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likeumeanit9497 · 16 days

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watch | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: after hearing you confess all of your insecurities to him, matt makes it his mission to have you see yourself the way that he sees you.

warnings: established relationship smut; fluff; mentions of body insecurities; hint of disordered eating; fingering (f receiving); dirty talk; choking; 18+

notes: i dreamt up this smut last night and immediately got to writing because it felt a little too real. i also knew it was gonna be a shorter one shot (compared to all of my others) so decided to try out second person narration rather than first person. i still can't decide which is better, so pls let me know which u all prefer to read. i hope ya'll enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed dreaming ab it ;)))

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

With Mac Miller playing softly from Matt’s tv, you sighed to yourself as you applied the finishing touches to your makeup. You took a moment to inspect your appearance in the full length mirror that you had been getting ready in front of, and felt like you didn’t recognize the girl in the reflection. For some reason, you were having a bad everything day. You had started getting ready by doing your hair, and it just wouldn’t fall right once you had finished styling it. Moving on to makeup, you had struggled with making your eyeliner match and all of your base makeup looked splotchy; it was like nothing was sitting the way it should on your skin.

Filled with frustration, you were tempted to tell Matt to cancel the dinner reservation, scrub everything off your face, and tuck yourself in his bed for the rest of the night. But you wouldn’t do that, because he had been so excited about planning your date night all by himself.

You and Matt had been dating for a few months, and had built a relationship filled with the perfect combination of comfort and excitement. Even though you both lived apart, there was rarely a day when you and him were not doing something together — whether that be just laying in his bed watching movies all day, or going on a random adventure in the middle of nowhere. You could never grow tired of being around him, but for some reason your insecurities in your appearance were so severe today that you almost felt like you wanted to hide yourself from him.

As you leaned closer to the mirror to inspect your creasing concealer under your eyes, Matt walked into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. “You look pretty,” He started, heading towards his closet to pick out an outfit. “You about ready?” You watched him through the mirror as he put on a pair of boxers, feeling a lump form in your throat at how undeniably beautiful he looked. You were hit with the realization that his looks so clearly outshined your own, and hated the idea of other people recognizing that whenever you two went out together.

Trying to get the negative thoughts out of your mind so that he wouldn’t have reason to worry, you cleared your throat. “Uh, yeah I am. I just have to get dressed.” After buttoning his jeans, he looked at you through the mirror and smiled warmly. “Everything okay baby?” He must have noticed the tension in your brow, or the slight downturn of your lips, but you nodded reassuringly. “Yeah of course, I’m just not really feeling my makeup.” You added a chuckle to the end of your sentence, hoping to make him believe that it was just a light hearted confession. He walked over to you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I think it looks perfect.” He said softly into your hair, and you forced a smile onto your lips.

You walked over to the clothing rack that Matt had put in his room for you so that you could leave a variety of your clothes at his place for when you stayed over. Scanning your options, you skipped over all of your more bold pieces — knowing your head space was far too vulnerable tonight to mess around with any of them — and decided on your favourite black Skims dress. It had never failed you in the past, and you tried to reassure yourself with this fact as you removed your oversized t-shirt and replaced it with the soft dress.

Your positive attitude was gone just as quickly as it arrived once you began to examine yourself in the mirror. From the front your body looked okay, but as soon as you turned to the side you grimaced at the sight of your bloated stomach from the massive deli sandwich Matt had bought you for lunch earlier. The thin, tight material of the dress did nothing but accentuate the swell in your lower stomach, and you wanted to scream out in frustration. Maybe if your hair and makeup had worked in your favour the bloating wouldn’t have bothered you so much, but because everything that could have possibly gone wrong had gone wrong, it was enough to cause tears to well in your eyes.

As you stood in front of the mirror fighting the tears from spilling over, Matt noticed the sheen in your eyes and your wobbly chin and raced over to you. “Hey hey hey! What’s wrong baby?” He asked, his voice laced with a hint of panic. You shook your head rapidly. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m just being stupid.” Your voice was thick with emotion, and it made you even more angry with yourself as you knew this whole thing was stupid. “It’s clearly not nothing if you’re crying, Y/n.” He turned you around so that you were face to face with him; concern evident in his furrowed brow and racing eyes. “Tell me what’s going on sweetheart.” His voice was soft, and he rubbed his hands along your bare arms reassuringly.

You sighed and brought a shaky hand to your eye; trying to dab away any fallen tears in a weak attempt to not ruin your shitty makeup. “It’s stupid Matt.” You wined, not wanting to tell him your insecurities out of fear that speaking of them might make him suddenly see them just as clearly as you did. “Y/n, please.” He begged, desperate to try and help you. Groaning, you finally obliged; your voice barely above a whisper as you confessed. “I just hate everything about the way I look today, that’s all.” Matt stared at you with a blank expression as he took in your words, and you waited in silence — nervous to hear his response.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Y/n.” He sounded almost angry in his response, and it caused you to bite your lip nervously as you shrugged. “Nothing turned out the way I wanted it to when I got ready today, plus you’ve been feeding me too much lately and it’s been making me bloated.” You explained further, and watched as his eyes travelled from your face down to your body. “Baby, you look absolutely beautiful.” He said, and you rolled your eyes. “You have to say that, it’s one of the unwritten rules of being someone’s boyfriend.” A dry laugh escaped your lips, and Matt moved his hand to the back of your head.

“You think I’m lying?” He asked, his tone of voice mildly threatening and absolutely serious. So serious in fact, that the weak smile left your lips and you could do nothing but stare blankly at his face; unsure of how you should answer. He tilted his head quizzically, clearly still waiting for a response. Tentatively, you nodded your head yes as a singular tear fell down your cheek. Matt’s eyes softened. “Oh baby.” He breathed before pressing his lips softly against yours. He wrapped his arms around your waist as he began deepening the kiss — turning it into one filled with passion without losing its gentle nature. Delicately, his tongue skated across your lips; requesting access to your mouth without demanding it. You released a soft whimper from his tender movements as his hands travelled down to your ass; massaging it gently through the thin material of your dress.

“Turn around.” He ordered against your mouth, and you immediately obliged. Now facing the mirror, he stood behind you with his hands planted firmly on your shoulders. Into your ear, he spoke. “You are the most beautiful person that I have ever laid my eyes on, and I need you to know that.” His words — overflowing with emotion — caused goosebumps to cover your skin. Using both of his hands, he grabbed each thin strap of your dress and slowly peeled them off your shoulders. Not stopping there, he used his grip on the straps to pull the dress completely off your body — creating a puddle of dark material at your feet.

“Look at you, Y/n.” His hands moved across your upper body; exploring every square inch of your skin as he held you in front of the mirror. You shuddered from his touch; his hands lighting your body on fire as they glided across it. He grabbed your breasts in both hands, massaging them slowly as he planted a kiss to the top of your shoulder. “You might see flaws when you look at yourself in the mirror, but I don’t. And I never have.” His hands moved down to your hips, squeezing them slightly. “I think I just have to show you what I see, and then maybe you’ll change your mind.”

Dropping one more kiss to your flushed skin, he walked you forward a few steps towards the mirror, before using his hands to guide you to the floor. Knees tucked into your chest, he sat behind you and pulled all of your hair over to one side before leaning in to whisper into your ear. “Open your legs baby.” You gulped before obliging, sliding your legs apart but keeping your knees bent. Your bare chest rose and fell rapidly, beginning to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation. You titled your head to the side out of embarrassment of having your legs spread in front of the mirror — with only your small pink thong covering you. Noticing this, Matt brought a hand to your jaw, grabbing it firmly and straightening your head back in the direction of the mirror. “You are breathtaking, Y/n. I don’t want you to look away.” As he spoke, he moved his hand from your jaw down to your breast, holding it firmly as his thumb swirled around your sensitive nipple. “Keep your eyes on the mirror.” He whispered before taking his free hand and sliding your panties to the side.

Your eyes planted firmly on your glistening core as he used two fingers to spread it open. You watched as your arousal began leaking from your slit, and your jaw dropped in ecstasy as he collected the fluid on his fingers. His eyes connected to yours in the mirror as he brought his wet fingers up to your lips. Confused, you furrowed your brow. “Even your insides are beautiful. Taste yourself.” He urged, and his words stirred up something within you. Slowly, you opened your mouth and immediately felt his fingers press against your tongue. You wrapped your lips around his middle and ring fingers; sucking your own sweet juices off of them and moaning at the heat of the scenario as his eyes burned into yours through the reflection in the mirror.

“Good girl.” He praised once you released his fingers, before moving them back down to your throbbing core. As soon as his fingers connected with your clit, you released a breathy moan and screwed your eyes shut in relief. “Open your eyes sweetheart, and look at how fucking beautiful you look.” He demanded sweetly into your ear, making it impossible for you to even consider disobeying him. Through your droopy eyelids you watched, mouth agape, as his ringed fingers massaged your bundle of nerves; their circular motions hypnotizing you. You also took a moment to admire your body as it writhed in anticipatory pleasure — your sweat-coated breasts heaving as you gasped for breath. Matt rested his chin on your shoulder — his left hand still caressing your tits — as he watched in awe at your various expressions of pleasure.

“Look at your pretty pink pussy, baby. And look how unbelievably beautiful you look when you bite your lip. God, I could cum in my pants just from watching you feel good.” His words were equal parts sweet and filthy in your ears, and they added to the pleasure you felt building up within you. Suddenly, his left hand moved from your tits down your stomach and towards your core. You watched in awe as he swirled two fingers around your opening teasingly, and practically screamed out once he slammed them into you. Wasting no time, his curled fingers pumped in and out of you rapidly, hitting your spongey g-spot each time.

“F-fuck Matty, feels so good.” You managed to get out through breathless moans. “Mmm.” He purred, “Looks so good too, doesn’t it? Your pretty juices like honey dripping from my fingers. Tell me how pretty it looks.” You whined before obliging. “I-it’s so pretty.” You watched his reflection as he shook his head and smirked. “Good baby, but it’s not just your juices. It’s you that’s so pretty. Say it.” As he waited for your response, he nipped delicately at your neck. “I-I’m s-so pretty.” Your voice was shaky as your mind was overtaken by your impending orgasm that was very quickly approaching. You felt Matt’s lips turn up in a smile against your neck. “That’s right. And just wait till you cum princess, there’s nothing more beautiful than that.” His words caused your walls to flex around his pumping fingers and your stomach tensed from the familiar feeling.

“G-gonna cum baby.” You cried out, tucking your chin into your shoulder and arching your back off of his chest as your orgasm began to roll through your body. Suddenly, Matt pulled his fingers out of your core and grabbed onto your throat, gently straightening your head up once again. “Watch yourself cum, Y/n.” He rasped into your ear and you watched through blurred vision as your fucked out face contorted into one filled with pleasure as your orgasm tore through your body. Still rubbing your clit at full tilt, Matt filled the space between you both with muttered praises; his eyes firmly planted to your face as he almost fell apart himself from the view in front of him.

Once you came down from your high, Matt wrapped both of his arms tightly around you; leaving small kisses on your skin as he waited for you to catch your breath. “I don’t ever want you to have negative thoughts about yourself like that ever again.” He stated as he rubbed your soft skin gently. Still waiting for the fog around your fucked out brain to clear, you could do nothing more than hum in acknowledgment. “I mean it, Y/n. I get that having insecurities is normal, but, when I look at you, I swear to god I can’t see a single flaw.” Your eyes fluttered open and connected with his in the mirror. “You are perfect, Y/n. And I’m not just saying that.” Giving him a small smile, your heart did leaps in your chest at his heartfelt testament. The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, and when you took a moment to look at yourself again in the mirror, you realized that maybe he did have a point.

Even through your makeup, your cheeks were filled with a lively glow that wasn’t there before. Your eyes seemed to glisten in the light, and your lips were swollen and pink. You would have expected your hair to be messed up, but Matt’s hands running through it had actually made it fall exactly they way you had hoped it would when you were styling it. You still struggled with your bloating, but flashbacks of your body squirming sensually under Matt’s touch — and the residual satisfaction of your orgasm a reminder of just how good your body could feel — allowed you to find a new appreciation for it. Feeling a lump form in your throat just as it had when you tried on your black dress — this time for an entirely different reason — you gazed adoringly at Matt. “Thank you baby.” You whispered before turning around and planting a deep kiss to his lips.

“It was my pleasure, sweetheart.” He responded, both of his hands on either side of your face so he could stare at it up close. “You think you’re up for dinner still? Because let me tell you, you’re on a whole other level of sexy when you’re shovelling steak into your mouth.” You erupted into giggles at this, and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m serious.” He continued, his voice filled with laughter. “You think I have blue balls now, just wait until after dinner. They might explode.” You shoved his shoulders playfully at this, and hoisted yourself up to your feet to find your discarded dress. “You add a lobster to my dinner plate, and I might just be able to help you out with that on our way back.”

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets

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princessbrunette · 7 months

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“you still mad at me?” while balls deep with rafe 😵‍💫😵‍💫.

