emanates from the television.

You do not remember putting this show on. You don’t remember falling asleep on the couch, either.

“Oh, look who’s awake.”

You sit up and there Nanami is, sitting opposite you on the couch, in his comfortable loungewear.

“Hey, I was watching that…” You mumble tiredly. A yawn escapes you. You rub your eyes.

“You were asleep when I came back, you know.”

“Yeah but…” you trail off. “When did you even come back?”

“An hour ago. I was excited to get my ‘welcome home’ kiss but instead, here you were; fast asleep and snoring like a bear.”

“I do not snore like a bear!”

Nanami grins and rests his back on the couch. “Don’t I get my kiss now?”

“…You called me a bear.”

“No, I said you sounded-“”

“Yeah, whatever, that’s the same thing.”

“Well, not r-“”

He’s interrupted by your unexpected crawl across the couch and sitting in his lap, covering the both of you with a blanket.

You rest your head on his shoulder.

“Do i still get my kiss-“”

“Oh shut up.”

2 - OFFICE HOURS

A knock on his door shocks Nanami out of his focus. “Come in.”

His office door opens and you appear, wearing your baggy pyjamas and dragging a blanket across the floor.

“_____…I’ve told you that you don’t need to knock. You’re the only other person who lives here.”

“Yeah, but it seems rude to just barge in so…” you waddle towards his desk where he sits, papers scattered all over his desk, “What are you doing?”

“Just some paperwork. Nothing interesting.”

“Yes, I know that part.” You respond to his last two words. “There’s a calculator…”

He lets out an amused huff. “What brings you here then?”

You shrug. “‘M bored…wanted to see what you were doing.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t think my paperwork will entertain you very much, baby.”

“Well…” You start. “I’m not exactly here for the paperwork…”

You’re now stood right beside Nanami and you peek at his empty lap.

Nanami notices. Nanami sighs.

He tucks out of his desk, just enough for his lap to be shown, and he only has to pat his thighs twice before your hopping right into it.

“Comfortable?” You shuffle in his lap, looking for the right position. It’s found, and you lean back to rest your back against his wide chest, blanket covering you legs.

“Yeah, I’m comfy.”

Nanami kisses your temple, and goes back to completing his work, which lulls you to sleep due to how absolutely boring it is.

3 - OVERTIME

Nanami heard keys fiddling with the door while he is on his laptop in the kitchen. He hears a loud, annoyed groan.

Must have been a long day for you.

Shoes are thrown onto the floor, along with your bag and your coat is flung onto the rack.

You trod to the doorway of the living room and Nanami’s sees how tired and disheveled you look.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You only respond with a grumble.

“Hard day?”

Another grumble from you.

“Do you want to tell me all about it?”

A jumpy grumble clambers out of your mouth as you dash over to him and plop down on his inviting lap.

“Ugh, Kenny…these people…”

He rubs circles on you back, gently coaxing the complaints out of you.

“They’re so…they’re just so stupid.”

Nanami can’t help but chuckle at your bluntness and your genuine sadness at your coworkers’s stupidity.

“Seriously, they are! And don’t even get me started on that damn boss.”

So Nanami listens to you rant about your dumb coworkers while he just relishes in having you sit in his lap.

4 - GATHERINGS

On the rare occasion that you and Nanami organise a friend and family gathering, this time in the form of a barbecue, it is a success.

More people than you were both expecting showed up and your backyard was filled with music, friends, family members, chatter, kids running around and the smell of mouth-watering, flavourful meat.

The gathering lasts from noon until late evening, at which most people have left and the only ones who still lingered were close friends.

“Kento.” You walked up to where he sat on the outdoor couch, speaking to one of his work colleagues whose name you have forgotten. Something beginning with a ‘H’, you think?

“Hey, sweetheart.” He pauses his conversation to talk to you. “Are you tired?”

You were tired. You had been preparing the food, offering the food, playing with the kids, speaking to guests and now you feel the weight of all your hard work.

“I did not expect that many people to show up…”

“No, me neither. You did a great job, baby.” He huffs with a shake of his head. He then spreads his legs, more than they already are. “Do you want to rest?”

You are in in lap before he even finishes his sentence. Seriously, he does not finish his sentence.

He smiles at your urgency, admiring how cute you look curled up in his lap, your cheek squished up against his chest.

He takes a knitted blanket and throws it over your body, protecting you from the slight chill in the night air.

Nanami continues to speak to his friend, quieter now that you’re here, and caresses the back of your neck.

5 - BREAKFAST

“Kento, I’m- what’s all this?”

After spending a short time searching for Nanami, you find him outside in your colourful, shared garden. He sits on the garden chair, and on the medium-sized round table is a well prepared, delectable breakfast.

“Hm? Oh. This is breakfast.”

“Breakfast? But Kenny, I-“” You look down at your phone, checking the time, “I have to get to work-“”

“Call in late.”

You frown. “But-“”

“It’s such a nice morning, isn’t it?” He looks to the sky, taking a sip of his tea before looking at you. “Spend it with me.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

It was warm outside with beams of sunlight peaking through the gaps of the blooming blossom tree Nanami is stationed under. A gentle breeze curled through the air, the harmonic birdsong twinkled in your ears and the aroma of sweet-scented pastries wafted under your nose.

