ovrgrwnivy

[ovrgrwnivy]

Omg please write more for Wally Clark. I need some overstimulation kink and I loved your last piece. 💖💖

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ crybaby .ᐟ 3

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ synopsis ; forty years is a long time to go without getting laid, and when one thing leads to another, wally gets a little carried away.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ includes ; wally clark x fem!reader, porn with very little plot, reader is described as having long hair, reader is described as being shorter than wally, unprotected sex ( don’t do this ), oral (m!receiving), fingering, wally has a filthy mouth ( you’re telling me the popular jock wouldn’t talk you through it? ), reader cries ( /pos? )

content below the cut is intended for readers over the age of eighteen, minors do not interact.

ten years, ten long years you had roamed the halls of your old high school. well, haunted would be more fitting.

there was one silver lining, you had died in the cuntiest outfit you owned. a black micro skirt, which in your defence was the fashion in the early two-thousand’s, a leopard print tank top, again, it was all the rage, and a cropped black tracksuit jacket with a fur hood.

if this years students could see you, they probably wouldn’t wanna talk to you.

a pastime of the afterlife included hiding in the janitors closet, attempting to copy the makeup you saw girls today wearing while out of sight of the other ghosts.

thank god you straightened your hair the day you died.

your knees are tucked up to your chest as you look through your overflowing makeup bag, your hand finally grasping the mascara tube you were searching for.

when the door is swung open and slammed in record time you freeze, mascara wand mid air and mouth slightly parted as you look up to see who barged into your hiding place.

wally clark, another ghost. you mentally curse, knowing that you could be seen if he turned around and your hideout was compromised. but wally seemed too distracted to turn around, his hand planted against the door and his head hung low.

you couldn’t help wonder if he was okay, especially when his breathing became more ragged and his forehead fell against the door, right beside his hand.

at first you thought he could be having a panic attack, but when you heard him groan out a quiet ‘fuck’ the realisation hit you like a freight train.

“uh, occupied?”

to say you scared wally was an understatement, his head almost hit the ceiling with how high he jumped before spinning around to see who he’d barged in on, his hand still buried in his sweatpants.

you couldn’t deny wally was attractive, especially now, that cursed varsity jacket abandoned somewhere, leaving him in his white tshirt and grey sweatpants. he was sweating, muscles flexed and that god forsaken chain hanging around his neck.

his eyes land on you, sat on the concrete floor looking up at him, lips still parted from the sudden invasion. for a second he screws his eyes shut, letting his head fall back with a sigh as he took his hand out of his pants.

“sorry,” he deadpans, too frustrated to make the apology sound genuine “didn’t think anyone else came here.”

there’s something that stops you from throwing back a sarcastic quip or a demand to leave, you just sit there staring like a deer in headlights.

“i’ll go.”

when he turns to open the door, your mouth moves faster than your brain can keep up with. not that your brain was much good at the moment, all it kept telling you was how hot wally looked.

“stay.” you blurt out, surprising both yourself and wally as you shift to sit on your knees “let me help you.”

you didn’t know if it was a panic response or ten years of unattended horniness, but you did know you hoped he would agree rather than bolt.

wally is speechless, heavy lidded as he stared down at you, the strain against his sweatpants becoming more noticeable by the second. you can tell he thinks it’s a bad idea, but he was too horny to care.

“fuck it,” he huffed, shoving his pants down just enough to free his dick from its restraint and stroking it slowly.

a grin appears across your face, and you waste no time in wrapping your mouth around him, swirling your tongue in quick circles and relishing the noise he made in response.

his fingers lace through your hair, tugging at it as his hips bucked against your face, his cock forcing its way down your throat with every thrust.

“that’s it, baby.” he groans, fingers tightening in your hair when you ignore your gag reflex and take him until your nose is pressed against his pelvis “shit, you’re so fucking hot. such a good girl, taking my cock so well”

it’s not long until you can feel him twitch against your tongue, letting you know he was getting closer with every flick of your tongue.

you whine when he pulls out of your mouth, but quickly get the message when he continues to work himself with a hand, the other tugging at your hair. you stick your tongue out in anticipation, and the sight alone is enough to finish wally off, managing to get most of his release into your mouth as the rest ran down your chin.

“god, you’re fucking perfect.” wally mumbled, getting you to your feet and pressing your back into the shelves behind you “you’re a mess already, baby.” he mumbles against the skin of your neck, kissing along the skin until he reaches your ear “just imagine how you’re gonna look riding my cock.”

he tears the flimsy fabric of your skirt, as if to punctuate his words, making you gasp in surprise as you’re left in your underwear with wally towering over you.

wally glides his thumb across your chin, collecting the mess he made before pushing the digit into your already open mouth, the fingers of his free hand digging into your hip.

“i’m gonna fuck the shit out of you,” wally warns, ghosting his hand along where you need him most “gonna fuck you so good the whole schools gonna hear you fall apart on my cock.”

“please, wally.” you whimper out, bucking against his hand for some form of contact.

without warning he plunges two fingers into you, holding you up by the neck when your knees go weak and you cry out his name.

“you can be as loud as you want, babe” wally laughs, his thumb rubbing fast circles into your clit as his tongue finds its place on your neck, leaving obvious marks behind as it went “wanna make sure the entire school hears how much of a slut you really are, i mean, who sucks off someone in a janitors closet? you were practically drooling at the thought of me fucking your mouth.”

nothing coherent is leaving your mouth, just babbles of sound between loud moans. wally never lessens his pace, the feeling make you dizzy and blurring your eyes until something snaps, leaving you screaming in pleasure as wally fingers you through your orgasm.

“there’s a good girl,” wally coos, removing his fingers and placing them in his mouth while his free hand shoved your underwear down your legs “i’m gonna destroy you, baby, starting right here.”

he slowly drags a finger across your clit before shoving off this sweatpants entirely. the closet is a cramped, sweaty mess as you both desperately undress each other until you’re both in nothing but your socks.

“fuck,” wally sighs, biting down on his lip as he looked you over “i wanna see you ride me so bad but, don’t think it’s gonna happen here.”

after a beat he’s turning you away from him, bending you over a shelf to give you something to hold onto before sliding into you with no warning.

his pace is relentless, slamming into you hard and fast, pulling your hair back into a makeshift ponytail to pull you back towards him.

“you’re doing so good, gorgeous. taking me so fucking well, look so pretty on my cock,” wally groans out, pistioning his hips at a speed that sends your second orgasm crashing through you without warning.

