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greatooglymooglyyy · 1 month

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Trust Me (M. Sturniolo)

chris version?, masterlist

contains: angst, verbal arguing, trust issues, accusations of cheating, make up sex, smut (soft!dom matt), a bit of fluff

a/n: yikes. i don't even know what to say. bone apple teeth.

“Are we really going to argue about this?”

I pause the motions of washing my face to glare at him through my phone. “Yes, Matt. We’re really going to argue about you hanging out with an ex-fling.”

He sighs and readjusts his hold on his phone. “We’re going in circles. I told you I’m not ‘hanging out’ with her. It’s a business collab.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” I mock childishly and Matt cocks his head. I know he’s confused at my sudden surge of pettiness and honestly so am I. I mean, we’ve barely argued at all in the last six months we’ve been together. But, something about this situation is stirring up old insecurities in me and I can’t help lashing out.

“If it’s really just work, why are you just now telling me about it?” I ask as I pick up the phone and walk back to my bedroom, plopping down on the bed.

“My bad, I didn’t know I was on a leash. I didn’t have to tell you about it at all. I called you out of respect when I found out she was coming.” He answers roughly. I’m about to respond when I hear his brothers calling his name.

“I’ll come over when we’re done and we can talk about it face-to-face, okay?” Matt says, softening his tone.

I don’t even reply. I just scoff and end the call, throwing my phone off the bed. I see the screen light up with a message from him but I don’t pick it up. Instead, I head into my living room to spend the day watching the only man who’s never let me down: Stiles Stilinski.

*************************

I must have fallen asleep somewhere around season three because I wake up to Void Stiles and someone banging on my door. Walking over and staring through the peephole, I’m unsurprised to see Matt standing there looking pissed.

I open the door slightly, peeking my head through the hole. “Wrong house.” But he just rolls his eyes, seemingly unimpressed.

“So we hang up in each other’s faces now, right?” He says as he pushes the door open wider and steps inside my apartment.

Sighing, I close the door and lock it, turning to lean against it with my arms crossed. “Oh, you remembered I exist? Only,” I mime checking the time. “three hours later. How was she? Was it good?”

Matt tilts his head and stares at me for a second, his eyes hardening, before he chuckles darkly and shakes his head. “You have me so fucked up today. Accuse me of cheating one more time.”

“If you want to be single, do that. In love or not, you’re just a man. You’re not the only dick-”

Matt cuts in, his face deadly serious again. “Y/N, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? Stop playing with me.”

His expression tells me I’m going too far, but the anger burning inside of my chest won’t let me back down.

I walk closer to him, stepping into his space “I’ve been there, done that with all the bullshit, Matt.”

“And I’m not them.” He snaps, ducking his face inches from mine. “I’m not stupid and I haven’t done anything to make you not trust me.”

Despite my best efforts, my eyes start to water and I look away. He’s right. I can’t punish him for someone else’s mistakes. I walk away and let myself fall backward onto my couch. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my arm flung across my eyes.

Matt comes over, pulling off the back pillows so he can crawl on top of me. He moves my arm from my face and adjusts me so I’m looking at him. “I’m not going to cheat on you.”

“I know,” I admit, blinking back my tears at how stupid I feel.

Matt wipes the corners of my eyes and turns my face with his fingertips so he can kiss my jawline. “You’re the only one I want.”

“Even though I have trust issues?” I ask breathlessly as he moves his lips down my neck, the proof of his want hardening against my thigh.

He shrugs, sliding his hands under my shirt and gripping my sides. “I’ll fix them.”

I nudge him so he’ll look at me and wrap my arms around his neck to pull him to me. Tangling my hands in his hair, I press tiny chaste kisses to his lips. He lets me have my way for a few minutes but gets frustrated and takes control, kissing me harder and sweeping his tongue into my mouth.

I grind my hips up against his, needing friction, and he groans. Removing an arm from his neck, I reach down and unbuckle his belt, reaching into his boxers. Matt moans my name against my neck and begins thrusting into my hand slowly. He sits up slightly, pushes my sleeping shorts to the side, and plunges in his middle finger.

I gasp when his cold ring brushes my clit and lean my head on his shoulder.

