glorifiedagents

[glorifiedagents]

Heat of the Moment — lilia calderu

LILIA'S FINGERS didn’t stop, her pace quickening, working you open, curling her fingers just right, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. She watched you carefully, her smirk widening as your body responded to her touch. “Yeah? You want to cum all over my hand, princess?” she teased, her thumb pressing harder against your clit as she fucked you with her fingers.

SUMMARY: after a short but heated argument, lilia has you against the wall, reminding you who is in charge

PAIRING: lilia calderu & fem!reader

CAUTION: no plot because nah, the usual smut, too lazy to write warnings - SO - 18+

WORD COUNT: 4.6K

AUTHOR'S NOTE: *sighs*

The tension in the room was suffocating. “You just don’t fucking get it, do you?” Lilia snapped, her voice vibrating with frustration as she paced, her hands gripping her hair. She was coiled tight, all fire and raw emotion. You stood still, arms crossed over your chest, doing your best to maintain some semblance of control, but your breath was already uneven, your pulse racing, betraying the heat coursing through you. “Oh, I get it all right,” you shot back, your voice low, challenge clear. “You don’t like it when I won’t just sit back and follow your orders like some damn robot.”

Lilia’s eyes narrowed, and she stopped dead in her tracks, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. There was a dark flicker in her eyes, something dangerous, something she was barely holding back. “You’re such a fucking brat,” she muttered, lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You push me until you get exactly what you want. Do you even know what you’re doing to me?”

Before you could even think of a response, she was on you, so fast you didn’t have time to react. One hand gripped your jaw, forcing your head back, the other grabbed your waist and yanked you up against her body, your chest flush against hers.

The sudden force left you breathless, but the heat from her body, and the strength in her grip — it sent a sharp jolt straight to your core. You gasped, hands instinctively grabbing at her arms, but she didn’t give you a second to think before her lips were on yours.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate — teeth clashing with her tongue pushing into your mouth as if she needed to claim every inch of you. You moaned into the kiss, but she swallowed the sound, dominating you with every thrust of her tongue. The taste of her lingered, intoxicating, and your body responded against your will, already craving more.

Her thigh pressed between your legs, the hard fabric of her pants rubbing against your cunt, and you couldn’t hold back the way your hips ground against her, searching for friction. A soft, needy moan escaped you as you felt the pressure building between your legs, but she pulled back just enough to smirk at you, her eyes dark with amusement. “You really are fucking needy, huh?”

You clenched your teeth, heat flooding your face, but before you could respond, her lips were back on your neck, kissing and biting, drawing another gasp from you. Her hands were everywhere —gripping your tits, her thumbs rolling over your nipples with just enough pressure to make your head spin. She knew exactly what she was doing, making you squirm, making you melt in her hands.

You tried to push her off, just for a second, but she wasn’t having it. She smirked, nipping at your collarbone as her fingers moved down, pulling your shorts and underwear down in one swift motion, leaving you exposed, your breath catching in your throat.

The cool air on your wet cunt made you shiver, but before you could think, her fingers were there, sliding through your folds, spreading your slickness, teasing.

“So fucking wet,” she murmured, pressing one finger into you, just enough to make you gasp, “and you were acting like you weren’t ready for this. Such a little liar.”

Her thumb brushed against your clit, slow and teasing, just enough to make you whimper. “Lilia, pleaseeee...” you begged, unable to control the desperation in your voice as your hips rocked forward, chasing the friction, needing more of the pressure that was slowly building between your legs.

She hummed, her thumb rubbing harder, teasing, before her other hand joined in, pushing two fingers deep inside you, stretching you open. You gasped, your back arching against the wall, your legs weak as the pleasure hit you like a wave, but she didn’t stop. She worked you open with ruthless precision, hitting that spot deep inside you that made your legs tremble, your body reacting against your will.

“Look at you,” she whispered, her voice husky with satisfaction. “So fucking desperate for me. I should’ve done this sooner.” Her fingers curled, hitting that spot inside you over and over, and every time, it was like a wave crashing over you, sending jolts of heat straight through your core.

You moaned loudly, your hands gripping her shoulders for leverage as you struggled to stay upright, the pressure building until it felt like you couldn’t take it anymore.

Lilia slowed her pace for a moment, making you writhe, desperate for more. Her lips were back on your neck, sucking at your skin, marking you as hers. “You want to cum, princess?” she teased, her fingers still working you in that perfect rhythm. “Beg me for it. Tell me how bad you want to cum for me.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, the pressure mounting, your chest heaving with each desperate breath. “Lilia, please, I need...” you gasped, cutting yourself off as her fingers dug deeper, quicker. The words were slipping past your lips, but you couldn’t hold back anymore.

She didn’t stop, not even when your body started to shake with the intensity of it. “That’s right,” she murmured. “You’re gonna come all over my hand, aren’t you?”

And then, without warning, the orgasm hit you like a fucking freight train. You cried out, your body jerking forward, your cunt clenching around her fingers as your vision blurred, your legs shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t breathe, hell, you couldn’t even think — just the raw, overwhelming pleasure crashing over you, drowning you in sensation.

Lilia didn’t let up. She fucked you through it, her fingers relentless, dragging out every last bit of pleasure as she watched you come apart in her hands. Your body was trembling, your head spinning, and you couldn’t even remember how to speak, the only thing that mattered was the way she was driving you wild with every motion.

When she finally pulled her fingers out, she brought them up to her lips, eyes never leaving yours as she licked them clean, a low hum of satisfaction escaping her. “Good girl,” she said, her voice rough with desire, as she leaned in to kiss you again, her lips soft against yours now, but still possessive.

Your body was limp, spent, your skin burning with the aftershocks of your orgasm, but your mind was still hazy, still craving more.

You were still trembling, breath uneven, fingers gripping the front of Lilia’s shirt like you needed to hold onto something solid to stay upright. Your body was still reeling from the way she’d just wrecked you against the wall, but even through the lingering haze of pleasure, you needed more — you needed to feel her come undone too.

“I wanna return the favor,” you murmured, your voice raw and needy, your lips brushing against her jaw.

Lilia let out a low, satisfied hum, her fingers tilting your chin up so she could look at you properly. The way she gazed down at you—half-lidded eyes, lips swollen from kissing, confidence radiating from every inch of her—made heat flare in your stomach again. She had you exactly where she wanted you, and you both knew it.

“Oh, baby,” she murmured, voice dripping with amusement, “I know you do.”

In an instant, her hands were on you again, tugging at your clothes with an urgency that sent a fresh pulse of arousal through you. You helped her strip away the last barriers between you, your hands moving just as fast, desperate to get her bare, to feel every inch of her.

Lilia didn’t waste time. She was still in control, guiding you down, pressing you to your knees in front of her. Her fingers tangled in your hair, giving it a firm tug as she hooked one knee over your shoulder, spreading herself open for you.

Your breath hitched at the sight of her — slick, needy, absolutely dripping for you.

“Pleasure me, baby,” she ordered, her voice low and commanding.

Your mouth watered, and you didn’t hesitate. You pressed a kiss to her inner thigh first, teasing, making her huff impatiently. But before she could reprimand you, you licked a slow, deliberate stripe up her folds, moaning softly at the taste of her.

Lilia groaned, fingers tightening in your hair. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

You obeyed, wrapping your lips around her clit, sucking just enough to make her shudder. She was so wet, so warm, and you wanted nothing more than to make her fall apart the way she had done to you. You flicked your tongue over her clit, circling it, before dipping lower, pushing your tongue inside her.

“Fuck,” Lilia cursed, her hips rocking forward, grinding against your mouth. “That’s it. Just like that.”

Her leg tightened over your shoulder, her fingers still gripping your hair, guiding you exactly where she wanted you. You let her use you, drinking in her moans, the way her body twitched every time you sucked on her clit, every time your tongue curled inside her.

You could feel her getting closer, her thighs trembling, her breathing turning ragged. She tugged your hair again, forcing you to look up at her. “Don’t stop,” she panted. “You’re gonna make me cum all over that pretty mouth.”

Her words only spurred you on, and you doubled your efforts, tongue working her clit with relentless precision, sucking and licking until her grip in your hair tightened painfully and her whole body tensed.

Then she shattered.

A loud, unrestrained moan left her lips as she came hard, her hips jerking against your mouth, her juices coating your lips and chin. You kept going, letting her ride out every last wave of pleasure until she was shuddering, her breathing uneven, her grip in your hair finally loosening.

You pulled back slightly, licking your lips, looking up at her with dazed satisfaction.

Lilia smirked, eyes still heavy with pleasure as she met your gaze. “You did so fucking good, baby,” she murmured, reaching down to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing your bottom lip. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Her smirk widened, and the hunger in her eyes sent a fresh wave of anticipation through you. God, you could never get enough.

Your knees ached, a dull throb settling in from the hard floor, but you barely noticed. The taste of her was still on your tongue, her slick still warm on your lips, and the way she had unraveled above you had only made the ache between your own legs worse.

Lilia wasn’t finished.

She grabbed your wrist, rough and unrelenting, pulling you to your feet. Your legs trembled from how long you had been kneeling, but she didn’t slow down, didn’t give you a moment to steady yourself. She didn’t care if she was too rough, and you didn’t either.

“Get on the bed,” she ordered, voice low, thick with dominance.

You swallowed hard and obeyed, crawling onto the mattress, positioning yourself as she wanted — head hanging slightly over the edge, body laid out for her. The anticipation made you shiver. You didn’t know what she was planning, but the hunger in her gaze told you she wasn’t going to be gentle.

You bit your lip as she moved, eyes locked onto her as she grabbed the harness, fastening it around her waist with practiced ease. The deep red strap stood thick and firm against her hips, and your breath hitched at the sight. The way she adjusted it, tightening the straps, rolling her hips slightly to test the fit — it made your stomach clench with a fresh wave of arousal.

Lilia smirked, stepping closer, towering over you. Her fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up toward her.

“Open,” she murmured, voice smooth, commanding.

You parted your lips immediately, your breath coming out in shallow little pants. Lilia spat into her hand, spreading the wetness along the length of the strap, her movements slow, deliberate — teasing.

Then she pressed the tip against your lips, not waiting for permission before pushing inside.

The thick silicone stretched your mouth open, making you whimper around it as she pressed in deeper, her grip tightening in your hair. She started slow at first, letting you adjust, but it didn’t take long before she picked up the pace, thrusting harder, the harness rubbing against her clit with every movement.

You moaned around her, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth as she fucked into you with steady, deliberate thrusts. Lilia groaned at the sensation, the strap grinding against her, sending waves of pleasure through her already sensitive body.

“Look at you,” she murmured, her voice laced with dark amusement. “So eager to take everything I give you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, your throat tightening as she pushed deeper, her rhythm relentless. You could barely breathe between thrusts, barely think past the heat pooling between your thighs. You slid a hand down, fingers brushing against your own soaked folds, finding your clit and rubbing tight, needy circles.

Lilia noticed immediately.

“You’re touching yourself?” she breathed, a wicked grin curling on her lips. “So desperate, so needy while I fuck your mouth?”

You moaned in response, your fingers working faster, your body trembling from how much you needed release. Your throat constricted around the strap-on as she thrust again, saliva dripping down your chin, your eyes glassy with arousal.

Lilia groaned, her grip in your hair tightening, using you exactly how she wanted, chasing her own pleasure as the harness pressed and rubbed against her clit. Her hips snapped forward, her rhythm stuttering, growing erratic.

“Fuck—” she gasped, her breath coming out in sharp pants. “I’m gonna cum — gonna cum all over this fucking thing.”

Her pace grew rougher, more desperate, her thighs shaking as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. With a sharp cry, she came hard, her body trembling, her slick dripping down her inner thighs as the last waves of pleasure pulsed through her.

She didn’t stop thrusting immediately, her hips still moving in tiny, jerky motions, dragging out every last second of pleasure while you moaned beneath her, fingers still buried in your own soaked cunt.

When she finally stilled, panting, she looked down at you—your lips swollen, your cheeks streaked with tears, your thighs pressed together as you chased your own high.

Lilia smirked.

“Such a good little slut for me,” she murmured, wiping the wetness from your chin with her thumb before leaning in, her lips brushing against your ear.

Your body was still trembling, your skin burning with the aftershocks of pleasure, but Lilia wasn’t done with you. Not even close.

"Get in position," she commanded, her voice thick with dominance. "Face down, ass up."

You barely had time to catch your breath before obeying, shifting onto your stomach and lifting your hips, pressing your chest against the mattress while arching your back to present yourself to her. You could feel your slick dripping down your thighs, a sticky, needy mess, but Lilia just smirked at the sight.