“good girl,” wally coos, wrapping an arm around your waist to continue his assault on your clit “that’s it, baby, that’s it. fuck, you’re so fucking hot making a mess all over my cock, my pretty girl.”

tears spill down your face, tracking mascara along your cheeks as he continues rutting into you. the overstimulation leaving your brain short circuiting, leaving you only able to cry out his name as drool pooled in the corner of your mouth.

your fucked out state only motivates wally more as his thrusts become more and more desperate until he finally releases inside of you with a low groan, the feeling of him running down your inner thigh is enough to throw you into your third orgasm.

“you did so good, pretty girl.” wally praises, slipping out of you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder “fuck, i haven’t fucked like that in forever.”

“mm, same” you mumble out, completely fucked out and barely able to stand let alone speak.

“ruined your makeup,” wally sighs apologetically, glancing down at the now abandoned makeup bag as he began to redress “come find me when you’re done, yeah? i still wanna see you riding me.”

[ovrgrwnivy]

hi angels!

some of you may have noticed i have been missing for quite some time. as some of you may know, in july of 2024 i was in an accident in which i fractured my neck, spine and damaged my central nervous system. my mental health was the lowest it had ever been. in the past couple of months i have been diagnosed with epilepsy as a result of the damage caused to my nervous system, because of this i have had my license voided, had to sell my car and am officially medically disabled.

as a 22 year old who was previously extremely independent, driving and working two jobs, you can imagine how something like this impacted me and my mental health. i distanced myself from friends, family and even my partner. i stopped doing the things i loved most and even began to blame myself despite the accident being something completely out of anyone’s control.

thankfully, i am healing both mentally and physically, slowly but surely. i am going to try my absolute best to get back into the swing of writing, and requests are open, but please show grace and allow me to take the time to ease back into writing.

if you read this far, you’re a trooper, and i thank you from the bottom of my heart.

love, ivy.

[ovrgrwnivy]

reader craves jj and is a virgin, you make up the rest 🥹

dirty little secret ! jj maybank x reader

synopsis; liquid courage, more commonly known as gin, gives you the confidence to finally approach the infamous jj maybank.

warnings; jj maybank x virgin!cameron!reader, innocence kink, loss of virginity, sexual content, jj having a filthy mouth, i may have gotten carried away.., under the cut.

-

the night air whips around you, making you wrap your flimsy cardigan around your body. the bonfire does very little to keep you warm, and you haven't drank enough for the alcohol to start warming you up.

you can't remember the last party you had attended at the boneyard, your sister, sarah, was a frequent flier, your brother rafe was a law onto himself.

but still, regardless of the cold, you're having fun. not as much fun as the rowdy pouges in your peripheral vision, despite how much you wanted to join in. kooks and pouges didn't mix, it was the law of the land and you knew better than to go against it. that and your father would probably keel over if you started running around the island with people your family couldn't stand.

it wasn’t easy, especially when you kept making eye contact with a certain blonde every time you looked in the groups direction.

the more you drank, the more you found yourself staring, and after a particularly strong drink you had somehow drifted closer to the pouges.

“sarah’s sister, right?” john b asks, recognising you from his work on your dads boat.

all you can give in response is a nod, afraid you’d say something ridiculous given your current state. besides, with jj maybank eyeing you up from behind john b it was hard to think straight.

barely five minutes of small talk has passed by the time an equally inebriated jj is getting handsy. placing a hand on your waist whenever he passed by you, lingering close by whenever another guy joined the group, and eventually he was pressed against the back of you, his hands on your hips as he stared down the guy who’d approached you with a drink.

it’s a blur to you, how you went from standing in the boneyard to leaning back against the twinkie, john b’s affectionately name rust bucket, with jj standing in front of you, that damned smirk on his face.

“you’re trouble,” you laugh, rolling your eyes at a particularly racy comment he’d made.

“oh, my bad princess,” jj taunted, an arm extending to plant a hand beside your head “i forgot you’re too good for a pouge, too used to getting fucked by kooks.”

“oh, of course. because rafe definitely lets anyone close enough for me to sleep around.”

you don’t miss how his jaw tightens at the mention of your brother, or how he’s gotten a lot closer in the last few seconds.

neither of you speak a word, the tension between you sitting heavy on both your chests. you move first, fingers grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him into you.

the kiss was messy, your hands in his hair as his roamed your body, roughly tugging your cardigan off your shoulders.

“gonna let me make you feel good, baby?” jj mumbles into your ear as his nips along your neck “let a dirty pouge destroy the pretty princess?”

your head falls back against the van with a mewl, you can’t even form anything other than a babble as you nod quickly “i haven’t — i’ve never..”

“i know, baby.” jj cuts you off, sparing you the awkwardness of trying to explain you were still a virgin “and if you wanna stop, i’ll stop”

part of you was surprised that even though you were both drunk, and supposed to be sworn enemies, he was putting your comfort above everything.

that and it was extremely hot.

you respond by dragging him into you again, your lips meeting in another messy, desperate kiss as jj fumbled with the hem of your skirt.

slowly he drags his fingers along your abdomen before dipping them into your underwear, slowly drawing circles along your clit.

“jj!” your whine prompts him to quicken his work, his middle and ring finger dipping inside as his thumb pushed hard, fast circles into your most sensitive spot.

“you like that, princess?” jj’s voice is gentle, a stark contrast from his hand tightening that unfamiliar knot in your stomach, his other reaching to undo his jeans.

wordlessly, his free hand reaches down to cup your ass, easily lifting you from your spot on the ground. he keeps you pressed against the van, your legs wrapping around his waist as your hands grip his biceps.

the whole scenario was a mess, making out sloppily as you both tried tugging at each others clothes in an effort to get what you really wanted.

between laboured breaths and quiet moans, your skirt had been pulled up and out of your way, bunched up at your hips as jj pulled your underwear to the side and lined himself up.

slowly, he pushed himself inside, his head falling back with a groan when he was fully buried inside you. he stilled for a moment, giving you time to adjust as his mouth captured yours once again.

the gentleness is short lived, as soon as your winces and hisses turn into moans and screams of his name he’s slamming into you, one hand placed on your neck to pin you against the cold metal as the other gripped your ass hard.

“wonder what brother dearest would say about this,” jj laughed harshly, pistoning into you harder and deeper with every moan “what do you think, baby? think your big, bad brother would be happy to know his baby sister is taking my cock like such a good girl? think those stuck up kooks would be impressed if they heard you let a filthy pouge fuck you, huh? or if they knew you screamed my name as i fucking destroyed this perfect pussy, let alone took your virginity.”

the absolute filth was enough to snap the band in your stomach, making you scream out as you tightened around him. but jj wasn’t done just yet, not only was he chasing his own high, he was making sure nobody else would make you feel the way he was right now.