GODDDD U ATE W THIS PROMPT 😩 like my jaw dropped

rafe was always doing this.

he’d make empty promises, plans even — talk to you all sweet with a warm hand on your back whispering suggestion of “that was the last time i’m getting involved with all that crazy shit, baby. i swear. s’just me you n’me now, you hear me?” and you being the fool, believed him.

until of course you’re catching him pulling back up to the drive on his motorcycle, yanking his helmet off with that ill-tempered expression of his that just tells you enough that somethings gone on, you know, the one where his teeth are grit, lips pressed together like they’d been sewn shut. that’s not even where it ends, because often times barry is close behind, pulling up alone side so they can debrief loudly in the living room, stinking up the place with pot. even if you were mad, you know the rules. no coming down the stairs when barry’s over.

you almost had started to enjoy the feeling of sulking when rafe would eventually skulk up the stairs after barry had left, shoulders heavy and ready to grovel. naturally, you put up quite the fight — and what might surprise you is that rafe let’s you mouth off, even if he knows you don’t understand the importance of his situation and likely never will.

“again and again rafe! how many times am i gonna have to put up with you just running off to god knows where when you promise me you’re not doing all that anymore! you were supposed to be with me today!” you nearly stomp your foot, that last sentence coming out childishly like an abandoned middle child. he nods, jaw ticking as he stares at the ground scratching his forehead, waiting for his lashing to end. once the tears start to roll, that’s his queue. like clockwork.

“come on, hey. y’know i love you, sweetheart. i’m sorry, okay?” he rushes to your side, sliding right up next to you on the bed and thumbing at the first batch of tears on your cheek, his hand so large it cups your skull at the same time. you want to preen into his touch, so elated with any affection after a day of missing him, worrying about him — but you don’t, because you’re still mad. be strong, you tell yourself.

you’re weak. you hate yourself.

not even 10 minutes of your sobbing and complaining later and he’s got your legs over his broad shoulders, balls slapping lewdly against you whilst he all but pumps you. his hands that are on your waist, using you as leverage reposition themselves so that he’s holding himself up over you more. a large hand wraps gently around your ankle as he does so, making sure your leg doesn’t slide off the strong slopes of his shoulder.

squeals and more tears are being punched out of you with each thrust, but he can see you physically relaxing, he can see you reaching out to him with a wobbling bottom lip so that you can hold onto his arms like you always do when he fucks you. it’s neutralising you.

“fuck, that’s m’girl.” he pants, mouth gaping at the way your pussy flutters around him. you’re so reactive to his voice he can’t believe it, never having met anyone who is so enamoured with everything he does. shit, maybe he should treat you better after all. he keeps talking, because he thinks you deserve to cum a whole bunch tonight, after putting up with all his shit. having a girlfriends made him gone all soft.

“you still mad at me?” he tilts his head, and you’re not sure if it’s intended to be mean or mocking, because it certainly doesn’t come out that way — his voice kind and eyes kinder, rolling the well kept muscles in his core to grind his cock against that spongey spot deep within. you don’t answer his question, clinging onto that last crumb of dignity and restraint. you pout through your whimpers, turning your head a little. he takes that opportunity to burrow down into your neck, his open mouth panting against your tepid skin as he speaks lowly again. “dont be mad at me baby. i’m only tryna look after my girl, you want that right?”

“mhm…” you reply before you permit yourself.

he slides his arms under you now, letting your legs down from his shoulders to hook around his waist instead. he’s holding your body close to his as he grinds, his pelvis smushed against your clit, making your thighs tremble and suddenly you’re so god damn close it hurts and you’ll do anything to cum.

“so good to me, baby.” he sighs and you cry out, arching your body harder to his. “i know. let it out. i’m so bad to you sweetheart s’the least i can do.” he mutters self pityingly before letting out a groan, cock pulsing inside you. you remember thinking about how right he was about that when you fell over the edge into a white hot orgasm.

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader

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eideticallys · 1 year

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You Think I'm Delicious?

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words.

“i don’t like your new perfume.”

genre: fluff & crack

word count: 1.9k

author's notes: here's a spencer reid fluff without plot, just crack (i tried so i hope you'll laugh while reading this). anyway, enjoy reading this one! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

THE THING ABOUT DR. SPENCER REID IS THAT HE’S A VERY SENSITIVE PERSON. He's very particular about stuff like his dislikes for certain textures and not knowing about something—making him a good researcher by the way, because if he doesn't know something, you'll find him poring through books—and even certain smells aren't an exception. One might think that this is normal with his job because, of course, he does. He has probably smelled dead bodies more than he has smelled fresh flowers. Of course, he hates smells like rotten flesh. Disgusting, honestly. But, what can he do? That is part of his job.

So, when he suddenly tugged you to his side one day to hug you, you were excited for him to take note of your new perfume and love it. No, you were certain he’d love it just as much as you did when you first took a whiff at the store. You just had to buy it because you were sure he’d go crazy over your smell. He’d tuck his face into your neck and shower you with pecks. Because despite what everyone else thinks they know about Spencer having an aversion to touch, he was quite the cuddler when he was in love. And yes, you were the lucky recipient of his comforting hugs 24/7.

However, all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with Spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words.

“I don’t like your new perfume.”

Your jaw dropped as soon as he said that distressing sentence. Meanwhile, Spencer was quick to move away from you and continue what he was doing previously—playing chess by himself. Sometimes, if only you didn’t love your boyfriend and didn’t have to face charges, you would strangle him for a lot of things. One of which was being nonchalant after just dropping a bomb like that. What does he mean by you smell bad? You bought a citrus-scented perfume that hurt your pockets; you’ll have to give up your afternoon snacks at the cafe near the FBI headquarters. So, like any good partner out there, you just had to instigate a little argument over your new perfume.

“Excuse me?”

Your boyfriend looked up at your incredulous tone, merely raising a brow at you as if to ask, “What’s up?” This almost got your eye twitching, but you refrained. Taking a breath, you plastered a sickly sweet smile on your face and clarified your previous question.

“What do you mean you don’t like my new perfume?”

Spencer started reddening at your accusatory tone and shrugged halfheartedly, which made you raise one perfectly formed brow at your boyfriend. Now, you’re curious why your boyfriend blushed at your question.

He may be quite shy, but Spencer wasn’t the best when it came to social cues. He rarely gets embarrassed about something unless you blatantly point it out. You could probably count on one hand the number of times he flushed pink. A funny memory you have of him reddening like a tomato was when the BAU were out interviewing streetwalkers. Despite his social awkwardness, Spencer was propositioned by all the women he talked to. You could still remember the exact look he had on his face when he had to pull his tie away from the woman, who was busy rolling it on her fingers.

God, he’s so precious, you’d keep him in your pocket if you could. But right now, he isn’t your favorite person, and you’d love nothing more than to figure out why he was blushing. You were sure there was something behind all those burning cheeks.

“Spencer,” you slowly enunciated the syllables of his name, making him look at you once again. He tilted his head in question as you sighed dramatically, “Out with it.”

“What?”

“You’re flushed pink. You’re picking at your nails, and your right knee just started bouncing.” You pointed it out, and Spencer tried to remedy every single thing you mentioned. “Baby, for a profiler, you’re not doing great at hiding stuff. Tell me what’s going on.”

He scowled and crossed his arms like a petulant child, definitely wishing you weren’t a profiler, and a damn good one at that, like him. You merely chuckled at his antics and crossed your arms in retaliation. No, you weren’t backing away from this one. You spent money on perfume, hoping your boyfriend would love it. But no, he hated it, and now, you have to know why.

You could hear the ticking of the wall clock—if you focused hard enough—with the way not a single sound could be heard from the both of you waiting for the other to cave—not even a phone call from Garcia telling you that you have a case and, you have to be in the office in fifteen minutes could disrupt your focus right now. You could say the same about your boyfriend right now, who is intently staring at your phones on the table. He was probably hoping a work call would come through to save his ass from getting interrogated by you. It’s kind of sick that one would want to hear a new body was found, but at least you’d be out there catching another bad guy and locking them up, never to see the light of day until their last breath. He would rather have a face-off with a murderer than his girlfriend, whom he’s pretty sure is close to resorting to violence for borderline calling her stinky—not really, you’re just dramatic like that.

“Well, for starters, I think it’s strong like I’m drowning in it,” Spencer emphasized the word strong, making your brows furrow. He didn’t have that problem with your previous perfume, and it was stronger—he’s hiding something. You stared pointedly at your boyfriend now, who was fidgeting like crazy under your scrutiny.

“Are you sure that’s it? You didn’t have that problem with my previous perfume, which I’m pretty sure is much stronger than this one.” You clarified, tilting your head to the side as you explained further. “Garcia loved the smell of flowers, but she told me she sneezed every time I passed by. She had to ask me to change the scents immediately. And despite the complaints, you loved it so much that you would tuck your face into my neck.”

At this point, Spencer looked like he was about to burst from an aneurysm with how red he had gotten. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry, but you also had to make him suffer.

“Tell me, Spencer. Or else, I might just have to resort to other tactics.” You almost cackled at the way your boyfriend looked like he’d rather start digging a hole for him to bury himself in. “And you know, I’m a great profiler. I always get what I want.”

However, as soon as you said those words, you noticed Spencer’s eyes drifting towards a half-full bottle sitting on his little desk filled with heaps of paperwork.

Oh. That’s the problem.

“Baby, I think I know what the problem is here.”

Spencer quickly leaped off your couch to avoid getting teased by you—which wasn’t your plan at all, by the way—and was about to run into your bedroom, but you were quick on your feet and were able to catch his arm and pull him towards you. Yep, unfortunately for your boyfriend, you were better when it came to physical activities.

Although you were better at that angle, you still weren’t able to properly estimate the way you pulled him into you because both of you ended up toppling over on your couch. Luckily, it was the couch, because you’re sure Hotch would have your heads served on a platter if both of his agents were injured and there was a sudden case.

You both landed unceremoniously, with Spencer squeaking as he ended up face-first into your chest, and you groaned as you cushioned his fall. Choosing to pause for a moment, you ran your hands through his brown curls as you both tried to catch your breath. Spencer seemed to agree with that idea as he started inhaling your scent, which made you smile a bit.

“You know, it’s not that I hate your perfume because it smells bad.” Spencer started explaining in a hushed tone, “I just liked it better when you smelled like me.”

Your eyes widened at his confession. This was the first time Spencer had ever said something possessive. Despite not being the usual alpha male girls go for, Spencer had enough confidence in himself that you chose him out of all the guys out there you could’ve gone for. At the start of your relationship, you made it clear to him that he was the one you wanted to be with. Not someone as domineering as Hotch or someone as bold as Morgan.

No, you wanted Spencer.

You wanted to be with Spencer.

So, you were shocked at your boyfriend’s display of possessiveness, but at the same time, you found it cute that he wanted you to smell like him. It wasn’t every day that he wanted to engage in a public display of affection. And just like any other girlfriend out there who enjoyed the attention you got from your boyfriend, you laughed as you tried to pull Spencer’s face towards yours.

“God, you’re so adorable, Dr. Reid,” you exclaimed as you peppered his face with pecks and pinched his cheeks as he tried to dodge, embarrassed after saying he wanted you to use his perfume, “I could eat your face!”

“We don’t want that." Spencer said, "The BAU would lose two of their best agents with me inside your gastrointestinal tract and you in jail for cannibalism.”

You rolled your eyes at him as he blinked at you innocently. Sometimes, you hate his brain.

“Stop taking things literally!" You exclaimed to your boyfriend, "You know what I’m talking about!”

“I don’t.” Spencer frowned. You could hear the cogs in his brain start working, meaning he was about to spew out some facts. “Actually, our senses of smell and taste are directly related. They both use the same types of receptors, so if you smell something that you think is delicious, this triggers the same area of the brain that activates our salivary glands. Wait, you think I’m delicious?”

You facepalmed yourself. For a guy with an IQ of 187, your boyfriend could be an idiot.

“You’re an idiot.”

“No, I’m not!” Spencer protested and explained some more, “Seeing an object, food, or even a person that is pleasing to the eye can cause people to salivate. Pleasant smells such as your favorite food, your partner’s natural scent, or smelling perfume on your partner can stimulate the production of saliva more than looking at that person. This process can initiate feelings of wanting to eat or bite.”

Despite his protests, you simply clucked and pinched his nose. Wanting to retaliate, Spencer continued spilling his tangents.

“Aha! You like me so much, my smell makes you want to bite me!”

“You know what, Spence?” You asked sweetly at your boyfriend, who was now listening intently to you. He’ll never know what hit him. “I love you so much, but I preferred it when you got embarrassed about wanting me to smell like you.”

By your admission, Spencer started blushing profusely again as he tried to bury his face in your neck.

“Shut up!”

“I love you too, Spence.”

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moonstruckme · 3 months

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spencer reid holding hands 4 the first time : ( 've been rewatching cm and i miss my boy sm : (( you're most recent peter fic is so sweet btw im absolutely obssessed!!!!! love you bunches

Thank you sweetheart <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 665 words

You and Spencer have had a very…tentative beginning to your relationship. Normally, when you think of a first date, you’re worried about how much the other person expects. (Will they want to kiss you? Will they want more? What if you don’t want to? How do you say no without making it awkward?) With Spencer, there’s been none of that. You’re on date three, and he’s kept completely to himself the entire time. When you met up earlier in the week he’d let a hand hover near your elbow when you nearly tripped over a curb, but you’d barely felt the whisper of his skin against yours before he was putting it back in his pocket, the danger having passed.