He adds another finger, using his other hand to hold my legs open when I try to squeeze them closed. He reaches down and stops my hand movements, clearly getting too close, before leaning back down to place kisses on my face.

Matt adds pressure to my clit, laughing when I push against his shoulders. “You’re so fucking wet for me already, pretty girl.”

I moan out his name as an answer and he picks up the pace, curling his fingers to brush my g spot. He keeps up his pace even when I tell him I’m coming, his thumb rubbing circles as I ride out my orgasm. When I come down, he pulls out his fingers and wipes them carelessly on his jeans as he stands up.

“Get on your knees.” He tells me as he kicks off his pants and boxers. I slide off the couch, following his instructions, and face him, assuming he wants head. But when I reach for him, he shakes his head. “Bend over the coffee table.”

I raise my eyebrow slightly but do as he says, bracing my hands on the frame.

Matt kneels behind me and nudges my knees farther apart. He swipes my hair to one side so he can kiss my neck as he lines himself up, grunting quietly as he enters me.

He gives me a second to adjust when he bottoms out, beginning to thrust when I start to squirm. He pulls back as far as he can and slams back into me, pushing me into the table. I gasp, looking back, but he only smirks, leaning down to lightly nip at my shoulder. He continues his rough strokes, his hand digging into my hip.

Fighting for control, I meet his thrusts, pushing my hips back into him, until he braces a hand on my back and pushes me down.

I give up and I press my face into the cool glass, moaning loudly, as he hammers into me. Matt moves his other hand up to the back of my head, lacing his fingers through and tugging gently. “My girl.” He breathes out, the soft tone of his voice contrasting his rough thrusts.

“Please, Matt,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut as I feel my body tightening up.

“Come all over me, baby.” He says, pulling me up and pressing my back into his chest while he thrusts up. My body melts against his, and I unravel around him. I shudder when he continues thrusting, his hand coming up to circle my oversensitive clit.

It’s too much but when I try to wiggle away, he pulls out and stands, yanking me up with him. He leads me back to the sofa and bends me over the arm of it before sliding inside of me again.

He grips both of my hips, using them as leverage as he pounds himself into me. I can’t believe how much he’s stretching me, the tip of his dick kissing my cervix as he thrusts.

He brings his hand up and covers my mouth, shushing me, which must mean I’m being too loud. But I can’t think of anything besides the way he feels inside of me.

I can tell when he gets close because his thrusts become sloppier and he starts moaning out my name. He pushes inside of me as deep as he can and comes, dropping his head onto my back.

We both try to catch our breath for a second before he pulls out of me slowly and points me toward the bathroom. “You can go first.”

When we both have cleaned up, he comes back over to where I’m sitting on the couch and squats down. His eyes are kind and sweet as he takes my hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it. “Shower?”

He lets me get in first and I flinch at the cold ass water he’s set it to, turning up the heat. Matt hisses as he follows me in, leaning past me to turn it down. “Are you trying to boil us alive? That shit is proof that you’re a demon.”

I laugh at his dramatics as he grabs my soap and lathers up the loofah. He scrubs my arms gently before spinning me so he can get my back.

When he's done, he pulls me into his chest and I lean my head back, the feeling of his skin against mine like ecstasy.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He says, his voice grating across my ear before he places a kiss behind it.

I turn and smile at him, adoration flooding my body. “I think I’m starting to.”

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reiderwriter · 5 months

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Hey lovely! Hope you’re doing good! I was listening to bad idea right? By Olivia Rodrigo and thought it would be a good idea for a Spencer fic, was thinking something something with a little angst, smut and possibly a fluffy ending! ♥️

Ps love your writing 🖤

A/N: Most relatable song released this year, if we're being totally honest with ourselves, right 💀 I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: (Munch Spencer Truthers, I'm throwing yourself another bone here), Oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation (male), slight hand job at the end, penetrative sex, cum play, etc. Minors DNI 18+

Your fling with Spencer Reid from the BAU ended abruptly when he fell off the face of the earth.

You weren't sure how someone who had described himself as technophobic had managed to perfect the art of ghosting someone, but boy had he, and you were still a little bit angry about it.

Even angrier when you saw him plastered over the local news out on a case, explaining to the people how fake tips to the FBI hindered cases more than helped them.