It did not take much to convince you.

“Okay. I’ll stay, but remind me to leave in thirty minutes.”

Nanami exhales and smiles, all soft and tender. “I’m glad. Come here, take a seat.”

Your stomach rumbles as you walk to sit in the garden chair opposite Nanami. He stops you.

“Where are you going?”

“Uhm…to sit down?”

“Oh, no, no…come sit on Kento’s lap, sweetheart. I want you to try this danish pastry,” he breaks off a piece so you can have some, “it’s my mother’s recipe.”

Ignoring your heart skipping a beat at how he referred to himself, you sit on his thigh, and he wraps an arm around your hip. He holds the piece of pastry to your mouth.

“Try a piece.”

You open your mouth and allow him to place it on you tongue, you lips briefly touching his fingertips. You laugh a little, flustered as you chew on the sweet treat. He licks his fingertip, the same one your lips touched.

“Do you like it?”

“Hmm! It’s very sweet!” You are glad you said yes to this. Work could handle you being a little late.

“Good.” Nanami shuffles forward in his chair, bringing you closer to the table of food. He kisses your shoulder and runs his hands up and down your waist. “Come on, eat up. You have a long day ahead of you.”

Nanami did not remind you to leave in those thirty minutes.

*

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

[dxxdhood]

drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse. 

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth. 

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element. 

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible. 

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible–  a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade’s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat. 

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s  powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs. 

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up. 

[misserabella]

through your clothes

spencer reid x fem! reader

summary; it was supposed to be professional in between the two of you, but a night alone in the BAU makes it difficult for the two of you to keep your hands off each other

cw; +18 content!, minors dni!!, previous kissing, making out, lots of sexual tension, two idiots pining for months, age gap (about ten years), post! jail! spencer, teasing, voyeurism(?), lots of lingering glances, sex over the clothes, dry humping, almost getting caught, switch spencer and reader!, dirty talking, hair pulling, spencer cums in his pants, non-graphic oral sex (fem! receiving), praising….

along the last couple of months in which you’ve become part of the BAU, this… tension with one of your coworkers had grown. it was a craving, a crush. he was handsome, always prancing on his tight suits, curls perfectly combed and his glasses on the bridge of his nose. he was intelligent, too intelligent, a true genius. his grand knowledge attracted you, made you shaky and hot, your eyes glued to his lips when he would rant about scientific facts. it was impossible to not like him. not want to take him from his tie and pull him down against your lips, kiss him until his glasses would fog up and his mind would go absolutely blank.

but he was your superior. you shouldn’t feel this way about him. you should make no move towards or to him. you needed to keep it professional.

it was late at night, around 3AM. you’d stayed behind to continue working in this case… it was difficult to say the least, really challenging. there were a lot of pieces that didn’t fit. you were leaving your brains on it, your eyes heavy with sleep. but your body was tense. cause he was there too.

things had been a little uncomfortable since a night out with the whole team turned in the two of you having a couple of drinks and unknowingly ended up making out in a secluded space to not get caught. you two had brushed it off as a little tipsy mistake. you two had a great age difference, about 10 years, so it was clear that it most likely was a slip. but it was clear that things had changed.

the lights on his office were lit. seemed to be a late night for him as well. you sigh, yawning.

coffee. you needed a coffee.

while on the kitchen you decided to be kind and bring him some as well. he’d most likely needed it. something you liked about him was how much importance he gave his job and how hard he worked, even after jail. his life hadn’t been easy, but he still tried hard, and that was admirable.

you add his usual amount of sugar. if you were to try the beverage you’d most likely scrunch your face at its sweetness. but he liked it that way. he was a man with a sweet tooth. maybe that’s why spencer found himself being so attracted to you.

you were sweet. sweeter than his coffee, intelligent, attractive… a whole sunshine coming down on him after a hard time of pure rains and cloudy skies.

you take a sip of your coffee as you made your way towards his office, basking in the warmth of the liquid down your throat. you knock twice, waiting for his voice to ring in your ears and give you permission. when he does, you creek the door open.

“hey…” you meet his hazel eyes framed by his glasses. he looks tired. exhausted even. and tense. “brought you some coffee, thought you might need it.” he gives himself a moment while you talk to compose and focus himself, putting on his most professional face and pretending to be completely focused on work. he looks up at you, watching you enter the room and trying to pretend he's not already affected by the way you look and the way your outfits fits your body.

you’re wearing an office black skirt that almost reaches your knees and shows the curves of your hips and thighs along with a button up shirt, which’s upper buttons are unbuttoned to give yourself a breath and more comfort. the heels you wear seemed comfortable as you’d been wearing them the whole day, and added to your stature. they made you taller, but even with them you still had to look up at him to meet his eyes, something he found truly endearing.

“oh. thanks.” he gave you a soft smile as you handed him the cup of coffee, taking a sip. “i actually needed some, i was about to fall asleep.” he joked, and you giggled.

