#like. okay. you have some data

[unnonexistence]

discovering Where The Math Is in something confusing is always such an immense relief

[lyxchen]

I feel like I'm digging myself deep into a hole and finding nothing, trying to figure out more about In-ho's family

[muchmossymess]

So with the homunculi being essentially human, having all the same organs and whatever whatever— does that mean that lust had to deal with period cramps?

[supercantaloupe]

ive never gone to see an opera live in europe let alone one outside of a major theater that regularly records and broadcasts their productions so grain of salt etc but i think there's some kind of distinct cultural difference between how european companies do "reimagined" productions of operas vs how american companies do it

[istherewifiinhell]

Unbelievable talking to someone with a car who can drive who is at once condesendly incredulous at the idea you would walk to the shops and also disagreeing that the civil infrastructure isnt hostile TO walking based on the fact they walked to a restaurant exactly once. As if the fact that they are in the possession of the ability to walk that distance but as a rule. Drives the LESS THAN FIVE MINUTES. To the location. Instead. Every other time. Is not itself. All the evidence needed.

[feralparsnip]

like the thing is some of terry pratchett's later books are sort of direct appeals to young people for example to have integrity and care for others and it's difficult to look at any of the books about vampires or fairies and not see that pratchett wanted to discuss the grist mill of neoliberalism

but like the truth is that granny weatherwax + tiffany aching both despaired of installing that integrity and care of others into their communities and only saw partial success with their methods. frequently no success. it was embittering, and that's part of why weatherwax is Like That

bc these fictional women couldn't understand, because pratchett himself didn't understand, that you don't need to Make People Better People to encourage them to care for every member of their communities, you just need to make taking care of everybody integral to the process of people living their lives. like we may never have total population compassion saturation or whatever but that doesn't matter bc it IS possible to arrange the world such that our processes for living support each other. you know

[moreaujeans]

YGHHHHFHF interviews are a joke

[qqueenofhades]

Okay all -- few quick thoughts about the Elon Muskifying of the government, especially the takeover of the Treasury and associated financial data for every single US citizen and organization, that we are learning about in detail today.

Don't panic. This sounds bad, because it is bad. It's really, really bad. It's outrageously fascist bad. But we've still gotta take a deep breath and get through it.

This is the kind of shock-and-awe exercise of untrammeled fascist power where they are absolutely counting on gleefully terrorizing, paralyzing, and stunning you into mounting no resistance, or just giving up and giving in. They are literally live-tweeting it in real time and boasting about all the access and influence they have right now. They want you to know about it and feel like you can't do anything, so you might as well let it happen.

We have to show them that's not true.

TIME TO MAKE SOME NOISE. Because it's Sunday night, I've gone ahead and contacted my state Attorney General and both senators by email (but come Monday morning, we should all be calling). Here is the email that I wrote to my AG:

Dear Mr. [AG],

As you will be aware, today (February 2, 2025) the Trump administration has granted wide-ranging access to sensitive US Treasury data, including the personal and private information of [state] citizens, to Elon Musk's so-called "Department of Government Efficiency." Musk is an unelected private citizen who has no legal right to access this data, and is engaging in extensive intimidation and coercion to fulfill his personal and harmful ideological agenda. The present and material harm that this causes to US citizens, [state] residents, and basic laws of government, privacy, and financial security is direct, unconscionable, and actionable. I strongly urge you, in your capacity as [state] Attorney General, to file direct suit against the Trump administration, Elon Musk, the "DOGE" office, and any identifiable individuals who have taken part in this action, in order to protect consumer data, citizen privacy, and basic faith and trust in government.

All the best,

[Qqueenofhades]

Short! To the point! Doesn't waste time, tells him what I want him to do, how Elmo's nonsense directly harms the residents of my state, and why he should take action to stop it! And frankly, given how on-the-ball blue-state AGs have been thus far, they're probably already working on it. You are very welcome to copy-and-paste this message and fill in your AG's last name and your state as appropriate. Super easy to do. Takes five minutes. Call tomorrow.

If you are in a red state, your voice is particularly important right now. The Trumpsters are counting on and are even emboldened by blue state pushback, but you really need to make it start coming from Republican strongholds. Congressional Republicans will only feel the slightest amount of unease about docilely enabling this BS when it starts threatening their own personal power. Hit them where it hurts.