"Look at you," she murmured, dragging her fingers down your spine, making you shiver. "So obedient, so fucking desperate to be used."

You whined, pushing back slightly, wordlessly begging for her to just give it to you already.

Lilia didn’t make you wait.

You gasped as she grabbed your hips, lining up the strap-on with your soaked cunt before thrusting in, filling you in one ruthless motion. The stretch was immediate, the thickness pushing deep inside you, forcing your walls to accommodate every inch. Your fingers curled into the sheets, a breathless moan spilling from your lips as she set a brutal pace, fucking into you with no hesitation, no restraint.

The wet sounds of your cunt taking her filled the room, mixing with the sharp slap of her hips against your ass. Lilia groaned above you, the harness grinding against her clit with every movement, sending waves of pleasure through her as well.

"Fuck, you're gripping me so tight," she breathed, punctuating her words with a sharp thrust that had you choking on a moan. "So fucking greedy for my cock."

Her hand came down hard against your ass, the stinging slap making you jolt, a gasp leaving your lips. The heat of it spread across your skin, making your walls flutter around the strap buried inside you. Lilia chuckled darkly.

"You like that, don’t you?" she mused, spanking you again, harder this time. "You love being treated like a filthy little slut, don’t you?"

"Yes," you whimpered, voice muffled against the mattress.

"Yeah?" Lilia grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, forcing you to arch even deeper. "Then take it."

She fucked you even harder, hips slamming into you, the strap stretching your cunt with every relentless thrust. The pressure, the fullness, the way she completely controlled your body — it was too much, not enough, everything all at once. Your moans turned into desperate cries, your legs shaking, but Lilia didn’t slow down.

Her teeth found your shoulder, biting down, marking you as she fucked you into the mattress. One of her hands moved to your chest, fingers finding your sensitive nipples, rolling and twisting them between her fingers, making you whine at the sharp mix of pleasure and pain.

You barely had time to process it before she changed positions again.

Without warning, she shoved your face into the mattress, pressing your cheek down into the sheets, holding you there with a firm grip. Then, she lifted one leg, pressing her foot against the side of your face, pinning you down completely as she adjusted her angle.

"Stay down," she ordered, her voice dripping with authority.

You had no choice. You were completely at her mercy, your body helpless under her control as she fucked you even deeper, the new angle hitting a spot inside you that made your vision blur.

"Fuck, you're dripping all over me," Lilia groaned, her pace growing erratic as she chased her own high, the harness pressing perfectly against her swollen clit. "Gonna cum again, baby? Gonna soak my cock like the desperate little thing you are?"

You couldn’t even speak, couldn’t do anything except take it. Your walls clenched around the strap-on, the pressure coiling so tightly inside you that you thought you might break.

Lilia smirked, grinding her hips in slow, deep circles, making the strap drag against every sensitive spot inside you.

"Go on," she murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. "Cum for me again. Be a good little slut and fucking cum."

The command shattered you. Your body locked up, pleasure ripping through you in sharp, uncontrollable waves. Your cunt pulsed around the strap-on, your cries muffled against the sheets as the orgasm tore through you, leaving you trembling and wrecked beneath her.

Lilia groaned above you, her own body tensing as she reached her peak, the harness pressing perfectly against her clit. She moaned low and breathless, grinding against you as she came hard, her slick dripping down her thighs.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing, the lingering wet, messy noises of your ruined body against hers. Then, Lilia leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as she smirked.

"You did so well for me," she murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the side of your neck.

Lilia pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses against your neck, her breath hot against your damp skin. Your body was still twitching from the aftershocks, your limbs weak, your pussy aching from the relentless way she had just fucked you. You barely registered the moment she unstrapped the harness, tossing it aside before making herself comfortable beside you, her fingers lazily tracing patterns over your thigh.

For a few moments, the only sound was the ragged rise and fall of your breathing, the sheets sticking to your sweat-slicked skin. But Lilia wasn’t done.

"Come here," she murmured, her voice lower now, thick with satisfaction but still laced with hunger. "Sit across from me."

You blinked, still trying to gather yourself, but when Lilia gave an order, you obeyed. Slowly, you shifted, moving to sit opposite her, mirroring her position. Your legs spread instinctively as you adjusted, and the moment you settled, you realized exactly what she had in mind.

Lilia’s smirk was dark, knowing, as she let her own legs fall open, exposing her glistening, swollen cunt. She was just as wrecked as you, her skin flushed, her body still trembling slightly from her own release.

"Touch yourself," she instructed, her fingers already slipping between her slick folds. "I wanna watch you."

Your breath hitched, your body still overly sensitive, but the sight of Lilia playing with herself, the way her fingers slowly circled her clit, had fresh heat pooling in your belly. You swallowed hard, then let your own hand slide down, finding your drenched cunt, fingers parting your folds as you rubbed slow, teasing circles over your clit.

A shudder ran through you both at the same time.

"Fuck," Lilia exhaled, her eyes locked onto your soaked pussy, watching the way your fingers moved. "You’re still dripping. I really did a number on you, huh?"

You whimpered, nodding, your fingers pressing down harder as you matched her pace.

"Uh-uh," Lilia tutted, a smirk pulling at her lips. "Faster. I wanna see you fall apart again."

You obeyed, speeding up, pleasure sparking through your overstimulated nerves. Your walls clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled again, but the sight of Lilia losing herself across from you was enough to send another wave of heat rolling through your body.

Lilia’s head tipped back slightly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she worked her fingers faster, rubbing tight circles over her swollen clit. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her free hand moving to cup her own breast, tweaking her nipple between her fingers with a breathy moan.

"God, you look so fucking good like this," she groaned, her dark eyes flickering back to you. "Fucking yourself, all messy and desperate. Wish it was my fingers inside you instead."

You whined, your thighs trembling, your stomach tensing as the pleasure built. "Lilia—"

"You close, baby?" she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Yeah, I can see it. Your legs are shaking. You wanna cum for me again?"

"Yes," you gasped, barely able to get the word out.

"Then do it," she commanded, her own fingers moving faster, her hips rocking into her touch. "Cum with me. Make a fucking mess."

The sound of her wrecked moan was the final push you needed. Your body seized up, a strangled cry ripping from your throat as another orgasm crashed through you, more intense than the last. Your fingers stuttered, rubbing frantically over your clit as your cunt clenched around nothing, slick dripping down onto the sheets beneath you.

Lilia cursed, her own body shaking as she tipped over the edge, her head falling back against the pillows as she moaned deep and low, her slick coating her fingers as she rode out her orgasm.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you breathing hard, bodies still trembling from the pleasure that just wrecked you both.

Finally, Lilia let out a slow, satisfied sigh, smirking at you through half-lidded eyes. "Damn," she murmured, voice thick and lazy. "You’re fucking perfect."

You couldn’t even speak, could only let out a breathless, blissed-out laugh as you collapsed back against the bed.

Lilia chuckled, reaching for you, pulling you against her sweat-slicked body. "C’mere," she muttered, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. "I think you’ve earned some rest."

[glorifiedagents]

Hands of Desire — spencer reid

“I’VE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS,” he murmurs, his hand shifting to wrap gently around your throat. “About what I’d do if I ever had the chance to touch you like this.” His fingers tighten slightly — not enough to restrict your breath, but just enough to send a surge of heat through your core. “One hand choking you,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over your ear, “while the other fucks you with my fingers, slow and deep.”

SUMMARY: spencer notices you staring at his hands - moments later you're in the library bathroom putting them to use PAIRING: spencer reid & fem!reader CAUTION: swearing, public sex - library bathroom, almost caught, creampie, light choking, deepthroat, hickies, degradation with praise, cum swallowing, breast play, spencer making you watch as he fucks you, and everything else i might have missed WORD COUNT: 4.5K

It’s late afternoon, the library is quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional shuffle of someone moving around. The golden sunlight is fading, leaving a warm glow in the corners of the room. You sit at one of the large wooden tables with Spencer across from you, both pretending to read but neither of you really focused.

Your eyes keep drifting back to his hands, the way his long fingers absentmindedly tap on the book in front of him, his thumb brushing over the pages as he turns them. They’re elegant, sure, but there’s something more to them — something that’s got your mind wandering to places it probably shouldn’t. You’ve caught yourself staring more times than you’d like to admit, especially today. There’s just something about those hands… and the things you imagine they could do.

You shift in your seat, trying to focus, but it’s impossible. You think about his fingers trailing down your body, ghosting over your skin, then pressing harder — gripping you, holding you in place. The image of his hand wrapping around your throat flashes through your mind, his thumb pressing just enough to make you gasp. And then your thoughts go deeper—darker. You imagine those same fingers slipping between your legs, teasing you, and you feel a slow heat building in your core.

You bite your lip, hoping Spencer hasn’t noticed how distracted you are. But when you glance up, your heart skips a beat — he’s watching you. His expression is curious, but there’s something in his eyes that feels different, like he’s piecing something together. His lips twitch up in a small, knowing smile, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“You’ve been staring at my hands,” he says, his voice low but teasing.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. “What? No, I wasn’t—” you stammer, but the way he’s looking at you, like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking, makes it impossible to lie.

He chuckles softly, tilting his head. “It’s okay,” he says, leaning in a little more. “You don’t have to hide it. I’ve noticed before, you know.”

Your pulse quickens, and you try to look away, but you can’t. There’s something about the way he’s watching you now, the way his voice has dropped, that sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow hard, your gaze flicking to his hands again, and Spencer follows your line of sight, smirking when he realizes.

“Is it just my hands,” he murmurs, “or are you thinking about what I could do with them?”

The words send a rush of heat straight through you, and you can’t stop the thoughts from spilling over — his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer, fingers dipping between your legs, teasing you until you can’t think straight.

You feel your breath hitch, your heart pounding as you meet his eyes again. His expression has changed — there’s no more teasing in his gaze, just pure intensity. He knows exactly what’s running through your mind, and he’s waiting for you to admit it.

Your voice is barely a whisper, but you force the words out. “I can’t stop thinking about them. About what they’d feel like… on me.”

His hand twitches on the table, his eyes darkening as he leans in even closer. “What do you want me to do with them?” he asks, voice rougher now, making your pulse race.

You swallow, heat flooding through you as you quietly confess, “I keep thinking about… your hand around my throat. Or your fingers inside me.”

The second those words leave your mouth, Spencer’s whole demeanor shifts. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and he looks like he’s holding back every urge to reach across the table right now. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips before he leans even closer, his breath warm against your ear.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about?” he whispers, his voice sending a fresh wave of heat through you. “You want me to touch you like that?”

You nod, biting your lip, your body thrumming with anticipation. “Yes,” you breathe out, barely able to speak as the tension between you both becomes almost unbearable.

Spencer’s hand moves, his fingers brushing lightly against the back of your wrist, and even that small touch sends a jolt through you. He gives you a dark, knowing smile, his voice low and filled with promise. “Good,” he murmurs, “because I’ve been thinking about that too.”

Spencer’s eyes darken, his focus locked onto you as he reaches across the table. His fingers brush over your wrist again, lingering this time, and with a deliberate tug, he pulls your chair toward him. The sound of the wood scraping lightly against the floor barely registers as your heart pounds in your chest. He’s so close now, the intensity of his gaze leaving no room for doubt — he knows exactly what you want, and it seems like he’s just as ready to give it to you.

His hand comes up slowly, tracing a featherlight touch along your jawline, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. You feel like you can barely breathe as his fingers trail down the side of your neck, grazing just over the sensitive skin. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear, and you shiver as his voice drops even lower.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, his hand shifting to wrap gently around your throat. “About what I’d do if I ever had the chance to touch you like this.” His fingers tighten slightly — not enough to restrict your breath, but just enough to send a surge of heat through your core. “One hand choking you,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over your ear, “while the other fucks you with my fingers, slow and deep.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the rush of arousal overwhelming. You can feel yourself getting wetter with each word, your thighs pressing together instinctively, craving the pressure of his touch. Spencer pulls back just enough to meet your gaze again, and then, without another word, he closes the distance between you.

His lips press against yours, soft at first, testing, but the second you kiss him back, it’s like a switch flips. The kiss deepens quickly, tongues sliding together as his hand on your throat tightens slightly, grounding you in the moment. You moan into his mouth, and the sound only seems to spur him on. His other hand grabs your waist, pulling you closer until you can’t help but move, sliding onto his lap. The chair creaks beneath you as you straddle him, your knees pressing into the seat on either side of him.