“that’s it, pretty girl.” he groaned, the hand around your neck dropping to play with your clit “you look so pretty making such a mess on my cock, fuck. you did so good, angel.”

your eyes are rolling back, overstimulation tracking tears down your cheeks and sending jolts through your body as he continued fucking into you relentlessly.

“driving me fucking crazy, knowing i’m the only one that ever fucked you, knowing nobody but me had you screaming, making a mess all over my cock.”

with a final thrust, jj buries himself inside you. his head buried in the crook of your neck as the noise of you both falling apart is masked by the party raging on only a couple feet away.

it takes a minute for you both to get back to reality, and when you do jj is already wiping the tears from your face.

“y’okay?” his laboured breath and tired voice sending goosebumps through your entire body.

you nod, too fucked out to even speak right now. your head is tilted back against the van, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you attempt to unscramble your brain.

a gentle whine escapes you when jj pulls out, carefully placing you on your feet and sliding open the back door of the twinkie for you to sit down.

“gotta get cleaned up,” you mumble, the wetness collecting in your underwear making you reluctant to sitting down just yet.

jj chuckled as he redid his jeans, his head shaking as he found the whole ordeal, or more so your cluelessness, pretty amusing “don’t think you’ll find a shower out here, princess. looks like you’ll have to spend the rest of tonight with a little me in you.”

your face heats up as you straighten yourself up, collecting your cardigan from the floor “how nice of you.”

“between the great dick and this, you can’t say i never gave you nothin’.”

you laugh at the joke, hearing footsteps approaching the van and catching a glimpse of kiara heading your way.

“i’m sorry, i better..” you trail off, gesturing towards the party. you weren’t embarrassed about what happened, but at the same time your little encounter with jj would be enough to start a civil war.

jj shakes his head, giving you a knowing look “i get it, it’s cool. and i won’t tell anyone.”

you offer him a soft smile, a wordless thanks and an agreement to do the same before heading back towards the boneyard in a way that would keep you from running into kiara.

“hey, angel!” jj calls out, making you stop and look back “we should do this again sometime.”

[ovrgrwnivy]

Story Recommendations part 2

Okay so 95% of what I read on here is Wally Clark fan fiction, I do however, read others (they just so happen to be other Milo Manheim characters, what can I say the man does something to me🤭😜) and thought I would share my favourites. I will update every so often when I can.

Zombies- Zed Necrodopolis

Bubblegum by @whoopsyeahokay

Stupid Z- band by @cades-outsider

Awkward Question by @stray-kaz

Betwixt (part 2 of awkward question) by @stray-kaz

Midnight Resolution (part 3 of awkward question) by @stray-kaz

When the sun falls by @naok-iyuu

Love is about the details by @naok-iyuu

Its beginning to look a lot like... by @naok-iyuu

A cup full of love by @naok-iyuu

Rushed beginnings by @littlelalu

Undying Desire by @dylobilysmomg

Prom Pact- Ben Plunkett

Death Star by @ryrywrites

Study Routine by @simpingland

Bookstore by @littlelalu

Thanksgiving- Ryan Baker

Ride by @solarismoons

Spend time between the holidays by @rosietoesy

Bound by fear by @dylobilysmomg

Every breath you take by @bloatedandalone04

I want to wear his initial by @ovrgrwnivy

Milo Manheim

No Broke Boys by @yourmomsawh0r3

Smart Girl by @aionue-writes

Obviously by @aionue-writes

Shapeshifter? by @aionue-writes (chapter 1)

Shapeshifter? by @aionue-writes(chapter 2)

Shapeshifter? by @aionue-writes (chapter 3)

Stories by @littlelalu

Lego Date

Study Date

First impressions

Facetime

I love you

I love you (alternative ending)

Unplanned encounters

Unplanned encounters part 2

A new chapter

Stolen moments

Stolen moments part 2

A perfect fall day

Dangerous games

In the spirit of halloween

[ovrgrwnivy]

back in my milo manheim era, nature is healing.

[ovrgrwnivy]

𐙚 preachers daughter masterlist .ᐟ ꒱

the upload schedule for my upcoming spencer reid x hotch!reader series .ᐟ this will be updated frequently as i publish parts .ᐟ

family tree ( intro ) — february third .ᐟ

american teenager — february seventh .ᐟ

a house in nebraska — february eleventh .ᐟ

western nights — february fifteenth .ᐟ

family tree — tbd .ᐟ

hard times — tbd .ᐟ

thoroughfare — tbd .ᐟ

gibson girl — tbd .ᐟ

ptolemaea — tbd .ᐟ

august underground — tbd .ᐟ

televangelism — tbd .ᐟ

sun bleached files — tbd .ᐟ

strangers — tbd .ᐟ

[ovrgrwnivy]

CLASSIFIED ; spencer reid

synopsis ; a sleepy morning turns into spencer falling over himself to get to work on time, forgetting his badge behind him.

includes ; spencer reid x fem!reader, kissing, getting interrupted by the bau, secret relationship

sunlight flittered through your blinds, heat radiated off your boyfriend who laid beside you, his arm draped over you as he slept peacefully. you card your fingers through his hair, unintentionally stirring him from his sleep.

“oh, i’m sorry baby” you apologise, voice soft in an attempt to keep him from waking up any further “go back to sleep.”

it was a rare day off for spencer, by your second date he’d told you he was in the bau, by your fifth you had gotten used to work tearing him away. but despite the annoyance, you had gotten used to it. you understood his job was important, you understood that evil wouldn’t take a break just so you could keep your boyfriend all to yourself.

when you asked him how personal time worked, he admitted to you that his team didn’t know he had a girlfriend. it stung a little, but when he explained that his job would be putting you at risk it softened the blow.

you’d heard the horror stories, how his boss’s wife was killed just so the unsub could get to him, about another girl who had been shot simply for being an agent.

it sucked, but you understood why, at least for now, spencer didn’t want to broadcast you all over the office.

“don’t wanna,” spencer mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he blinked his eyes open “don’t wanna waste my one day off.”

you couldn’t help the small smile that appeared when he said that, days off may be hard to come by but spencer made sure you were the sole focus for every second of them.

he propped himself up on his elbow, his other hand tightening its grip on your waist to pull you closer “c’mere, pretty”

his sleepy voice makes the words sound even better as you lazily wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers toying with the hair at the back of his head.

he presses a lazy kiss to your lips, which quickly spirals into something deeper. his hands grip at your waist, desperate, like he was afraid that if he loosened his grip you’d disappear.

trails of nips and kisses are dragged along your neck as he moves to hover over you, your breathing is shallow, fingers tightening in his hair as his hand slides over the surface of your stomach, fingers tracing along the hem of your underwear.