“working on the case?” he nodded. you took some of the files on his desk, leaving your cup of coffee aside. “doctor reid…what do you think about this unsub?” you question, taking a look at his profile. “i think something's definitely not right... something doesn’t fit…”

"yes, I was thinking the exact same thing..." he says, looking up at you as he leaned back in his leather chair to get a better look at the papers spread in front of him. he's trying his best to be professional, but can't help his eyes trailing quickly over your body as well. he cleared his throat. “his behavior is confusing. on some scenes he’s methodical, doesn’t commit mistakes, whereas on others he’s frantic, irresponsible and impulsive.”

you looked down at him, at his spread legs. his black suit pants perfectly fitted to his now more muscular thighs. he seemed to had gained strength while in jail. your mind wandered to the possibility of sitting down on them, on the muscle of his thighs in between your legs. “his mind is scattered…” you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to trail back to the matter.

he caught the way your eyes darkened as they settled over his spread legs. it was almost as if he could tell what you were thinking, his brown puppy eyes reading you like an open book. he had to bite back a groan at the sight of you pressing your teeth into the full flesh of your lip. he could almost remember taste the alcohol out of them he had been craving for weeks after your kiss.

"mhm...” he nods, humming. his tone sends shivers down your spine. you seem to have more on mind. “what’s on your mind?" his fingers come up to his glasses to push them up the bridge of his nose, your attention drifting to his large slim fingers before you got back to your trail of thought.

“uhm... well. he seems to be obsessed with his victims...” your words were dying quickly, your body crumbling underneath the tension that slowly drowned the two of you. your eyes trailed down to his crotch. there were so many scenarios running through your mind…

he feels heat pour into his veins under your gaze. your voice is getting rougher, your eyes glued to him. he wants to stand up and pull you into him, but he stays fixed in his seat. he can't take his eyes off of your darkened ones as he speaks.

keep it professional, reid.

"yeah... and?"

“and... uses them. like toys, just before dumping them.” a shiver runs down your spine at your words.

haring the shiver in your voice sends one up his spine in the same way. “he plays with them. enjoys the power of submitting them under him before his game ends.”

and even though he shouldn’t, he thinks about how it would be to use you like a toy, for you to submit to him.

"mhm..." He responds in a low hum, watching as you start to tremble before him. he leans back, getting more comfortable in his seat as he stares up at you. you don’t longer think the two of you are in the right space to talk about this murderer.

“doctor reid...” you called for him, his hazel eyes catching the last on yours as you stared at his spread legs. he watches from under hooded eyes as your gaze trails over that obvious bulge that has you so entranced.

“what is it, agent y/l/n?" he inquired letting the words escape low in his chest. his heart beats faster at the sound of you breathing in that title as you look down at him.

“what are you doing?” you breathe out, your whole body tingling with the need to move closer, to touch him.

"me?" He echoes back as if he's innocently confused, his tongue running over his lips as he looks up at you with feigned innocence on his face, on his hauntingly beautiful face. "just taking a seat, getting comfortable... working..." he's trying desperately not to give away the game, the hunt and teasing, even as he sees the way your eyes get even darker and more intense.

“yeah...” you coughed, looking away from his lips as his tongue dampening them had caught your attention. you could almost feel them against yours, feel his tongue in your mouth. “then maybe i should... i should get back to my desk. there's a lot of work i need to do and...”

he's practically shaking in his chair as you speak, his breath coming in a shudder as he hears you struggle to maintain your composure, the words you speak seeming to do nothing to keep that desire out of your voice.

"no... you should stay." he says gently, cutting you off, his voice dropping to a huskier tone as he looks up at you.

“what?” you shake, your throat drying up.

"just... stay. sit." he softly reached out and touched your hip to gently pull you in front of him. he lets his hand trail down your thigh, his touch making the skin under your skirt prickle.

“w-where...? there are no more chairs...” you stutter, your nervous eyes scanning the room. he was still moving into the office, he was lucky he had gotten a chair and desk.

he looks up at you through dark eyes, a tiny smirk on his face as he sees the effect his touch is having on you. he wanted more. he wanted to drive you crazy.

“i think you know exactly where, agent.” he softly says. “come, sit..." his hand trailing around to the back of your thighs to pull you as he speaks, moving you to settle comfortably in his lap. your cheeks flush, a whimper leaving your chest as your pussy lands right against his crotch.

he shivers at the feeling of your warmth and your weight against his thighs, having to bite down on his tongue to keep from groaning out loud at the feeling of your body His hands trace over your thighs, fingers digging into the skin of your legs as he relishes the feeling of you on him.

“we shouldn't be doing this...” you tried, breathing heavy. “that kiss... it was a mistake...”

he shook his head immediately at your words, his eyes still fixed on you as he watches the way your chest rises and falls with every breath, the way your body trembles like you're already falling apart on top of him.

"no... you weren't a mistake. this feeling isn't a mistake..." he whispered breathlessly, hands slowly slipping to the edge of your skirt as he looked up at you with eyes full of nothing but complete desire and need for you.