His hands roam over your body, fingers gripping your hips as he pulls you closer. You can feel the hard bulge of his cock pressing against your thigh, the heat of it unmistakable even through his slacks. The pressure sends a shiver down your spine, and you grind down against him without thinking, a soft groan escaping your lips. Spencer’s grip tightens, his hips rolling up against you, and you can feel him grow even harder beneath you.

“I need you,” you whisper against his lips, your voice breathless with desperation. You take his hand in yours, sliding off his lap as you lead him toward the back of the library, to the women’s bathroom tucked out of sight.

The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and there’s no hesitation now. Spencer pushes you against the wall, his lips crashing back into yours as his hands move to undress you. Your shirt is the first to go, his fingers working quickly to pull it over your head before he yanks his own off, not caring where it lands. His hands fumble with your jeans, and soon they’re undone, sliding down your legs as you kick them off. He pulls down your panties, the fabric barely hitting the floor before his hand is between your thighs.

“Fuck,” he groans, his fingers slipping through your slick folds. You’re already soaking wet, and the feel of him touching you there sends a jolt of electricity through you. His fingers circle your clit slowly, teasing, before dipping lower. When he pushes two fingers inside you, your head falls back against the wall, a moan escaping your lips as your body clenches around him.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Spencer mutters, his voice thick with lust. He’s working his fingers in and out of you now, each thrust slow and deliberate, his thumb grazing over your clit with every movement. The sensation is almost too much, your body pulsing with pleasure as you arch against him, trying to take him deeper.

Spencer watches you intently, his eyes dark with desire, and you can see how much this is affecting him. His cock strains painfully against his boxers, the fabric already wet with pre-cum staining the front. He groans softly, his free hand slipping down to palm himself, squeezing as he thrusts his fingers harder into you.

The sound of your wetness echoes in the small space, obscene and hot, and you can’t help but moan louder as he starts fucking you faster with his fingers. His thumb presses harder against your clit, rubbing in tight circles that make your legs tremble. “Spencer,” you gasp, your hips bucking against his hand as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge.

He groans, his own need growing more desperate as he frees his cock from his boxers. His hand wraps around his length, and the sight of him stroking himself, his cock thick and leaking with pre-cum, sends a new rush of heat through you. He’s fucking into his fist, his grip tight as his fingers pump inside you in rhythm, each stroke pushing you closer to the brink.

“God, I want to feel you come on my fingers,” he murmurs, his voice strained with the effort to hold back. His hand tightens around your throat again, just enough to make you gasp, the pressure sending shockwaves straight to your core. “Come for me,” he commands, his voice rough and full of heat.

It’s all too much — the feeling of his fingers fucking into you, the pressure on your throat, the sight of him jerking himself off right in front of you. You feel the tension coil tight in your stomach, and with one final thrust of his fingers, you fall apart. Your body shudders as the orgasm washes over you, your walls clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through you.

Spencer doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm as you writhe against him, your hips jerking uncontrollably as you ride out every last bit of pleasure. He groans softly, his eyes glued to the way your body moves, his hand still stroking his cock as he watches you fall apart for him.

As your breathing starts to calm, you look down at Spencer, his cock still straining in his hand, thick and slick with pre-cum. His eyes meet yours, and without a word, you drop to your knees in front of him, ready to return the favour.

You’re on your knees in front of Spencer, your body still buzzing with the aftershocks of the orgasm he just gave you. The ache between your legs hasn’t dulled, it’s only grown stronger as you stare up at him. His cock is right in front of you, thick and hard, twitching in his hand as he strokes himself slowly. You can see the slick sheen of pre-cum on the tip, and the sight of it makes your mouth water.

When you reach out and wrap your hand around his length, he hisses out a low groan, his body tensing at the contact. His cock feels heavy in your hand, so hot it makes your skin burn as you start to stroke him, your thumb swiping over the wet tip, smearing his pre-cum down his shaft. The way he responds - his breath catching, the soft, needy sounds he makes - sends a surge of heat straight to your core.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice tight, his eyes locked on you. “You’ve got no idea how good that feels.”

You lean forward, your lips brushing over the head of his cock, teasing, tasting the salty hint of him. Spencer's breath stutters, his hand instinctively gripping the back of your head as you open your mouth and take him in slowly. Your tongue slides along the underside of his length, and you can feel the weight of him, thick and throbbing, pressing against your lips.

The sound he makes when you take him deeper is primal, a rough, desperate groan that sends a shiver down your spine. You look up at him through your lashes, your mouth full of him, and the sight of his hooded gaze, his lips parted as he struggles to control himself, makes you want to push him even further.

You start to move, sliding him deeper into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as your tongue swirls around his shaft. The taste of him is heady, salty and intoxicating, and you hum softly, the vibration making his hips jerk forward involuntarily.

“Fuck, yes,” Spencer groans, his voice low and wrecked, his hand tightening in your hair as he tries to hold back. “That’s it, baby. Take me deeper. You look so fucking good like this.”

You moan around him at his words, taking him as far as you can, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. The sensation makes you gag slightly, but the sound of his desperate groan urges you on, and you relax your throat, letting him slide in even further. Spencer’s body shudders, and you feel his cock twitch against your tongue, his breath coming faster.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he mutters, his hips starting to roll against you, fucking your mouth in slow, deep strokes. “So fucking perfect with your mouth wrapped around my cock.”

Your eyes stay locked on his as you take him deeper, your tongue pressed tight against the underside of his shaft, savoring every inch of him. He’s so hard, so thick, and you can feel how close he is—his breathing is ragged, and his body is trembling with the effort to hold back.

You reach up, unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. Spencer’s gaze drops to your breasts as you palm them, your fingers teasing your nipples, twisting and pulling them as you moan around his cock. His eyes are glued to the way your hands move over your body, his grip on your hair tightening as he fucks your mouth a little harder now, his control slipping with every second.

“I’m gonna cum,” Spencer groans, his voice strained and raw. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum in your mouth.”

You moan in response, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him harder, taking him deeper until you can feel his cock pulsing on your tongue. The sounds he makes are desperate, broken groans as his hips stutter, his hand gripping your hair tightly as he pushes deeper one last time.

And then, with a choked moan, he comes. You feel the hot, salty rush of his release hit your tongue, thick and overwhelming as he groans your name, his body shaking with the intensity of it. You swallow as much as you can, but there’s too much — some of it drips from the corner of your mouth, sliding down your chin. The sight of it only seems to drive Spencer wilder, his eyes dark with lust as he watches you, his cock still throbbing in your mouth.

You look up at him, your lips still wrapped around his length, the taste of him lingering on your tongue. His hand is still in your hair, his breath ragged, but his eyes are locked on you, filled with heat and hunger. You slowly pull back, his cock slipping from your mouth with a soft, wet sound, and you wipe the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Spencer's breathing is still heavy, his body trembling slightly from the release. His hand moves from your hair to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently over your lips as he stares down at you, his voice soft but still thick with desire.

"You're fucking incredible," he breathes, his thumb pressing gently against your lower lip before sliding it into your mouth. You suck on it lightly, tasting the salt of his skin, and his eyes darken all over again.

Spencer’s grip is unyielding as he pulls you to your feet, spinning you effortlessly so your back is flush against his chest. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, his breath hot against the nape of your neck as he guides you forward, pressing you up against the sink. The mirror in front of you captures the flush of your cheeks, the dazed, needy look in your eyes, and the sight sends a pulse of heat straight to your core.

His hands roam possessively over your skin — one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you against his hard chest, while the other drifts lower, teasing along your thigh. Spencer’s voice is a low, commanding growl in your ear. “Watch yourself,” he orders, his breath heavy as he nips at the sensitive skin just below your ear. “I want you to see what you look like when I fuck you.”

Before you can process his words, Spencer thrusts into you without warning. You gasp, your hands flying to the sink’s edge to keep yourself steady as your body adjusts to the sudden fullness. The sensation is overwhelming — he’s deep, and each thrust presses you hard against the sink, the edge biting into your hips, but all you can focus on is the way he moves inside you, how every inch of him fills you perfectly.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, your voice shaky, and your eyes dart to the mirror. Spencer’s watching you intensely, his gaze dark with lust as he drinks in the sight of you coming undone for him. His hips snap against yours, the rhythm rough, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

“Look at you,” he growls against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before sinking in, biting down hard enough to make you gasp. The sharp sting mixes with the pleasure, your head spinning from the sensations. “Look at how fucking wrecked you are for me.”

You moan at his words, your eyes locked on the mirror. You can see your face, flushed, lips parted, eyes hazy with lust. It’s intoxicating, the way you look, the way he’s making you feel. His grip tightens around your waist as he thrusts even deeper, and you feel the possessiveness in every movement, like he’s determined to mark you inside and out.

His free hand slides down between your legs, and when his fingers find your clit, you nearly scream. He doesn’t hold back, his fingers working you in tight circles, pinching, rolling, rubbing just the way he thought would drive you wild. Your body is on fire, trembling from the overwhelming sensation of him inside you, his touch so relentless it’s pushing you to the brink.

“You like that, don’t you?” Spencer murmurs, his voice dark and filthy as he keeps his relentless pace. “You love being fucked like this, watching yourself fall apart while I’m inside you. God, you’re so fucking wet.”

Your moans are louder now, uncontrollable, the pleasure building too quickly for you to hold anything back. Spencer’s fingers don’t stop, rubbing your clit faster, and the combination of his cock thrusting deep inside you and the intense stimulation of his fingers is driving you mad. You can barely think, barely breathe, the coil in your core tightening with every passing second.

Just when you think you can’t take any more, there’s a sudden knock on the bathroom door. Someone rattles the doorknob and calls out, “Is someone in there?”

Panic surges through you, but Spencer doesn’t stop. He’s still thrusting into you, his cock dragging against your walls with a brutal pace, his fingers relentless on your clit. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you bite down hard on your lip, trying desperately to stifle a moan. Spencer chuckles darkly against your neck, clearly enjoying your struggle.

“It’s occupied,” you manage to choke out, your voice breathless and trembling. The sound of your own voice is shaky, barely held together, and Spencer grins against your skin. His fingers pinch your clit harder, making you gasp, and he leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice rough and teasing. “You’re doing so well. Now, let’s see if you can keep quiet while I make you cum.”

You can barely hold it together as his thrusts become even rougher, his hand moving faster between your legs. The footsteps on the other side of the door fade as the person walks away, but the moment they’re gone, Spencer’s focus snaps back entirely to you. His hips snap forward, harder, deeper, and the pressure between your legs reaches a breaking point.

“Spencer, I—” you start to cry out, but before you can finish, the orgasm hits you like a tidal wave. You scream his name, your body tightening around him, trembling as the pleasure crashes through you, wave after wave. Spencer’s hand grips your waist hard enough to bruise as he keeps thrusting into you, riding out your orgasm, and the sensation of him filling you only makes it more intense.

As your walls pulse around him, Spencer groans against your neck, his hips stuttering as he loses control. “Fuck,” he growls, his breath ragged. “I’m gonna cum.”

He thrusts into you one last time, deep and hard, and you feel the warmth of his release flood inside you. His body shudders, his grip on you tightening as he buries himself deep, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. The sensation of him filling you is overwhelming, and you can’t help but moan softly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks.

For a moment, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, both of you still pressed together, trying to catch your breath. Spencer’s hand slowly loosens its grip on your waist, sliding up to cup your face as he pulls back just enough to look at you in the mirror again. His eyes are dark, filled with satisfaction and something more — a sense of possessiveness that makes your heart race all over again.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your neck before pulling you closer. “So perfect.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, both catching your breath, still coming down from the intensity of it all. Spencer’s hands slide down your sides, gentle now, as he steps back. His gaze flicks down your body before meeting your eyes in the mirror, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Let’s get dressed before anyone else decides to come knocking,” he says, his voice still laced with amusement, a low chuckle following.

You nod, your body still humming from the aftershocks of pleasure, and you bend down to start gathering the clothes you both had haphazardly thrown around. As you reach for your panties, you pause, feeling the slick evidence of your recent encounter still inside you. You make your way over to the sink, ready to clean yourself up, but just as you turn on the faucet, Spencer’s hand stops you.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, his fingers gently gripping your wrist. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he steps closer, his lips brushing your ear as he adds, “I want my cum leaking out of you all night.”

You flush, biting your lip as a wave of arousal threatens to pull you back in. You can’t help but giggle softly, rolling your eyes at his playful demand. “You’re terrible,” you tease, but the heat in your voice betrays just how much you love it.

“I know,” he says with a grin, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before stepping back. The casual ease between you feels light and intimate after everything you’ve just done.

You both take a moment to get dressed, the small space filled with the sound of fabric rustling as you hurriedly pull on your clothes. Spencer’s fingers deftly button up his shirt, his usual collected demeanor settling back in as though he hadn’t just been completely undone. You tug your bra back into place, smoothing out your top and fixing your skirt, trying to erase any traces of what just happened.