“fuck,” spencer mumbles, long fingers slipping under the fabric agonisingly slowly “you look so pretty, baby, so pretty under me.”

you let your eyes fall closed, his mouth still attached to your neck as his fingers ghosted across your skin.

until his phone rings, eliciting a frustrated groan from you both. you watch as he reluctantly reaches for it to see who’s calling. you don’t need to ask, his irate expression tells you it’s work.

“yeah?” his tone is blunt, uncharacteristically so but you can’t exactly blame him “what? no, i’m not supposed to be — right. fine.”

he doesn’t need to explain what’s going on, you already know by the way he jumps out of bed and hurriedly starts getting ready to head into work.

it’s immature, you know, but you can’t help but cross your arms in annoyance as you watch him bolt back and forth around the room.

“sorry, baby.” spencer sighs, easily reading the mixture of frustration and disappointment in your expression “i’ll make it up to you, promise.”

you hum in agreement as he presses a kiss to your forehead, promising to call you when he could before disappearing out of the room, and in turn, your apartment. you stay in bed a little longer, feeling sorry for yourself and worrying about your boyfriend at the same time.

the floor is a mess, both yours and spencer’s clothes strewn around as well as decorative pillows and comforters. as you begin picking clothes up from the floor, your eyes fall on a small, rectangular piece of leather hidden under a pair of socks.

spencer’s badge.

you gnaw on your bottom lip, conflicted on what to do. by now spencer would already be at the office, calling him to come back would cut important time from his schedule. but without it he’d be in trouble.

you needed to bring it to him without airing his personal business to the entire building, which is how you ended up signing in as a visitor who was here to meet with agent derek morgan.

the only name you heard from spencer that you could remember confidently.

a serious looking woman showed you the way to the bau office, your fingers nervously drumming on the leather cover of the badge as you headed up the elevator.

all hope was lost once you stepped out, two glass doors showcasing the expanse of the office filled with people shoulder deep in whatever they were working on.

you look around the hallway like a deer in headlights, unsure if you could just walk in or if you could just give the badge to someone else to pass on to spencer.

“you okay!?” a cheerful blonde approaches you, seemingly from nowhere. arms stacked with files and carrying a coffee cup at the same time.

“uh,” you’d feel guilty adding to her workload “do you need a hand?”

mentally you face palm, cursing yourself for your lack of social skills in the simplest of situations.

“please!” the woman gasps, the ceramic mug wobbling in her hand “hotch is going to kill me if i spill coffee all over his case. i already told him ‘mister hotch sir, it would be easier to go digital’ but nooo.”

you laugh softly, taking the mug from her unstable hand and tugging open the door for her.

surely you could enter with someone who was actually allowed in the office.

“follow me!”

she’s speeding ahead, a woman on a mission, up the steps and into what seems like a conference room. you trail behind apprehensively, not wanting to get either of you into trouble by just swanning in.

“if there’s any dismembered bodies or general badness on the screen i swear to god!” she warns, rounding a corner and disappearing into the room.

you hang back awkwardly, partly because you have no business in there but mostly just in case there was any dismembered people on display.

“you’re all good!” her head pops around the corner and she motions for you to come in, so you do.

there’s barely time to register your surroundings, a circular table with a group of people sitting around it. you spot spencer instantly, you don’t even attempt to guess who everyone else is.

his head is buried in a case file, so your presence is unknown to him. which isn’t a surprise considering you’re not meant to be in the building let alone the office.

“garcia, we talked about this.”

a stern voice comes from a tall, serious looking man. you didn’t need to be a genius to work out he was most definitely spencers boss.

“right.” the woman, garcia, presses her mouth into a thin line as she gently takes the mug from your hands “do you know where you’re meant to be, lovely?”

“oh, uh, here actually.”

as you retrieve the badge from your back pocket, spencers head snaps up at the sound of your voice. his eyes widen slightly and a small smile makes its way onto his face.

“hey, what are you doing here?”

his question catches you off guard, even more so when he gets to his feet and moves around the table towards you.

wordlessly, you hand over his id, the perfectly rehearsed excuse of finding it at a cafe stuck in your throat now that spencer had made it known you weren’t a stranger.

“how did i — thank you.” his smile widens slightly, his hand resting on your waist briefly as he pressed a thankful kiss to your temple “i’ll call you on the plane, okay?”

you knew he wasn’t trying to brush you off, but he was evidently busy and you had no actual reason to still be here.

you nod, face warming up when he gives you another quick kiss before you go, sending a tiny smile and a brief wave towards the rest of the team.

as you gently shut the door behind you, you aren’t quick enough to miss the questions thrown in spencers direction. even laughing softly at garcias exclamation of “spencer has a girlfriend!”

[ovrgrwnivy]

𐙚 muses .ᐟ ꒱

a list of characters i am most willing to write currently .ᐟ this list is subject to change depending on who i’m feeling .ᐟ

spencer reid — criminal minds

jennifer jareau — criminal minds

emily prentiss — criminal minds

jj maybank — outer banks

rafe cameron — outer banks

[ovrgrwnivy]

𐙚 directory .ᐟ ꒱

all my works laid out in one place .ᐟ i will try my best to keep this updated as much as possible .ᐟ

divider made by my baby @esote-rika 💕

juno .ᐟ spencer reid x bau!reader

bejewelled .ᐟ spencer reid x bau!reader

mastermind .ᐟ spencer reid x gideon!reader

prison for life .ᐟ spencer reid x bau!reader

haunting adeline .ᐟ spencer reid x bau!reader

the walls series .ᐟ jj maybank x routledge!reader

domestic life .ᐟ jj maybank x reader

protective jj .ᐟ jj maybank x reader

i can see you .ᐟ wally clark x reader

boyfriendism .ᐟ wally clark x reader

obsessed wally .ᐟ wally clark x reader

i want to wear his initial .ᐟ ryan baker x reader

[ovrgrwnivy]

procrastinated too close to the sun and now my blog is under construction again

[ovrgrwnivy]

if you love me you will send me ideas

[ovrgrwnivy]

and the crowd is . . . taking their clothes off?

spencer doing life changing work by gently pressing on readers lower stomach as he fucks her?

i’m such a whore okay yes. this isn’t the greatest because i am sleep deprived but i hope it’s still enjoyable!

nsfw | mdni | spencer x reader | unprotected sex, squirting

spencer’s cock thrusted in and out of you at a fast pace, hitting that special spot inside of you repeatedly. you were a whining and drooling mess underneath him, your pussy soaked from how aroused you were. to say you were horny was an understatement to say the least. and spencer? well he was always ready to make sure you had the time of your life.