Other lawsuits are coming. Marc Elias, Democratic lawyer extraordinaire, is well aware of this situation and has noted on Bluesky that more lawsuits are in the works. He often wins his cases. This does not mean that you shouldn't loudly make noise elsewhere, but please remember that this is one of those 24-hour periods where, as noted, they are counting on demoralizing you with a nonstop blizzard of bullshit. It does not say anything about how this will play out long-term or the opposition that can and will be mobilized to stop it.

Once again: courage. Take the small steps that you can do today. Then take a breath and get off social media for a little while. Try to take the long view. One step at a time, we will get through this.

Courage.

[dewgongs]

lock in. walk the tightrope

[mortalityplays]

talking about impenetrable accents/dialect just reminded me. when I was in Milan a couple of years back I was staying in this little rathole hotel and I had the biggest fucking migraine, so I was like non c'è problema I'll just go buy painkillers. of course every pharmacy on the map in a three block radius was closed, so my stupid ass just starts wandering around trying to figure out on the fly if you can get OTC from supermarkets in italy.

I walk into this little everything store (to my foreign eyes the kind of place that back home could sell you a bunch of carrots, a 6-pack of beer, pantyhose, bleach and a screwdriver set) and I see some household basics in the back but not what I need. with the confidence of a person who is only in the city for 3 days because he got bored and packed a bag and booked the cheapest flight available the week before (<= MENTAL ILLNESS), I was like no worries I know some italian, I can just ask.

I grab a bottle of water, walk up to the counter, and I'm like Ciao, hai il paracetamolo? And the guy is like che, and I'm like paracetamolo. Per la mia testa. And he's like che?

This is where I would have said 'aspirina' except I can't take aspirin for medical reasons, or 'antidolorifico' except I don't know that word and I've got no phone data for google translate and also I'm stupid. So in my fucked up leith-glasgow-italian accent I'm like paaa-ra-cetta-mollll-ooo. He's like ohhh bene, bene, and he calls another guy out of the back and asks him to go get something. Other guy then walks out of the store into the street, and before I can be like hey, che la fuck, he comes back and hands me a huge bundle of herbs.

At this point I'm like okay this entire interaction has been a bust, but these guys have been very nice and patient and they're both smiling happily at me because they've been of service, so I'm like ahh perfetto, grazie, pay them a couple of euros and leave.

EVENTUALLY I find a pharmacy that's open, and my head is fucking killing me, and my phone still isn't connecting, and now I have this small shrubbery poking out of my coat pocket, so I don't even bother looking around the shelves. I just walk straight to the counter and I'm like uhh ciao, scusi. And hearing my nightmare of an accent the guy answers in english and I'm like thank christ, do you please have paracetamol. Not aspirin, I can't take aspirin. And he's like yeah yeah hold on, goes into the back, comes out with what I need.

Only when he comes out he gives me this look, and then he starts laughing. And then he pretends he's not laughing and rings me up and I pay, and as I'm leaving I can see him losing it. But I don't care, my head is going to explode, I'm going back to the rathole to close the blinds and fall comatose for four hours.

When I get back to my hotel room I take off my coat and remember the huge bouquet of herbs in my pocket. They smell amazing, and I'm like I'm pretty sure this is parsley in which case I can just get some tomatoes and mozzarella later and make it work. but since I have no idea what that interaction was, I want to make sure. I bring out my phone to get a visual reference of what parsley leaves look like, and because I was using it for google translate earlier I put 'parsley' in the wrong box like a dope and translate it to italian.

prezzemolo

I wish I could have been the pharmacist in the moment he looked at my tired pissed off anglophone ass, heard me say 'paracetamol' in my fucked up accent, and turned around saw what was in my pocket. I'd have lost my shit too.

[leafyeyes417]

Venting

The GIW had gotten on his last nerve. Danny wasn’t at all worried about them actually managing to catch a ghost they were just that bad. But when their pure incompetence managed to mildly injure 12 people and seriously injure another 5, with one in the ICU and no confirmation on them ever coming out of the coma, Danny felt his patience fraying.

