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wintrwinchestr · 21 hours

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an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on.

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression.

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand.

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it.

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state.

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap.

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows.

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you.

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lathe your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches.

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against.

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can.

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain.

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…”

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is.

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #daddy!joel miller #joel miller smut

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little-diable · 1 day

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For Valhalla – Spencer Reid (smut)

Trying to pull myself out of my writing slump by writing history inspired stuff. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Reader helps Spencer with understanding the medieval norse warrior mindset, which finally pushes the two friends closer together.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, spanking, dom!Spencer, some mirror action, friends to lovers, some history talk about medieval wars and fighting

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!historian!reader (2.3k words)

“Careful.” Her whispers filled the dimly lit training room, eyes concentrated on his nimble fingers. She watched Spencer tighten his grip on the hilt of her sword, knuckles almost white. “Widen your stance a bit.”

“Even wider?” Spencer’s eyes were burning holes into her skin, waiting for her next command. He wasn’t one for holding back, and could barely contain his information-dumping urges, but with her it was different. This was (y/n)’s field of expertise, the only one he could blindly trust with a situation this delicate.

“Can I touch you to show you how?” The two had known one another since their university days, sharing every break, and every meal with one another, until they had eventually shared an apartment for a while. Something had always buzzed between them, something both had been too scared to give in to back then.

Something that was still buzzing now, all these years later.

“Yes.” Their eyes met as Spencer spoke the word, leaving her to swallow heavily. (Y/n) was no stranger to Spencer’s struggles with being touched, and yet his willingness to be touched by her weighed heavier than either one of them liked to admit.

Slowly, (y/n) placed herself behind Spencer. With one hand placed on his right shoulder and the other on his waist, she gently kicked his feet apart. She felt him sink into the warrior stance, trying to make room for the mindset their current unsub was undoubtedly trapped in.

“Perfect,” (y/n) whispered. “Now I want you to close your eyes. If your unsub is thinking of himself as a Norðmaðr, a man from the North, or a Viking as others called them, he must protect his sword at every cost. Some believe a warrior could only enter Valhalla if they held onto their sword while dying. It’s an old lore we don’t have many sources on, but judging your unsub I’d say he is focused on things he saw in shows or games. Try to imagine yourself on a battlefield. It was loud, you’d hear cries, the sounds of horses, of swords and axes clashing. You’d smell blood, perhaps some rain depending on the month. Sweat would cling to you, and dirt, soil or mud.”

“That sounds like my nightmare.” Both broke out in chuckles as (y/n) let go of Spencer almost reluctantly. She watched him move, handling the sword like she had demonstrated for the past hour. He wasn’t nearly as graceful as she was, and yet he managed to copy her movements perfectly.

“What do you think he tries to live out with this?” Asking questions about his cases had always been a struggle, Spencer would either be very vague or simply tell (y/n) that he couldn’t share any information. But today it was different, today she was part of their team, at least for a few hours, as a historian, a consultant to try and help them find their unsub.

“Pent up anger, frustration, and yet he is trying to be honourable with his killings, he feels like a Viking after all.” A hum left her at his reply. This time (y/n) didn’t ask for permission as she stepped towards Spencer once again.

“Let’s try something.” She reached for the sword he was gripping. (Y/n) took her stance, making it seem all too effortlessly, “Stand behind me, place your hands on top of mine.”

It took Spencer a moment to snap into motion, he exhaled before he followed the command. Gently, he placed his warm hand on top of (y/n)’s, shooting shudders down her spine with the simple touch. An all too familiar electricity was binding the two closer together, wrapping itself around them as if it were some kind of invisible force managing to guide the two.

“It’s a simple movement, but it takes a lot of strength to make the sword move as effectively and quickly as this.” Spencer tried to focus on (y/n)’s words, but he couldn’t, too taken up by her unfamiliar closeness. His body was taken over by whatever he had tried to suppress these past years, forcing him even closer to her. “Spencer? Are you alright?”

No word left him as he tightened his grip on her hand. Spencer could almost hear her heart racing in her chest, pounding against her ribcage as if it was begging to be freed. And who was he to deny such a strong muscle such a strong wish?