“fuck, baby, you’re so wet,” he groaned, looking down at you as he fucked you. your hair was sprawled out on the pillow, a hand gripping the sheets while the other was intertwined with spencer’s. he continued to fuck you as though he were on a mission.

“is so good, so good,” you babbled, eyes closed in pleasure. spencer’s cock filled you up so well, hitting deeply inside of you. you felt your release nearing with each thrust, being so close to finishing. “so close,” you whined, arching your back.

“good girl,” spencer moaned, using his free hand to press onto your lower stomach, adding to your pleasure. your moans increased with that subtle movement. the sound of spencer’s cock thrusting into you got wetter as you gushed around his cock. spencer let out a loud groan, losing himself to the wetness and tightness of your cunt.

and after a few thrusts, you began cumming, writhing on the bed as you moaned spencer’s name loudly. it didn’t take long for spencer to follow suit, cumming inside of you with your name coming out of his lips like a mantra.

when you both had finished, you opened your eyes to looked up at spencer. the both of you were breathing heavily as you came down from your highs. his hand was still on your stomach as he looked down to see the mess you made. “that was so beautiful,” spencer exclaimed, seeing that you wet the blankets and sheets.

you let out a breathless laugh, your cheeks reddening with embarrassment. “stop,” you said back.

spencer looked at you with an adoring smile. “never,” he said. “i’m definitely making you do that again.”

[ovrgrwnivy]

if anyone wants to join, you're welcome to<33 all your favourite writers (and others ofcourse) show their true selves

[ovrgrwnivy]

YUP

Fix - S.R. x BAU!reader - Chapter 2

"What a terrible feeling, to love someone and not be able to hlep them."

-Jennifer Niven

WIP - CH2 - 3.2k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader, 2nd person, no use of Y/N Summary: you reminisce on your early days at the BAU, and your friendship with Spencer. Present day, Spencer reveals his truth about being held hostage, and you feel a little less lonely. Content: unrealized love, slow burn, some light fluff, drama, truly a criminal minds plot NGL TW: guns & violence typical to any Criminal Minds episode, anxiety attack (sorta), mention of potential death? A/N: ch 2 filling in some gaps about Spencer & reader's history, adding some more tension, kinda emo but that's what slow burns are for! these chapters are poorly gonna be a bit longer from here on out if I had to guess.

chapter 1, masterlist

2

In all of the moments you breathe in, you feel guilt. In all of the moments you breathe out, you feel remorse. With every beat of your heart, you wrestle with the complexities of saving a life and risking your life in the process, and across from you on the plane, a man who tangles and complicates every thought in side your head is reading a James Bond book, of all things.

The flight back to Quantico feels long. You feel hungover; you’ll eventually debrief when you get back to the office, but for now, everyone seems to be intentionally giving you space. Whether it’s the dark circles under your eyes, or just the general “don’t wanna talk about it” vibe you’re exuding, no one tries to corral you into the conversation. The others chattering lightly with each other becomes easy noise in the background that you ignore.

Well–most of the others; you can’t help but notice Spencer, in the seat across from you, seems to be avoiding conversation as well. He has his nose in the book, but if he’s actually reading it, he’s reading it decidedly slower than his usual speed reading. He must feel your eyes on him, because his eyes snap to yours, probing. 

You look away, pretending to be interested in what was out the window behind you. Whatever was bothering Spencer wasn’t something you were able to crack–was it general disapproval of your decisions last night? He didn’t seem angry–it almost seems as if he’s.. Sad? You want to ask, want to check on him, but all morning you’d been with the rest of the team, and it felt like a topic that could only be breached in privacy. 

On top of that, you couldn’t help but feel that his dejected state was your fault, which only added to your feelings of guilt.

In a way, you’re grateful for the grace you’ve been given–you deserve to be chewed out, after all, for running in alone with no backup close by. You got lucky; the outcome was ideal–but this was the first big mistake you’d made with your team.

6 months previous

It was your first day with the BAU. All morning you’d been stressed out about your outfit–which felt like something so silly, but in a room full of profilers, first impressions were everything. 

You knew they’d been briefed–they had your file, which mostly contained things like “ambitious, level-headed, critical thinker”. Your quantitative information was impressive, your IQ of 140 and your high physical and practical skills exams all outstanding. All of this together would lend to a predisposition to have extraordinary standards to meet, and despite being proud of your accomplishments, heading into a new job where your team will garner high expectations was intimidating, to say the least. 

So you stressed over your outfit. Gray slacks or black? You feel more confident in black. But gray is smart? Maybe black will show wrinkles–well, you can iron them, so that point is moot. The shirt choice is more complicated. You settled on something form fitting–confidence will ultimately make you more comfortable. You even had time to curl your hair with wide curls brushed out to make some gentle waves, and this gave you the boost of confidence you needed to feel like you can tackle anything.

Later, as you walk into the bullpen–you’d been oriented to the building and set up with a badge in the database last week–you think it won’t be so bad. 

Your team had a meeting. You’d already met Rossi and Morgan, but you get acquainted with Prentiss, Rossi, Garcia, JJ, and Dr. Spencer Reid. Everyone seemed kind, and more importantly, everyone made you feel welcome and at-ease. It didn’t feel like coming into a new group of friends in high school, where you had to prove yourself–a base level of respect was established from your first meeting, and though you were sure it would take time to build trust, you already knew that everyone in the room was on your team.

As you were briefed on the first case–you’d ride along, but would be taking a back seat on this one–one person in particular catches your attention more than the others. Dr. Reid, who must be close to your age, is quick. You can tell that his mind is like yours, that it moves faster, but you also know he’s over-informed. The way he analyzes and theorizes so technically is unlike anything you’d seen before–and you surmise he must have some sort of eidetic memory with his ability to recall facts and statistics like he was talking about the weather. 

He reminded you a bit of your father, if you were being honest. Your father, a professor of quantum physics at MIT, was calculated, if not a bit distracted, and one of the smartest people you’d ever met. Your father, however, was not so great with interpersonal relationships–you knew he loved you, and you knew he cared for you, but he wasn’t a master of expressing it. You didn’t feel neglected; just a mere casualty of being a child of a highly intelligent man. Though you were glad you inherited his intelligence, you were grateful that you also inherited your mom’s considerable social skills. You were empathetic, and you understood and were able to dissect human behavior on a molecular level–which is how you found yourself as a member of the BAU. 

The meeting adjourned–wheels up in forty, getting thrown right into it–and you found your bare desk, pulling out the go bag you’d quickly dumped on your way into the conference room. As you shuffled through your bag, double-checking you have everything you need, Dr. Reid walks up to you, two coffees in hand. You don’t expect him to put one down for you, but he does, and the kindness is welcomed. 