Spencer finishes first, running a hand through his tousled hair, which still looks delightfully messy in that “just fucked” kind of way. “We should probably do something about this,” he says with a soft laugh, nodding toward the mirror where your reflection shows the slightly wild state you’re both in.

You both exchange amused glances before turning to the mirror. You fix your hair, trying to smooth out any stray strands, while Spencer straightens his collar and adjusts his jacket. You take a moment to wipe away the smudged lipstick from your lips, pressing them together to make sure they look normal again. Spencer’s fingers graze over the marks on your neck—the small, red imprint of his teeth still visible — and his eyes darken for a moment, a silent reminder of his possessiveness.

“We’re going to need to make sure no one sees that,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the bite mark as he grabs a loose strand of your hair, gently pulling it forward to cover the evidence of his handiwork. “Better?”

You glance in the mirror, noting how the hair hides the mark perfectly. “Better,” you confirm with a smile.

After one last check in the mirror, you’re satisfied that you both look somewhat presentable, and the nervous tension eases into something lighter — playful even. Spencer steps closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. It’s slower this time, filled with that easy intimacy, the kind of kiss that promises more later. You sigh softly into it, fingers brushing over the collar of his jacket, savouring the feel of his lips on yours.

When you finally break apart, Spencer smiles down at you, his eyes soft but still carrying that edge of mischief. “Ready to go home?” he asks, voice low.

“Yeah,” you reply, giggling softly as you take one last look in the mirror. “Before we do something else that keeps us in here even longer.”

He laughs, lacing his fingers with yours as he leads you toward the bathroom door. You both step out into the hallway, doing your best to look composed and casual despite the fire that’s still simmering just beneath the surface. The thrill of your little secret makes the walk out even more exciting.

As you leave, the tension from earlier has melted into something lighter, more playful — something just for the two of you to hold onto until you’re home, where the night is far from over.

[glorifiedagents]

Good Grades — melissa schemmenti

MELISSA SMIRKED, popping the button of your pants, dragging the zipper down slowly. The second your cock sprang free, her eyes darkened, pupils blown wide as she wrapped her hand around your thick length.

“JESUS BABY,” she breathed, thumb swiping over the swollen tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum across the head. “You’re fuckin’ dripping for me.”

SUMMARY: melissa wants your attention on her PAIRING: melissa schemmenti & g!p fem!reader CAUTION: no plot, just smut: g!p fem!reader, swearing, blowjob/deepthroat, overstimulation, melissa masturbating, sub!dom!dynamics, riding your cock, degradation/praise, melissa begging, creampie, swallowing cum WORD COUNT: 2.6K

Papers were scattered across Melissa’s dining table, a half-empty glass of wine sitting next to her forgotten stack of assignments. You were actually trying to focus, pen in hand, but it was fucking impossible with Melissa sitting across from you, legs crossed, red nails tapping against her wine glass as she eyed you like a damn meal.

It started with her kicking off her heels, stretching her legs out under the table until her foot brushed against your thigh. You shot her a look, but she just smirked, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

"You're supposed to be grading," you muttered, eyes flicking back to the essay in front of you.

Melissa leaned forward, her curls spilling over her shoulder. "Yeah? And you're supposed to be paying attention to me."

Without breaking eye contact, she reached for the buttons of her blouse, slowly popping the first one open. Then the next. Your breath hitched as more of her smooth skin was revealed, the black lace of her bra barely containing her tits.

Your grip on the pen tightened.

“Melissa.” This time, it was a warning.

But she just laughed softly, standing up. “You can keep grading, sweetheart,” she murmured, slipping the blouse off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. “I’ll just keep myself busy.”

Then she dropped to her knees in front of you.

Your chair scraped against the floor as she settled between your legs, her hands sliding up your thighs, nails dragging just enough to send a shiver up your spine.

"Been thinking about this all damn night," she murmured, palming the bulge in your pants, feeling how hard you already were for her.

"Fuck," you exhaled sharply, hips jerking slightly as she squeezed.

Melissa smirked, popping the button of your pants, dragging the zipper down slowly. The second your cock sprang free, her eyes darkened, pupils blown wide as she wrapped her hand around your thick length.

“Jesus, baby,” she breathed, thumb swiping over the swollen tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum across the head. “You’re fuckin’ dripping for me.”

"Quit teasing," you growled, tangling your fingers in her curls.

She giggled but obeyed, leaning in to press an open-mouthed kiss to the tip before sliding her tongue along the underside, dragging it down to the base. The sensation made your stomach tighten, your grip in her hair flexing as she sucked one of your balls into her mouth, rolling it with her tongue before giving the other the same treatment.

Your head hit the back of the chair. "Fucking hell."

She pulled back with a wet pop, smirking up at you before finally wrapping her lips around your cock and sinking down.

You groaned as she took you inch by inch, the heat of her mouth damn near unbearable. Her tongue flattened against the underside, working you as she bobbed her head, sucking you in deeper, cheeks hollowing with every pull.

"Shit, just like that," you gritted out, one hand fisting her hair while the other gripped the edge of the table.

Melissa moaned around you, the vibration shooting straight up your spine. She took you deeper, her throat constricting as your tip hit the back, making her gag slightly — but she didn’t stop. She wanted it.

Your abs tensed as she worked you over, spit dripping down her chin, making it messier, filthier. Her free hand slid between her legs, rubbing slow, lazy circles over her clit through her soaked panties.

"Look at you," you muttered, watching as she squirmed. "Touchin’ yourself while you choke on my cock."

She whimpered, thighs clenching.

You smirked. "Bet you wanna cum, huh?"

She nodded as best as she could with your cock stretching her mouth.

“Not yet,” you growled, tightening your grip in her hair as you started thrusting up into her throat.

Melissa choked, hands scrambling to grip your thighs as you set the pace, fucking her mouth like she was just there to take it. Her eyes fluttered, tears spilling down her cheeks, but she didn’t pull away. She just let you use her.

“Such a good little slut for me,” you groaned, watching as her mascara smudged, her lips swollen and wrecked. “Taking it all like you were fuckin’ made for it.”

She whined around you, fingers pressing harder against her clit, rubbing frantically as her hips bucked against nothing.

You could feel it building — your stomach tightening, pleasure coiling deep in your gut. Your cock twitched, your thrusts growing erratic, your grip in her hair keeping her right where you needed her.

"Fuck—I'm gonna—"

Melissa moaned eagerly, sucking harder, begging for it without words.

Your jaw clenched as you finally let go, hips jerking as you spilled down her throat. She swallowed every fucking drop, moaning as she kept sucking, milking every last bit from you until you were groaning from the overstimulation.

When you finally released her hair, she pulled back, gasping for breath, spit and cum dripping from her lips. She wiped her chin with the back of her hand, grinning up at you like the filthy fucking woman she was.

"Taste so fuckin’ good," she purred, licking her lips.

Your cock twitched at the sight, still half-hard, still ready for more.

Melissa sat back on her heels, her own hand still between her thighs, rubbing slow, teasing circles over her clit as she watched you recover.

"Can I cum now?" she asked, voice sweet, wrecked, desperate.

You smirked, leaning forward, grabbing her chin, tilting her head up. "Not on the floor."

Then you pulled her up, spun her around, and bent her over the damn table, papers scattering as you pressed against her ass.

"You wanna cum?" you growled against her ear, your hands sliding up her trembling thighs. "You're gonna do it with my cock inside you."

Her breath hitched, a shiver rolling down her spine.

"Fuck, baby," she whispered, gripping the edge of the table. "Don't hold back." She shivered, pressing back against you, ass grinding against your still-hard cock like she was desperate to be filled.

"Please," she breathed, her voice wrecked, needy.

"That desperate already?" You chuckled darkly, gripping the zipper at the back of her skirt and dragging it down. "Bet you're soaking, huh?"

She whimpered, shifting her weight, thighs squeezing together.

You yanked the skirt down her legs, tossing it aside before grabbing the waistband of her lace panties. The second you pulled them down, your smirk widened.

"Jesus, baby," you muttered, dragging a finger through her slick folds, spreading her wetness. "You're fucking drenched."

Melissa let out a shuddery breath, hips twitching as your fingers teased her clit. "Y-yeah," she gasped. "Needed you all night."

"Yeah?" You slid one finger inside her, groaning at how fucking tight she was. "Been sitting there, pretending to be patient, when all you really wanted was my cock splitting you open?"

She nodded frantically, rocking back onto your hand, fucking herself on your fingers.

"Such a needy little thing," you murmured, sliding in another finger, curling them against that sweet spot that made her legs tremble. "And you still don’t get to cum yet."

Melissa let out a choked whine, her walls clenching around your fingers. "Fuck," she whimpered, "I need you inside me, please -"

You pulled your fingers out, grabbing her by the back of the neck and pushing her down against the table.

"Then take it," you growled.

You lined yourself up, dragging the tip of your cock through her slick folds, teasing her entrance, letting her feel just how thick you were. She let out a desperate whimper, pushing back against you, trying to take you inside, but you held her in place, smirking.

"Look at you," you mused, watching her squirm. "So fucking desperate to be filled."

"Yes," she whined. "Fuck me pleaseeeee."

That was all you needed.

With one sharp thrust, you buried yourself inside her, stretching her open inch by inch.

"Jesus fuck," you groaned, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise as her walls clamped down around you, tight and wet and fucking perfect.

Melissa gasped, fingers gripping at the table as she struggled to adjust to your size. "Fucking hell," she panted, "so big —"

"Yeah?" You pulled back just enough to slam back in, grinning at the way her body jolted, a broken moan ripping from her throat. "That what you wanted, baby?"

"Yes," she sobbed, pushing back against you. "Use me.. fuck me—"

And fuck, you did.

You set a brutal pace, slamming into her over and over, your cock stretching her, filling her to the brim with every deep, rough thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with Melissa's breathy little whimpers and the filthy, wet noises coming from between her legs.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you groaned, gripping the back of her neck, pressing her harder against the table. "So fucking tight, taking me so well."

Melissa was gone, moaning incoherently, her body rocking with every thrust, her walls squeezing around you like she was trying to milk your cock.

"You were made for this, huh?" You reached around, rubbing messy, frantic circles over her swollen clit, feeling the way she tensed, her legs trembling. "Made to take my cock?"

"Yes," she gasped, her voice wrecked. "Yes, yes—fuck—"

Her whole body tensed, her walls clamping down around you, and then she screamed, legs shaking as she came, soaking your cock, grinding against you as she rode out the high.

"Jesus fuck," you groaned, feeling her squeeze you like a vice. "That���s it, baby — fuckin’ cum all over my cock."

She whimpered, still trembling, body twitching from the aftershocks, but you weren’t done.

"Still got one more load for you," you muttered, gripping her hips and slamming into her again. "Gonna fill you up, baby. Make sure you feel me dripping out of you all night."

Melissa let out a broken moan, her overstimulated pussy clenching around you. "Yesfuckyes—"

You felt it building, the pleasure coiling tight in your stomach, your thrusts getting faster, harder, sloppier.

"Shit... gonna cum!"

You slammed in one last time, burying yourself to the hilt as you spilled inside her, thick ropes of cum coating her walls.

Melissa moaned, arching her back as she felt it, her pussy squeezing around you, milking every last drop.

You stayed like that for a moment, panting, catching your breath, before slowly pulling out. Your cum leaked from her, dripping down her thighs, and fuck — that was a sight you’d never get tired of.

Melissa was still bent over the desk, panting, her thighs trembling, your cum leaking out of her in thick drips. She looked completely wrecked—hair a mess, mascara smudged, lips swollen from sucking you off earlier. “Holy fuck.” She murmured,

But when you reached down and spread her cheeks, watching another drop of your cum spill onto the floor, she let out a soft whimper and fucking clenched.

"Goddamn," you murmured, dragging your fingers through the mess between her legs. "Look at you. Still hungry for more?"

She whimpered, shifting against the desk, pressing her ass back toward you like she needed to be filled again.

"Fucked you stupid, huh?" you teased, sliding a finger back inside her, groaning at how wet she still was — soaked with her own slick and your cum.

"Mhm," she hummed, exhausted but still needy.

You smirked, sliding your hand up her back, grabbing a fistful of her hair, pulling her up until her back was flush against your chest.

"You ain't done yet, baby," you murmured against her ear. "You're gonna ride me."

She shuddered, gasping softly as you pulled her away from the table. Her legs were weak, shaking from how hard you'd fucked her, but she still turned in your arms, eyes dark and needy as she climbed into your lap, straddling you right there in the chair.