You’ve always thought that you’d prefer to take things slow, and Spencer seems that way too, but now you’re itching for something more. Just something tangible to show that you like him, that he likes you too, that you’re not just going on these dates for no reason at all.

So, bold thing that you are, you let your hand hang in the empty space between you as you walk. An offering.

The first time Spencer’s knuckles brush across yours, knobby and skimming, he almost stops talking. He’s been saying something about Alexander Pope and Eliza Haywood (and you’re doing your best to follow along, honest), but he falters mid-sentence, his hand stuttering in its movement.

“And, uh, actually,” Spencer goes on, getting his verbal feet back under him, “it was only in the late twentieth century that her works started surfacing in academia…”

You nod along but don’t move your hand, letting Spencer’s graze past it again. This time, you lean into the touch, pushing your knuckles into his almost imperceptibly. And this time, Spencer’s hand doesn’t continue along its trajectory. He lets it rest alongside yours, your skin brushing up against each other’s with the movement of your walking. After a few seconds, his pinkie teases yours.

You bite back a smile, crooking your pinkie so it hooks around his. Spencer moves his hand, and for a second your heart drops, but he’s only bringing it to the inside of yours, interlacing your fingers loosely.

“Is this okay with you?” he asks, careful and to-the-point.

“Yeah.” You look up at him sheepishly, wriggling your fingers in his to get them closer. “I’ve been wanting to do this.”

“Me too,” Spencer says quietly. Your heart balloons until you’re sure it’s about to float off and take you with it.

His palm is rougher than you’d expected. Spencer comes off as such an academic, sometimes you can forget that he’s in the literal FBI. He handles guns and had to go through training, and you can feel it in the light scratch of his calluses against your palm. Slender fingers stretch over your knuckles, deft and capable. His touch sends a pleasant tingling all the way up from your hand into your buzzing brain.

“Sorry,” you say softly.

Spencer looks confused. His thumb runs the length of yours, a thoughtless movement or a soothing touch, it doesn’t matter. If he does it again, you’ll puddle down onto the pavement for sure.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks.

“I sort of interrupted you.”

A little smile teases the dimple in his cheek. “I don’t mind.”

You give his hand a gentle tug, feeling brazen. It cracks something open in him, and his smile comes out for real, the familiarity between you suddenly so natural.

“Tell me about Eliza Haywood,” you urge. “Did Pope just hate her because she was a woman?”

“That was definitely a big part of it,” Spencer allows, and his voice seems to go back into the conversation while his face stays somewhere else. He’s still wearing that smile, eyes squinted just slightly like he’s having some trouble figuring you out and it might be his new favorite game. “But also it had a lot to do with the perception of novels…”

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capseycartwright · 2 months

Text

let’s get lost between the lines

ao3 link

“You handled that well,” Tommy said, as they left the restaurant and stepped out into this cool evening air. His words were soft, and gentle – genuine, even. As though he really meant it. Buck was baffled, frankly.

“I handled that with as much grace as an elephant doing ballet,” Buck glared at his - his date? - incredulously. “Tommy, did you hit your head? Are you concussed? Do I need to take you to the emergency room?”

or, after the eddie shaped hiccup of their first date, buck and tommy walk and talk - about coming out and why buck deserves a nice boyfriend.

Buck feels as though he’s swinging wildly between a panic attack and some sort of mental breakdown, heart thundering against his ribcage as he and Tommy finally leave the restaurant. It wasn’t how he’d want their first date - his first date with a man - to go, but then Eddie had appeared with Marisol on his arm and sat down with them, apparently completely oblivious to the fact that he was interrupting a date, and not a just a bro-hang (his words - not Bucks. Because Eddie was nothing if not an embarrassing old man stuck in a thirty-two-year-olds body.)

Tommy hadn’t corrected Eddie about the true nature of their outing, as Eddie had rambled on, hovering over the table, completely oblivious to what he was interrupting. Buck had never been more grateful for the fact that Tommy had already slid his credit card into the folder with the bill, their meal finished before Eddie and Marisol had even gotten seated at their own table. The waitress coming over to return Tommy’s card, and hand him a receipt, had been the perfect excuse for them to leave after fifteen of the worst minutes of Bucks life, making an excuse that he and Tommy had bought tickets to the movies. (“It’s sci-fi,” Buck had shrugged, impressed at the way he was internalising his own panic attack as he managed to splutter a sentence out. Eddie had looked almost hurt, when Buck had blurted that he and Tommy were going to the cinema without him. “You wouldn’t like it.”)

“You handled that well,” Tommy said, as they left the restaurant and stepped out into this cool evening air. His words were soft, and gentle – genuine, even. As though he really meant it.

Buck was baffled, frankly.

Tommy laughed, the sound an utter delight to Buck’s ears. He was quickly learning that he loved the sound of Tommy’s laugh. “No, I’m not concussed,” he rolled his eyes, feigning offence. “It was a genuine compliment. I think you handled that really well, Evan.”

Buck filed the gooey feeling he got in the pit of his stomach he got when Tommy called him ‘Evan’ away to obsess over at another time. “R-really?” he hated the way he sounded so unsure, so uncertain – but he knew he needed to start embracing his own discomfort in the midst of all of this. Being – being newly bisexual was going to be uncomfortable, for a while, but Buck was realising it wasn’t a bad sort of uncomfortable. Weirdly, it was a good uncomfortable – like Buck was growing into his own skin, learning how to feel himself for the first time in his life. It would just take a little while, and it would take a few uncomfortable moments for him to figure out what this new version of Evan Buckley actually looked like.

No - not new. The true version.

“Yes, really,” Tommy nodded. He paused, glancing back at the restaurant. “How about we take a walk?” he suggested, gesturing vaguely at the miles of boardwalk and beach ahead of them. “I’m not in a rush – unless you are.”

“A walk sounds nice,” Buck agreed easily, because he didn’t want to go home just yet – and he didn’t want their date, however awkward and disastrous it had been, to end just yet. He liked spending time with Tommy.

They walked along in silence for a few minutes, Buck blushing like a schoolkid as he and Tommy’s shoulders bumped together.

“Look – coming out isn’t easy. It’s something you have to do over, and over again, for the whole of your life,” Tommy began. “I used to think that you did it once, and that was it, but you come out every time you meet someone new, every time you start a new job. It gets easier, with time, right? At some point – you come out so many times, it feels as familiar as breathing. But those first few times – those are hard.”

“I didn’t even come out,” Buck pointed out.

“You don’t have to,” Tommy shrugged. “And you’re deliberately not listening to my point.”

Buck couldn’t help but grin. “I like to be obtuse sometimes. Explain it to me again?”

“You think you’re cute,” Tommy poked Buck in the side, clearly enjoying the way it made Buck squirm. “My point is, the first time you say those words to someone – your friends, your family – it’s hard. It’s okay to give yourself some time to prepare, to not want to do it right away.”

“Shouldn’t – shouldn’t I want to come out?”

“It’s not an obligation,” Tommy shrugged, gently redirecting Buck to a bench. It was a peaceful spot, the sound of the waves lapping against the shore a peaceful sound as they sat. “Society is like – it’s structured in a way that makes it so if you’re queer, there’s this expectation that you have to divulge these deeply personal things about yourself to everyone you meet. It’s not exactly fair, is it?”

Buck had never thought about it that way before. “No,” his brow furrowed. “It’s not very fair at all.”

“If you don’t want to come out, you don’t have to,” Tommy said. “But it does feel good to come out. If I can give you some like – advice, I guess. It’s a freeing feeling.”

“I’d like to come out,” Buck managed after a minute or two of silence. “I’ve been thinking about it since – since you kissed me,” he paused, feeling heat rise in his cheeks as he looked at Tommy. Tommy, to his credit, tried to swallow his pleased smile. “I feel more like myself than I ever have before. Like – like there was a part of me that was missing, and I didn’t even know it wasn’t there, and now I know it what it is, and what was missing, I feel more like myself than I ever have before in my life.”

Tommy’s smile was bright. “I’m glad to hear that, Buck.”

“I’d like to come out,” Buck repeated, twisting so he could face Tommy. “I just wasn’t prepared to do it on our first date, if I’m honest.”

“And that’s why I’m telling you that you handled it well,” Tommy nudged. “You knew you weren’t ready to have that conversation, there and then, so you came up with an excuse, and got us out of there.”

“You got us out of there,” Buck pointed out. Tommy had been the one to play along and say they’d be late for the movie, if they didn’t leave, there and then. “I didn’t even say thank you for buying dinner. I’m such a bad first date.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re a great first date.”

Buck huffed out a disbelieving breath. “I was basically mid-panic attack the entire time, Tommy, you don’t have to lie to me to save my feelings.”

“I’m not lying,” Tommy shrugged. “If there’s one thing you should know about me, Evan, it’s that I don’t lie. You’ll probably be sick of my honesty, in a few weeks.”

“In a few weeks? You – you want to keep doing this?”

“Why do you sound so unsure? Have I done something to make you think I don’t want to keep doing this?”

“N-no,” Buck paused for a second. “It’s kind of the opposite, actually.”

Tommy was quiet, giving Buck the space – and the silence – he needed to collect his thoughts. Buck was grateful for it.

“I don’t have the best dating history,” Buck admitted. “One day, further down the line, when I’m sure you’re not going to run away, I’ll tell you all the reasons why – but it sort of all boils down to childhood trauma and my deep-rooted abandonment issues,” he tried his best to give Tommy a smile, turn the admission into a joke. “So, I just – I end up picking the wrong people to date. I chase the wrong people. And now – now you’re here, and you’re being so kind, and understanding, I don’t really know what to do with it.”

“You could enjoy it,” Tommy offered, and it sounded so simple, when Tommy put it that way. Buck could just enjoy it. He could enjoy dating a man – a kind, sweet, very handsome man. He could enjoy the way he felt entirely out of his depth when Tommy offered him nothing but kindness, expecting nothing in return.

He could enjoy it.

He wanted to enjoy it.

“How the hell are you real?” Buck couldn’t help but breathe out, shaking his head. Tommy was just – a dream come true, in so many ways, and Buck didn’t know how he got so lucky to have him be interested in Buck. It felt so new, and exciting – none of the existential dread Buck normally felt as he tried to make relationships fit into his life when clearly, they never would.

He could see how Tommy could fit into his life. They worked the same job, so Tommy understood the crazy hours and long shifts. Tommy already knew so many of Buck’s most important people – and liked them – and he liked Buck. He actually liked Buck.

It seemed silly, to keep coming back to that, but Buck hadn’t always felt as though the people he dated him, really liked him. Abby liked the idea of him. Taylor liked the story they made. Natalia liked the fact he had died. Buck didn’t exactly have the best track record of people liking him for who he was, flaws and all – and okay, after one date, Tommy didn’t know his flaws so intimately, but he’d just witnessed Buck having a meltdown in a restaurant and he wasn’t running away.

He was sitting on a bench, listening to Buck.

Buck could definitely enjoy that.

“My mom hasn’t spoken to me since I came out,” Tommy said, after a few more minutes of silence. Buck’s expression must have turned to one of absolute horror, because Tommy gave him a reassuring look. “You told me something about yourself – so I’m telling you something about me.”

“Tommy, that’s horrible – I’m sorry.”

Tommy shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said it was okay,” he hummed thoughtfully. “But one of my very favourite things about being queer is that you find a family for yourself in this community. You know? Well – of course you know. You’ve done that with the 118.”

Buck shuffled a little closer. “I’d like to do that with the queer community too. As long as you don’t mind being my like – gay Yoda.”

Tommy snorted, the sound an utter delight amongst all the background noise of the boardwalk, people going about their Saturday evenings, unaware that Buck was having the most life-changing night of his life. “You’re secretly such a nerd,” he shook his head. “I’m happy to be your gay Yoda, Buck.”

“Yeah, but – what do you get out of it?”

Tommy fixed him with a look. “Buck,” he reached out, hand brushing against Buck’s palm. “I get to have you.”

And –

Oh.

Was that enough?

“It’s enough,” and oh – Buck must have said that part out loud, Tommy’s expression endearingly soft as he nudged Buck. “I promise. You’re more than enough.”

Buck would probably cry, if he spoke there and then, so he settled for doing something he’d been wanting to do since Tommy had knocked on his door at exactly eight pm that evening, and he leaned in and kissed him. It was a chaste kiss, soft, and sweet, a brief press of lips that still sent tingles down Buck’s spine as they broke apart.

He’d just kissed a man – in public.

That felt a lot like progress.

“I – I hope I’m not being too forward, when I ask this,” Tommy’s face was flushed in a way that Buck could only be delighted with. He’d made the other man blush. “But do you maybe want to come back to mine? Not – not for anything like that. I just don’t want this date to be over, and we could watch a movie.”

Buck had absolutely zero fucking intentions of watching a movie if he got to go inside of Tommy’s apartment. “Yeah,” he smiled, hooking a pinky finger around Tommy’s, not quite ready to hold his hand just yet. “A movie sounds great.”