After getting the cryptic okay from Clockwork, he enacted his plan to get rid of the jerks. Death by debt. As in, their funding wouldn’t be enough to keep them afloat and they would be disbanded. He started by getting Tucker to locate all their bases, and had Sam work on creating a sedative (using plant products, because she would kill him if he used chemicals).

Once the bases were located and gas canisters were prepared, he was off. All the agents were knocked out, removed from the building, and all weapons taken. After that was Tucker getting into their systems and taking all the data, then wiping it. Then was setting all paperwork on fire and destruction of the building completely.

Watching it crumble gave him so much satisfaction. He stuck around invisible to watch the agents wake up and have a meltdown about their clothing before even noticing the destroyed building. He only barely made it away before nearly dying of laughter.

Luckily this all happened during the summer, his parents had decided to go on a convention road trip, so he was free to leave the state and destroy more bases. He ended up in Gotham and was shocked the Agents had managed to even step foot in the place. It felt like the air itself would stain their white suits.

Shaking off the feeling and sending out a ‘I’m a guest here to remove some pests’ to Lady Gotham, Danny moved towards the base in what was a well oiled system by now. He had managed to knock all the agents out and was moving them outside when he heard a cough behind him. Turning he saw one of the Bats, Red Robin.

“What exactly are you doing?” RR asked with mild curiosity.

Danny glanced down at the agents then back up to RR. “Teenage venting through destruction of government property?”

They stared at each other silently for a minute before RR broke out in a grin. “Can I help?”

Danny smirked. “Sure! You go inside and bring the rest of them out. I’ll search them for weapons and stuff.”

RR was about to walk away to do as asked when he saw Danny taking off the shoes. “Are the shoes weapons too?”

Danny snickered. “Nah. They have this thing about getting their white suits dirty and it fills me with glee to make their white socks dirty too.”

Danny swore he could hear someone howling in laughter through RR’s coms.

[pinkcasket]

only adjacent to last post but I still remember when the akechi shelter scene was found and everyone was like. he knows how to do that????

"akechi survives and decides to go to a shelter/rehab facility that helped his mom years ago in order to regain mental stability" would've absolutely been a 'he would not fucking do that' scenario to the fandom but. nope. actual scene the writers contemplated before deciding to leave his fate vague.

[queenerdloser]

i already complained about this to a coworker but maybe if i complain about it here i can purge it from my brain

so there's this specific type of data entry our admin team at work has to do for providers where we track how they spend their administrative time in order to make sure they're meeting required coverage given by my job. we had this huge kerfluffle earlier this year where we were told we needed to collect this like two weeks before it was due and there was seriously not enough turn around time and absolutely nothing in place - no procedure for how to get the data, no spreadsheet to put it in, barely any info on what we were supposed to collect, literally nothing.

so. earlier this year i made all of that stuff. and when we were told "oh hey btw this is not a one-time thing, you will have to continually collect this info" i went "okay but can we set down a set of guidelines and a procedure so we know what the expectations are and what exactly we're supposed to be doing?" and my boss went okay and then proceeded to spend three months not bringing the subject up.

and when it WAS we went VERY briefly over expectations (we need to submit it twice a year to my boss!) and that was it. so i went "okay, i'll draft up a procedure based on these loose guidelines and update our VERY sad spreadsheet" and i did that in about a week. and got feedback from another coworker, made my edits, and finished it all in roughly three weeks. i made a meeting so we could all talk about the procedure and the spreadsheet back in fucking july okay. the end of july. and then a few days before the meeting i was like "oh actually it'd be super helpful to get your specific feedback on these two (2!!!!!) items because this process is something we're literally doing for your benefit. we're collecting the data for you to pass on. and also. you are my boss so it does kind of feel like the creation of this kind of department-wide affecting stuff should have your input." and a few days wasn't enough so my boss asked if we could shift the meeting to a few weeks later and i was like okay fine w/e.

i took a vacation and got back in august. the meeting was coming up and i had asked for feedback before that. so i sent her a message, an email, and brought it up in our 1:1 meetings. she never got back to me with feedback, so i rescheduled again because i specifically asked her for her feedback and even specifically said i didn't want to meet until i had it. so another two weeks roll by and guess what? still no fucking feedback. so i reschedule again. i bring it up to her in our meeting again and she tells me oh yeah she's looking at it but if she doesn't get back to me before the next meeting just keep it, we'll talk about it at the meeting.