"You sure you can take it?" you taunted, gripping her ass, spreading her wide. "You were just begging for me to let you cum."

Melissa rolled her hips, dragging her soaked cunt along your still-hard cock, coating it in a fresh layer of slick. "Shut up," she murmured, pressing her lips to yours, kissing you dirty, sloppy, messy, desperate. "I'm taking every fucking inch."

You growled against her mouth, gripping her hips as she lifted herself, lining you up with her entrance.

Then she sank down.

Both of you groaned as you filled her up again, her tight walls stretching around you, clenching as she took you deep.

"Fucking hell," you gritted out, watching her struggle to take it all, her nails digging into your shoulders as she shuddered.

Melissa tossed her head back, her lips parting in a breathy moan as she started rolling her hips, grinding down onto you, taking you so deep it was like she needed you there.

"That's it, baby," you groaned, your hands sliding up her waist, grabbing her tits, squeezing. "Fucking ride me."

She whimpered, bracing herself against your shoulders, lifting herself up only to slam back down, gasping as your cock filled her completely.

"Fuck," she moaned, throwing her head back, moving faster, her tits bouncing with every movement. "Feels so good—"

You groaned, watching her, completely transfixed.

"You like that?" you murmured, running your tongue over your lips. "Like bouncing on my cock, fucking yourself stupid?"

She nodded frantically, nails raking down your chest as she rode you harder, her slick dripping down onto your thighs.

"You're such a filthy little thing," you growled, leaning in to suck one of her nipples into your mouth, biting down just enough to make her squeal.

"Yesfuckyes—" she sobbed, her hips moving frantically, chasing her next orgasm.

"Look at you," you muttered, grabbing a fistful of her ass, helping her move faster. "Fucking yourself on my cock like you're made for it."

"I am," she gasped, slamming down even harder, grinding against you. "Made to take your cock, fuck, I—I'm gonna—"

Her body tensed, her walls clamping down around you like a vice as she screamed, her orgasm crashing over her like a fucking wave.

But you weren’t done.

Before she could even recover, you gripped her hips tight and started thrusting up into her, fucking her through it, ignoring the way her body twitched from the overstimulation.

"Fuckfuck—" she sobbed, hands scrambling against your shoulders, nails digging in deep.

"You can take it," you growled, hips snapping up, hitting that spot inside her that had her wailing.

Her thighs shook, her whole body rocking as you held her down and fucked her, making sure she felt everything.

You felt it building, that sharp, white-hot pleasure curling in your gut, your cock twitching deep inside her.

"Gonna fill you up again," you groaned, thrusting harder, gripping the back of her neck, pulling her mouth to yours. "You want that, baby? Want me to cum so fucking deep you’ll be leaking for days?"

"Yes," she sobbed, her walls squeezing you, overstimulated but still desperate. "Cum inside me — fill me up please.."

That was all it took.

With a final, deep thrust, you buried yourself inside her and spilled, thick ropes of cum coating her walls, filling her to the brim.

Melissa moaned weakly, shuddering as she felt it, her body slumping against yours.

You held her close, both of you panting, sweating, completely wrecked.

After a long moment, she let out a breathless laugh, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips.

"Fuck," she murmured. "You really don't know how to quit, huh?"

You smirked, running your hands over her ass, squeezing. "Not when you're this fucking perfect."

She chuckled, resting her forehead against yours. "Think you can carry me to bed?" she asked, still trembling in your lap.

You grinned, tightening your arms around her. "Baby, I’ll fuck you there, too."

[glorifiedagents]

Paid to be Ruined — agatha harkness

"YOU LISTENED." Agatha’s voice was velvet and steel, laced with amusement and unmistakable hunger. Her gaze dragged over you — slow, knowing, lingering on the bare skin of your thighs peeking from beneath your coat. She took a step closer, fingers brushing the belt at your waist, her smirk deepening as she tugged — just enough to loosen it. "Good girl."

SUMMARY: agatha hires you for the night again - and you know for a fact that she's gonna ruin you PAIRING: g!p agatha harkness & escort!fem!reader CAUTION: swallowing cum, creampie, deepthroat, size kink, stomach bulge, spit, dom!sub!dynamics, overstimulation, escort!reader, g!p agatha, degradation and slight aftercare from agatha WORD COUNT: 5.1K AUTHOR'S NOTE: not proof read, let me know if i made mistakes! currently going through my agatha phase - literally need fucking help

You weren’t new to this.

The job, the money, the whole give them what they want, take what you need, and walk away thing. You had it down to a science. You knew how to read people, how to figure out exactly what they were looking for and play the part they wanted. It was easy. Simple. No emotions, no attachments, no mess.

But then there was her.

Agatha Harkness had been different from the start. The first time she hired you, you had expected the usual, maybe a drink, some small talk, a client who wanted to pretend there was more to this than just an exchange. But Agatha? She didn’t do small talk. She didn’t waste time.

She had taken one look at you, studied you with those dark, unreadable eyes, and smirked like she already knew exactly how the night would go. Like she had already decided how far she was going to push you. And the worst part?

She was right.

That night, she had left you wrecked. Not just satisfied — ruined.

You had walked away with sore thighs, a raw throat, and a pay-check big enough to make your head spin. You should have left it at that. Should have chalked it up to just one really good night with a really dangerous woman.

But then she called again. No discussion. No questions. Just a time, a room number, and the unspoken expectation that you would show up.

And against your better judgment, you did.

Only this time, you weren’t just going to show up. This time, you wanted to see just how much further she could break you.

You remembered something she had said the first time around, almost offhand but still deliberate in that way she did everything.

"Red suits you."

So you wore red.

Your best set — delicate lace, thin straps, garters and thigh-high stockings that made you feel like sin itself. And as the elevator carried you up to the top floor, heart pounding, pulse racing, you knew one thing for sure.

You weren’t just getting paid tonight.

You were getting owned.

The black car idled outside the grand hotel, its sleek design gleaming beneath the golden glow of the streetlights. You sat in the back seat, smoothing your hands over your thighs, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. The fabric of your long coat was soft, but it did nothing to still the pounding of your heart.

The driver hadn’t spoken much since picking you up from your apartment — just a clipped greeting and a quiet confirmation of the address before pulling away from the curb. You were grateful. Any attempt at conversation would have been wasted on you. Your mind was too preoccupied, too restless, too consumed by what awaited you on the top floor of this building.

Your breath hitched as you stepped out of the car, heels clicking softly against the pavement. The grand entrance of the hotel loomed ahead, its revolving doors ushering guests in and out with quiet efficiency. The warm air inside wrapped around you as you stepped through, a stark contrast to the crisp night air outside.

The lobby was a sight of wealth — high ceilings, polished marble floors, chandeliers dripping with crystal. The hum of quiet conversation surrounded you, but none of it registered. You walked with purpose, straight to the bank of elevators tucked near the back of the lobby.

Agatha’s message had been simple. A room number. A time. Nothing else.

Your fingers toyed with the belt of your coat as you waited for the elevator, a mix of nerves and anticipation coiling low in your stomach. You had dressed for her. The finest red lace and silk clung to your curves beneath your coat, the bra delicate yet daring, framing your breasts perfectly. The matching panties sat low on your hips, sheer enough to leave little to the imagination. Garters held up sheer thigh-high stockings, adding an extra layer of tease.

She would appreciate the effort. And then she would ruin it.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and you stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor. The space was empty save for you, the only sound the soft hum of the elevator rising.

Your pulse quickened. You could already imagine the way she would look at you. The weight of her gaze, dark and knowing, as she took in every inch of you. The way she liked to test your limits, the way she devoured, possessed. She was dangerous in the most intoxicating way, and you had walked straight into her grasp.

Another chime. The doors opened.

The hallway was quiet, lined with plush carpeting that softened the sound of your steps. Each step forward sent another jolt of anticipation through you, every breath felt heavier. The door number burned in your mind.

And then, you were there.

Before you could knock, the door swung open.

Agatha stood in the doorway, bathed in the soft glow of the suite’s lighting. Her dark button-up was partially undone, sleeves rolled up to her forearms, revealing toned, elegant wrists. She looked effortless, but you knew better. Everything about her was intentional.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Agatha wasted no time. She had you pinned before you could take another breath, her strong hands pressing you back against the door, her body a solid wall of heat against yours. Her mouth crashed onto yours—hungry, claiming, her teeth scraping against your lower lip before she bit down just hard enough to make you gasp. She swallowed the sound with a satisfied hum, her tongue slipping past your lips as she deepened the kiss, rough yet tantalizingly slow, like she had all the time in the world to ruin you.

Her fingers trailed from your wrists, still trapped against the wood, down the length of your arms, her touch featherlight—teasing. By the time she reached your shoulders, she slid her fingers beneath the delicate straps of your red lace bra, pulling them down achingly slow, her mouth never leaving yours until she finally ripped herself away.

"Look at you," she murmured, stepping back just enough to take in the sight of you, her dark eyes raking over your body like she was devouring you whole. "Dressed up like a good little whore, just for me."

Heat flared through your body at the way she said it, dripping with amusement but edged with something dangerous, something that made your pulse stutter in your throat.

You barely had a second to react before she was on you again—her mouth hot against the curve of your jaw, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your throat. Her hands were everywhere at once—sliding down your arms, gripping your hips, owning every inch of you as she backed you up toward the bed. You whimpered when she took one of your nipples into her mouth, sucking hard, her tongue circling the sensitive peak before her teeth grazed it just enough to make you jerk in her grasp.

"Mm, so fucking sensitive," she mused against your skin before switching to the other, her free hand rolling the abandoned nipple between her fingers. Your hips bucked reflexively against her, needing more, desperate for friction.

And fuck, you felt it. The thick, hard length of her cock pressing against your stomach through her slacks, the outline making your mouth water as you squirmed beneath her.

"Pathetic," Agatha laughed, the sound low and mocking, her fingers trailing down your stomach, stopping just at the waistband of your panties. She could feel how wet they were, her smirk widening as she pressed her fingers against the soaked lace, applying just enough pressure to make you moan. "This soaked already? And I haven't even touched you properly. Such a desperate little thing."

"Agatha, please—"

A sharp slap to your thigh cut you off, the sting making you whimper as your skin burned beneath her palm.

"Did I say you could fucking beg?" she growled, her tone dark, commanding. "You're so needy it’s pathetic. You don’t deserve my cock yet."

You let out a choked sound of frustration, your body aching for more, but she just smirked, dragging her fingers up the inside of your thigh, making you tremble.

Then, without warning, she dropped to her knees.

You gasped at the sudden shift, your breath hitching as she pressed a kiss to your hip, her mouth lingering over the thin straps of your panties. She breathed you in, her nose nudging against the damp lace before she let out a low, satisfied hum.

"Fucking filthy," she murmured, dragging her tongue over the wet fabric, slow and deliberate, tasting you through it. The friction was exquisite—a teasing, maddening pressure that made your thighs shake. She licked a second time, the heat of her mouth soaking through, her fingers digging into your hips as she held you still.

You whimpered, your hands gripping the sheets behind you as your hips jerked up, chasing her mouth. But she pulled away just enough to deny you.

"Patience," she scolded, voice thick with amusement, before reaching up and undoing the garter straps excruciatingly slow, watching your face the entire time.

And then—fuck.

She hooked her fingers into the waistband and pulled your panties down, dragging them down your legs inch by inch, her lips brushing along your thighs as she went. And then, instead of tossing them aside—

She brought them to her mouth.

Your breath caught as she slid the drenched fabric between her teeth, her dark eyes locked onto yours as she pulled them taut, letting them drag over her tongue. She moaned like she was savoring the taste, her smirk never fading as she finally removed them—only to shove them into your mouth.

"Since you can't seem to stop moaning like a desperate slut," she taunted, her fingers trailing down your exposed cunt. "Now you can keep quiet."

You whimpered against the soaked lace in your mouth as she finally pressed two fingers between your folds, spreading you open. She groaned at how wet you were, her thumb finding your clit and rubbing in slow, devastating circles.

"Fuck, look at this mess," she muttered, her fingers teasing your entrance, just barely pushing in before pulling away. "So fucking needy for me. Do you even have a single ounce of dignity left?"

You tried to respond, but your voice was muffled by the panties in your mouth.

Agatha laughed. "That’s what I thought."

And then, without warning, she thrust two fingers inside of you.

Your entire body arched off the bed, a muffled scream escaping past the gag as she filled you all at once, stretching you open with zero hesitation. She set a relentless pace immediately, her fingers driving into you with obscene, wet sounds that only seemed to fuel her amusement.