You were angry because he looked so good. His hair was shorter, displaying his all too pretty features prominently, and pissing you off to no end as you still felt your heart beat out of your chest until he'd disappeared into a crime scene again.

You brushed it off and berated yourself until the text came.

It wasn't much, just a quick hello, but you waited for a few minutes anyway to see if he'd say anything else.

When he didn't, you grew frustrated and text him a response.

“Who is this?”

It was petty, but four months of radio silence deserved less, in all honesty.

You weren't expecting the phone to vibrate out of your hand as you waited for a response, but it lit up with his call and you scrambled to wait enough time to pick it up.

“Hello.”

“Hi. It's Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid, from the Behavioural Analysis Unit, this is Y/N right?”

“Yes, Spencer, it's me. My number didn't change after four months.”

“Okay, that was deserved.”

“Why are you calling Spencer?”

“Because I'm a burnt out child prodigy who didn't cure schizophrenia by age 25 and my friends missed my birthday. And because I really wanted to see you.”

The line went quiet as you contemplated what the hell you would say to that.

“It would be stupid to ask if you remembered my address, right?”

“Y/N, I remember what you taste like, and I'll never forget it.”

“Good. I'm locking the door in half an hour.” You didn't give him time to respond before exiting the call and running to your bathroom.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea entertaining a fling from months ago on a whim at 7pm on a Wednesday evening, but you had nothing else to be doing with your time.

It wasn't illegal for people to reconnect, and you were not going to mention this to any close or mutual friends of yours, so one conversation (or whatever this was) probably wouldn't have any consequences anyway.

Caution blown to the wind, you replaced your work clothes with a comfortable dress, fixed your hair and poured a glass of wine and waited.

As if on queue, 27 minutes later, Spencer was at your door. Or more accurately in your house.

Your threat to lock the doors had obviously spurred him on, and you heard the door handle twist as he stepped into the space.

“Spencer. How lovely, to what do I owe the honor?”

The adrenaline of making sure the door was unlocked had obviously worn off for him, as you saw him shift awkwardly in the doorway of your living room, sat comfortably on your couch, your skirt just riding high enough to distract.

“I was thinking. Well, I suppose the correct term would be overthinking. Emily had to snap me out of it, because I was kicking myself and doubting myself and worrying so much that we almost lost the unsub…”

“What I’m trying to say is I’ve regretted not doing too many things to think coming to beg you to kiss me again is a bad idea. It’s not a bad idea, right?”

“That depends, Spencer.” You replied, setting your glass of wine down and standing up. You took a wobbly step towards him, eager to blame your hesitancy on the wine rather than the things his gaze, his words and his simple presence was doing to your body.

“On if you only want a kiss.” Your hand gingerly slipped up his chest until it was hooked into his hair, exploring the shorter locks as he grabbed you by the waist.

“Or if you aren't satisfied with just that.”

“I can't seem to come up with an answer. Perhaps you should kiss me and it'll jog my memory.”

You finally cracked a smile, and saw his face instantly bloom into ot as well.

“Nu-uh Spencer. I think you have to take that chance this time.”

He hesitated only a second before his hands were cradling your face, tipping your chin up to him as he bent to kiss you. You immediately responded, letting your hands grab fistfuls of his shirt as you pulled each other closer.

It sent you off balance, but you let yourself follow the motion of you tipping backwards, letting him catch you as you began moving in the direction of your bed.

“Not a bad idea,” he mumbled between deep kisses, letting loose a stray moan when your hands trailed down to his belt and below. “Definitely not a bad idea.”

Somehow in the clash of lips and hands, you managed to make it back to your bed, his hands already managing to find themselves under your dress as his lips diverted your attention.

“Four months, Spencer.” You growled the words into his mouth as your tongues battled for dominance. “Four months without this. I thought I'd go insane.”

You felt him smile as he lifted you, and grinned too as you wrapped your legs around him just as he began climbing onto the bed, softly lowering you down until he was on top of you.

His tongue travelled down your neck, making his way back up towards your ear.

“I did go a bit insane, you know?”

His hands flipped up your skirt as he ground his dick against your crotch, pushing it up further until the bottoms of your breasts were peaking out of the scraps of material as well.

“Let me make it up to you?” It was phrased like a question he didn't care about the answer to, as he pushed off of you and completely rid your body of the material that was hindering it completely.