so we had this meeting today. and within the first ten minutes (in the middle of me explaining why we're meeting!!!!) she has the nerve to ask me "hey what is this meeting even for? what are we trying to figure out here?" as if i didn't send an email explicitly detailing why we were going to meet last week to everyone, as if i haven't brought this up with her several times, as if i didn't explain it in my original email asking for feedback.

and then we spent like half the meeting having to hash out changes that she brought up!!!!! things like oh actually this doesn't need to be formally reported twice a year, it's actually only going to be formally reported once a year with annual faculty reviews. like what the FUCK i based the entire procedure on the twice a year outline you gave. that's why i asked you to look at the procedure so i could make those kinds of changes BEFORE the meeting. i didn't want to spend the meeting trying to fix the procedure, i wanted to present it to our group as a finished thing! because now i have to go in and make these fucking changes she never bothered to tell me about for a month and a fucking half despite me repeatedly asking her specifically for feedback and put this project even FURTHER behind.

and like. she kept interrupting me during the meeting which is super frustrating. and she also just like. didn't answer any of the questions i DID have for her. me: "hey can you clarify if you are actually reporting this twice a year as was previously discussed or is it really only once a year with annual reviews? if so, do we need to have hard deadlines every six months to send this info to you?" her: "well i'd like it to be ready just in case i get asked, because i want to be able to go in there and see the most updated data." okay but that's not the question i asked you!!!!!

me: "so what i have in the procedure i have screen-shared is we should do these updates on a quarterly basis." her, two minutes later: "so you guys will have to decide how often you're planning to update this info." me: "yeah that's why i have it in the procedure we should do it on a quarterly basis." her: "you'll just really need to choose how often it's done."

she does this all the time!!!! like you are supposed to be the leadership in our department so would it kill you just to give me a straight answer and lead??? can you PLEASE just say "well this is due twice a year, so you need to keep it updated every quarter" instead of this wishy-washy stuff? and also when i send you something and ask for your fucking input can you give it to me without me begging you on my hands and knees for it for a month and a half? and also ahead of the meeting so we don't have to waste half of it talking about stuff we could have already figured out if you were actually halfway decent at your job?????

[casuallyanidiot]

Some more good Ole Yandere Nerd

Tw. Noncon/Dubcon, kidnapping, invasion of privacy, fisting, yandere

Yandere Nerd who fucks you so frequently in so many different ways that he jokingly starts to collect data on it.

"You've cum 23 times this week without penetration. We can definitely raise that by this time next!"

He keeps neatly color coordinated graphs and charts of the amount of times you'd had sex with him, how many times you came, what different types of toys and kinks you seemed to like the most, and more. He'd write thousand word research essays on the topic while fucking your face under the table. He'd look down through fogged glasses and make sure you'd swallow before he got the motivation to continue on for the next few pages.

It's almost impressive how well organized he keeps track of everything.

Yandere Nerd who explains what he's working on like he's talking to a dumb dog.

"You see, it's quite interesting to find that there's no significant difference between how much you cum from when I spank you versus no spanking when I play with your ass. I think we need to repeat this at least 30 times each to see if there's any further development."

You never imagined that dirty talk could be so dull. Though, he probably wasn't trying to turn you on using anything other than brute force, sheer, will, and a closet worth of sex toys.

Yandere Nerd who likes to stretch you out on increasingly bigger and bigger toys.

His cock definitely is not the size of his fucking arm, but it's not even about his pleasure at this point. He just likes seeing you all whiny and sobbing while begging him to take his fist out of your poor, abused hole. He won't listen at all! How mean :( . In fact, he'd probably measure how large your stretched out entrance gapes after every session and then time how long it would take for your quivering form to go somewhat back to normal.

Yandere Nerd while, mid fuck, suddenly decides to share the good news with you.

"The paper I wrote on you got accepted into a journal!"

How that fucking happened, you don't know, but all of a sudden detailed descriptions of how often you cum on a daily basis were suddenly up for anyone to see. You ended up crying when you read the journal, too humiliated to feel anything but anger and utter embarrassment. He rubs soothing circles into your back while trying to comfort you, but he's not exactly slick with the way he's pulling out his camera to record your reaction.