"Listen to you," she groaned, her free hand palming her cock through her slacks. "Taking my fingers so fucking well. You were made to be used like this."

Her thumb pressed against your clit, circling in time with the thrusts, sending sharp jolts of pleasure racing through your core. The pressure was unbearable, the pleasure so intense that your legs started shaking.

"You're gonna come already, aren’t you?" she mocked, watching you struggle. "Go on. Make a mess."

And then—fuck, fuck, fuck.

She angled her fingers just right, curling them against that perfect spot inside of you while pressing harder against your clit. Your entire body locked up before pleasure exploded through you, a sharp, overwhelming rush that had you squirting all over her fingers, your release dripping down your thighs as you writhed beneath her.

Agatha groaned as she watched you come undone, fucking you through it, her pace unrelenting as she worked you through every wave. "That's it. So fucking messy for me."

When she finally pulled her fingers out, they were dripping. She brought them to her lips, eyes locked onto yours as she sucked them clean, humming at the taste.

Then she stood, undoing her slacks, letting them pool at her feet.

Your breath caught at the sight of her thick, hard cock springing free, the tip glistening. You reached for it immediately, but she caught your wrist, pinning it back against the mattress with a warning glare.

"You don’t get to touch until I say so," she growled, leaning over you, pressing the heavy length against your overstimulated clit, making you whimper. "And you will take every fucking inch."

And fuck, you knew she meant it.

Every single word.

Agatha’s cock drags against your slick folds, teasing, the head catching on your clit with every slow, deliberate stroke. The obscene, wet sounds fill the room, mixing with your breathy whimpers and the low, guttural hum of amusement from her lips. She’s playing with you, watching the way you tremble beneath her, the way your thighs try to clamp together, only to be forced apart by her strong grip.

"Spit." The command is sharp, leaving no room for hesitation.

Your lips part instantly, tongue pushing forward as a warm strand of saliva drips onto her waiting fingers. She smears it over her cock, mixing it with the slick beads of pre-cum already glistening at the tip. A slow, shuddering breath leaves her as she fists herself, pumping with languid strokes, eyes heavy-lidded as she watches you. A few stray drops spill onto your stomach, smearing across your skin, and marking you.

She lines herself up again, pressing the swollen tip against your entrance but not pushing in. Instead, she leans in close, mouth ghosting over yours, her breath hot and teasing.

"You want it?" she murmurs, smirking as she rubs herself against you, teasing, taunting. "Say it. Beg for it."

"Please," you gasp, fingers digging into the sheets. "Please, Agatha, I need—"

The words cut off in a sharp cry as she thrusts into you in one smooth motion, burying herself to the hilt. The stretch is instant, overwhelming — your walls clenching desperately around her thick cock as she fills you completely.

But she doesn’t give you time to adjust.

She sets a ruthless pace from the start, each powerful thrust driving deep, punching the air from your lungs as she claims you. The slap of skin on skin echoes through the room, the mattress creaking beneath the force of her movements. Your back arches, head falling back against the pillows as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through you.

"Feel that?" she growls, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand down to your stomach. She presses your palm flat against your lower abdomen, right where she’s buried so deep inside you. "Feel me stretching you out? Fucking you open?"

The sensation is dizzying — you can feel the thick, hard outline of her cock through your own skin, feel the way she moves inside you, relentless and unyielding. Your body is burning, electric, the pressure coiling tight in your core with every brutal thrust.

"You’re squeezing me so fucking tight," Agatha groans, her fingers bruising against your hips as she fucks into you harder, deeper. "Like your body's desperate to milk me dry."

The words send a violent shudder through you, the pleasure teetering on the edge of something devastating.

"That’s it," she pants, her grip tightening as she slams into you harder. "Come for me, you filthy little thing — fucking soak me."

It’s too much. The overwhelming fullness, the sharp slap of her hips against yours, the way her cock presses against that perfect spot inside you — it sends you spiralling. Your body seizes, the orgasm ripping through you like a lightning strike, white-hot and all-consuming.

Fuck.

A strangled cry breaks from your lips as the pleasure turns into something explosive — your walls clenching down in rhythmic, desperate spasms, forcing liquid heat to gush from you, soaking Agatha’s cock, your thighs, and the sheets beneath you. The release is violent, messy, your body shuddering uncontrollably as the pleasure crashes over you in waves, each one dragging you under deeper.

Agatha curses under her breath, watching as you fall apart, watching the way you soak her cock, your slick dripping down onto her thighs. Her movements grow erratic, her breath ragged as she slams into you one final time, burying herself to the hilt as her own pleasure overtakes her.

A deep, guttural groan rumbles from her chest as she comes, filling you with heat. You can feel it — the thick warmth spilling deep inside, coating your insides. As if it was seeping into every inch of you. She doesn’t pull out, just grinds against you, making sure every drop stays buried within you.

Your body is still trembling, aftershocks pulsing through your core, your skin flushed and feverish. Agatha finally collapses against you, her cock still inside, pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, her breath still ragged as she murmurs against your ear:

"Mine."

Agatha pulls out slowly, deliberately, watching with dark, predatory eyes as your walls clench around nothing, your body still trembling from the force of your release. A satisfied smirk curls at the corner of her lips as she watches the thick spill of her cum start to leak out of you, glistening as it drips onto your thighs.

"Messy little thing," she muses, voice dripping with amusement and something darker, something possessive. Her fingers trail down your stomach, teasing over the sensitive, overstimulated skin before she presses two fingers against your entrance, spreading you open just enough to watch more of her cum seep out.

"Don’t waste it," she commands, and when you hesitate, she grabs your wrist, guiding your hand down. "Use your fingers. Push it back in."

Your breath stutters, but you do as you're told, your own fingers gathering the warmth of her release, feeling it slick and sticky against your skin before pressing it back inside, your walls fluttering around the intrusion. The act is filthy and it makes you burn with humiliation and arousal all at once.

Agatha hums approvingly, dragging her thumb over your bottom lip, her smirk widening. "That’s a good girl."

But she isn’t done with you.

"On your knees."

Your body obeys before your mind fully catches up, slipping off the bed and sinking onto the floor. The shift makes more of her spend trickle down your thighs, and Agatha notices; her gaze flicking down, her smirk deepening.

"Open your mouth," she orders, tilting your chin up with two fingers.

The second your lips part, she grips the base of her cock and taps the heavy length against your tongue. She’s still hard, impossibly thick, coated in a mix of your slick and her own release. The taste is intoxicating — salty and musky. The scent clings to her skin, warm and heady, something rich and masculine with the faintest hint of sweat.

You could get used to this.

Agatha doesn’t ease you into it. She grips the back of your head and pushes forward, the thick head stretching your lips wide as she sinks deep, pressing against your tongue. The intrusion makes your throat tighten, and she groans at the feeling, her other hand coming to rest heavy on the back of your neck.

"That’s it. Take it," she growls, rolling her hips forward, pushing deeper until your nose nearly brushes the coarse, dark hair at the base of her cock. There’s just enough of it for you to feel against your skin, soft yet undeniably masculine, a reminder of how utterly she’s claiming you.

Your fingers twitch at your sides before you reach up, cupping her balls — heavy, full, sensitive under your touch. You can feel the heat of them against your palm, the weight of them tightening slightly as she thrusts into your mouth.

"Look at you," Agatha sneers, pulling back just enough to let you gasp for air before she thrusts forward again, setting a punishing rhythm. "Nothing but a desperate little cock-sleeve for me, aren’t you? So fucking needy, drooling all over yourself just to have me in your mouth."

Your throat constricts around her, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, saliva pooling and spilling from the corners of your lips. Your body shudders, caught between humiliation and arousal, between submission and the raw pleasure of being used like this.

"Messy, pathetic thing," she continues, her voice sharper now, laced with satisfaction. "You love this, don’t you? Love being on your knees for me, choking on my cock like the filthy little slut you are."

Her words send a fresh pulse of heat between your thighs, and she notices the slight tremor in your body, the way your nails dig into her thighs as if trying to ground yourself.

"You’re getting off on this," she chuckles darkly, shoving deeper, holding you there for a moment as your throat spasms around her. "Of course you are. You’d let me ruin you, wouldn’t you?"

She groans as she pulls back, letting you breathe just for a second before thrusting forward again, deeper, harder, until you’re gasping around her, tears streaking down your cheeks. And still, you don’t pull away. You take it.

Just like she knew you would.

Agatha’s grip tightens at the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair as she thrusts deeper, groaning low and guttural as she feels herself teetering on the edge. You can feel the way her cock pulses on your tongue, the way her breath stutters, her rhythm faltering just slightly as she chases that final burst of pleasure.

"Fuck—" she growls, her hips snapping forward one last time, holding you down as her release spills down your throat. The taste is thick, warm, — salty and rich, coating your tongue in waves. She doesn’t let you pull away, making sure you take as much as you can, but it’s too much — some of it dribbles from the corners of your lips, spilling down your chin in hot, sticky trails.

She watches with dark, satisfied eyes as you gasp for breath when she finally pulls back, her cock glistening with spit and the remnants of her orgasm.

"Messy little thing," she murmurs again, thumb swiping at the cum dripping from your chin before pressing it against your lips. "Swallow every last drop."

Your throat bobs as you obey, the act making her smirk in satisfaction.

Then, without warning, she grabs you and pulls you up onto shaky legs, her lips crashing onto yours in a bruising kiss. The taste of her own release lingers between you, and she doesn’t shy away from it —if anything, she deepens the kiss, claiming your mouth with a dominance that makes your knees weak.

She moves you easily, pushing you back onto the bed, her body covering yours, heavy with heat and lingering hunger. Her cock, still hard, presses against your stomach, smearing the last of her release against your skin. You’re panting, dazed, body still trembling from the relentless pleasure she’s wrung from you, but when she starts to pull away, you catch her wrist, eyes glassy with need.

"I wanna ride you," you gasp, the words tumbling out breathlessly, your body aching but desperate for more.

Agatha chuckles, low and smug, dragging her fingers down your chest, teasing over your already-sensitive skin. "You think you can handle that?" she taunts, tracing slow circles over your overstimulated clit, making your thighs twitch. "You’re still shaking, baby. After everything I’ve done to you, you really think you can take control?"

The challenge sends another shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as you push up onto shaky arms. "Let me try," you whisper, lips brushing against hers, your voice filled with determination despite the exhaustion in your limbs.

Agatha leans back against the pillows, her body stretched out beneath you, radiating heat and authority even in repose. Her cock, still thick and glistening with a mix of your slick and her own release, stands hard between her legs, a silent challenge. The way she watches you; head tilted, lips curled in a knowing smirk; makes your pulse spike, a flush crawling up your chest.

"Go on then," she murmurs, voice laced with amusement, fingers idly trailing up her stomach. "Show me what you can do, baby."

Your thighs tremble as you shift forward, crawling into position, your body still aching from the relentless way she’s used you but the hunger still simmers beneath the exhaustion, pulsing low in your belly. You want this. Need this. Need to take her in deep, to feel every inch stretch you open again.

You straddle her lap, your hands braced against her stomach, feeling the taut muscles flex beneath your palms as you hover just above her length. The heat of her cock brushes against your swollen folds, sending a fresh shudder through you. She feels like fire against your skin. Thick and rigid, pulsing with need, the tip teasing against your entrance as you roll your hips ever so slightly, coating her in your arousal.

Agatha hums in approval, her hands gliding up your thighs, slow and possessive. "Look at you," she murmurs, her thumbs pressing into the sensitive skin where your legs meet your hips. "So desperate to have me inside you again. Can’t get enough, can you?"

You bite your lip, but she catches your chin between her fingers, forcing your gaze to meet hers. "Say it."

Your breath stutters, your body burning from the inside out as you whisper, "I can’t get enough of you."

Her smirk deepens. "Good girl."

She releases you just as you sink down, your breath catching in your throat as the thick head of her cock pushes past your entrance, stretching you inch by inch. The burn is instant—blissful, overwhelming, your walls struggling to take her all at once.

Agatha groans beneath you, her fingers digging into your thighs. "Fuck, you’re tight," she rasps, watching with hooded eyes as you slowly lower yourself onto her, taking her deeper, letting the length of her disappear inside you.

Your head falls back as you bottom out, her cock nestled impossibly deep, pressing against every nerve inside you. The sensation is devastating, a perfect mix of pleasure and pressure, and you tremble above her, nails scraping against her abdomen as you struggle to catch your breath.

"Feel that?" Agatha murmurs, her voice smug as she presses a hand against your lower stomach, right where she’s buried to the hilt. "So deep I can feel myself inside you again. Fuck baby."