#911 on abc #911 #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #anyway. the brain rot continues

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atticrissfinch · 11 months

Note

i don’t know if your requests are open but:

reader lives in jackson and is friends with tommy, so she sees joel relatively frequently, and they just DONT get along. the reader is young and she’s got a sharp tongue and cheek that irritates the shit out of joel, who shoots back just as much condescending insults. they literally can’t be in a room without getting into it. however, the reader does it for his attention (she’s got daddy issues), and joel doesn’t catch onto this until she’s knocking on his door at midnight because she can’t sleep and she needs him and she doesn’t know how to admit it. he pulls her in the house and absolute filth ensues. he makes her blow him and then they fuck. joel is smug and condescending the whole time, and reader just becomes a ragdoll. Size kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, creampie/breeding, the works PLEASE

Ohooooo nonnie, very well done. This inspired me. So here you go, lovely. I hope I did it justice 🙏

___

Little Bee 🐝 (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader warnings/tags: [18+ MDNI] jackson!au, no mentions of ellie, dark!joel if you squint, age gap (Joel in his 50s, reader in v early 20s), daddy!kink, size!kink, breeding!kink, brief praise!kink, degradation!kink, dirty talk (of course), ball sucking, pussy slapping, brief f masturbation, oral (m receiving), face-fucking, unprotected piv, rough sex, sorta dubcon creampie, orgasm denial as punishment (reader doesn't come ☹️), pet names/degrading terms (little girl, babygirl, slut, whore [one brief use derogatorily], etc.), mentions of food, mentions of parent death and absentee/neglectful parenting, daddy issues as a plot device word count: ~5k oops | ao3 Masterlist | Kofi

If there was anyone who could stoke the fire inside you, it was Joel Fucking Miller.

Something about the man had you desperately aiming to misbehave, to cause trouble.

And Maria did not like trouble.

She got on your cases constantly, snipping about how the two of you can’t endure each other’s company for two fucking minutes without stirring up a verbal sparring match. Which was truly a feat, she’d remarked once, considering any other person would be hard-pressed to get more than a couple sentences out of Joel on a good day.

But you. You can fiddle with the knobs in Joel’s brain to make him tick. Every fucking time.

Towards the beginning of Joel’s time in Jackson, you had been assigned patrol one time together. The second you had gotten back, Joel strode right up to Maria on an expletive-ridden tirade about what exactly he would do if he was ever partnered with you again.

You won’t lie, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face for days after that. The way you had gotten under his skin, irritated him to the point of him threatening to backhand you off your horse and leave you to the Infected.

And it hadn’t even been that hard to do, getting under his skin. It became something of a sport for you.

For example, he’d be peacefully eating his breakfast in the dining hall, and you’d just glide by with a, “Don’t choke on your dentures, old man,” and he’d slam his fist on the table and yell loud enough for the entire hall to hear for you to “Fuck off, you little shit!”. You’d cackle into your breakfast burrito while the rest of the hall flinched at the flicker of Joel Miller aggression.

What’s even more funny is that you and Tommy get on just fine. You patrol together pretty consistently and have formed a very amicable relationship. He’s never been able to understand what exactly riles the two of you up, but Tommy would be the first to acknowledge that Joel’s temper can get the better of him. He’s mentioned more than once that Joel really only gets so fired up about people he cares about—that Tommy himself has first-hand experience with those outbursts. He does admit that you really do seem to bring it out of Joel, though.

That fills you with secret satisfaction.

Because from the first day you met Joel, you wanted him to see you. You hate to call it “daddy issues”, but if the shoe fits, you guess. Your father had never wanted you in the first place. Just an old man fooling around with a younger woman and taking it a step too far. Your mother had been bitten when you were seven, leaving you in the hands of a man who knew jack shit about being a father, and even less about you as a person. Just an extra mouth to feed, an extra life to protect. And he’d never let you forget it for a goddamn second. He protected you just enough to seek refuge in Jackson, and then deemed you “the community’s problem”. When the stubborn bastard got himself torn to shreds by a pack of clickers on a patrol a couple years ago, you hadn’t even cried.

Joel had shown up about three months after your father died, in search of his baby brother—to protect his baby brother. And it was fucking over for you.

Joel wouldn’t have looked twice at you if you hadn’t become an incessant little bee buzzing in his ear. Something about him constantly swatting at you fueled your tank. Revved your engine. So you just never stopped buzzing. And he never stopped swatting.

One night, you’re finishing up dinner and spot Joel getting seated on a stretch of bench alone, starting in on his stew. You decide to tempt fate again, pass by with some quip about it being past his bedtime and not dozing off into his dinner. But this time, like the snap of a whip, Joel’s hand lashes out, clamping onto your wrist and yanking you towards him. Honestly, it startles you—thrills you even more.

Then Joel grumbles at you low enough for only you to hear, “You know, one of these days someone’s gonna teach you the consequences of your actions, little girl. And ‘f’you don’t watch yourself, I’m gonna be the one to teach ya. And I’m not known for bein’ gentle.”

You’re close enough to see the threat in his eyes—the promise. And it’s laced with…something. Something that has your blood rushing south and your lip quivering. You jerk your wrist from his hold before you can truly give yourself away, darting out of the dining hall and back to your room as fast as possible.

You don’t even bother to undress as you flop down on your bed and wriggle your jeans down enough to relieve where you’re aching. For him. Imagining his hand on your wrist again, both your wrists, pinning you down and sliding his cock into you as you scream for more. Pounding you senseless as you whisper “Daddy” into his ear.

You come hard and fast, pulsing under your fingers as hot waves flood your body. You would bet everything you own that Joel will be doing the same fucking thing when he gets back to his. If he isn’t already, caught up in the energy of what passed between you two at dinner.

Maybe he snuck into an empty room in the hallway and bit his release into his forearm as he shot the evidence against an unsuspecting wall. Maybe he’s stomping to his house right now, temper flared and pants bulging, flexing his fingers as he pictures your throat under them.

But you know he gets off on it, just like you do. There’s too much pent-up tension. You get off at least four times a week with his face behind your eyelids and your special name reserved for him on your lips.

You know it’s only a matter of time before he makes good on his promise—the yarn is already unraveling.

That night, when you can’t sleep, you make the decision to pull the thread.

A few moments after you knock on his door, you hear a commotion inside. Heavy footfalls on the stairs and a frustrated, “Shit!”

When the door tears open, you’re met with a disheveled yet very alert Joel, mid-way through tugging on a threadbare t-shirt. When he notices who knocked, his hands freeze on the hem of it, leaving his deliciously curved belly on display. Your eyes can’t resist devouring the dark smattering of hair that leads down past the band of his jeans.

Your view is interrupted by him yanking the shirt down the rest of the way with an aggravated, “The goddamn hell are you doin’ bangin’ at my door at this godforsaken hour? There a fuckin’ emergency?”

You reluctantly return your eyes to his, a drowsy fire glowing behind them. His hair is sticking up in odd places, a result that you imagine could only be achieved by rousing him from sleep, or from fingers grabbing at it. His own, or someone else’s maybe. Given the late hour, logic is partial to the first, but the thought of someone else’s hands on him has an anger, a jealousy burning under your skin.

“You got company?”

Joel gives you a look charged with ornery confusion. “Huh? Company? No, I ain’t got fuckin’ company, it’s 2 in the goddamn mornin’. The hell are you doin’ here?”

You suddenly feel incredibly fucking stupid. What the hell were you thinking? You wring your hands together anxiously, eyes falling to the gnarled wood of his porch.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I…”

“There somethin’ goin’ on? You alright?” His voice has a note of compassion in it now. A facet of Joel you had heard before, just never directed at you. It makes your heart throb in your chest.

“Yeah, yeah, no, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Then what the hell are you doin’ on my porch in the middle of the night, little girl?”

You glance up at him, a twitch in your jaw. “I’m not a little girl.”

Joel scoffs at that, shaking his head as he leans against the doorframe. “Bullshit. You’re a fuckin’ child. Just pushin’ my buttons, push push push, like you want me to fuckin’ explode on ya.”

You can’t believe the bait he just fed you there. You meet him with a challenging look, pulling yourself up to your full height. “Maybe you’re right, maybe I do want you to explode on me,” You assert, lacing your words with far more meaning than he had his own.

Joel may not be the brightest bulb, but he’s not stupid. He clocks it immediately. His next words come out very measured as he narrows his eyes at you. “What. Are you doin’ here. At my house. While everyone is in bed?”

You shrug, scuffing your worn, unlaced work boots you’d thrown on against his porch. “Guess I couldn’t sleep.”

Joel sweeps his eyes down your body, taking in your sleep shorts and camisole. You catch him lingering on the curve of your breasts peeking out of your shirt for a second too long and licking his lips.

“What’s got you tossin’ and turnin’ in that bed of yours, little girl?”

“Might have been what you said at dinner.”

“That right? And what about what I said had your brain workin’ overtime?”

“I think you know.”

“Mmm. You think I know,” He repeats back to you, his hand reaching up to grip the threshold at the top of the doorway. It has an effect like he’s trying to make himself bigger, like a bear trying to spook a potential threat. “Why don’t you spell out for me what you ‘think I know’.”

You sigh in self-conscious frustration, your eyes flitting to the strip of skin revealed at his stomach from his shift in position. “Please don’t make me say it.”

“Oh, I’m gonna make you say it. Big girls use their words. Haven’t seen you have a problem with that before. Always got some smartass thing to say to me.”

Your fingers twist into the hem of your shorts as your eyes remain fixed on that strip of skin. You say quietly, mumbling, “I need you.”

He tips his head forward and cocks it. “I’m sorry?”

You’re fairly certain he heard you the first time. You finally meet his gaze again, which has gone exponentially more dark, tempting. His lips are parted in expectation, brow raised in a devastatingly irritating cocksureness.

“Well?” He encourages.

Your eyes shift from side to side along with your feet as the cool late-night summer air chills your exposed skin. “Can we do this inside, please?”

He smirks at you, seeming to revel in your unease. “Oh yeah, we’ll do it inside. But this,” He points a finger towards you, “This little confession. I want Jackson to hear it. Even if the people don’t. I want this filthy, desperate little admission of yours blowin’ on the wind of this little town ‘til its demise.”

“Joel, come on—”

“You do as I say, or you go home.”

You huff, craning your head to soak in the barren street, see the leaves dancing across the pavement with the quiet breeze. The breeze that’s destined to not be so quiet anymore.

You steel yourself as you look back at Joel where he waits expectantly, hand still gripping the doorway and a thumb curled around his belt loop. You clear your throat.

“I need you. To teach me a lesson…Daddy.”

The name has a positively wicked expression creeping along his features. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“May I please come inside now?”

Joel pouts his lips up in thought for a brief moment before swinging out of the way of the doorframe, welcoming you in. The door closes behind you with a certain crisp finality that has a rush of cold running through your body despite the bloom of heat in Joel’s home. From fear or excitement, you’re not totally sure. Probably both.

Broad, warm hands find their way to your hips from behind, thumbs rubbing rhythmic circles into the flesh of your back just beneath the hem of your camisole. Heated breath curls around your ear as he says low, “So you need a Daddy, huh?”

You squirm just a smidge, not enough to have Joel retreating from you. “I think you’ve known that for a while now. Right?”

Joel chuckles softly, pressing a kiss below your ear. “I’ve known. A good Daddy always knows, don’t he?”

“Yeah,” You breathe out as Joel’s kisses start trending more toward tongue-heavy suction on your neck. You tilt your head to the side to widen his canvas and he moans into you in appreciation.

“‘S’what happens when little girls don’t get the lovin’ they need. Start actin’ out, mouthin’ off, just waitin’ for a firm Daddy to teach ‘em how to behave.”

“Yes,” You gasp, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck as he works you over with his mouth and his words. “Please teach me.”

Joel pauses for a beat and uses the crook of his finger under your chin to turn your face to his. “You a virgin, Little Bee?”

A laugh bubbles up from your chest at both the assumption and the new pet name. “Not even close.”

You’d lost that long ago to some boy you’d been left with once by your father, back when you were still surviving on the outside. He was cute and you wanted to get it over with. Your father hadn’t shied away from informing you of the threats that were out there, particularly for a young woman. You chose to take control of your first time, so no one could do it for you.

Once you’d gotten to Jackson, there had been a decent pool of guys around your age to experiment with. And you took advantage of that. With no father watching your back, and a new group of boys whispering under their breath about “fresh meat”, you got back at your father the only way you knew how—being reckless. Probably should have realized earlier that he didn’t give a shit about that either. “The community’s whore, the community’s problem...”

That was before Joel had arrived. After Joel arrived…nobody else would do. Which brings you here. To Joel’s home in the middle of the night. Ready to learn what he has to teach.

Joel jerks you backward with both hands at your waist, pressing you against the unmistakably massive length in his jeans. “Good. Maria’d probably put me on trial for doin’ the shit I’m ‘boutta do to you if you were a little doe-eyed virgin.”

You swallow thickly, a smirk branding your lips. “And what are you about to do to me, Daddy?”

Joel licks one long, possessive stripe up the column of your neck and growls, “Fuck you like my own personal sex doll. Pump you so full of my come that you’ll be drippin’ it for days. Teach you a fuckin’ lesson ‘bout back-talkin’ your superiors.”

“Fuck, Daddy,” You moan, dropping your head back to his shoulder.