What!? This is valid data! Now if you're going to be the subject of further studies, then you have to be at least a little bit more cooperative with him, okay?

[relaxxattack]

“oh they’re not taking away chronological dashboard, well everything’s okay then” they also said in the post they’re making reblogs collapsed (like comments on twitter) so you won’t see the full conversation in a post. they also won’t get rid of tumblr live despite it being an annoying and cancerous data-miner that isn’t legal in much of the world. they won’t even let you opt out of tumblr live for more than seven days. they implemented a terrible photo viewer that mimics tiktok and makes it so you can’t zoom in on images. they took away the ability to view prev tags. they’re making it so you have to sign in with your email to view almost any thing on tumblr. they’ve already made it so you have to sign in to send asks, even on anon. they’re slowly phasing out custom blog themes.

the things that make tumblr at all usable and favored by us-- the older web blog features, the anonymity-- that is still being taken away. it HAS been being taken away for some time now. i am urging you people to reveiwbomb the tumblr app. force them to acknowledge that users do not like these changes.

[esote-rika]

Red is Your Color | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader

Category: smut 18+ MDNI

Summary: You just committed perhaps the most atrocious wrongly sent message ever. By some trick of nature, your coworker is more than willing to play along. (This is from @imagining-in-the-margins Wrong Recipient prompt list. Character receives scandalous selfies from a coworker; check out her prompts, they're really fun!)

Content: softdom!spencer, fingering, multiple orgasms (female receiving), p in v, creampie, reader is on the pill, Spencer calls reader a naughty girl and pretty girl, tenderness and lots of checking in, vaguely Christmas themed. 

Word count:  3.1k

A/N: I read something really poetic and profound yesterday and it inspired me to write, but my mind was in the gutter, so this happened. lmfao happy holidays. UNEDITED, I wrote this at 2 in the morning T.T

Do you think Santa would bend me over and punish me?

Spencer Reid was almost too scared to even open the following messages—he’d already made the mistake of opening this one. And there was a barrage of them, sent a few minutes after the very first one, in quick succession, one right after the other. His phone buzzed and buzzed, matching the distracting hum in his brain at the moment. He should probably read the next messages, because surely, surely those contain the explanation to this one.

Unfortunately, his eyes were glued on this first one—it seemed like it was the only one that contained a picture, after all, and what was that they said about a picture saying a thousand words?

What could it mean then, this picture his coworker had sent to him? What did it mean that he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from it? (What did it imply if he didn’t want to? That he liked the picture? That it made his pants uncomfortably tighter?)

He stared at the picture, his eyes greedily taking every inch of smooth skin exposed by the short, strapless sexy Santa dress his coworker was wearing. It wasn’t explicit—she was fully dressed, after all, but the caption, paired with the way she had been posed… Sitting on what he presumed was her bathroom counter, her legs artfully crossed, the fabric of the dress hiked up to reveal long, luscious thighs. With her pursed lips painted crimson, it was obvious what the message was meant to imply and Spencer felt his mouth grow dry. He shifted on his seat, both hands gripping his phone because he didn’t trust them not to wander down, to give himself relief.

No, he should not be jerking off to his coworker. He shouldn’t even be fucking looking at this photo. He should delete it, call Penelope and ask her to rewire his cloud or memory or data or whatever it was called. Just to get rid of it from his phone. That would be the decent thing to do, and Spencer had always prided himself on being a gentleman. 

He knew that would be futile; knew his mind would be treacherous and have the image of her with those supple thighs, and red mouth in his dreams, his nightmares, in every fantasy—

His phone was ringing.

He stared at it, wondering how she was sending so many messages so quickly, before he realized that she wasn’t texting anymore.

She was calling.

His thumb found the answer button without his consent. The next thing he knew, her voice was pouring from his phone’s speaker. Soft. Contrite. Embarrassed. He frowned. What on earth was she embarrassed about, he wondered. She, who looked stunning, who looked good enough to be worshipped—

“—Please say something, Spence.” she was saying, pleading, and something in his gut clenched. That nickname, coming from her lips. That nickname, coming from her lips, while she was wearing that dress.