His lips found the exposed spot where her shoulder met her neck, kissing it as if they had done this numerous times before. Both froze at the unfamiliar touch, giving the inferno starting to stretch itself through the two enough room to grow. She shuddered in his grasp, trying to stop herself from dropping the sword to turn around towards Spencer.

“Spence,” (y/n) choked on his nickname as he pressed another kiss to her soft skin. “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done years ago.” Perhaps it had taken some convincing from his friends, urging him to finally cross that invisible line between him and (y/n). And as much as Spencer had tried to ignore their pestering selves when it came to (y/n) and him, he hadn’t been able to drown them out completely, forced to accept his feelings for his friend.

(Y/n) pushed herself away from him, forcing Spencer to panic for a second. He watched her place the sword down, only to turn fully towards him. Their eyes held contact, wordlessly communicating with their hearts on their tongues and their adrenaline spiking.

Neither of them knew who moved first, but while their eyes held contact, their bodies crossed the small distance between them, letting their lips clash together. Their eyes fluttered close, hands holding onto one another while their lips moved in sync. They were eager, desperate to explore their newfound territory as if it was their only chance at doing this.

Their road to Valhalla, the last battle to fight before calmness could swap through them.

Spencer moved them backwards, pressing (y/n) against the wall as his tongue ran along her lower lip, begging for entrance. The kiss left the two drowning in their longings, forgetting how to breathe as they finally got to experience what they had been dreaming of. It felt surreal almost – if it weren’t for their racing hearts and their excitement flushing through them.

“Can I?” He mumbled his question against her lips, giving the two a moment to catch their breaths. Spencer’s fingers tugged on the fabric of her loose shirt, waiting for her consent before he got to explore her body. Ever since he had been forced to talk about his feelings to his team members, he had tried to picture this moment, praying that he wouldn’t mess this up, that his nervousness wouldn’t push him away from her. But now he felt awfully calm, set on touching her, on making her feel the same excitement he was held hostage by.

“Of course, Spence.” Their eyes met as he pulled the shirt over her head, sports bra following seconds later. (Y/n) felt exposed, fighting against the need to cover herself up as his twinkling eyes studied her soft skin, shooting her a gaze that made heat pool between her thighs.

Spencer was careful with his touches, cupping her breasts with his warm hands as his mouth found her throat. He kissed his way down to her chest as if he was mapping her body with his kisses, remembering every inch, every mark, forever ingrained into his racing mind. She was trembling against him, allowing her hands to move to his button up, needing to uncovering his body to distract herself from her nervousness.

“You’re so perfect, I should have done this before. I am sorry it took me this long.” His whispers left her gasping, arching against his hold as his mouth found her left breast, sucking on the hardening nipple.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for that,” it was nothing but teasing, and yet the words got stuck in her throat as he let go of her, staring down at (y/n) with something dangerous twinkling in his eyes.

Spencer looked at her for a handful of seconds before he turned her around, allowing (y/n) to catch her reflection in the mirror he had pressed her against. Her pupils were dilated, she was heavily breathing, hair slightly tousled. But (y/n) didn’t get any time to speak up, to comment on what she was seeing.

His eyes found hers in the mirror as he pulled her sweatpants down her legs, letting his hand brush over her panties-clad behind. (Y/n) could only choke on her gasp as he raised his hand, letting it come down on her warm skin a second later. The sound of Spencer spanking her echoed through the room, followed by a soft moan clawing through (y/n).

“Let me promise you something, sweetheart,” Spencer murmured his words while his hand brushed over the spot he had just spanked. “I’ll fuck that attitude right out of your system.”

Another spank met her behind, and another, till her eyes fell shut and her sweaty palms struggled to stay pressed against the mirror. Arousal was dripping from her tightness, clinging to her inner thighs, telling Spencer everything he needed to know. She was just as desperate for him, begging to be finally fucked, pushed over the edge by the tall profiler who had always been her closest friend, the one she clung to, the one she dreamt of.