“That's better.” You swore you heard a sigh of contentment as he held your thighs apart and lowered his head, one kiss at a time, to your neglected pussy.

He hooked a ginger under your panties, and pushed them off to the side, but he'd never been the most patient, and he'd already spread your legs. He'd just work around the impediment, you knew.

And he did, starting with a casual flick of the tongue as he looked up at you from his place at your cunt, smiling at you as he began to feast.

You'd never thought of yourself as a pillow princess before Spencer, enjoying giving love as much as receiving but he gave you the perfect royal treatment, and enjoying it so much it was impossible to deny.

After getting so spoiled, it was a wonder that you even knew how to adapt to life without him, nothing compared to the care and attention he showed you in bed.

Your thoughts blended together as he pressed a finger into you, already sneaked with his spit and your wetness, collected from between his lips and your soaked cunt. His pace was steady, repetitive, and driving you fucking insane.

Never a demanding lover, before you would have simply let him enjoy his time between your legs, enjoying just how much he enjoyed it himself as he lapped up all of your juices.

But four months clean from your addiction to Spencer Reid and you were snapping.

Your hands gripped at his hair, pressing his face further into your cunt than he'd been before, enjoying the muffled moans and the sound of his tongue generously lapping up all you had to offer.

You started humping his mouth, holding his head still as you used him as a tool to get yourself off, finally cumming on his mouth with a shudder and an unfiltered moan.

It would've been embarrassing if it wa anyone else, just how loud you'd been for your ex-boyfriend.

“You taste the same.” He said, wiping the remainders of your cum from his lips as he stroked himself, having loosed his cock from his pants sometime between you moaning like a wanton whore and using his face as a sex toy.

A single glance at him over you pleasuring himself was enough to get you ready for round two.

He had sat up on his knees, head and torso tilted slightly back to give you a better view of his cock being pumped hard and fast.

“Spencer Reid, don't you dare make yourself cum.” You thought the words were joking, light even but even you were shocked by the sheer lust dripping from your throat.

Wrapping your legs around him again, you pulled yourself up into his lap, holding yourself still as you quickly unfastened each of his shirt buttons, pushing it away and chucking it so far that he wouldn't be able to use it to cover up anything else.

It took you a minute more to properly situate yourself, but soon you were sinking down onto his cock and allowing the stretch to rule your mind and movements for a minute.

You gently started riding him, letting each gasp and moan reach your ears and spur you on, not holding back on your side either, telling him just how good it felt to have him in you raw once again.

Your stamina wasn't great though especially after having had one powerful orgasm already, and your movements soon became sloppy.

He kissed you softly on the lips, and you let go of the tension in your body as he pushed you onto your back, made sure you were comfortable, and started beating his cock into you with such a force that you were sure the bed was going to break.

It was this intensity that you craved, this complete change from his insistence on putting you first so to speak, and then using you as a human sexton when it suited him, allowing his cock to push you to your limits and beyond.

It wasn't like you could protest anyway, mouth hanging limply open in a scream of pleasure as sparks shot up your spine.

Entertaining Spencer Reid was never a bad idea. You decided then and there that if he left you again for whatever reason, you'd hunt him to the ends of the earth and beg for another chance at this feeling of pleasure.

You came again, of course, not sure if it was his cock or his exploring hands that was tethering you to the moment as you died a little death.

His own orgasm wasn't far behind your own, but he'd always been a bit messy. You weren't surprised when he gave a small panicked moan, pulling out at the last second as his cum spurted out. You helped him ride it out, wrapping a hand around him to stroke him until his dick was drained, the contents sprayed across your chest and breasts, a single drop even making it to the side of your mouth, but that was quickly lapped up.

His aftercare was almost as good as his foreplay, as he took pains to wash you diligently, even as all you wished to do was sleep well into the night directly after feeling his hot cum pour onto you.

He'd gathered a wash cloth, fresh set of pyjamas and an extra blanket to cocoon you both in before you could even lift a finger, and climbed into bed before you could even think of asking if he was staying the night.

With the satisfaction of multiple orgasms finally catching you, you fell asleep in his arms, a grin plastered on your lips, his hands possessively surrounding you.

Needless to say, when you woke in the morning, he was still there.

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