“Surprise, surprise. The antagonistic little slut likes the idea of bein’ used by me.” Joel drags the collar of your top down under your tits and gropes at one with a deliciously callused hand, twisting your nipple as you gasp. “That what you been beggin’, screamin’ for all this time, Little Bee? Huh? Desperate for my attention?”

“Yes, Daddy,” You admit with more shamelessness than you’d expected of yourself. But his words are burrowing as deep inside your pussy as you desperately hope he will be soon.

Joel snarls in your ear, “Then get on your fuckin’ knees and show me what you’re good for.”

You hit the ground like someone strapped 500 lb. weights to your thighs. The snort Joel lets out niggles at your self-consciousness. Here you are, finally on your knees for the man you haven’t stopped fantasizing about since you met him, and having to come to terms with how truly starved you are for him. How avidly you want to please him. Part of you really should care about how thoroughly this man has a hold on you between your legs. How he could grip you by the cunt and twist you in any direction he saw fit, and you’d obey.

All the cutting jabs, all the sassy remarks, culminating with you in your skimpy pajamas at 2 AM, hardwood biting at your bare knees as you await your fate.

“You follow directions pretty nice when you got a strong hand above you, don’t ya?”

“I am capable of being a good girl,” You say with an edge of defensiveness.

“I’m sure you are, I’ve just yet to see it. I s’pose we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Joel makes quick work of the fastenings on his jeans and pulls himself out of them with a grunt. You can feel your eyes threaten to bulge out at the sight of him. You’ve seen decent sized dicks before, but he is big. Like, the ones you’ve seen in porn magazines, big. And he’s thick. Thick enough that you’re pretty sure you can’t fit your hand all the way around him. The tip is an angry reddish-purple, pronounced veins running down the velvety shaft like a challenge. Follow me, see where I lead. His balls hang low and heavy, practically begging for your mouth on them. Both his cock and balls are framed with only partially tamed dark curls that look silky to the touch.

“Oh god,” You choke out, unable to pry your eyes from the magnificently terrifying sight in front of you.

Joel moans as he cups a hand around his sack and squeezes it lightly. “You’re playin’ with the big daddies now, aren’t you, little girl?”

You whimper as you look up at him, “Please.”

“Please what, baby?” He prods with another tug to his balls, causing his cock to bob lewdly in front of your face.

“Please put it in my mouth.”

“There��s that good girl I’ve been lookin’ for,” He says grittily, taking his cock in his hand and your chin in the other. He coaxes a thumb between your teeth and guides your mouth open for him. “Gotta be nice and wide, baby. ‘Else I won’t fit.”

You don’t doubt that for a second. In fact, you're doubting your ability to even do it at all. But he lays the head on your tongue, salty with precome and sweat, and slides it in. His hand threads through the hairs at the base of your skull and tugs, just enough to establish his control.

You moan as he invades your mouth, occupying every spare bit of space. He tickles at the back of your throat and it doesn’t skip your attention that there is still enough length left for you to wrap a hand around the base and not even touch your lips.

“There we go, nice and full now, huh? Why don’t you hit me with one of those witty little comebacks of yours, Little Bee. Go on,” He encourages with a downright evil smirk.

You scrunch your eyebrows together and attempt to pull off, but his grip at your head is unyielding, your effort just rubber-banding you back deeper onto his cock with another moan.

Joel tosses his head back with a brutal laugh as he bucks into your mouth, forcing you to gag around him. “Well goddamn it. It’s a miracle. She’s speechless, ain’t she?” He gives another controlled thrust and the gag has wetness flooding your eyes and the corners of your mouth. “Daddy shut her right up.”

He fucks into your mouth with harsh grunts, jerking you off of him by the back of your head to catch your breath before pulling you right back on. His barrage has tears streaming down your cheeks and your own saliva leaking down your chin to your chest.

Once he tires of fucking into you with his hips, he opts to utilize his hold on your head. He wrenches you back and forth mercilessly, cramming your mouth full of his cock and sliding more and more of it down your throat as he goes.

He lets you up to breathe and spits down at you, “This all you been dreamin’ about, you little slut? This how you wanted Daddy to treat you?”

You cough out a “Yes, Daddy!” before he puts you right back to work, using and abusing your throat like it’s just a second pussy to him. You can see your own saliva mingling in with the curls at his base, draping in delicate strings as well as smeared obscenely in translucent globs.

When he rips you off of him a final time, it’s with enough force to throw you to the ground off your knees. You twist to try and upright yourself until he hurls at you, “Stay down. Don’t fuckin’ move.”

He shucks off his pants and boxers and drops down, his knees on either side of your shoulders. He grips the base of his cock and smacks you with it right down the center of your face. “Open your mouth.”

Once you open wide, your tongue splayed out for him, he braces himself with a hand above your head and dangles his balls above your mouth. “Suck.”

The authority in his voice has you lifting your head without a second thought, capturing one of his balls in your mouth. You suck it gently, massaging it with your tongue. A guttural grunt escapes Joel as he drops his hips low enough for you to settle your head back against the hardwood as you lave at him. You let him pop out of your mouth to repeat the motions on its counterpart, moaning softly around it. Joel cants forward at the vibration, his cock bobbing down again and tapping your face.

“Shit, babygirl. Such a filthy fuckin’ mouth. Right where it belongs.”

He strokes at his cock with a firm hand as you pleasure him, only extracting himself from your mouth when his thighs begin to shake. He shifts himself down your body until he’s kneeling between your legs.

“Fuck, I can’t wait anymore. Need this tight little cunt,” He growls, slapping right down on your needy pussy with a flat hand over your shorts.

You buck up in response, spreading your legs wide without another word. Joel pulls down your shorts and panties in one go. You bend your legs to help rid yourself of them, pulling off your boots in the process and leaving you in your drooping camisole.

“Please fuck me, Daddy. I need you so bad,” You whine, rolling your hips up at him. Joel lands another smack, this time to your bare folds.

“Gonna fuck this cunt so good it won’t matter that nobody heard your slutty little confession outside. They’re gonna know just what kinda girl you are when you’re limpin’ around town from the pussy beatin’ I’m ‘boutta give you.”

“Yes, Daddy,” You moan as Joel notches his fat head at your pulsing core.

“They’re gonna take one fuckin’ look at you and say, ‘That’s a slut that’s takin’ more dick than she knows how to handle.’ And they’re gonna wonder who’s stickin’ it to ya so good. And you’re gonna keep your fuckin’ mouth shut, aren’t ya?”

“Whatever you want, Daddy,” You cry out, “Please give it to me!”

“Say it,” He grunts, teasing your hole with the impending stretch of his cock. “Say you’re gonna keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut,” You sob, “I’ll do anything, just please!”

He grants your wish with a loud grunt and fucks his entire length into you in a single thrust. You feel the air decompress from your lungs, your lips parting in a silent cry.

“Bit off more’n you can chew with me, Little Bee. And I’m gonna make you feel it.”

And he fucking does. His cock ravages every inch of you, stretching you out more than you could ever imagine and filling you like nothing you’ve ever dreamed. The head of his cock kisses at your cervix, making you writhe and claw at his hips to try and force him to shallow his thrusts, but he smacks your hand away sharply and locks it to the floor with his fingers around your wrist.

“Oh, no, babygirl. You wanted me, you get every inch of me. You learn your fuckin’ lesson.” He drops to his elbows and snaps his hips into you, and you can’t stop the strangled yell that spills out of you. He smacks a hand over your mouth and continues his domineering thrusts. “Gonna wake up the whole fuckin’ neighborhood. You really want everyone to know Joel Miller is the one puttin’ you in your place, huh?”

You scream against his muffling hand as a particularly deep thrust has him smashing into your cervix, blotting your vision with white. You’re not sure if it’s from him actually realizing that he’s hurting you or just entirely of his own desire, but he pulls out and flips you flat onto your stomach. He wastes no time plunging right back in, his chest flush to your back. Your breathing remains ragged but not quite so shrill as his thrusts shallow out, prevented from going so deep in your current position. Despite that, Joel still fills you up completely, claiming the entire expanse of your pussy for himself like you’re just a toy. He wraps an arm loosely around your neck and grabs onto your opposite shoulder, using your own body as leverage against you.

“Feel so good wrapped around this fuckin’ cock, babygirl. You want me to fill you up? Shoot my come up this fuckin’ pussy?”

You whimper in response, warring with yourself over that very thought. God, do you want Joel to take you like that. To mark you like that. You’ve never let anyone come inside you before, even the first time. Jackson has an extremely limited supply of emergency contraception, but you have no doubt Joel could get his hands on it if he wanted to.

Then Joel just keeps fucking talking.

“What if I fuck a baby right into this pussy, babygirl, huh? Teach you some real consequences. Waddlin’ around with a child no one even knows is mine. Just the town slut, probably don’t even know who her own baby came from.”

You sob as Joel fucks you open over and over, his pace increasing as he spews pure filth into your ear. The perversion of his idea, the full-circle moment rattling around deep in the recesses of your brain—it should fucking repulse you. Instead it has your pussy squeezing around him like it’s begging to be bred.

“But you’d fuckin’ know, wouldn’t you? You’d know it was your Daddy, punishin’ this cunt for the sins of your smart fuckin’ mouth. Paintin’ your insides full of his load ‘cause he can’t resist this tight fuckin’ pussy.”

“Fuck, daddy, please!”

Joel grunts as he hauls himself up onto his knees, yanking your hips up with him until your ass is in the air. He clutches your hips bruisingly as he fucks back into you at a break-neck pace that has your face damp with tears again.

“Tell me no, Little Bee. Tell me not to fill up this naughty cunt. Tell me,” He barks at you as you feel him starting to lose his control.

And maybe it’s because he’s fucked you so dumb you can’t speak, but you don’t. You don’t say a goddamn thing.

Regardless of whether he takes the silence as an answer or he just can’t wait for an actual one, Joel comes with an, “Oh fuck,” and presses in deep, your ass flush with his hips as rope after rope of his seed splatters your insides. “Fuck.”

He pulls out of you gently and rolls down on the floor onto his back, panting up at the ceiling as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. He just breathes for a minute before confessing, “Should not have done that.”

“I don’t know,” You say, your chest heaving with an equal amount of exhaustion as you slide fully into the floor, “You seemed pretty keen on the idea a second ago. Memory going that quick?”

Joel’s head rolls to the side to glance at you, fixing you with a tired, but cautionary look. “Don’t you fuckin’ start with me. Have to do this shit all over again.”

Your lips curve into a small smile. “Yes, Daddy.” Joel rolls his eyes and works on righting himself. Your brow furrows as you watch him. “Wait, what about me?”

Joel raises an eyebrow at you as he stands, hands propped on his hips. “What about you? With all the shit you’ve put me through? Oh no, Little Bee, orgasms are earned. And you got a lotta ground to cover.”

You scowl, throwing one of your boots at him. “That’s not fair!”

Joel dodges the projectile footwear with nothing but a nonchalant jerk of his head to the side. “First lesson, little girl. Life ain’t never fuckin’ fair. Get dressed.”

“Not until I get my orgasm.”

Joel swears to himself and levels you with a threatening glare. “I will carry your bare naked ass over my shoulder ‘cross town with my come still drippin’ out your cunt ‘f you don’t do as I say. And you can say goodbye to any more lessons from me. Ever.”

You get dressed.

He walks you back toward your room side by side, your arms brushing against each other several times. He eventually sighs and mutters a gruff, “Fuck it.” He loops a hand around your shoulders and pulls you against him, rubbing your arm as friction against the chill breeze. You hide your grin into his t-shirt and let him be both of your eyes home.

Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow@atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic!

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taglist: @bbyanarchist @within-the-depths @koshkaj-blog @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @pr0ximamidnight

#dark!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou #katy wroted fic #dark!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller fic

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kinokkotsu · 8 months

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Satisfied — Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

々 Today’s Music Recommendation: Dark Red By Steve Lacy

A/N: im waiting for Mappa to finally give the jjk fan service to Yuta girlies.

You have accepted the fact that Yuta has nothing for you.

He is such a sweet and innocent soul with a dedicated heart. You should accept the fact that he truly wants to focus on what he is doing right now or otherwise you’d be the bad person.

Your brain tells you — you’re selfish because your heart just wouldn’t stop the way you look at him so dearly nor stop the way you touch him so tenderly despite the fact that he is only second to Gojo Satoru. Besides he has vowed how his heart only belongs to Rika.

Somewhere along that sentence has shuttered your heart once.

You and him were close, extremely. Extremely to the point where you both easily sleep in each other’s room without breaking a guilt, no nasty or sexual behavior from that. Just as close friends.

Yuta only has you if Maki, Toge or Panda were away for a mission. You are always there to embrace his coldness and bare with it everytime he needs you. You study as a Jujutsu Medical Student to treat physical wounds of your patients but Yuta seems to believe you also have the ability to plaster his scars within his sensitive heart.

You enjoy the thing you have with him. Love doesn’t have to be this and that. You are satisfied with whatever you are sacrificing for him. You hope this would last forever but you know life doesn’t always go as planned.

Higher ranks have decided to send him overseas, and you don’t like where this has headed.