“I don’t have anything on me.” His words ripped her out of her hazy thoughts, having to blink a few times as she tried to find her words.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean.” (Y/n) watched his tongue dart out, licking along his lower lip as he pondered over her words. She knew Spencer got monthly tests, knew that she could blindly trust him, but knowing that she was about to feel him bare filled her with something raw simmering inside of her, something possessive almost. Only as the sound of Spencer undoing his trousers rang in her ears did she allow herself to close her eyes once again, having to collect herself. This was finally happening, something she had dreamt of, something she had never dared to even speak about.

“I want you to look at me while I fuck you.” His raspy voice buzzed through (y/n), forcing another moan out of her. They held eye contact as Spencer spat into his palm, lubed himself up, and finally pushed into her. A moan clawed through them in unison, needing a few moments to adjust before he began to fuck her from behind.

Spencer had a tight grip on her waist, set on leaving marks as he fucked her ruthlessly, hitting the spot that made her toes curl with every thrust. Both were a moaning mess, chasing their needs, the deep urges they finally got to live out, while studying one another through the mirror.

(Y/n) struggled to form words, struggled to comment on what she was seeing, fully entranced by the sight. She already looked thoroughly fucked out, close to giving in after only a few moments. But something was binding them together, a sensation so strong it felt as if they were fighting for Valhalla, fighting for entry into the afterlife they were oh so close to.

“Spencer,” (y/n) moaned his name, she tried to push herself further into his touch, needing to be even closer to the man who was about to push her orgasm through her aching body. “You feel so good, fuck, I never want to be fucked by somebody else.”

It was a sincere confession, words that left the profiler smirking in success. He leaned forward to press a kiss to her shoulder, letting his teeth graze her skin to leave another mark to remind (y/n) that she was now his, a part of his body and soul.

“As if I’d ever let you go again. No other man will ever get to touch you.” His words dripped with possessiveness, words that made her walls clench around his cock. (Y/n) couldn’t stop her eyes from fluttering close as his fingertips found her pulsing bundle, circling it with enough pressure to push her into her high.

She moaned for him as she came, unable to stop the sounds from leaving her while Spencer kept fucking her. Their bodies kept meeting, even faster than before, forcing (y/n) to realise that she’d struggle with walking for the next days. Only as Spencer pulled out of her to paint her aching behind white did she open her eyes again.

“That was,” she panted her words, not daring to move as Spencer kept smirking at her through the mirror. “Fuck, that was intense.”

“I love you.” The words clawed through Spencer as if he hadn’t given them much thought, speaking them all too effortlessly. (Y/n) froze for a second or two before she gave room to the soft chuckle desperate to leave her.

“I love you too, Spence.” Perhaps they were Valhalla-bound after all, set on living together in every life offered to them.

#Spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid imagine #criminal minds

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k3ithsk0gane · 9 months

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I am genuinely curious about if people on here criticize their own favorites shows/movies/books? When I say criticism I don’t mean tear it to shreds but just kind of pick it apart and constructively criticize what is going on.

I personally do this for most of my favorite pieces of media because I don’t think anything is ever perfect and they could always be tweaked here and there to be made better.

Why do some people read fanfiction? Because they love a piece of media but they want certain plot points, storylines, characters, etc to be expanded on and/or changed to some degree so they find it in a fanfiction.

I also find that the pieces of media I do constructively criticize are often my favorite pieces of media. For me, I do it because I love it so much and I want to explore every avenue that could have been explored. I also often love a character so dearly that, especially if they aren’t done justice in some way, I won’t hesitate to point out ways they could have been done differently. This is done best in welcoming fandom spaces or with friends.

Unfortunately too many times I see people take someone using constructive criticism as them hating whatever piece of media they’re discussing and that is SO far from the truth. This doesn’t ever allow rich conversations in fandom spaces and instead it just results in hateful comments, and arguments in replies and it’s truly heartbreaking.

If I were to say “oh x is dog shit because a, b, and c didn’t/did happen” that’s not constructive criticism that’s just tearing something apart and hating on it. If I said “I really love x, but I think a’s storyline could be expanded on more in c, and b ways” that’s giving constructive criticism.