“spencer...” you moaned, biting down on your lip, your hands on his shoulders.

hearing you moan his name sends him over the edge, any ability to hold back completely gone as he feels you start to melt on top of him. he looks up at you hungrily under his lashes before he's finally closing the distance between you, his hands snaking up your back to pull you closer as he presses his lips firmly to yours.

you gasped at the first contact, your hands hurriedly coming up to his hair, kissing him hungrily. he tastes just like you remembered, although now there’s a tang of sweetness on his lips.

he lets out a deep groan as he feels your hands in his hair, his body practically trembling under your touch as he kisses you deeply. he lets one hand slip up your spine to the back of your neck to keep you close, the other trailing down to your waist as his tongue slips forward to press hot and insistent against your bottom lip until your mouth opens for him, your tongues meeting as you tug on his hair.

“doctor…” you sighed, hips thrusting against his in need, making his mind go absolutely hazy and a deep groan coming from his mouth as he feels your desire rubbing so wantonly against him. “this is bad... oh god. we should stop...”

he's so lost in the bliss of your body against his that he can barely process your words, but even as you try to speak them his hands are pulling you tighter against him. “no... don't stop... don't..." he practically begs in a gasp, his head tilting to trail kisses and bites down the side of your neck, humming contently when your head tilts backwards to feel more of his kisses. “anyone could come in... they could catch us.” and it was true, anyone wanting to start early could come into the BAU earlier than normal and hear the two of you.

he moans with your words, the sound of your voice even more delirious with desire only serving to make his mind fuzzy. he knows you're trying to stop this, but his body feels too good, too incredible.

"let them walk in... let them hear you..." he said huskily, his teeth gently nipping at your skin as he moves to the sensitive spot behind your ear.

you can't help but whimper, feeling his cock growing harder against you as you roll your hips against him, what makes him let out a deep groan, his head tilting back and his eyes squeezing shut as his mouth falls open around the low sound.

"s-stop... you're going to kill me..." he groans the words out in a gasp, his body growing hot at the friction you're creating with your body.

“you want me to stop?” you whisper on his ear, and he bites down on his lip, shaking his head. “no... no... don't ever stop..." he says gruffly, letting his hands trail up from your waist to your sides, feeling your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. you kiss his jaw and neck. he feels like he's starting to lose his mind at the feeling of you grinding against him, his breath shuddering out in a groan as he feels his body start to shake. "oh my god..." he moans, his chest rising and falling faster and faster with the way you're moving against him. his eyes squeeze shut as he tries to keep himself together, his hands starting to clench around your sides.

“spencer...” you cry out, feeling your stomach tightening at the constant rubbing of your panties against your clit. “feels so good... you feel so good...”

he moans desperately at the sound of you saying his name like this, biting down hard on his lip as he feels you grinding against him so deliciously, your voice so wanton and full of desire for him

"yeah...? feels good?" he shudders out, his eyes flickering behind his closed lids as his head falls back even further against the chair.

you knew you shouldn't. your relationship was meant to be strictly professional. you were supposed to be just team mates, but you wanted to make him cum on his pants. you wanted to make a mess out of him, and that's why you ground your hips harder against his crotch, whining.

he chokes out a groan as he feels you working against him, his hand clenching around your thigh as he tries desperately to keep some modicum of control, fighting the shuddering waves of pleasure that start to roll through him at your motions. his breath comes in sharp through parted lips and they sit against your neck. "oh god... oh god..." he moaned helplessly, desperately trying not to give in right there in the chair.

you leaned on his ear, like the devil on his shoulder. “cum for me, doctor, i'll clean it all up later with my mouth.”

he's already on the edge, his head swimming with the words and the way you keep moving against him. he's never been so far from in control. “fuck.” he groans as he feels himself starting to reach his limit, desperately fighting his body, which only craves release.

“you close, spencer? gonna come for me in your pants?” you mutter only for him to hear against his neck, leaving wet kisses on his skin and tugging at his hair.

he chokes out another moan at the way you taunt him, his body starting to shake under your touch as he nods. "oh god... yes, please..." he whines, his moans starting to sound more and more desperate, even as he can hear the sounds of the crew finally getting in for work, moving around outside the door.

"go ahead doctor. be good for me.” his whole body starts to shudder as you speak, hearing the way you're talking to him like this undoing something inside him. his head falls back with a long, deep groan that you have to quiet with a kiss as his eyes squeezed shut, the force of his orgasm overwhelming him.

you moaned at the warmth of his load spreading through the front of his pants and in between your thighs, your hips grinding down on him to help him ride out his high.

he's breathing hard by the time the rush is over, his mind starting to come back to reality again as he feels your hips and body against his. he keeps his eyes closed for a moment before he's looking up at you with a shuddering groan, his eyes dark and full of satisfaction as he shakes his head.

"you're evil... you know that?"

“you were the one who asked me to not stop, doctor.” you smirked, gasping when his strong arms picked you up and places you on top of his desk, his knees hitting the floor as he positioned himself in between your thighs. “what are you doing?!” you whisper-yell when you feel his fingers tug at the hem of your underwear, his lips leaving a soft wet kiss on your inner thigh.

“returning the favor.”

[cas-spirit]

Give me more platonic affection.

Give me omega timeline residents approaching Asgores because they give the best hugs.