“that meeting was draining for sakes..,” Sighs Yuta who plots down on the bed, next to your warm body, after he has stood his sword against the wall.

Yuta groans in exhaustion while he stretches his legs like a child. He always acts like a kid every time he is back from those old people, though it would lying if you admit you hate him whining over tiny problems.

“You shouldn’t have gone there if you already figured what it is going to be about,” you state, feeling Yuta lean into the crook of your neck while embracing your body.

He nods in your neck before sighing and holding you closer. “I just thought I needed to,” he says.

Silence fills up the room as you both kept quiet for a long time. No one is really in the mood to talk apparently, with all these missions and all these patients dragging the two of you down. The physical touch is the only way to express the burden you both are having.

The crickets in the background rhyme each seconds, entertaining the night as it goes on. The hoots of the owls alarmed how the night has been late for the humans to not fall asleep but neither of you couldn’t seem to close your eyes from exhaustion.

“..i must have to wait such a long time for you to come back,” you start the conversation, pushing your head back as you stare at the ceiling blankly.

He nods, again. Not wanting to spit a word nor waste his leftover energy comforting you.

Yuta has never felt so guilty doing this with you. Lately he could feel himself getting nervous and worried whenever you come to meet him even especially if you are busy. In fact he has been craving your touch then he has ever had in the past, knowing he must leave you soon.

Rika might be his first love but he is convinced he has fallen in love once again. This time with you.

The way you touch him so tenderly as if he was as fragile as glass, The way you look at him so dearly that he could melt right in that place, everything you behave around him get him smiling like an immature child.

He knows how he is hurting you like this, how it must have been draining you to accept the fact that he feels nothing towards you when in reality it is all incorrect.

That is when Yuta back his face away from your neck and look at you, staring as your eyelids seem like they are about to shut down anytime soon. He stares as he continues detecting every inch of your face that is illuminated by the moonlight.

A countdown goes on his mind for a good while till your eyes completely close.

“take care..of yourself, silly” he whispers while he brushed the dark circles under your eyes. You have fallen asleep already and he knows it. You are a heavy sleeper, and that is one fact about you that he thinks is cute.

Jujutsu Sorcerers are not ones to be fortunate when falling in love. He knows if he did, one of their lives could end tragically due to how cruel the world can be. Keeping the problem folded is better than unfolding the problem before it leaves you miserable for life. He knows you are in love with him and he shamelessly admits he is a coward for letting himself avoid these problems.

The energy that remains in his body is about to run out yet he could not stop stealing glimpses of you.

He lets out one last sigh for the day before he gives a quick peck on your cheeks and smiles. He quickly pushes himself to the top as he embraces your head in his arms. Glancing over the top of your head before letting himself join the night with you.

Staying in the presence with you like this keeps him satisfied even if everything around him has turned into dust.

Just you and him against this ruthless world.

Reblogs and comments are really appreciated xoxo

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steddietogo · 11 months

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Part two of this post on celebrity Steve and oblivious Eddie.

———

Eddie’s met with the first line of defense at Steve’s door. He had expected to at least make it into Steve’s place before being ambushed by Robin but it seems Dustin beat her to it. Eddie would’ve laughed if it was any other day, seeing Dustin guarding Steve’s front door on his bicycle like a mighty knight on his steed.

“You weren’t here yesterday,” Dustin says and Eddie nods slowly.

“I had a campaign with the guys,”

“So it wasn’t because of the pictures?” He has an eyebrow raised skeptically in a move so Steve, Eddie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Listen, Dusty, I love you and I know you love Steve but I’m not talking to you about this before I speak to him okay? It’s just not—” The door swings open halfway through his sentence, which was good because Dustin showed no signs of budging.

Steve’s standing there bundled in a hoodie, and says, “Get out of my doorway Dustin,”

“No,”

“Dustin,” Steve’s tone goes stern but Dustin only relents after a fifteen second stare down during which Eddie is too afraid to move.

“Fine,” He says, tossing Eddie a dark look. “But I’ll be back in an hour,” And then he’s cycling away.

Steve’s unusually quiet and withdrawn all the way to the kitchen and then occupies himself with the coffee machine, facing away from Eddie.

“We need to talk,” Eddie starts then cringes as how bad it sounds.

“Yeah we do,” Steve places two mugs on the island and stays on the other side of it, arms crossed. Eddie hates not being able to read Steve’s face. It’s not the first time they’re having a fight— if this even considered a fight— but he’s never been shut out like this. He prepares to grovel but Steve interrupts him again. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth,”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you knew at first,” Steve sighs heavily. “I thought you just didn’t want to mention it, then you asked what I did for work,”

“And you told me you were in between jobs,” Steve mumbles something that sounds like technically but he still wasn’t looking at Eddie. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to ignore you,”

“Didn’t you though?”

“I was confused, Steve, and overwhelmed. I didn’t know what to say to you even if I answered your calls,”

“Now you do?”

“Yeah, now I do,” Eddie says. “It’s kind of intimidating you know, to find out your only boyfriend is a global superstar—” He takes the win when Steve snorts into his coffee.

“I’m not that famous,” Steve tries to protest but Eddie presses on.

“But I love you—”

“What?”

“And I don’t give a shit what anyone has to say about it—”

“You love me?”

“Have I not told you that before?” Eddie rounds the island to hold Steve face in his hands. “Do you have any idea how easy you are to love, baby?”

Steve blinks fast like he’s blinking away tears. “I can’t promise you it won’t happen again,”

“I know,”

“It might even get worse,”

“I was raised in a small town babe, I don’t mind being called your satanic boy toy once in a while,” Eddie says and Steve laughter rings out much brighter this time. They’re going to be just fine.

———

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie modern au #mine #there’s probably gonna be a third part not sure yet #it’s late so I’ll tag everyone in the morning

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halsteadlover · 4 months

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𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Spencer Reid x Stripper!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: it was supposed to be a case like any other, an undercover operation like a thousand others he had done but when Spencer sets his eyes on that dancer for the first time suddenly everything fades into the background.

• Warnings: brief mention of alcohol, homicide case, nudity, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, sex, use of condoms (ALWAYS WRAP IT!!!), cursing, dirty talk, basically Spencer being a ✨man✨, tell me if I missed anything <3

• Word count: 7.6K

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE +18. This was written in 3rd person. I had this idea for a while now but didn’t know how to write it but now here we are you have no idea how much time it took 😭 I promise I’m still working on the requests please don’t hate me I’m just trying the find the motivation to write again. I really hope you like this one please let me know what you think and comment, reblog and like ❤️ Thank you for your kindness and constant support xx

Spencer had never felt as uncomfortable as he did in that moment, surrounded by germs and all kinds of bodily fluids.

He was disgusted and couldn’t wait for this to be over soon so he could get out of there.

Damn you, Derek Morgan.

He cursed his colleague for forcing him to go in that damned place. He was in a strip club, pretending to be a normal customer so he could talk to some of the strippers and the head of the club himself about an investigation. The BAU was in fact following the case of a serial killer who lured his victims and killed them.

Since the victims – who were about four – were all affluent straight males in their thirties and there were no traces of drugs or signs on their bodies that they’d been forced to follow the killer, the team assumed the unsub was a female in her mid-twenties.

After digging into their pasts to study the victimology, the team discovered all four victims committed sexual crimes which however had somehow been attempted to be covered up. So there was no doubt those killings were about some sort of justice.

The unsub would kill them by slicing their throats with a single and precise movement, a cut so deep it was easy to say she was an expert. There was no way the four victims were her first ones, but nothing came up after Garcia searched for other murders with the same modus operandi.

After leaving their bodies on the bed of a hotel room, the unsub would also write a short note on the wall with a deep purple lipstick – a particular color – which wasn’t found on the victims’ bodies, so the team thought she wouldn’t wear it, she was carrying it with her with the sole purpose to write those simple short sentences.

The BAU had interrogated the victims of these aforementioned sexual assaults but all of them had airtight alibis so there was no real suspect. After interrogating the victims’ families and friends, they realized there was a common denominator between those four men: the Sinful Lust.

And that’s how Spencer ended up there.

He didn’t understand why it had to be him who had to be in that place. How could they think it’d be a good idea to have him to deal with strippers and people having sex around him?

Anyone could see from a mile away how uncomfortable he felt sitting there, even people who weren’t profilers. Spencer continued to look around, almost dazed by the club’s strobe lights as he tried to mask his disgust at noticing his surroundings and the intense smell of alcohol.

He never hated Derek so much.

He knew it was just his sadistic way of making him feel uncomfortable, despite the encouragement from the rest of the team though who were sure Spencer would make it.

His palms sweated with every passing second as he rubbed them on his black pants before fixing the collar of his shirt. He wasn’t used to wearing these kinds of clothes, he felt caged, in a body that didn’t belong to him.

Every woman in that place wasted no time winking at him, shooting him languid glances to which he responded with a tight and totally false smile. Some of them approached him and he had to fake interest in them by engaged stupid and languid conversations.

He couldn’t help but think about how Morgan would’ve enjoyed that situation and how he wouldn’t have wasted time making all the women in that damn club fall at his feet.

Spencer really envied him sometimes. He envied how his friend was always so easygoing and extroverted, especially with women, with a joke always ready, how he always knew what to say and when.

Suddenly the club lights dimmed and focused on the stage, stopping his rush of thoughts and indicating the strippers were about to begin the show.

Numerous tables and seats were concentrated near the stage, populated by hungry men who couldn’t wait to feast their eyes and spend their money and Spencer noted with disgust many of them were even married.

Poor wives.

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding only to gasp again as some music started and the strippers began to dance. He didn’t recognize the music and the words, preferring classical music; however, his mind wasn’t focused on the bass vibrating through the room but on analyzing the scene.

But it was so damn hard when women danced sensually in front of him half naked. It’s a physiological reaction, he kept repeating to himself, it’s normal, focus Reid, do not deconcentrate.

The dim lights only added more tension to the evocative atmosphere, interrupted every now and then by men standing up and cheering to hand over their money they had probably earned with so much effort.

Spencer moved into his seat, picking up the glass of some type of liquor he didn’t know and pretending to sip before placing it back on the table, wanting with every fiber of his being for the unsub to reveal herself.

But he knew it couldn’t be that simple. If killers had written on their foreheads they were actually killers, he wouldn’t even have a job anymore.

He wondered if she was there.

Who knew if she had already chosen her next victim.

Spencer’s eyes met with one of the three dancers on the stage and a vice gripped his stomach when he realized she was already looking at him.

Her hips continued to move sensually to the rhythm of the music as her fingers played with the buttons of the skimpy top she was wearing and for an instant Spencer thought if he wasn’t mistaken or having a hallucination.

But he wasn’t wrong.

Her eyes were fixed solely on him.

She bit her lip as she winked at Spencer, and he almost melted into that chair like snow in the sun. He tried to keep his expression as casual and neutral as possible but in reality, every single cell in his body was on fire.

She turned her body and walked sensually towards the pole and Spencer’s eyes went hungrily and impertinently down her body, making him feel no less dirty than the rest of the men present.

But he couldn’t control himself as his eyes seemed to have a life on their own and he couldn’t take them off her.

His gaze traced every exposed inch of her skin, focusing on her ass covered by a skimpy short skirt, the mere sight of her making his pants tighten around his crotch. His mind began to wander with fantasy, unable to help but imagine his head buried between her legs.

Spencer shifted in his chair dejectedly, resting his hands on his lap and covering his erection as if someone was there to notice. Nobody would’ve noticed, all eyes were on her and the dancers.

He didn’t even look at the other two women on the stage, his eyes was fixed only on her, her hips, her beautiful and smooth legs, on her body that spun with disarming ease around the dance pole.

He wondered what it’d be like to feel his fingers squeezing her hips as she rode him into oblivion and this image alone almost made him come in his pants.

He was totally mesmerized.

He didn’t know what was happening to him but every cell in his body seemed to have lit up and inflamed, his fingers were trembling with desire to slide them over her sinuous body.

But it was when her eyes met his again that Spencer felt the air sucked out of his lungs. He couldn’t quite make out the color, he was too far away to be able to do that, but just the way she was looking at him made him shift in his seat again and his aching dick erect even more.

He was paralyzed, he didn’t dare move a single muscle. He didn’t know why but he was afraid if he moved everyone would find out who he really was. That she would find out.

His eyes never left hers, a small grin painting her face as she continued to dance sensually. Spencer felt arrogant enough to assume this dance was just for him.

The show eventually ended and the lights dimmed in the club again, although Spencer managed to track the silhouettes of the dancers coming off the stage. His heart jumped into his throat when he noticed a person approaching him and not just any person but her.

Spencer’s eyes followed her every movement although the light was so low he couldn’t really make out her beautiful features. He shifted in his chair again and tried to keep his concentration up when a cloud of her scent hit him square in the face, short-circuiting every single neuron in his brain.

This was the perfect opportunity to gather information regarding the case, but at that moment Spencer seemed to have completely forgotten the reason why he was there.

“Come with me.”

That was all she said and even her voice was so sweet it mesmerized him even more, as if it was a siren’s song luring the poor sailors into her clutches. He stood up without even being asked twice, his mind trying to convince itself it was just to gather the information he needed.

At that moment, however, the only thing controlling his body was the blood rushing to his penis and not the rationality that always distinguished him.