#I don’t know if any of this makes sense #I’ve just been talking about rwrb on tiktok and people are viscious in the comment #simply because I stated I didn’t know how to feel about June not being in the film and Alex’s parent potentially being together #like I never stated I thought the movie would be shit I still think it’s gonna be fun and heartwarming #but people really just want to argue about everything #also tagging the various fandoms I’m in to get peoples takes pls be nice and open to conversation #sk8 the infinity #stranger things #rwrb #red white and royal blue #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #supernatural #voltron #the umbrella academy #marvel #marvel mcu #the witcher

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what-the-fuck-khr · 7 months

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someone on Instagram saying “life doesn’t have a dress code, you can wear anything you want no one is stopping you” and there’s something a bit fucking irritating about people going “um actually, men are” “but some women would get beat for this in other countries” “uhhh I’d get hate crimed if I did” “you’ll get mugged lmao” and other variations. my GOD it’s not saying everyone in a dangerous situation or dangerous town should do it, it’s saying if you have the means to do what you want safely then you should bc someone staring at you shouldn’t stop you!!!! everything that tries to be positive online in the form of videos is always full of sooooo so much negativity no matter what the video is discussing!!!! my fucking god!!!! and fuck the weirdo losers like “okay so why can’t I walk around naked then” I know what you’re trying to do and also there ARE places for that, too, fuck offfff FUCK OFF!!!!!!!!

#but but but in MY town SPECIFICALLY I would be attacked!!!!!#but but my wallet actually !!!!!!#DO IT WITHIN THE MEANS YOU HAVE AVAILABLE TO YOU!!!!!#THE POINT WAS TO DO WHAT YOU WANT #AND IF IT IS JOT SAFE. THEN DO IT THE SAFESTT WAY TOU CAN #IF YOU CANNOT AFFORD. DO IT THE CHEAPEST WAY YOU CAN #ALWAYS TRYNA GET SOME GOTCHA ONLINE AND BEING PURPOSELY OBTUSE ABOUT THINGS… ITS NOT CUTE ITS NOT FUN #video could be like. eat a pancake whenever and not just breakfast! if it makes you happy!#and someone would say ACTUALLY I would die if I ate pancakes!#OKAY?? SO DONT EAT THEM THE VIDEO ISNT FOR YOU #can you tell I have to sit and read Instagram reel comments bc #my advice. is don’t read Instagram reel comments. good fucking grief #it sucks the joy and hope out of your soul it is so fucking tiring #also fuck the losers who’re like ‘hur hur you’re just vying for attention from strangers freak’#how about you suck my big fat cock instead #fuck off just fuck off!!!!!!!!#ooc #anyways. is it not tiring being that person in the comments. is it not tiring always being negative on other peoples shit. is it not

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badolmen · 1 year

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Years ago I held some fucked up opinions, as you do when you’re 15 or so. In a pre-turn off reblogs post that gets thousands of notes telling me I’m a piece of shit and dozens of asks full of rape threats and suicide baiting kind of a way. I don’t really remember most of it because I deleted everything related to it immediately/as I encountered it. I probably have a few hundred blogs blocked that I would consider good and decent people because i was blocking everyone who interacted with that post in bad faith. And because I couldn’t tell who was sending gore and sexually explicit stuff to my inbox and who wasn’t.

I do remember this one blog though. They messaged me asking if I was okay - acknowledging that the blogs in the notes and in my inbox had taken it too far and that I was entitled to being upset by the harassment. They lied initially (claiming to agree with me, although a quick scope of their blog suggested they didn’t but I didn’t bring it up) but eventually admitted that they thought my opinion was harmful, but that it wasn’t just cause for the harm I was being dealt. I remember that their icon and blog theme was something purple-y black.

I deleted the convo as I was with most messages that rolled in at that time - I didn’t want to remember it, and I was in a pretty deep depression spiral well before it took off. But I wish I could thank them. It took one person from thousands to tell me ‘hey your hurt in this moment is real and unjustified. but you do need to critically examine this opinion you hold’ and wouldn’t you know? Years later I cringe at the opinion I held so dear and proclaimed so loudly.

If you’re out there satanist blog with purple and black blog theme thank you; you have no idea how much our short conversation helped me.