You whimper, rolling your hips experimentally, the movement sending sharp waves of pleasure through you. The drag of her cock against your walls is slow and torturous, every inch brushing against that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

Agatha watches you struggle to find a rhythm, her grip tightening. "Come on, baby," she taunts, giving your thigh a sharp slap that makes you jolt. "You wanted to ride me. Show me how much you need it."

A determined fire flares in your chest, and you plant your hands against her shoulders, lifting yourself just enough before sinking back down, harder this time. The impact sends a delicious jolt through you, pleasure sparking at the base of your spine.

Agatha groans, her hands sliding up to your chest, palms covering your breasts, squeezing as she rolls your sensitive nipples between her fingers. The sensation makes you gasp, the mix of pleasure and pain sending a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs.

"That’s it," she murmurs, her grip firm but teasing, playing with your body as she lets you work yourself on her cock. "Such pretty tits, bouncing every time you take me. Keep going, baby. Make yourself cum on me."

The words send a rush of heat through you, your movements growing desperate, erratic, your nails digging into her skin as you chase the high she’s leading you toward. The pleasure coils deep in your belly, unbearably tight, and when Agatha tweaks your nipple just right, rolling it between her fingers, it snaps.

A strangled cry rips from your throat as your climax crashes over you, your entire body shaking as pleasure consumes you. Your walls clench down around her, pulsing, milking her cock with every wave of your release.

Agatha groans, her thrusts turning erratic as she follows, burying herself deep inside you with one final snap of her hips. The warmth of her release floods your core, thick and hot, filling you completely as her grip tightens around you.

Then, with a smirk, Agatha leans in, nipping at your jaw but this time, her touch is softer. As you collapse onto her chest, spent and trembling, she strokes a hand down your back, her other hand massaging the sore muscles of your thighs.

"You did so well for me," she murmurs, pressing lazy kisses against your shoulder. "My good girl."

You hum, barely able to keep your eyes open as her hands knead away the ache, working out the tension she put into you. The warmth of her touch soothes the lingering sting of overstimulation, and for a moment, you think about letting yourself drift off.

But you don’t. You can’t.

The rules are the rules. Your rules.

With effort, you shift, slipping from her grasp, your limbs still shaky as you slide out of bed. Agatha watches as you stand, stretching despite the soreness in your legs, and move toward where your clothes are strewn across the floor.

"You’re not gonna shower?" she asks, her tone casual but curious as she props herself up on an elbow, watching you with sharp eyes.

You shake your head, pulling your clothes back on with practiced efficiency. "I’ll do it at home."

Agatha doesn’t say anything for a moment, just studies you as you gather your things. Then, without breaking eye contact, she reaches for the bedside table, grabs the check she had prepared, and hands it to you.

"You know…" she starts, voice slower now, something unreadable beneath the surface. "You can stay the night."

The offer lingers in the air between you, heavier than it should be.

But the rules are the rules.

You take the check, meeting her gaze one last time before slipping out the door.

And Agatha watches you go.

[glorifiedagents]

A Distracting Fixation — spencer reid

"LOOK AT YOU — on your knees, drooling for it. You need this, don’t you? Need to keep that pretty mouth busy. So take it — deep, messy, just like that. Fuck, you're perfect."

SUMMARY: spencer notices the way you have to keep your mouth occupied.. and offers a better alternative to help your oral fixation PAIRING: spencer reid & fem!reader CAUTION: swearing, oral fixation, unprotected, blowjob, swallowing cum, creampie, aftercare WORD COUNT: 4.7K AUTHOR'S NOTE: not proof read - i love spencer sm

Spencer has been watching you for months, noticing things about you that even you haven’t picked up on. He notices everything.

The way your lips always seem to be occupied with something — a pen cap, your fingertips, the straw of your iced coffee that you absentmindedly swirl between your lips. The way your tongue flicks out to wet your bottom lip when you’re deep in thought, how you drag your teeth over the soft skin like you don’t even realize you’re doing it.

He’s caught you sucking on the tip of your thumb absentmindedly while reading through case files, your brow furrowed, lips pursed around the pad of your finger. You only do it when you’re lost in concentration, not even aware of how utterly distracting it is.

Then there’s the gum. The way you roll it between your teeth, lazily pressing it against the roof of your mouth before sucking on it like you're teasing yourself with something you can’t have. He sees the way your jaw moves, the way your tongue works behind your lips, and it makes his cock twitch in his slacks every goddamn time.

But the worst?

The absolute worst is when you’re chewing on something — a pen cap, the arm of your glasses, even just tapping your fingernails against your lower lip, like you’re waiting for something to be put there. And when you’re really not thinking about it, when you’re fully lost in whatever you’re working on, you’ll let out these little sounds. Soft hums, barely-there whimpers, like you’re trying to satisfy some need that’s not being met.

And it drives Spencer fucking insane.

Because he knows exactly how to fix it.

The weight of the case pressed down on you, thick and suffocating, curling around your shoulders like an iron shroud. It had been another dead end, another frustrating attempt at deciphering a pattern that refused to reveal itself. The victims — three so far — had been taken with terrifying precision, their bodies left posed with meticulous care. The UnSub was careful, methodical, deliberate. Just like Spencer.

The thought flickered through your mind unbidden as you sat at his desk, your fingers idly tracing the edge of a case file, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. The dim glow of his desk lamp bathed the room in golden light, casting deep shadows across the scattered notes and open books surrounding you. The air smelled faintly of old paper and coffee, the scent of late nights and restless minds.

Across from you, Spencer sat hunched over a file, his gaze scanning each page with the kind of intensity that made it seem as though he was reading something the rest of the world couldn’t see. His fingers moved in that absentminded way they did when he was thinking —drumming lightly against the wood, tapping patterns only he understood. His lips were slightly parted, his jaw tight, his focus absolute.

But you weren’t focused.

You were chewing on the end of your pen, rolling it between your teeth, letting it press against your lips in slow, absent motions. It was a habit, something to keep your mouth occupied while your brain worked, though tonight, your mind wasn’t working at all. Instead, it was wandering — lingering on the way Spencer’s hands flexed when he turned a page, the way his mouth pursed slightly in concentration, the way his eyes flickered when something caught his attention.

You bit down a little harder on the pen cap.

A soft sigh slipped from Spencer’s lips. At first, you thought it was just another noise of frustration — another sign of how little progress you’d made. But then he shifted in his chair, straightening slightly, and when he spoke, his voice was sharp.

“You’re doing it again.”

The words sent a jolt through you, grounding you back into the present moment. Your gaze snapped up to meet his, heart stumbling slightly when you realized he wasn’t even looking at the files anymore. His attention was on you.

You let the pen drop from your lips, blinking. “Doing what?”

His jaw clenched.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, his gaze slow, deliberate and assessing. The air between you thickened, tension creeping into the space that had once been filled with quiet concentration. You could feel the weight of his stare, the way it lingered, dragging over your lips, down to your throat, before flicking back up to meet your eyes.

Then, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his voice dropping into something quieter.

“You have an oral fixation.”

Your breath caught.

A slow, pulsing heat curled low in your stomach, coiling tightly at the casual certainty in his voice.

“I—”

Spencer tilted his head slightly, studying you. His face was unreadable, but his eyes… His eyes held something deeper, something unreadable and entirely dangerous.

“You chew on pens,” he continued, his tone impossibly steady. “You sip drinks even when you’re not thirsty. You touch your lips when you’re thinking. I’ve watched you do it for months.”

Your stomach twisted.

It wasn’t the observation itself that sent warmth rushing through your veins — it was the way he said it. Like he wasn’t just stating a fact. Like he had spent far too much time noticing, cataloging, analyzing every movement, every unconscious habit.

“You notice that?” Your voice was softer now, breathier than before.

Spencer exhaled through his nose, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I notice everything about you.”

A shiver rippled through you, your fingers curling against your thighs.

He leaned in a fraction more, closing the space between you just enough for the warmth of his breath to ghost over your skin. “Do you even realize how often you do it?” His voice was lower now, more controlled, each syllable measured and deliberate. “Or how distracting it is?”

Your pulse thrummed wildly.

Distracting.

The word settled deep inside you, igniting something restless and needy.

You swallowed hard, your tongue darting out to wet your lips—another unconscious habit, but this time, you did it under the full weight of his stare. His eyes darkened.

“Spencer…”

The name came out softer than you intended, like a quiet plea.

His fingers twitched.

And then ever so slowly, he reached forward, his fingertips brushing the curve of your jaw. The touch was featherlight, but it sent a sharp jolt of electricity through you, your breath stuttering at the unexpected intimacy.

“I think,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth, “you need something to keep your mouth occupied.”

The words sink into your skin, lighting a fire deep in your belly. Your thighs press together instinctively, your lips parting slightly as warmth floods through your veins.

He notices. Of course, he notices.

Spencer is a profiler before anything else. He sees the way your body responds, cataloging every flicker of arousal like a scientist analyzing an experiment.

His thumb drags lower, skimming your chin before tilting your face up ever so slightly. His touch is featherlight, teasing.

“If I were to give you something,” he continues, as if he’s simply musing over a hypothesis, “would you take it? Would you let me fill that pretty mouth of yours?”

Heat floods through you so quickly it’s dizzying.

“Spencer,” you breathe, the sound of his name falling from your lips like a plea.

His eyes darken. “That’s not an answer.”

You swallow hard, your throat tightening under the weight of his stare. Every inch of your body is humming, aching, the slow burn of tension winding so tight inside you that it’s almost unbearable.

“Yes,” you whisper, barely able to get the word out. “I would.”

His lips part slightly, his breath faltering for just a fraction of a second before he recovers, his hand tightening just a little against your jaw. He shifts in his chair, spreading his legs slightly, and you don’t miss the way his pants have grown tighter, the clear evidence of his arousal straining against the fabric.

“You’re so good at running that mouth of yours,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing over your cheek, down the curve of your neck. “Always teasing, always distracting. But I think we can put it to better use.”

The words send a sharp jolt of arousal straight to your core. Your nails dig into your thighs, desperate for some kind of relief, but Spencer doesn’t give you a chance to focus on anything but him.

His hand slides into your hair, gripping just firmly enough to make you gasp. He watches your reaction, his eyes flickering with something dark and knowing before he tugs gently, guiding you forward.

“On your knees.”

Spencer is already hard by the time you slide off your chair and sink onto your knees between his spread legs, his cock pressing thick and heavy against the fabric of his slacks. He’s aching, barely keeping himself together, and you haven’t even touched him yet.

You press your palms to his thighs, feeling the heat radiating through his clothes, your fingertips digging in slightly as anticipation coils tight in your stomach. The air between you is charged, every second stretching longer, the weight of his gaze burning into your skin like it could set you aflame.

Spencer exhales sharply, his fingers sliding into your hair, gentle but possessive, pupils blown wide, jaw tight with restraint.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, almost like he can’t believe this is happening, like the sight of you there between his legs is more than he can take.

But you’re not hesitating.

Your hands move to his belt, undoing the buckle with slow, deliberate movements, dragging it out just to watch him squirm. His breath stutters, his fingers twitching in your hair, grip tightening ever so slightly as you free the leather and let it drop to the floor with a soft thud.

The tease has you buzzing, tension coiling low in your belly as you toy with the zipper of his slacks, letting the moments stretch, watching the way his chest rises and falls faster, lips parting just slightly when you finally drag his pants down, exposing him.

And Jesus fucking Christ...

Spencer is big.

Thick, flushed, his cock already leaking at the tip, veins prominent along the length, pulsing with every ragged breath he takes. He’s achingly hard, the sight of it stirring something hot and primal inside you, making your mouth water.

“You’re already drooling,” he mutters, voice wrecked with desire, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. He drags it down slightly, just enough to make your mouth part, the tension between you thick enough to cut. “You want it that bad?”

You hum, a low sound of affirmation, nodding as your lips part wider, the heat of him brushing against your cheek, teasing the both of you with the softest contact.

Spencer hisses, his grip in your hair tightening just enough to make your scalp tingle. “Fucking tease.”

A flicker of mischief sparks in your eyes as you glance up at him, and then — finally — you press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the tip of his cock, your tongue flicking out to catch the salty taste of his precum.

Spencer shudders, thighs tensing beneath your hands, his whole body wound tight with need.

You start slow, dragging your tongue lazily along the underside, tracing the thick vein from base to tip, savoring the way his breath hitches, the way his fingers curl into your scalp. Every reaction is a reward, and you want to drag it out as long as possible.

Then, you wrap your lips around the head, sucking lightly, teasing him with shallow strokes of your tongue, flicking against the sensitive slit, tasting him, moaning softly at the weight of him on your tongue.