Give me Ink, learning about physical affection by observing people, having Blue explain the different ways people hold hands. Him tackling Top and Aster to the ground trying to figure out how hugs go.

Give me Dream who only cries when someone’s hugging him because it’s the only time he feels shielded enough to break.

Give me Nightmare and Error, who after years of working together, finally end their deals with a handshake.

Give me Blueberror who’s off button is any kind of physical affection.

Give me Core Frisk, still a child, clinging to people’s hands, holding a larger hand in both of theirs.

Givr me Nightmare falling asleep on a movie night and the rest of the gang can’t move because his tendrils lay on top of them like sleeping cats.

Give me Blue forcing his two semi-immortal friends into cuddle piles so they actually sleep for once.

Give me Fresh showing trust by letting people hold his head, so close to the eyesockets that hold his true form.

Give me Error and Geno readjusting to touch after the emptiness of their containments, telling the other that they’re there by knocking knees.

Give me Frisks in the omega timeline offering a shoulder to lean on for Charas, or anyone who asks.

Give me Underfell where the skelebros curl up around eachother to watch the other’s back, even in sleep.

Give me Outertales where handholding is common to make sure no one floats off into space.

Give me Gasters who use their many hands to give head pats to their sons/coworkers (Sans, Papyrus, and Alphys) as well as doing science work stuff.

Give me Nightmare who curls his tendrils on top of his subordinate’s heads like a strange pat on the back.

Give me Horror who will simply pick his teammates up and hold them like the wet cats they are.

Give me Cross who’s so unused to any physical affection he freezes up, and Killer using this to his advantage by grabbing his hand to distract him from the cow nearby or to get him to stop training for a bit.

Give me Nightmare laying a tendril over Dream’s shoulder to remind himself that his twin is there, and they aren’t fighting anymore.

Give me Dusts that will curl up on top of people like a cat.

Give me Inks who give surprise hugs to his friends.

Give me Errors who wrap his strings around people to give them hugs.

Give me Horror Papyrus becoming the center of hug piles in Nightmare’s gang because the boys miss their brothers a lot, and he’s the closest they’ll get with the gang’s reputation.

Give me Killer, just met Nightmare, and the baby goop clings to him while they explore the multiverse.

Give me Ink and Error pulling eachother along by the scarfs.

Give me Dancetale where duo dances end with a hug (or high five if too sweaty for a hug)

Give me Fell Papyrus holding Fell Sans’s hand out and about, using the excuse of making sure Sans doesn’t wander off when asked.

Give me post-truce spontaneous skeleton cuddle piles.

Give me Killer randomly tackling his teammates.

Give me Ink being so physically affectionate people think he’s flirting (he’s not).

Give me Papyrus calling Sans a cat while he curls up on his shoulder.

Give me Sans holding Geno’s hand carefully when things get a bit too much after his time of the Save Screen.

Give me careful fingers tracing the edges of Papyrus’s rarely-seen hands.

Give me Dust trying, and failing, to touch his Papyrus.

Give me Passive Nightmare’s ghost curling up around Dream’s shoulders like a purple boa, hugging him around the neck when things get rough.

Give me the gang curling up on Nightmare’s tendrils when he’s not paying attention.

Give me Dream learning about the different meanings behind touch after he breaks out of stone.

Give me Gaster’s who are almost too scared to embrace Sans and Papyrus incase getting out of the void was a dream, and Papyrus accidentally sending him to the floor with his enthusiastic hug.

Give me Undyines randomly carrying their Alphys around.

Give me Frisks who press their forehead onto people (Sans’s back, Papyrus’s thigh, Toriel and Asgore’s arm, Alphy’s side, Undyne hip) and lean on them.

Give me Frisks who randomly lean on people, almost falling over because Chara is a ghost and incapable of being my leaned on.

Give me Dust laying his head on Killer’s lap when Killer gets twitchy, because what’s he gonna do, move Dust?

Give me Error who’s glitching feels kinda like a massage, holding his hands to Nightmare’s back, Horror’s skull, or Geno’s wherever when they get pain.

Give me Ink who uses hand holding like a recalibration test after he goes blank.

Give me hand holding and head pats and hugs and cuddle piles.

Givemegivemegivemegivemegivemegiveme

[reiderwriter]

💫 Starry-Eyed 💫

Pairing: Porn Star! Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Summary: For work experience, you take a job working the cameras on a porn shoot, but after becoming suddenly attracted to a new coworker, you shortly find yourself as a fluffer, the person whose job it is to keep the "talent" aroused between takes.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Porn AU, College AU kinda, exhibitionism, oral sex (f receiving), consensual voyeurism, masturbation (male), blow job, deep throating, messy orgasm.

A/N: Well, look at where we are. I think this actually counts as my first Alternate Universe fic, which is crazy all things considered. I'm really enjoying the Kink Bingo Challenge as it's leading me to so many new ideas for fics!! I hope you all enjoy this one 🥰

Masterlist || Bingo Board

Being a college student still at age 25 meant many things, but mostly, it meant you had friends at many different stages of their lives. Some were fresh out of high school halls, enjoying their first taste of freedom, some were enjoying their first drops of alcohol. Some were giving up alcohol for good and starting families. 