“Figured you may need a coffee,” he said gently, “you haven’t been to the break room yet this morning, so I grabbed one for you.” He was right, and something in your stomach blossomed at the idea that he’d been observing you. You picked up the coffee, surprised to notice that there was milk in it already–a bold assumption on his part, though correct–and then you remembered you were in a room full of profilers. 

“Half and half?” you asked, taking a sip. “How’d you know?” you teased, to which he smirked. “I’ll let you figure that one out,” he quipped, and as he walked away, you stared after him in awe. 

Well, that complicates things. 

You shook it off, chastising yourself. He’s just being nice. Sure, he’s cute–but if you’re attracted to him, it’s meaningless, and you can chalk it up to that weird phenomenon that occurs when there’s baseline sexual tension between you and the only other person in the room close to your age. No need to complicate things further–this job was too important to risk messing up by some meaningless crush on a coworker.

The first two weeks on the job were mostly uneventful–you sat back when things got intense at first, then started getting more hands-on as you balanced the dynamics and learned the ropes. There were some intense moments–Morgan was a tactical genius, but things get hairy when you’re working with serial killers–yet overall, uneventful.

You were feeling comfortable with your team, comfortable enough that your sense of humor was starting to come out. You still felt a bit vulnerable at times–but Emily was nice, always making sure you knew you weren’t alone, and Morgan’s physical presence made you feel safe.

Rossi was kind and had been helpful as a bit of a mentor, politely quizzing you on the history of different serial killers, explaining bits of behavioral analysis that are less studied. You’re a sponge to anything Rossi has to share; though you’d observed he could be a bit bull-headed, he had more experience under his belt as a profiler than anyone you’d ever met. 

Hotch is an incredible team leader. He stops to fill you and catch you up, and asks every day how you’re holding up. You say you’re doing well–and you are, really. Nothing you’ve seen so far has been out of your realm of expectation. Truly, one is unable to fully prepare themselves mentally for violence or serial killers. That being said, you knew you’d see horrible things, so nothing surprised you. Your team was responsible for catching some of the most horrific murderers and psychopaths on the planet–it was basically in the job description to experience horrible things. 

And Spencer–Spencer had grown on you. Sure, he’d rattle to you about some obscure language in Star Trek before you’d finished your first cup of coffee–but you and Spencer would regularly end up keeping each other company, analyzing files and evidence late at night, bouncing ideas off each other. Spencer had an ability to push you–to challenge your thoughts, helping you find conclusions on your own without influence. He was always the smartest person in the room, but always made you feel smarter. It almost seemed like he enjoyed watching you win, constantly crediting you on your breakthroughs and touting your clever summations to the rest of the team. 

You’d just flown back from a case in Washington state, and most of the team were at their respective desks with their heads down, all working on the hefty load of paperwork that always followed a case–detailed reports on the profile, the suspect, the arrest, the victims all played an important role in the criminal justice system–and creating a trail of paper behind an unsub always ensured the case would remain a source of further education to reference. 

As you were working your way through an incident report, you yawned, still tired from the red-eye flight back on the plane this morning. When you lifted your mug–an antique ceramic mug glazed with flowers that you’d brought from home, to help personalize your space at the office–you were gutted to realize it was empty. You made eye contact with Spencer at the desk across from you, raising your mug and an eyebrow, to which he nodded. The two of you got up and walked towards the break room, empty mugs in hand. When you both saw the carafe–a mere 6 oz of hot bean water inside–Spencer quickly grabbed it and you’d be lying if you didn’t internally groan. He surprised you, though, when instead of pouring it into his mug, he held up the carafe, beckoning wordlessly for you to hold your mug out for him to fill. 

As you watched him drain the last of the coffee into your flowery cup, you stared at him, surprised by the sacrifice–after all, Spencer is kind, but giving away the end of a brew is a kindness you aren’t sure you’d be able to exhibit yourself. 

“I wanted tea, anyways,” he said, putting the empty carafe away and reaching for the hot water spigot on the coffee maker. You snorted, not buying it for a minute. “What? Tea contains the amino acid L-Theanine which actually works alongside caffeine and can help improve cognitive performance and alertness. The combination of L-Theanine and caffeine  improves both speed and accuracy of performance of attention-switching, and reduces–” “You only drink tea at night, herbal tea, when you’re on the plane and want to sleep,” you interrupted his science lesson, amused as Spencer avoided eye contact and lightly flushed at how well you’d pinned him; until he reached into the fridge and pulled out the half-and-half, handing it over to you with a challenging smirk, effectively silencing your teasing. As you added the half-and-half into your coffee, he rifled through the drawer of tea, emerging victorious with a sachet of earl gray. He made a big show of ripping open the bag and dunking it in his water, wiggling his eyebrows at you, and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“I owe you,” you said, admittedly a little affectionately, and you could swear his cheeks prickled pink. Your eyes caught on his cheek bones, delicate skin over sharp lines, dark eyelashes fluttering as he looked down at his cup. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, and you both knew it wasn’t nothing. 

From that day on, without acknowledgement, the two of you continued to meet regularly in the break room for coffee, privately sharing jokes and pointed glances. You couldn’t quite acknowledge how much you looked forward to your little break room dates; if anyone notices, no one says anything.

present

When you land at Quantico, you quickly gather your things and hurry off the plane. It’s still early, and you will have to debrief with Hotch first thing, but you’re hoping to sneak a few minutes on your own to freshen up and feel like a human again. The last 24 hours have taken a lot out of you–and as you walk into the bathroom just off the bullpen, the mottled bruise on your neck is a shocking reminder of the trauma of last night. You sigh, splashing water on your face; your button-down shirt is creased, but it’s the only one you had left clean in your go bag–you’ll have to sneak down to the laundry room at the office today between files and start a load. That is, if you survive this conversation with Hotch; whatever chewing out you are about to receive, you deserve it. 

After you finish freshening up, you brace your hands on either side of the sink and stare into the mirror, taking some practiced deep breaths before walking back out of the bathroom. 

You don’t expect to practically hit Spencer with the door on your way out.

“Can we talk?” he asks, eyes glossy. You realize he was waiting for you, and you weren’t expecting this confrontation, but then he doesn’t seem angry–more… wary.. You nod, following him, grateful that you took a moment to yourself before whatever this conversation was about to consist of.  

The two of you duck into an empty conference room, and as Spencer closes the door, you slowly spin to look at him, unable to read him. You’d hadn’t in six months seen him so hesitant. He turns to look at you, taking you in, a small crease between his eyebrows. 