Spencer groans, the sound rough and low, his hips twitching slightly forward, like he’s holding back, like he’s trying not to lose himself completely.

“Quit fucking around,” he mutters, voice strained, his hand tightening at the base of your skull. “Take it. Now.”

A rush of heat surges between your legs, your stomach clenching at the command, and you obey.

You sink down, letting his cock stretch your mouth, your jaw already aching as you take him deeper. Your tongue presses flat against the underside, tracing along every ridge and curve, feeling every pulse.

Spencer curses under his breath, his chest rising and falling faster, his fingers tightening in your hair as you take him all the way to the back of your throat, your nose almost brushing his stomach.

You pause there, letting your throat relax, your eyes flicking up to meet his. His chest heaves, his eyes dark and half-lidded, his lips parted as he watches you with barely restrained hunger.

“Jesus fucking—” He cuts off, breath catching when you swallow around him, your throat constricting, your tongue lapping against the underside as you hollow your cheeks and start to suck.

His reaction is instant - his hips jerk slightly forward, a groan spilling from his lips as his body trembles under your hands. His control is slipping, and you can feel it in the way he grips your hair, in the ragged edge of his breathing.

“Fuck, that’s—” His voice breaks, shaking as you bob your head, setting a rhythm that has his cock sliding slick and wet between your lips.

You make it messy, sloppy, saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth, dripping down onto his thighs as you take him deeper, the sensation overwhelming as your throat constricts around him with every pass.

Spencer’s breathing turns erratic, hips starting to move of their own accord, a raw need taking over. He’s close, and you know it.

“You’re so—” He hisses, cock twitching in your mouth, thighs tensing like he’s trying so fucking hard not to lose himself completely, not to just fuck your throat like he’s aching to.

But you want him to.

You press your hands against his thighs, urging him on, and Spencer groans, his hips snapping forward just slightly, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

You gag, throat tightening around him, a desperate, choked sound spilling from your lips as his fingers dig into your scalp, his entire body trembling with the effort to hold back.

“Fuck, I’m—” His voice cracks, breath coming in short, shallow gasps, cock twitching violently against your tongue. “I’m gonna—”

You don’t pull away.

Spencer’s groan is guttural, his entire body seizing up as he comes, hot and thick, spilling over your tongue in deep, pulsing spurts. His thighs shake, his breath coming in ragged, broken gasps as you swallow every drop, your throat working around him until he’s whimpering from the overstimulation.

When you finally release him, Spencer slumps back against the couch, his chest heaving, a dazed look in his eyes.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, voice wrecked, his fingers brushing against your cheek, tilting your chin up so he can look at you, still catching his breath.

His eyes are dark, but there's still something hungry lingering behind them.

“You,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, “are going to be the death of me.”

Spencer’s chest is still rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths, his fingers tangled in your hair as he studies you, a flicker of something darker lurking behind his half-lidded gaze. You can see it—the shift from restrained control to raw, unfiltered hunger. He’s not done with you. Not even close.

“Get up,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse, rough around the edges with the weight of his own arousal. His fingers tighten in your hair, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you listen. “Now.”

A shiver runs through you at the quiet authority laced in his voice. You obey, your legs unsteady as you rise, the heat between your thighs unbearable.

The moment you’re standing, Spencer surges forward, one hand gripping the back of your neck as his lips crash into yours. It’s messy— hot, desperate, his tongue sweeping into your mouth without hesitation. You can taste him, the faintest traces of salt and heat still lingering. His other hand grips your waist, tugging you flush against his body, and you gasp at the hardness pressing into your stomach.

Already.

Already, he’s hard again.

You whimper into the kiss, your fingers fisting into his shirt, nails scraping against the fabric as his mouth moves hungrily against yours. He groans at the way you melt into him, his fingers digging into your waist before sliding under the hem of your shirt, dragging rough fingertips up your spine.

“Take this off,” he demands, voice breathless as he tugs at the fabric.

You don’t hesitate. You strip your shirt off in one swift motion, and before it even hits the floor, his hands are on you — palming your breasts through your bra, squeezing just enough to make you arch into him. His mouth leaves yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, his tongue flicking against your pulse before sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

He doesn’t stop there. His hands slide behind you, finding the clasp of your bra, and with one deft motion, he unhooks it. Before you can even shrug the straps from your shoulders, he’s already peeling the fabric away, exposing your breasts to the cool air.

You barely have time to register the sensation before his mouth is on you — hot, wet lips wrapping around a nipple, sucking hard enough to make you arch into him with a sharp gasp.

“Spencer,” you whimper, threading your fingers into his hair as he groans against your skin, his tongue flicking against the hardened peak before switching to the other, giving it just as much attention.

His hands are everywhere, roaming over your bare skin, gripping your waist, kneading your hips before sliding lower, curling around the backs of your thighs as he presses you against the desk.

Your hands move with frantic desperation, tugging at his tie, unbuttoning his shirt with clumsy, eager fingers. You need to feel him— his skin, his heat, the steady thrum of his pulse under your fingertips.

As soon as his shirt is gone, you push it off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Your palms splay across his chest, nails raking lightly over his skin, and he shudders under your touch. His lips find yours again, his kiss even rougher this time, all teeth and tongue and sheer, unrestrained need.

Then his hands are at your jeans, undoing the button in one swift motion, shoving the denim down your hips. You kick them off, standing before him in just your panties, and his breath stutters.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to the soaked fabric between your thighs. He drags a finger over the damp material, pressing just enough to make you whimper.

“Already this wet?” His voice is almost mocking, but his pupils are blown wide, his own need barely contained. His fingers toy with the lace of your panties before slipping beneath them, and when he drags his fingers through your slick folds, he groans. “You’re drenched.”

Your legs tremble as he teases you, his fingers moving torturously slow, spreading your wetness before pulling back completely. You make a noise of protest, but it dies in your throat when you see him.

Spencer is watching you with dark, ravenous eyes as he unzips his slacks completely, shoving them and his boxers down in one swift motion. He steps out of them, kicking them aside as he stands before you, completely bare.

He wraps a hand around his cock, stroking himself slowly, lazily, the head already flushed and leaking. The sight of him — so unabashedly aroused, so shameless in his hunger for you — sends another rush of heat straight to your core.

“Get on the desk,” he orders, voice steady but firm, leaving no room for argument.

You hesitate for half a second, and then he’s gripping your hips, turning you and guiding you backward until your ass bumps against the wood.

“Up,” he says again, stroking himself as he watches you. “Spread those pretty legs for me.”

The heat between your thighs is unbearable, need pooling low in your stomach as you do as he says, lifting yourself onto the desk, spreading your legs wide, letting him see everything.

Spencer’s breath shudders as he watches, his jaw clenching, his grip tightening on his cock. He steps closer, positioning himself between your thighs, his free hand sliding up your inner thigh, teasing the sensitive skin, dragging his fingertips closer and closer to where you need him most.

Then he grips the base of his cock and drags the tip against your slick folds, teasing you, coating himself in your wetness. You shudder, hips bucking slightly, but he just smirks.

He slaps his cock against your clit once, twice, the sharp sting sending jolts of pleasure through you. You gasp, hands fisting against the desk, body twitching with each stinging slap.

“Spencer,” you plead, your voice breaking.

He groans at the desperation in your tone, gripping your hips to hold you still as he teases you again, dragging his cock over your entrance, pressing just enough to stretch you open — but not pushing in.

Then he leans in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers,

“Hold on tight, sweetheart.”

And then he thrusts inside you.

Spencer’s cock sinks into you in one smooth, unrelenting thrust, stretching you open, filling you so completely that your head tilts back with a strangled gasp. Your fingers scramble for purchase on the desk, nails digging into the wood as your thighs squeeze around his waist.

“Fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you know there’ll be marks tomorrow. “You’re so goddamn tight.”

He pulls back just enough to drag the thick length of him against your walls before slamming forward again, knocking a breathless moan from your lips. Your body jolts from the force of it, the desk creaking beneath you, but Spencer doesn’t care. If anything, the sound spurs him on.

His rhythm is ruthless - deep, hard thrusts that send pleasure rippling through your entire body, forcing your back to arch, your mouth falling open in a silent cry. Every inch of you is hypersensitive, nerves alight with overwhelming heat, and then...

A sharp slap lands against your breast.

You yelp, eyes snapping open in shock, only to find Spencer watching you with dark, calculating eyes, his palm still hovering in the air. The sting blossoms across your skin, warmth spreading from the impact, and before you can fully process it, he does it again.

The second slap makes your cunt clench around him, a ragged moan spilling from your lips as the sharp sting melts into something heady and intoxicating.

Spencer groans, his hips snapping forward harder, deeper. “You like that, don’t you?” His voice is breathless, edged with something dangerous.

You can’t form words, can’t think past the pleasure consuming you, so you just nod frantically, gasping when he delivers another slap, this one harder than the last.

His free hand grips your jaw, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. “Say it.”

“Yes,” you choke out, your voice wrecked, needy. “Fuck, Spencer—yes, I love it.”

A smug smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Good.”

Then he gives you no warning before he picks up his pace, thrusting into you with a force that leaves you breathless, your legs wrapping tighter around him as he fucks you into the desk.

The wet, obscene sounds of your slick cunt taking him over and over again fill the room, mixing with your ragged breaths, your whimpers, the sharp crack of his palm against your breasts. He alternates between squeezing them roughly and slapping them, watching the way your body reacts, the way you tighten around him every time he does it.

You’re close, so unbearably close, your stomach tightening, your muscles trembling with the buildup of pleasure. Spencer knows it too.

His grip shifts, one hand sliding down your stomach, his fingers finding your clit. The moment he touches you, your whole body jerks, a strangled moan ripping from your throat.

“That’s it,” he breathes, circling your clit with quick, precise motions. “Come for me. I want to feel you squeeze my cock.”

That’s all it takes.

Your orgasm slams into you like a tidal wave, white-hot pleasure exploding behind your eyes as you cry out his name, your walls spasming around him. Your entire body shakes, thighs trembling as aftershocks wrack through you, pleasure so intense it borders on overwhelming.

Spencer groans, his pace stuttering, his thrusts turning sloppy, erratic. He grips your hips hard, driving into you one last time before burying himself to the hilt, his cock twitching as he spills deep inside you.

A ragged moan rips from his throat, his head dropping forward as his release pulses through him, hot and thick, filling you completely. His fingers dig into your flesh, holding you still as he empties himself inside you, his breath shuddering against your skin.

For a moment, neither of you move, the only sounds in the room your shared panting, the quiet hum of the desk lamp casting light over your flushed skin.

Then Spencer pulls back slightly, lifting his head to look at you, his dark eyes clouded with satisfaction. A lazy smirk tugs at his lips as he drags his thumb along your cheek, his voice a husky murmur.

“Messy girl,” he muses, his tone dripping with amusement as he watches his cum drip from your still-throbbing cunt. “I guess I’ll just have to clean you up.”

The look in his eyes tells you he means every word.

He’s careful as he adjusts, lowering himself down to kneel beside you, his eyes studying you with an intensity that’s no longer sharp and commanding but tender, attentive. His thumb brushes along your cheek, wiping away a bead of sweat, and his gaze softens as he watches you blink up at him, slowly coming back to earth.

"Hey," he says softly, voice still rough but full of warmth, "you okay?"

You nod, your chest rising and falling with each breath as the tension in your body gradually unwinds. Spencer’s hand moves to your shoulder, gently massaging the muscles there, as though he can feel the strain of the night’s intensity. His fingers press into your skin, not with the same urgency they had before, but with careful, deliberate motions meant to soothe.

“Let me get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring. He stands for a moment, disappearing into the bathroom, and you hear the sound of water running before he’s back with a damp cloth. He’s gentle as he wipes you down, making sure to be soft around your sensitive spots, taking his time.

Once he’s finished, Spencer grabs a blanket from the couch, wrapping it around your shoulders like a cocoon. He settles next to you, pulling you close, his arms enveloping you in warmth as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers, his voice full of sincerity. "You did amazing."

Your head rests against his chest, and you can hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The weight of the night settles into something quieter, more intimate—this quiet aftercare, where words aren’t necessary, but the tenderness in his touch speaks volumes.

Spencer lets you relax against him, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin as you both catch your breath. He doesn’t rush you. He just holds you. When you finally speak, it’s soft and a little hoarse from the intensity of the night.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer simply nods, kissing your forehead in response. “Always.”

And for the rest of the night, he stays close, making sure you feel safe, cared for, and cherished. The outside world feels miles away, the two of you cocooned in your own quiet intimacy, where aftercare doesn’t just mean physical, but emotional tenderness that leaves you feeling loved, even after everything.