Some of them were successful porn stars who'd funded their own start-up porn production company. It certainly was one way to use a film degree. You knew a professor or two who would enjoy her work more than half your syllabus as well. 

Candi Rapper had become famous doing cam shows in her first year of college and had gone all-in after graduation. You'd shared a few classes in the early days, before you took a break from college for financial reasons, of course. By the time you'd gone back, she was a big time and now in the position to offer you a job. 

“One of my crews is down a cameraman this weekend. If you're open to it, I pay a fair wage?” she'd offed at your weekly brunch. 

“Will you be the star?” You joked back with her. 

“You wish.” 

You took the job, of course, along with a ride from Candi (her name was Kate, but you'd let her pretend) and pulled up on site bright and alert at 7am. 

The set was a large mansion - typical, Candi said - and you'd be mostly shooting in the living room - typical, Candi said. You'd had to tell her after her second typical that you were, in fact, an adult and had seen at least one porno before until she cut out pornsplaining everything to you. She introduced you to the key staff and the director, and they got you set up at your camera. 

“The shoot today is going to be around 5 hours. You'll be on camera three. The papers in front have your cues and directions. You can have some free time until we start. There's a breakfast spread in the kitchen, help yourself.”

Not one to turn down free food, you bee-lined there and stood awkwardly in line for the coffee with the dozen or so other crew members, eyeing up the take-out pancakes organised across the granite surface. 

“Your first time?” An older man asked from behind you, smiling in a friendly manner. 

“You can tell?” 

“You're thinking about eating the pancakes, and the rest of us are remembering the scene filmed there last weekend," as if on queue, a shiver ran down his spine. "Yeah, we can tell.” You laughed along with the man's joke and finally grabbed your coffee. 

Luck just wasn't on your side, though, as you turned and immediately ran into someone immediately sloshing the coffee onto your shirt. 

“Oh my god, I am so - I'm so sorry, I need to watch where I'm going.” 

You'd run into 6’3” of lanky, awkward male perfection. He looked young, your age or younger most likely, and was fidgeting as he stood, the most obviously uncomfortable person in the building.

Your first thought was “Is he lost?” closely followed by “Can I beg him to get lost in a linen closet somewhere with me?” 

He grabbed a handful of tissues from the counter nearby and began attempting to wipe away the coffee you'd spilt down yourself, completely unaware that he was fondling your breasts in his haste to do so. 

“Slow down there, tiger, shoot doesn't start for another half hour,” you said, winking at him as you took the tissues from his panicked hands and dried yourself as best you could. 

“I know, I memorised the call sheet. Who are you?” His question was blunt, but you weren't taken aback at all, your smile even deepening as you enjoyed his subtle attention. 

“I'm Y/N. It's my first time.” 

He spluttered, coming up with an answer to that, and you immediately cursed yourself for the slip. 

“My first time on set, not my- I'm 25. Not that age determines experience per say but-”

“I'm 22. And my name is Spencer,” he said, grasping your hand and shaking it. 

“So, it's your first time on set?” He asked, relaxing more into the conversation as he stepped closer to you, letting the other staff members come and go from the kitchen. 

“Yeah. My friend offered me the job, you know Candi?” 

He nodded but didn't speak, so you continued. 

“She thought the experience would be good for me. And the cash. Gotta put myself through college somehow, and it was this or stripping.” 

He laughed, and you felt a flash of warmth in your stomach, a familiar hunger spreading across your lower body. Maybe it was just the atmosphere of the set, but the air was charged with arousal. 

“Well, you're certainly attractive enough to do both jobs. I'm sure the camera is going to love you,” he said, sounding so genuine and enthusiastic that you almost felt bad you had to correct him.

“Oh! Oh, no, Spencer, I'm not - I'm, uh, I'm going to be behind the camera. Behind camera number two.” 

His face instantly flushed, and you thought you saw a pang of disappointment there for a second, too. The thought of him being disappointed made your skin heat, that he'd been looking forward somehow to watching you get fucked? Your cunt throbbed and suddenly, you found you did wish to display yourself, to let everyone see if it meant that he got to.

“I am so sorry. I didn't - I thought… No, I didn't think, I… I'll shut up now, please excuse me-” 

“No, Spencer, wait-” 

You tried to call after him, but he sent you an embarrassed smile and walked off in haste, leaving you behind as the director called people to their places. 

You were still flushed with arousal as you moved to your station, getting your camera ready for filming. You were distracted even as the scene started, and the female actress came on set, already stripped down to her underwear and touching herself, teasing the camera. 

Surprisingly, you found the work easy enough, too busy focusing on the settings and the gaze of the camera to even care about what was going on down the lens. She was moaning and writhing and gasping sure, to the benefit of the cameras, and although strangely intimate, nobody in the room seemed bothered, so neither did you. 

Or neither did you until the actual scenario started, and your actress got ‘caught’ doing the dirty by the needy boy next door. You hadn't looked at the call sheet closely enough as Spencer peeped through the door to the bedroom, entering the scene not by accident but as a scripted part of the show. 

Your eyes bulged out of your head as you immediately looked down to your prompt sheet to find his name there. 