“I just… wanted to tell you something. I was really worried last night, we all were, but when you put yourself in danger-” that bit comes out cuttingly, and he takes a breath before continuing, “when we pulled up to the house, and you were already inside, it was.. particularly difficult for me, personally.” You tilt your head, questioning, patiently waiting for him to elaborate. 

“When I was new to this team, I lacked tactical adroitness. The Bureau actually waived my physical exams; for a while I wasn’t even allowed to carry a weapon,” he chuckled dryly. “There was a case outside of Atlanta. We’d profiled a killing team, and I’d run into a situation without backup…” he trails off, voice breaking. He clears his throat before continuing matter-of-factly, “The killing team was actually just one man, Tobias Hankel, with dissociative identity disorder and a lot of religious trauma. I was caught without backup and was held hostage, and it went poorly. I almost died–actually, I DID die.” He looks at you, brow creased. “He was a visionary-type serial killer with a history of drug addiction, and his host personality thought he was doing me a kindness by giving me dilaudid.” You couldn’t stop your sudden intake of breath, and you looked down at your shoes. 

“I struggled a while after that. With dilaudid, and with a lot of trauma. I was young and rushed into a situation without thinking, and there hasn’t been a day since I walked away from that farm that I haven’t thought about how different the outcome could have been.”

This Spencer standing in front of you is so unlike the Spencer you’d grown to know. He seems ashamed, and heavy–so much heavier than you’d ever seen him before. Without thinking, you reach out a hand, pulling it back as quickly as you lift it. Spencer doesn’t really like to be touched, but you felt the need to comfort him.

He took a small step towards you. “I’m sorry if I seemed angry, before,” he said more quietly. His eyes snap to yours, baring down. “I could tell you were picking up on my mood. I wasn’t angry, but my feelings about the situation are complicated, to say the least. You scared me,” he finishes, and your cheeks heat with shame. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I really messed up, Spence,” the nickname slips out, your eyes prickling with tears. You feel so drained; your mistake has affected everyone, and your lucky outcome doesn't seem to be enough to make up for what you’d done, stupidly rushing in on your own. You had no idea that Spencer would feel this way, triggered by an awful thing, and now that you know this story, you doubt he’s the only one. 

“Please, don’t apologize to me,” Spencer implores, and you’re surprised but grounded when he reaches for your wrist. “You did a good thing. A very risky thing, but you saved a girl’s life. I should’ve been there. If I’d gone along with you to the hotel–”

“Don’t, please,” you interrupt. “Don’t try to find your own fault in this. Please. I made a reckless decision and I made my team vulnerable. That’s on me. The girl is okay, and we caught the bad guy, and I’m lucky for that.”

“We were supposed to be partners on this case. You could have died,” he pushed, and you didn’t know how to respond. You had let him down. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I will always feel responsible for your well being,” he adds, and that snaps you to attention. You stare at him, looking into his eyes, trying to understand what he meant by saying that. He doesn’t say anything else, but the tender squeeze of your wrist that he is still holding makes your head go fuzzy. He steps closer, pulling you into a gentle hug. You sigh into him, still in turmoil–but his warmth spreads into your chest, and you feel supported.

In an instant the moment is over, and he steps back. “Don’t worry about Hotch,” he says quietly, “he’s going to be hard on you, because it’s his job. He already knows you learn from your mistakes, he just needs to make sure you know you're on a team. You have to rely on us,” he stresses. You nod in acceptance, and he gives you a soft smile. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and after a beat you decide to be honest. 

“I feel really guilty. Horribly guilty,” you admit. “I feel like I’ve made a mistake… but I also saved someone’s life, and I’m really wrestling with the feeling that saving someone’s life could ever be a mistake.” Spencer nods at that. “Physically I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,” you admit, subconsciously reaching to brush your throat. Spencer follows your hand, frown deepening as he takes in the sight of your bruised neck. 

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there,” he says, but his tone is different this time. He sounds sad again, and his admission feels more intimate than you care to admit. You give him the kind of smile that hurts a little, and he smiles back. You wish you could drag this moment out, but you also feel your heart starting to race in a way you’re not equipped to unpack at the moment. 

“I should get to Hotch,” you say, gesturing to the door, and Spencer nods quickly, stepping to the side. You walk out the door, bracing yourself for another tough conversation–though a very different type of tough conversation than the one you just faced, you feel a renewed kind of forbearance for the situation and walk to Hotchner’s office with a little more strength than when you’d stepped off the plane.

link to masterlist

[ovrgrwnivy]

exactly 🙂‍↕️

reader giving chip a blowjob as a reward after a successful robery

Lover, my darling I see you and your Chip Taylor agenda and I fully support it. Went a little off the rails, but I’m ovulating so sfjegerlk

Contents: fem!reader, mentions of burglary, blowjobs, MDNI

Here’s the thing. Neither of you expected for the plan to work. Chip certainly seemed anxious the entire time, and you would have been offended about that if you didn’t have the same, very slight hint of doubt in the back of your mind. After all, this plan to rob a rich asshole’s house could very easily blow up in your faces.

Trespassing, breaking and entering, attempted robbery. The list of crimes whirls in your head, taunting you with the promise of prison, of being away from Chip, and the very thought of separation from your boyfriend is enough to make you completely locked in. A hundred and ten percent focus.

When you leave with thousands of dollars in cash, you wait until you’re both on the highway, on your way to leave the state before you let out the loudest, happiest laugh.

He’s laughing too, forehead still sweaty from a combination of the adrenaline and the hot summer air. Skin wrinkling around his eyes from how big he’s smiling. The most beautiful burglar to ever exist. “I can’t believe we pulled that off.” he’s saying, voice high with elation. 

“I told you to trust me.” You’re all cocky satisfaction as you head into the closest exit. He looks around confused, but he’s long since learned not to question you. You hold his very being in the palm of your rough, calloused hands, and it’s a fact you never take for granted. He deserves love, and care, and after tonight, the best damn head he’s ever experienced in his entire life.

You drive past empty fields, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching over and palming him through his jeans. 

He jerks, eyes wide as he looks at you, “God, baby—”

“You’ve been so, so good tonight, Chip.”

“Yeah?” he rocks his hips up to your palm, and you can feel him growing hard beneath the rough denim.

“Yeah, baby, I think you deserve a little treat.” You remove your hand from him, trying to focus on driving. 

He whines, the shameless man. 

“Go ahead and touch yourself, baby.”

The sound of his zipper fills the air, and you laugh as he takes his cock, quickly working his large hand up and down its length. Slack jawed and unblinking, he strokes himself in the passenger seat, head leaning heavily on the head rest. 