She walked through the club ignoring everything around her while he followed her like a puppy, unaware of what was coming and what she was up to. A small, tiny part of his brain kept screaming to be careful, that she was a stranger probably looking for the money – or worse to kill him. He knew he needed to focus on the case but Spencer was too attracted to her to even listen to those voices.

Nothing like this had ever happened before. He would’ve never thought of following a stranger to who knew where without an ounce of information.

They entered a room and Spencer quickly scanned it, deducing it was her dressing room. His attention, however, immediately returned to that woman. Under those lights, he could finally look at her in all her splendor and the air was sucked from his lungs as his eyes traveled along her body and analyzed her face.

She was breathtaking, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and there wasn’t a single part of him that wasn’t itching to touch her.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice broke the silence. Spencer didn’t respond at first, his eyes focused on her cleavage and the way her chest rose and fell. Only when he brought his eyes back to her face and saw the mischievous smirk on her lips he realized she had said something to him and that he must’ve looked like a complete idiot.

“What?”

She chuckled and that simple sound traveled through his body, causing his blood to rush and his penis to harden even more.

What is she doing to me?

She slightly tilted her head, her eyes vibrant as she watched – no, analyzed – Spencer.

His muscles froze as she took two steps toward him, never taking her eyes off him.

He returned her gaze with a courage he had never had and didn’t even know he possessed. Her eyes were bright but there was something particularly intense about them, something he absolutely wanted to discover and he couldn’t even name.

His breathing quickened and he prayed she wouldn’t realize how intense the effect she had on him was. She looked at him with an intensity that made him weak in the knees, with an intensity that no one had ever looked at him with.

She hadn’t torn her eyes away from his for not even a second, and although that confidence further intrigued Spencer, it scared him at the same time. He knew she was trying to get inside him, into his soul and discover his deepest secrets.

“I asked what you’re doing here.”

“You told me to come.”

She licked her lips and Spencer’s eyes flicked to her mouth, causing him to react in a way that resulted in the further restriction of his pants. He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets to avoid doing something he’d regret, but damn it was so hard.

This was also the moment he understood the true meaning of the phrase ‘blue balls’.

He was so fucking horny it hurt.

“I’m well aware of that,” she replied with a smirk, probably noticing the way he was staring at her lips. “But don’t act stupid, you don’t look like one. What are you doing here?”

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat, using the shred of rationality he had left to think of an answer. But the way she was looking at him, as if she wanted him to take her right then and now, was enough to make him no longer even remember his name.

I’m an FBI agent investigating a murder case and you, like every other dancer here, could be a potential suspect.

He couldn’t say it, but damn it if she kept coming closer to him, he wouldn’t even bother giving her his wallet and bank details.

“What all the men are doing, why don’t you go ask them?”

Well done.

“I’m asking you.” She flicked her hair behind her shoulders with a single but graceful movement of her head, leaving her neck and shoulder exposed. Spencer’s throat bobbed up and down again, his mind filled with images of him sticking his tongue out and licking and tasting her skin, sucking it and leaving marks.

Dammit Reid, get a hold of yourself.

“I’ve been watching you,” she spoke, her tone calm and sensual. “You looked like you were going to vomit when you came in and I know you would’ve never come here of your own free will; so why don’t you tell me the truth pretty boy?”

Fuck yeah keep calling me that.

Why doesn’t it sound so good when Morgan calls me that?

Stop thinking about Morgan.

“There’s a first time for everyone, don’t you think?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.

She bit her lower lip, a gesture that made him feral.

Please somebody help me.

It was only then she took her eyes away from his and let them wander slowly along his body.

She studied and analyzed him and with every inch that passed under her eyes Spencer felt his skin catch fire, especially when her gaze focused on the huge bulge in his pants.

The beautiful stranger brought her eyes back to his and Spencer didn’t miss that lustful glint in them and the way her breathing had quickened, indicating she was as affected by him as he was by her.

“What’s your name?”

“David,” Spencer replied, congratulating himself on the way he had managed to control himself and not give away his real name.

“David,” she repeated, slowly, as if wanting to taste what his name felt like on her tongue. She took another step, closing her distance and her scent hit his nostrils. It was a mixture of vanilla, coconut, innocence and sin and he was going crazy.

“I’ll pretend you don’t think I’m that stupid, David,” she winked and Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat for the third time, trying to keep his breathing to a normal pace even though his heart was pounding wildly inside his rib cage.

They continued to look at each other for an almost infinite time, the air more tense and warmer with each passing second. Spencer tried to think of something to say, anything, but the way she looked at him paralyzed him. His eyes roamed and traced the lines of her lips imagining what it’d be like to feel them pressed against his, what it’d be like to feel them wrapped around his dick and just the thought almost made him come in his pants.

I can’t do this anymore.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, her voice so low he almost didn’t hear her. Spencer had the impression she wanted to say anything else, but she had refrained from doing it, like if she had opened her tightly closed lips she would’ve told a terrible secret.

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” he replied, taking his hand out of his pocket and bringing it closer to her face. His fingers played with a lock of her hair before tucking it behind her ear. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing, it was as if his body was acting on its own and had completely disconnected from his brain. Her breathing quickened at that contact and that time he was the one to smirk. “What’s your name?”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t tell me yours.”

“It matters to me. And I did, it’s up to you to believe me or not.”

She cocked one eyebrow up. “Why does it matter?”

“I want to know whose name I’m going to moan when I’ll think of you with my hand around my dick.”

Spencer almost chocked on his own words.

What the fuck?

Again, what the hell is wrong with me?

What was he doing? What was going through his mind? He completely lost his mind but he didn’t care, not when she looked at him like she wanted to tear him apart and burn him right then and there. And the worst thing was that he probably would’ve let her do it without objecting.

He could see the way she was holding back, the way she tried to appear casual but after all it was his job to know what people really felt, what they thought. He knew it from the way her pupils were so dilated they covered almost all the color of his irises, from the way her skin was flushed and the redness on her cheeks, from the light layer of sweat covering her forehead, from her rapid breathing, the stiffness of her muscles, from the way her hands clenched into two fists as if she was leveraging on herself to not let go.

But why?

Spencer wasn’t an expert in that world, but he really thought she’d try in any way to get some money, to seduce him and then leave him broke, but then why did she hold back? Why was she rejecting him? Why did she ask him to come with her if she wasn’t trying to do anything?

In other moments he would’ve investigated more but in that instant everything had taken a step backwards, Spencer didn’t seem to be focused on anything other than putting his hands on that stranger who was hypnotizing and bewitching like no one else ever did. He had never felt anything like this, being consumed by the desire to kiss her, touch her, run his tongue over every inch of her body, he never felt that raw and primordial desire to have someone.

And he wanted her.

Fuck the consequences.

“You don’t really want this,” she whispered and it didn’t take a profiler to figure out that she wasn’t sure of those words either. It was Spencer who closed the distance between the two that time, feeling the heat of her body envelop him and attracting him like a moth to flame, as every part of her skin was screaming to be touched by his fingers. Her words repelled him but the way she looked at him said something else.

“Why did you ask me to come here then?”

Her eyes looked at him with a look that even him couldn’t decipher. She was hiding something, she was battling herself and he wanted to know why.

“You don’t belong in this place.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know…” she whispered as her gaze kept alternating between his eyes and his mouth. He wet them with his tongue, pleased when he saw the way her breath hitched.

“I just couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

Spencer may not be very experienced in the women’s game, but he could see the passionate hunger in her eyes, that glimmer of lust and desire that left him breathless.

“Do you want it?”

“Yes.”

Those two single whispered letters were enough for Spencer to destroy what little shred of control he still possessed. Before he knew it his hands were cupping her face and his lips were pressed to hers in a searing, electrifying kiss.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, he couldn’t even recognize himself at that moment. As her mouth devoured him and her tongue tasted his, he couldn’t let go of the feeling he was watching everything as if he was an outside observer, like he wasn’t the one commanding his actions.

He couldn’t believe what was happening, that he – the man who was terrified of even shaking hands with strangers for fear of germs – was kissing that beautiful, sexy stranger who had invaded his senses ever since she set her feet on that stage. And to be honest he didn’t even care, Spencer was only focused on the world in which she was devouring him.

Their tongues intertwined in a sensual dance as their deep breaths and sighs blended into each other. There was nothing sweet about that kiss, about the way he fisted his hands around her hair, the way she had her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her, the saliva mixing. It was animalistic, raw, sloppy, messy, a kiss so deep they felt their soul being sucked out of their body.

The tension and electricity in the air was clearly palpable as time seemed to stop around them, leaving them engulfed in the fire of passion and making them both forget who and where they were.

While Spencer’s hands roamed along her body, squeezing and groping every inch of her skin he could reach, sucking in and swallowing every sigh that escaped her throat, he no longer thought he was an FBI agent who was there because he had a job to do.

And even his name was forgotten as her fingers began frantically unbuttoning his shirt, her fingertips leaving fiery marks on his skin as they slid down his chest. They both began taking slow steps, their mouths continuing to devour each other and only breaking away when Spencer’s legs touched the sofa in the dressing room. He sat with his legs apart and a very painful erection in his pants, his gaze on fire while his hungry eyes analyzed and looked with meticulous attention at the stranger.

Never more than in that moment was he grateful to his eidetic memory, because he knew he would never forget that divine image in front of his eyes. Her breasts, legs, hips, her waist, everything seemed to scream to be touched and worshiped and Spencer couldn’t wait to do it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered more to himself than to her, his hands resting on his thighs as he continued to let his gaze wander down her body.

She smiled and Spencer almost fainted. And it wasn’t a mischievous grin but a real smile, one of those that weakened the knees and made everything more beautiful and brighter. One of those he’d never forget.

He took her hands and pulled her towards him making her sit on his lap, her legs tightly straddling his thighs. He groaned as his hard dick collided with her core, relieving that feeling of pressure and pain even if for just a few seconds.

Before he could say or do anything she had pressed her lips on his again, starting to sensually move on him, shamelessly grinding herself and unleashing obscene sighs from both of them that sounded like they were coming from a porn.

Spencer’s hands cupped her ass, pressing his fingers so hard into her skin as he followed her movements while her hands instead continued to roam his chest, her nails pressing into his skin until she leaves red marks on it.

“Fuck I want you so bad,” she breathed into his lips and he let out a particularly loud groan when she bit his bottom lip, sucking it. Her lips parted from his, leaving wet kisses along his jaw, down his neck, sucking, biting, nibbling at his skin.

Any trace of whatever indecision she felt was gone and he couldn’t control himself anymore. His body seemed to move automatically. Lust and desire had clouded his mind, that sublime mind that had done everything to prevent these moments from happening but that had given into the most primitive of instincts. Sex.

His hands went up to the skimpy top she was wearing, ripping it off without even thinking twice before dropping the broken material on the floor, soon joined by her bra as well. His hands cupped her breasts, teasing and pinching her turgid nipples that so recalled his mouth.

Spencer obeyed that wish, wrapping his lips around one of her breasts sucking it while he continued to grope the other. Her hands threaded through his hair, curling into fists and pulling, causing another groan from Spencer. He didn’t even know he was into this. His hips jerked up, continuing to grind against her for some relief.

“Please…” He let go of her breast, throwing his head back and fearing he’d explode right then and there. He wanted to know that stranger’s name, he desperately wanted to moan it and he equally desperately wanted to tell her his, just so he could hear it screamed by her beautiful mouth as he fucked her. “I’ll come in my pants if you keep doing this.”

She giggled and this was a further shock to Spencer, who thought he was going to have a heart attack at any moment. Her hands fumbled with his belt, undoing the button and pulling down the zip of his pants. He let out a sigh of relief when, after slightly lifting his hips, she lowered his pants along with his precum stained boxers, finally releasing his erection.

“Shit…” he hissed a curse through gritted teeth as her hand wrapped around his dick. It started to move up and down with it and he closed his parted lips as he tried to suppress his moans. His eyes were glued on that stranger’s hand who gave him pleasure, a vision he’d never forget. Her hand was so delicate and perfect, in stark contrast to the sinful and dirty action she was doing.

“Don’t hold back, I want to hear you moan for me, okay?”

Spencer met her gaze and nodded, not trusting his own voice. She lifted herself from his lap and knelt between his spread legs and if Spencer hadn’t already been sitting down, the mere image of her on her knees with her hand wrapped around his dick would’ve made him fall to the ground.

“Is this okay?” She asked and Spencer found himself nodding again, this time with so much enthusiasm that she chuckled.

“Yes please…” he breathed as she continued to masturbate him, alternating fast and slow movements and making him lose his mind even more, if that was even possible. Her thumb drew imaginary circles on his red, wet tip, making him gasp against his will.

He placed a hand on her cheek, her skin hot against his palm, his thumb caressing her lips. His breath hitched in anticipation when she wrapped her lips around his thumb, her eyes never leaving Spencer’s as she sucked on his fingertip. “I’m dying to have this pretty mouth around my dick, do you want to show me what it can do?”

Spencer had no clue where this confidence was coming from, but he was too horny to think about shyness and what to say.