“Spence—”

“It’s all right,” his voice was strangled. He cleared his throat, “It’s all right. I’ve deleted it.” Lie, what a liar, she deserved better than hastily told lies.

“Okay,” she sighed, relief palpable even without seeing her face to face, “I just didn’t want to get in trouble with HR, on top of everything.”

HR. He almost laughed. They wouldn’t care (unless someone blabbed, like what happened with Derek and Penelope, but he would never do that to her, not in a million years.)

“You wouldn’t, I promise… it wasn’t even that explicit, if I’m being honest.” he heard himself say. He rubbed his eyes in frustration—why did he have to add that?

Her laughter floats from the phone, nervous and low. “I guess not. I wasn’t about to send a complete nude to my friends.”

He straightened up, confused. “Your friends?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice still wavering nervously, “Like I said in my texts, it was wrongly sent to you, I was talking to my friends.”

In other words, it wasn’t for him. He would have known that, had he opened her texts, had he not been too busy ogling the picture she had mistakenly sent, the picture that wasn’t even for him. Something unpleasant burned in his chest, but he ignored it in favor of the curiosity that lingered.

“You send explicit pictures to your friends?”

“I thought you said it wasn’t that explicit,” she chuckled, “But, uh, yeah I do… I dunno, maybe that’s weird, but we were joking around.”

That was something new he learned today. That friends could casually send sexually charged photos to each other. The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. “So you don’t actually want to be bent over and punished?”

Dear heavens, sometimes he understood why his teammates gave him weird looks. If he had a mirror, he would give himself a weird look. Still, he held his breath for her answer, surprised by the wave of disappointment at the thought of her saying no, it was just a silly text.

The pause grew between them, and Spencer was almost about to apologize, when she spoke again.

“I mean, if someone were willing to do it…”

He swallowed. His pants felt tight once again, and he had to force himself to take deep breaths. This was not an invitation, he thought, she had not asked him, she was not saying if you wanted to do it (which, he does, desperately so.)

“Right.” he managed to croak. Another pause, as if she was contemplating. 

“Spencer,” she was whispering now, “Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“How fast can you get here?”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

You’re not sure what possessed you into inviting your coworker over, but you did. And now, you’re sitting in your living room, in that blasted sexy Santa dress, panic texting your friends about it. He had said fifteen minutes. Eight minutes had gone by, and you knew he would fulfill his promise. He would be here in seven minutes.

Perhaps you weren’t expecting him to agree. Your perception of Spencer Reid has always been of a sweet genius, wholly brilliant and too preoccupied with academics to even give a second thought to sex and romance. He was a germaphobe, for crying out loud, you had thought it would make him have some sort of aversion to the inevitable sticky, sweaty mess of two bodies coming together. 

But you’d heard it in his voice. Strained, low, and riddled with desire. 

So you had mustered enough courage to ask. And now—

Your doorbell cut through your thoughts. Taking a deep breath, you shoved your phone into a drawer, not wanting to see the offensive piece of technology for the rest of the night. You looked out through the peephole, and there he was, still in his office clothes. Tall, and slender, and dishevelled and yours for the night.

You pulled the door open, ignoring the heavy thump in your chest. 

He smiled. “Hi.”

“You’re early.” You teased, standing aside to let him in. His eyes were glued to you, pupils dilating as he took you in.

“You’re still wearing the dress.”

Right. Once you had realized you sent the text to Spencer instead of your friends, you had spent the next several minutes in agonizing anxiety, sending text after text to Spencer in an effort to explain. In your utter mortification, you had forgotten to change out of it.

He seemed to like that. It gave you enough confidence to surge forward, blindly, recklessly.

“I am.” You said, red lips tugging into a smile you reserved for handsome strangers at a bar. You lowered your voice, just enough for the next words to come out breathless, “Honestly, it’s a little itchy.” 

“Is it?” He stepped forward, crowding you into the door. It creaks as it moves with your weight, the knob clicking in place. He reached forward, and you held your breath, anticipating his hands on you, gently running over your skin, but instead they closed over the doorknob, locking it. He didn’t miss your reaction, though, his eyes a glittering night sky of sweet, utter want. “Maybe I can help you with it.”

You nodded, mouth parted in silence, whatever words you wanted to say have died in your throat.