LEAD ACTOR: SPENCER REID

His stage name was scribbled next to that, but you paid it no attention as you steadied your camera again and got to filming seriously again. 

The actress had pulled his glasses off and led him to the bed, letting him keep on his sweater vest and tie as she pulled his head between her legs, and he started doing his job. 

Even from your view to the side of him, you could tell this wasn't his first time doing that. His tongue spread across the expanse of her heat, first, letting her grind into his face, getting comfortable before he snaked a hand up to her stomach and held her in place for as long as he so desired.

Then, he rolled her clit into his mouth and sucked. The fake moans and whimpers suddenly became real as you saw the sheer skill of his tongue ripple through the woman's body. 

You couldn't even be jealous at this point, despite how much you sorely wished that were you on the bed. Surely no girl had resorted to porn out of pure horny desire before, right? 

After a while of letting her gasp and moan under his tongue, Spencer's fingers curled inside the other woman as well. The director called cut, and he kept his fingers there, even as they walked him through the next few shots, and instructed him to unzip his pants in the next few clips. 

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself as the cameras started rolling again, and he did finally free himself from his tight khakis. 

You knew you'd probably sign up for whatever was on offer at this company next to see that gift again. Spencer wasn't an impressive size or girth, nothing so alien or out of the ordinary that it only belonged in porn. It was just that his cock looked so… pretty. 

He was an inch or two longer than any man you'd ever been with, you were sure, but his cock seemed to have an air of dignity about it. 

You had to stop yourself at that thought. Dignity? Really? You were working part-time on a porn set, and there was suddenly dignity involved? 

You rolled your shoulders back and tried to find your earlier unbothered attitude. But with his cock in his hands and his face slick with female arousal, you really couldn't bring yourself to think about anything less than his fingers roughly finger-fucking you. 

You tried to close your eyes to it, to be blind, but the wet, sticky sounds only distracted you  and you found yourself soon swaying, swaying, swaying until you had to catch yourself before the camera dropped. 

With a shout of “yes, baby, yes,” the female star came on his face, sending up a furret of fluids as he just kept diligently stroking his cock, only stopping at the director's final yell of “CUT.”

“Perfect guys, let's get her up and drinking water again. You need to stay hydrated after all that,” he joked, a PA walking over to pass the actress a robe and a bottle of water as she walked off set. 

You relaxed for a second, trying to find your quickest route out of the room so you wouldn't have to drool over the man's cock so obviously any more. 

“FLUFFER? Where's the fluffer?” The director yelled, looking around for someone who obviously wasn't there yet. 

“Well?”

Still, no one arrived to do whatever job they needed doing, and you felt desperate for escape. 

“New girl, would you mind?” Some crew member called out from the sidelines, nodding at you. 

“Oh, uh, sure,” you said, hoping that whatever job you agreed to would get you far enough from this room and the heat between your legs as possible. You were not a prude, and you would not bolt from your very first film shoot. 

“Great, get on the bed and keep the boy company,” the director said before exiting the room. 

You were absolutely on board with becoming a prude and bolting the scene as fast as your legs could carry you. Unfortunately, eight people still sat around, monitoring equipment and chatting on their breaks, and so you were forced to comply with the task. 

“We meet again,” you greeted the man stiffly as you found him on the bed, an apprehensive, tight smile on his own face.

“You don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable, I can keep myself… occupied.” 

You noticed then that his hand was still wrapped around his cock, giving it slow strokes, not enough to tip him over the edge, but just enough to maintain the erection. 

“So the fluffer….?” 

“Prepares the actors for the next scene? I need to stay- let say in shape.” 

His face flushed crimson as your gaze slipped down to his cock in his hand. 

“So you want me to-” 

“NO. No, I usually only talk to the Fluffers. Look at them, you know?” 

You nodded and found yourself suddenly going still, watching his face contort with pleasure as his eyes raked over your chest and legs. 

You couldn't help but let your eyes dart south again, and fuck did you wish you hadn't. His spare hand fisted the sheets as he stroked himself gently, practically taunting himself with the light touch. 

“You do this often?” you asked, trying to pretend you were open to having a normal conversation even while your brain begged you to climb into his lap and sink down as fast as you could. 

“You mean maaturbate or the porn thing?” 

“Porn.” 

“No. No, I come in for a shoot every few months. One of these shoots tends to fund another semester of my PhD, so-” 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were impressed by that admission, but your predominate thought was still “shit, shit, shit, shit.” 

“That's impressive,” you said, only catching your words as they tripped out of your mouth. “THE PHD! The PhD, I mean not your… penis? Not that it isn’t appealing, or- or-.” 

You tried your hardest to use the most clinical word you could, distancing yourself from the honeyed words you so wanted to drop in his ear to get him to crawl further up the bed and entice him to make his own scene with you. 

“Thank you. It's my third,” he said, slightly more relaxed now that you were the flustered one. 

“PhD that is. Not cock. I only have one of these.” 

“One is enough,” you say, unable to stop the words tumbling out as your eyes again find themselves following each pump of his hand up and down his cock. Inwardly, you curse your friend for starting up her stupid business and paying you to simply exist in the same hemisphere as this man without being able to ride him. 