She let go of his thumb and stuck her tongue out before tracing the shaft of his penis with a single, excruciatingly slow lick from the base to his tip. He let out a deep, loud groan, throwing his head back as he felt his silky skin against her tongue. It was an aphrodisiac sensation and if Spencer was to believe in heaven and an afterlife, her mouth would definitely be his.

“Shit just like that,” he moaned as her tongue drew imaginary circles on his tip, sucking and taking away every trace of precum. His soul nearly left his body when she encircled his tip with her lips, sliding his length into her mouth until his dick hit the back of her throat.

She placed a hand on his bare, hairy thighs, dragging her nails across his skin as if to draw his attention to her and Spencer granted her wish, lifting his head and looking down at that sin dressed as an angel who was sucking his dick.

Fucking hell I don’t even believe in angels.

It was immoral, the most unethical thing he could’ve done, something for which he could’ve even be kicked out of the team but Spencer couldn’t care less, not when that mouth was sucking him like her life depended on it and making him feel a pleasure he couldn’t even think was possible to feel.

“You’re so good little angel,” he praised her, placing a hand on her head threading his fingers through her hair and a little spark lit up in her eyes. She definitely had a praise kink. “This mouth will be the death of me.”

She hollowed her cheeks, picking up the pace as her head bobbed up and down and her tongue licked circling his dick. Spencer felt like he was already one step away from exploding in her mouth, but he didn’t want to come, not before being buried deep inside her. “Dammit… Stop, stop, I don’t want to come yet.”

He cupped her face pressing his lips to her swollen, wet ones while simultaneously pulling her on his lap again. He kissed her as if he wanted to suck her soul out of her body, resting his hands on her smooth, bare thighs as his fingers pressed into her skin, teasing her but never touching that magical spot where Spencer couldn’t wait to sink.

“For fuck’s sake touch me,” she hissed impatiently pulling on the young man’s hair, earning a small grin from him.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her neck, inhaling deeply that scent he knew would torment him for the rest of his life, that scent that drugged and marked him in the span of very few seconds. His thumbs kept drawing circles on her inner thighs, dangerously close to her pussy as she squirmed under his touch and Spencer was loving every single shred of the desperation she showed.

She wanted him.

She wanted him desperately.

Spencer never had someone who wanted him so badly, sure he had his experiences with women – albeit very limited ones – but he had never felt anything so deep, animalistic and visceral. He had never had any woman looking at him with that fire in her eyes, as if he was the only man who existed for her, as if he was everything she wanted, as if she could die at any moment if he didn’t give it to her.

But that stranger did.

And damn it felt so good.

“Please, I want it… I want you…” she cried out in an impatient and desperation tone and that was music to his ears. If there was some divine entity Spencer thanked it for making her wear a miniskirt.

His fingers slipped into her panties, moaning to himself as he felt the amount of fluids wetting her pussy. “So wet… You’re going to kill me, you know that right?”

She didn’t answer, she threw her head back while Spencer looked at her with hooded eyes and one of his fingers wasted no time in penetrating her. Her hips moved in rhythm and he trembled with anticipation, imagining her walls squeezing his dick.

“Fuck yes…” she moaned loudly, her hands in Spencer’s hair as he inserted a second finger inside her, watching her reaction and how her body writhed in pleasure.

“You’re so tight little angel, I can’t wait to be buried deep inside this wet pussy,” he murmured with pleasure before taking one of her breasts into his mouth, too temptingly as he sucked and licked it. His other arm went around her hips, holding her in place and keeping her from squirming away. “How many of them did you let fuck you mmh? How many have made you feel this way?” He licked her chest, her collarbone, every inch of skin he could reach before he began torturing her other breast.

“No one…” she breathed, unable to finish her sentence due to her heavy panting and moaning. Her thighs were shaking, her hands gripping his hair. “Nobody… Holy shit…” She trailed off again, her body contorting forward if it wasn’t for Spencer’s arm holding her and he knew his fingers had hit her G-spot.

He actually had no idea what he was doing or how to move but he was an attentive observer. His eyes glued to her studied with careful attention every single breath, the intensity of her moans, the way her muscles trembled, the way her pussy clenched, the way she held him, studying her body and quickly adapting to her reaction.

“Oh God yes, yes, you’re so fucking good keep going…” she cried out and then looked down at him. Her thumb traced his lips and – just as she had done earlier – he wrapped them around her finger, sucking on it as his fingers continued to pump in and out of her. Her walls clenched his wet fingers and if the vision of her coming over them didn’t make him lose his sanity, then he didn’t know what else would.

Spencer left her no room to catch her breath or strength after her orgasm.

“Open.” He ordered, bringing his fingers that until a few moments before were inside her, close to her lips. She didn’t hesitate to lick Spencer’s wet fingers clean, making him dizzy as her eyes watched with adulation and lust at the way his tongue sensually moved her fluids. “Yeah little angel, just like that.”

He was going crazy. He seriously thought his vessels were going to explode from how horny he was.

She let go of his fingers and sloppily kissed him, making him taste her juices on her tongue. “Fuck what are doing to me…” She whispered and something told Spencer she didn’t mean to say those words out loud.

“If you think I’m anywhere near done with you, you’re completely wrong,” he murmured against her lips. “Show me how a good girl you are and sit on me, let me see how this pretty pussy soaks my dick.”

Good job Dr Reid.

I’m really proud of myself.

“And here I thought you were a virgin,” she chuckled before getting up and taking a condom from one of the drawers in her closet, but not before taking off her panties. She settled down by straddling his thighs again before slipping the condom onto his painfully hard dick. She lifted her pelvis and wrapped her hand around Spencer’s dick, letting herself be penetrated until she found herself completely sitting on it. “But I know behind this cute pretty face you’re so dirty, filthy enough to fuck a stripper whose name you don’t even know.”

Spencer clung to every ounce of strength in his body to concentrate on anything other than the warm, wet walls of that stranger’s pussy or he would’ve come instantly.

He had even forgotten how good it felt to have sex after so long and remembered why people were so obsessed with it, why his team pestered him to get laid.

Her pussy engulfed him so perfectly it seemed to have been made just for him.

“You feel so good god…” she breathed out a moan interrupting her sentence as she slowly raised her hips and lowered herself again. Spencer couldn’t control a deep groan as she continued to tease and torture him with that slow motion, rolling her hips on his dick.

Spencer’s fingers found themselves on her ass for the second time, groping and spreading her ass cheeks trying to maintain control but it was so damn hard when all he wanted to do was fuck her brains out of her head.

“F-faster… You’re torturing me…” he panted brokenly, his chest quickly rising and falling as if he was running a marathon.

Instead, she kept going with her slow, destabilizing pace, lifting her hips again and slowly lowering herself on his raging dick, torturing him further as the sounds she let out filled the room. Those alone would’ve been enough to make him fall into the void and never be able to get back to the surface.

“Beg me.”

“Please, please… Make me feel good little angel, make me come,” he obeyed, not caring about sounding pathetic. The smirk that formed on her lips was the manifestation of the most pure form of sin, a sin for which there was no absolution or redemption.

Luckily Spencer didn’t even believe in these things.

But if there was a definition of heaven and hell, if they ever existed, it would’ve been her.

Her and those eyes that looked at him like they wanted to capture what was left of his soul, those eyes that would’ve made Spencer thrown himself off a cliff if she had asked.

Her and those hands that held him and touched him, causing him sensations he didn’t even know the meaning of, and this said something for a person who knew the meaning of every single word written in the dictionary.

Her and her deadly mouth that continued to kiss him until there was no air left in his lungs, her teeth biting him, her tongue licking his skin and sucking his tongue.

Her and those moans and gasps she couldn’t hold back and that Spencer was absorbing one by one, imprinting them in his memory so he could repeat them again and again.

“Look at you, aren’t you a desperate little thing? So hungry for me,” she sensually whispered in his ear and biting his earlobe. Fulfilling Spencer’s wishes, she began to increase her pace, placing her hands on the back of the couch for support.

Nothing resounded except their moans, pants, grunts mixing with each other, the sound of their skin rubbing and flapping and their lips smacking with each kiss with the smell of sex, sin and prohibition filling their nostrils.

Spencer’s eyes were glued on her, on her parted lips and her head thrown back, her eyes half closed, her tits bouncing in rhythm with her thrusts which he didn’t waste time taking into his mouth and sucking them, biting the nipples until they were numb.

She fisted Spencer’s hair again, pulling it and forcing him to tilt his head back to look at her. That gesture made him grunt and aroused him even more than he already was, and his hips twitched against her, giving a particularly deep thrust that made her curse.

“I can see how you’re holding back pretty boy,” she sighed, continuing to ride him but slowing her pace this time causing a pathetic cry to escape his lips. She kept brushing her lips against his without kissing him, with the sole aim of torturing him and driving him crazy. As if she hadn’t already done it. “Don’t hold back, I can see how much you want to ruin me, how much you’re dying to destroy me.”

“Fuck.” He cursed and something snapped inside him.

He thrusted his hips so deep into her she choked out a moan and he was sure she felt it in every corner of her pussy. His long fingers continued to press into the red, heated flesh of her ass holding her still while he jerked his hips forcefully, taking command even though she was still on top of him.

His dick kept pushing in and out of her, engulfed by her pussy as it tightened around him. Spencer knew how fundamental the importance of using protection was, especially with strangers, but he wished he didn’t wear that damn condom so much, so he could feel every wet corner of her around his dick.

“Oh fuck yes… Just like that,” she loudly moaned and he was sure that by now everyone had heard what was going on in that dressing room but had chosen to ignore it.

Spencer didn’t know how much longer he could hold on. He needed to come but he didn’t want to, he didn’t want this to end.

That’s why he made her get up off him, earning a confused expression before flipping her onto that couch and laying on top of her. He opened her legs and positioned himself between them. He left her no room to say anything as he aligned his dick with her entrance, penetrating her in one motion.

Her legs encircled his hips, her heels pressed against his skin as he fucked her on that couch like his life depended on it, with hard, deep thrusts that made her eyes water.

He had completely lost control.

His hand went around her throat, a gesture that happened spontaneously and that Spencer didn’t even realize until he saw the smirk and expression of pure ecstasy on her face.

How long has he been into choking?

That damn woman would be his downfall.

“Is this what you wanted?” he groaned, his fingers tightening sideways around her throat, being careful not to press on her windpipe. Some strands of hair fell in front of his eyes but she removed them, almost making him faint at that sweet gesture, in stark contrast to the animalistic way in which they were fucking.

“I knew there was a little devil inside you pretty boy, God you’re so fucking sexy,” she gasped, biting hit lower lips and making him increase his pace. “Yes, yes, yes I’m going to come… Keep going fuck yeah…”

His thrusts were deep, messy and although he tried to keep himself from coming, wanting to prolong that feeling of ecstasy as long as possible, it was impossible as her pussy kept clenching around him, moaning “I’m coming” in his ear so sexily it made him come. Spencer exploded and with one last thrust he let himself go into a mind-blowing orgasm that made his body tremble and his eyes blind for a few moments as he poured all his sperm inside the condom.

There were a few moments of silence, broken only by the panting and deep breathing of the two as they caught their breath.

After the ecstasy of the orgasm, Spencer stood up, noticing out of the corner of his eye that she too was trying to get up but her still shaking legs prevented her from doing so. He tried to hold back a smirk, giving her a hand and helping her to get on her feet before earning a feeble “Thank you.”

What the fuck did I just do?

I just had sex with a stripper who could be a potential witness/suspect while undercover.

I’m so screwed.

He realized the enormous mistake he had just made, not even imagining the consequences. He thanked no one in particular for not having worn the microphone or, holy shit, that would’ve been difficult to explain.

Spencer didn’t say a word and he was grateful that she didn’t either, too dazed and groggy to be able to face a conversation.

They both cleaned up in silence and after throwing the condom in the bin, Spencer tried to tidy himself up, tucking his shirt into his pants after buttoning it.

His profiler nature, however, couldn’t help but notice the way how her demeanor completely changed, going from that sexy vicious woman to a silent shy one. She hadn’t so much as glanced at him, he noticed how her shoulders were tense while she moved frantically as if she was trying to vanish from that dressing room as quickly as possible.

She was nervous.

But why?

“You still haven’t answered my initial question, you know?” Spencer broke the awkward silence, before he could stop his tongue.

Damn it Reid why do you want to complicate things so badly?

She turned her head towards him, looking at him with a confused expression trying to make up her mind.

But then a small smile spread across her features before she closed her backpack and placed it on her shoulder. “No one’s been lucky enough to get in here,” she replied, effectively giving the answer Spencer was looking for and for some strange and absurd reason he believed her. “Or unlucky, depending on your point of view.”

Before he could answer she gave him one last glance and left the dressing room. He was supposed to be relieved, there would be no question he couldn’t answer – especially after she realized David wasn’t his real name – but for some reason he couldn’t let go that sinking feeling in his stomach.

He was good at analyzing other people’s emotions, every facet and change of expression, but he wasn’t as good with himself.

He was tempted to follow her, at least to know her name, to find out who the woman who had fried his brain was, but before going out he noticed a small object near the door, probably fallen from her backpack before she went out.

He knelt to pick it up from the ground, but his blood froze in his veins and his heart stopped beating for a millisecond when he realized what the object was.

It was a purple lipstick.

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