He brought his hand up, caressing your jaw, and you marvelled at how large his hands are, long fingers reaching the nape of your neck. “Red is your color.” he murmured, before leaning in to capture your lips.

His lips were cold and chapped, and you returned his kiss eagerly in an attempt to warm them. Your mouth opens at one swipe of his tongue, moaning as he leans his whole body into you, pushing you harder against the door. Tonight, you learned that Spencer Reid, the sweet, unassuming genius, kisses like he wants to crawl into you. It’s a sloppy mess of tongue and teeth, and a whimper escaped your mouth as he bit your lower lip.

“Too much?” he asked, pulling away for a moment. 

As an answer, you wrapped your hands around his neck, and returned the fervor of his kisses. You heard him chuckle, felt it on your own tongue as it happened and it made your knees buckle from sheer want. 

His arms wrapped around your waist, hoisting you up into his embrace. You felt him move, stumbling across your apartment before setting you down again. The blunt edge of a drawer hit your lower back, just as he pulled away. 

A whine left your lips. You didn’t know if it was from the pain, or the loss of his kiss.

“Turn around, darling.” he murmured, but your brain was so damn distracted you just stared at him blankly. He grinned, hands at your hips gently maneuvering you to face away from him. “You said you wanted to be bent over.” 

Chills went down your spine as he pushed you forward, elbows landing on the smooth, wooden desk. 

“Y-yeah, I did say that.” you managed to reply. This time, the breathless quality in your voice was not an affectation. You felt his nose on your neck, pushing away the stray locks of hair, before his mouth landed over the skin, open and wet, traversing the expanse of your flesh with reckless ardor. You moaned, craning your head back in a wordless plea for more.

You felt teeth, the sting of it clamping over your flesh. You didn’t even realize you’d yelped until he stopped.

“Sorry,” he whispered, soothing the bite with his kisses.

“It’s okay,” You replied, one hand reaching up, running through his hair. “Do it again.”

The rumble of his laughter made your stomach warm. He sunk his teeth into your neck again, sucked at the spot he bit, and you would have face planted into the desk had it not been for his hands holding you up. 

“You’re a naughty girl,” he purred against your skin, “Aren’t you? Sending that picture to me, I bet it wasn’t even an accident.”

“It was,” you protested, but then he grinds his crotch into your ass and any indignation was stifled by the feeling of how damn hard he was. “It was - I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to make me this hard?” he asked, rolling his hips against you, “I think you knew exactly what you were doing, naughty girl.” Before you could answer, you felt something digging into your ass. He was tugging at your panties. To the side, as if he couldn’t even be bothered to strip it off of you. 

It was hot as all hell.

“My god, you’re absolutely soaked for me.” he groaned into your ear, and you gasped as the rough pads of his fingers ran through your cunt. Somehow, his fingers have remained cold, and the sensation sent a shudder down your spine.

“S-Spencer,” you whined, knuckles finding leverage at the edge of the desk you’ve been sprawled over.

“Mhm? What is it, darling?”

“M-more.”

His laughter filled the room once again, “And I thought I was being needy.” he said, but he obliged your request easily, slipping two fingers into your pussy. His breath fanned over the overheated skin of your neck as he buried his face against your shoulder, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you moved your hips against his hand, chasing the rhythm of his fingers. You’d never enjoyed this by yourself; your own fingers were thin, too short to cause any sort of pleasure when you touched yourself. But Spencer’s hands were large, his fingers long and elegant and perfect. They curled inside you, hitting a spot you’ve never been able to with your own hands, and you cried “Oh, fuck yes!”

It was everything. Quite literally. His arm was holding you against him, his body a solid, lean mass behind you, pressing into the slopes of your own, digging in wherever your softness yields to his hard angles. You moaned and moaned again, as his fingers quickened, as his thumb found your clit and rubbed fast circles until your arms gave out and your entire upper half was splayed on the desk. 

He didn’t stop, cooing soft words into your ear, his tongue and lips and teeth a whole other dangerous territory of its own. You knew you would have hickeys tomorrow. You knew the team would ask questions. You didn’t particularly care.

“Can you take more?” he asked, and you nodded, eager to take whatever he was going to give. A third finger slid into your dripping cunt, stretching you in ways you haven’t felt in a long time and you groaned, head buried in your arms. He paused, his other hand rubbing circles on your hip, “Are you all right, darling?”