“Do you want to touch it?” He asked, blurting the words out suddenly. As if God had answered your prayers, your heart leapt up into your throat, your pussy clenching around nothing as you shifted your hips closer to him. 

You'd thought then that you'd quite enjoy bouncing on that thing yourself, but a handshake would have to do.

“So you have to stay hard, but-” 

“But it's best I don't cum, yeah.”

“Okay. Noted.”

Slowly, you reached out a hand and gently wrapped each finger around the tip of his cock. He released himself and wrapped his now free hand around yours, setting the pace for you quickly as he engaged you in conversation again. 

“So, where are you from?” He asked, as inept at small talk as you felt in that second. 

You answered him without a fuss and returned the question. Las Vegas. That seemed to check out with how easily he'd broken into porn. There was always something happening in that city. 

"How'd you get into the business?"

"Well, Vegas, you know. A producer saw a group of... street ladies offer me a freebie and gave me his card."

You went back and forth on questions like that for a few minutes before you noticed he was coughing every few seconds to mask moans and groans, evidently too into this to request you stop. 

“Is it okay to…Can I touch you?” He asked, sounding very afraid of rejection at that second. 

“Oh, um, yes. That'd only be fair, right?” 

He ran a hand up your waist to the curve of your breast and pressed his fingers into one, digging into the skin as though it were a pillow, and he was testing it before he fell head first into it. 

Maybe that was just wishful thinking, though. 

Temporarily, you let go of him, popping the front buttons of your blouse until he could freely see all of your black and red bra, and feast on the tops of your dusty nipples, peaking out just above each cup.

You heard him inhale sharply, even as he tried to hide it, but you didn't care, too transfixed on the precum decorating his tip. 

“Would you mind-” You started, but cut yourself off quickly, biting your lower lip. 

“Mind?” 

“Can I suck it?”

You didn't know where it came from because there were probably half a dozen other people still in the room, and mostly men. But dear god, he looked delicious, and you wanted just a little sample. 

“Fuck yes,” he said, finally giving in and letting out a whole gust of breath as he slumped down a bit further, no longer holding himself rigid. “No, no, actually, please do. I'm begging, I'll beg-” 

You cut him off by pushing yourself to your knees and crawling in between his, and seconds later, you were licking the length of his cock from the base of his balls all the way to that precious drop of precum. 

Hard, but no cumming. You could do that. You'd never done it before, preferring to fully pleasure sexual partners any chance you got, but there was no time like the present to start learning. 

Slowly, you wrapped your lips around his tip and sank down, taking one inch, then another, and then another. When you reached the base of his cock, you pushed that little bit further down, calming yourself and going slowly so you didn't gag, nose pushing into his neat public hair before pulling away just as slowly and doing it again. 

You took him as deep down your throat as you could manage, and suddenly, it was like everything that kept your conversation casual and civil earlier had flown out the door. He threw his head back, fisted his hand in your hair, and moaned deep. 

The sound shook you so much you almost pushed a hand into your own underwear and started fucking yourself, needing to prepare yourself for him like a good girl. 

Around you, you could hear signs of the shoot starting back up again, people finding their places, still all but ignoring you deep-throating a porn star. 

Spencer's breaths grew more rapid as you sucked him, hips becoming restless as he tried to lift up into your mouth, hand in your hair tightening as you realised your mistake. 

You pulled off his cock and grasped it again, stroking it slowly, but it was too late. With a sharp moan and a twitch of his hips, Spencer so prettily decorated your chin and chest. His cum dripped down your face, hitting your cleavage and pushing further down to stain your nice black laced underwear white.

“Fuck! Sorry, I wasn't meant to do that, let me get some - Can I get a towel please? A baby wipe? Some tissue, anything?” His voice was panicked, but his hand on your head relaxed, and he brushed your hair gently behind your ear, as if comforting you. 

He was panicked, for sure, but the crew calmly handed him everything he needed, as if they'd been in anticipation of just this thing happening. You supposed they probably were, this being a porn set. You were sure you were supposed to clean yourself up, but instead, he grabbed a wet tissue, leaving the pack just out of your reach.

He managed to clean your face off a bit before the director returned to the room with a laugh. Running a hand through his hair and messing it up slightly, the director turned back to you.

“We're five minutes out from shoot time,” he said, shaking his head. You started to apologise, but he stopped you with a hand. 

“New girl, work whatever magic you just did and get him hard again. Five minutes.” 

“W-What?” You spluttered, trying your best to rise from your knees, but ultimately failing. You were either stiff from the position or just weak with arousal. 

“He just came, I don't think I can-”

“10 pictures I've done with that kid, and I haven't seen him cum that quickly ever before in my life. And certainly not just for some kitten licks. Do it.”

You turned back to Spencer, his cum still trickling down your chest, creating an almost uncomfortable stiffness as it dried up. 

“Pleasure working with you?” You said, not-so-secretly ecstatic that you got to sample him once more. 

“I'll be in your care,” he replied, as you begin softly kissing the head of his cock again, tipping his head back again and losing himself in the pleasure or your tongue.