#ra speaks #personal #vent ish #sorry I just think abt them sometimes like. fuck. I want to thank them so badly for something they probably don’t remember.#honestly the first three days after that post broke containment I was legitmately considering traditional* self harm I was so upset #*I have trichotillomania and it did indeed get severely triggered by this harassment #but then this complete stranger who thought I was in the wrong reached out and it was like a promise #that it would pass and I would feel better no matter how helpless and isolated I was feeling then #I don’t want to about what would have happened if they didn’t reach out. I would be in a much worse place now I imagine.#congrats to that blog you probably saved my life/influenced my sexuality and gender revelations and acceptance #not turning reblogs off on this post so don’t be an ass in your tags or comment if you do reblog it

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bananasbyler · 2 years

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Okay, I understand not getting your hopes up, I definitely do. S1 bylers know the struggle.

But some of y’all are just downright downers and constant pessimistics lately—

I understand because I’m trying not to get my hopes up too much as well.

However, a lot of people just wanna be excited and you comment something that kinda brings them down, y’know?

I like going through the byler tag, but a lot of it right now is so negative. I just wanna relax and get away from it.

You can be doubtful, just don’t TRY to create that doubt in others. <3 <3 <3 <3

Word of advice: Get your hopes up even; live a little. If you stay pessimistic, the outcome will be that way as well!! Have fun while you can and be happy.

Just. Have. Fun. ENJOY!!!! :D :D

[READ TAGS]

#this doesn’t mean stop posting what you want #post whatever!!#but don’t try to bring others down #like reblogging their posts or commenting #anything that demeans their excitement #or their posts/thoughts #and trying to push them down #just be more thoughtful and kind please #I have to remind myself this #everyday #so go be excited if you want!!#will byers #mike wheeler #byler s4 #byler #michael wheeler #william byers #stranger things #stranger things s4

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spacelesscowboy · 6 months

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been thinking a lot about an unauthorised fan treatise (or, more specifically, about parasocial relationships, celebrity worship, invasive fans, etc etc) and bandom culture.

in the sense of trying to figure out what counts as “normal” fan behavior w/o it devolving into a parasocial relationship, or where the line is between having fun & making observations vs tinhatting & rpf (a lot of pete wentz’s songs in Infinity on High are direct quotes from LJ entries that in turn suggest being interested in mikey way vs. pete wentz & mikey way were in love with each other & had a nasty gay love summer fling & pete never got over it (REAL) (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!!!!!!!))

like, is it not weird to post an upskirt picture of gerard way and say “i want to shove my face between her legs”? personally i see those posts and laugh, bc to me those extreme expressions of sexual desire all equate to someone just. being a really big gerard fan. they’re all hyperbole to me. but that’s me interpreting them, and might not actually be the posters intention. maybe they really do want to shove their face in her crotch. i don’t know them!

when does the line between harmless fun and extremely inappropriate invasive behavior begin?

#emyrs.txt #mcr #fob #auft #<- for organization purposes #does this make sense. NWNEND #i personally don’t even think rpf is that bad?? if i’m being honest. i think it’s inappropriate when you harass the person in question about #it.#like. using dnp as an example. obviously looking at their videos u could tell that there was Something there. pointing it out or speculating #about it doesn’t seem super weird to me? it’s when ppl are insistent about it. when they start tagging the ppl and tweeting and trying to #catch them off guard like. hey have u heard about ppl shipping u two. what do u think. is it true.#or when they start. analyzing screenshots and behavior that it’s like. truly. relax it’s not that deep. and even if it was. do u think they #would want u analyzing their every move and interaction. there’s a reason this is speculation. maybe they’re not together. maybe they’re not #ready to come out. maybe they just don’t want to subject their relationship to the internet.#idk. i’ve been thinking about this a lot. since i read auft. NWNDDNMF #and also just bc i got interested in mcr again so there’s a lot of posts that have me asking myself if the wording or content of it could #weird. (<- in the sense of. would i talk to a stranger like this. or speculate about someone i saw in the grocery store)#and also am just thinking about this bc there’s so much ‘candid’ content being uploaded everywhere. and people uploading street interviews #—which i’ll admit i like to watch sometimes—#& the comments are always ppl making the most bizarre speculations and coming to weird conclusions #so this has been on my mind a lot.#BWNENDNDND #idk. ig the answer to. ‘is this normal or weird’ depends on the person that you’re talking about.#ok. i’m tired of verbalizing my thoughts. bye :)

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