“Yes.” you sobbed, and you knew he wouldn’t believe you because you sounded sad, and everything that Spencer has done up until this point proved that, despite it all, he cared. 

“You can tell me if it’s too much, you know.” he murmured. His lips laved featherlight kisses along your shoulder.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, bucking your hips. The idea of being slightly incoherent from the pleasure he’s been giving you was a little too enticing, and you were in no mood to stop, “Please.”

“Okay,” he resumed his ministrations, slower this time, dragging his fingers in and out of you with a precise rhythm, now that he’s figured out your weak spots. “You are so pretty like this, darling. Dress hiked up, your lipstick smudged.”

A mewl came out of your throat, and you would have been embarrassed if you still had the presence of mind to feel an ounce of shame. He coaxed a second orgasm from you, and you marveled at the fact that he could elicit responses like these with just his fingers. It seemed unfair, but a large part of you reveled in it.

“That’s it,” he whispered, slowly pulling his fingers out, “That’s my pretty girl.”

You lifted your head from your arms. The sight that welcomes you is a blurry one, impeded by the clumpy eyelashes and messy tears that had gathered in your eyes. You knew you looked a mess, far from the pretty girl he kept repeating, but you ate up the praise all the same.

As if by their own accord, your hips move back, grinding into his erection. You wanted more. You wanted him to be in the same daze you were in right now, wanted to be one. “Spencer,” you whined, and he laughed, and you wondered if it was possible to get drunk off of a sound.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” he replied, playfully chastising, but the sound of his belt buckle reached your ears and you grinned.

“Just wanna make sure you get something too.” you mumbled.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I had forgotten a condom?”

Now it was your turn to laugh, bracing yourself on your elbows again, and looking over his shoulder.

“Wow, isn’t your whole thing the complete opposite of forgetting?”

“I was a little distracted.” he said, his smile sheepish.

“I don’t mind,” you replied, “I’m on the pill.” 

“You’re sure?”

“Mhm-hmm.” You nodded, one arm moving and blindly grasping for the zipper of your Santa dress. His hand gently encircled your wrist, placing it back on the desk.

“It stays on,” he said, as the blunt tip of his cock pushed past your pussy, “I told you, red is your color.”

Your mouth dropped open as he sheathed himself inside you in one thrust, and wordless expression of pleasure. He had spent a large chunk of time fucking you with his fingers, and the necessity of it dawned upon you now.

He was big.

The stretch made you groan, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy fluttered around him. He pressed his body over yours, pushing you into the desk as he began to rock, in and out of you. Involuntarily, you clenched around him, earning a sharp hiss.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, holding you tightly around the waist with one arm. The other went to the desk, steadying himself as he found a rhythm that made you writhe beneath him, “Oh god, yes.”

You couldn’t even respond, your body moving on autopilot, meeting his every thrust with your hips. The sounds your bodies made were obscene, wet, sloppy noises of flesh meeting flesh. It filled your head, made you dizzy with pleasure. 

“Spencer,” at this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve repeated his name. The world has anchored all meaning to that one sound, and you said it, over and over again, “Spencer.”

“Mhm,” he responded by snapping his hips, pushing his cock so deep into your toes curl, “That’s it, darling, say my name.”

“Spencer,” you said in your broken voice, every repetition turning higher and higher in pitch, and it seemed like the higher your voice went, the harder he fucked you. Your desk banged against the wall from his rough thrusts, joining the cacophony of sounds from your coupling. 

His pace grew rougher, faster, his grip on you reaching the point of painful and bruising, but it made your head spin in the most delicious way possible. You clenched around him, squeezing his cock in an attempt to find your peak, and instead initiating his.

“Fuck—” he groaned, as his load exploded inside you, somehow filling you even more, and you dropped your head to the desk again as your own body shuddered with release. 

Panting, and exhausted, you both stayed there, bent over the desk half upright, like a tower about to topple. He kissed the back of your neck as you fought to catch your breath. Looking over your shoulder, the sight of him fills your vision, hair tousled and sticking to his forehead, his lips smudged with your lipstick, and you couldn’t help but think that red is his color too.