“That’s it, baby.” You coo, watching him out of the corner of your eye. God, he’s so pretty, soft brown curls pasted to his forehead as he jerks himself off. Finally finding a clearing that’s empty and secluded enough to your liking, you pull over and quickly unbuckle your seatbelt.

He watches you with stars in his eyes as you maneuver yourself over the console. He leans his chair back, freeing more room for you. Always so thoughtful, even when he’s near desperate. 

You smile, kissing the tip of his throbbing cock, “Can’t believe we pulled that off, baby,” you say, running your tongue and letting the taste of his precum flood your mouth, “And all because you were so good and followed my directions.”

“Of - of course, baby, I did say I’ll do anything to make you happy.” His adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, hands gently threading through your hair and gathering them at the crown of your head. So fucking thoughtful. Your heart could burst. 

“I know,” you whisper, wrapping your mouth around the tip and sucking. He lets out a strangled sound, and all of your original plans to tease him fly out the window. You take more of him down, carelessly letting him hit the back of your throat. It barely makes you gag anymore. After months of dating, you can easily push through his impressive girth and length. You hollow out your cheeks and suck, before pulling back.

It’s always such a thrill to give him head. He’s already gasping, making the prettiest sounds and you’ve barely even begun. A man of his height reduced to a stuttering, mindless mess all because of your mouth. It’s the best and easiest power trip you can have. 

You settle on a rhythm then, bobbing your head up and down his cock, hands on his thighs to balance you. It’s a sloppy affair, your body draped across the console, ass up in the air, your knees digging into the driver’s seat.

Threads of saliva drip down your chin, making everything so much warmer and slicker as you take him deep into your throat. 

You can feel his muscles tensing, fighting against the urge to thrust in, and since he’s been so good, you pull away and give him permission. “Fuck my mouth, Chip.”

“You sure?”

The breathiness of his voice has you rubbing your thighs together, but you remind yourself this is his turn. All about him. So instead, you look at him, eyes peeking up sweetly from beneath your lashes, “Yeah, baby, you’ve earned it.”

He lets out a strangled sound, and the force with which he thrusts does have you gagging. You hadn’t expected so much force, but god, it’s the hottest thing ever. So rarely does he take, always so eager to give, to make you feel good, that when the roles are reversed, it always takes you by surprise. He has a hidden strength that he tempers in order to be gentle with you, but at this moment, it’s all forgotten. He’s fucking up into your warm mouth like there’s no tomorrow, your throat swelling from how deeply he’s buried himself into you. 

“Fuck,” he whines. Fingers tightly gripping your hair, he holds your head in place as he ruts. You barely manage to hold back the choked sounds, knowing that if he hears them, he’ll slow down. You don’t want him to slow down, you want him to take and be selfish after such a job well down. “Baby—gonna—oh god!” 

He’s babbling, though you probably wouldn’t be able to make out his words anyway, what with how focused you are in taking his thick cock in your mouth. Your nails dig into his thighs as he moves your head to meet his thrusts, a vain attempt to anchor yourself to something.

“Just a little more, baby,” he gasps, and you wish you could see him clearly, immortalizing the look of pleasure on his face. But your eyes are blurry from tears, and his hold on your hair is so tight you couldn’t angle your head up to look at him if you tried. 

He pumps once, twice, and then he’s crying out and you feel ropes of his release overflowing your mouth. You swallow what you can, but strings of his cum and your saliva still trickle from your lips and over your chin. He pulls you up gingerly, brown eyes half open.

“God, baby, that was—are you okay?”

You laugh, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. “I’m perfect, baby, are you?”

“Of course I am,” he says breathlessly, pulling you up his lap and tucking your head beneath his chin, “That was amazing. I can’t believe I get to have you.” he’s more quiet now, lips grazing the crown of your head. You hum, smiling as you imagine what the future holds with the stolen money, and your sweet, perfect boyfriend by your side.

[ovrgrwnivy]

guys i finally have a pc setup i am going to be unstoppable

[ovrgrwnivy]

pretty boy - preview

spencer reid

summary; Spencer Reid, intelligent but unversed in certain aspects of life, looks for guidance in unfamiliar territory. When he connects with someone more experienced, a dynamic forms that challenges both of them. As they explore trust, boundaries, and control, they uncover new layers of themselves and each other.

cw; +18 minors dni, heavy bdsm themes (literally the whole plot of the fic), sub!spencer, mommy kink, inexperienced!spencer, phone sex, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, overstimulation, orgasm denial, edging, use of toys, cumplay, spit, spencer really likes being dominated

an; this is just a teaser for my new series! the content warnings do not apply to this preview, but they will become apparent when i post this in full. as always, feedback is appreciated, let me know what you think so far <3

The city hums in the background, its pulse a constant buzz of movement, opportunity, and noise. For Spencer Reid, the chaos outside is nothing compared to the quiet turmoil inside. A mind brimming with knowledge, yet devoid of the experiences most take for granted. His days with the BAU are filled with cases, theories, and human behaviour—things he can analyse, but never truly understand on a personal level.

In the confines of his apartment, Spencer finds solace in routines, in solitude. Yet, there’s something missing. A craving he’s ignored for too long, one he can’t quite name. His loneliness isn’t just the absence of people—it’s the absence of connection, of something deeper.

This craving takes him down a path he never expected, one that leads him to an online forum—a place where boundaries can be explored, where he can ask questions he’s too hesitant to voice in person. Here, he begins his journey, unsure of what he’s seeking, but certain that something must change.

You sit back in your chair, eyes scanning the screen before you. It's late, and the dim light of your desk lamp casts shadows across the room. The soft hum of your laptop is the only sound, aside from the occasional click of your mouse as you navigate through the forum. The world of BDSM, of dominance and submission, has always intrigued you—not just the physical aspect, but the psychological and emotional depth it brings. You’ve been part of this world for years, and while some things have remained constant, you’ve always known that the most powerful dynamic isn’t about control for the sake of control—it’s about trust, nurturing, and care.

Tonight, though, it’s different.

You weren’t planning to interact with anyone new, but something about a particular post catches your attention. His name is Spencer, a man in his mid-twenties, just beginning his exploration into BDSM. The post is hesitant, a little unsure, yet it holds an honesty you can't ignore. He’s seeking advice, asking for guidance—he doesn’t have much experience, but he’s eager to learn. His words are sincere, almost fragile in their vulnerability. You can sense his hesitation, his uncertainty, but there’s something about his openness that makes you feel a sudden protective instinct.

You’re not new to guiding others, to teaching someone how to navigate their desires and boundaries. But this feels different. Spencer doesn’t seem like someone who’s seeking a casual encounter or someone just wanting to explore for fun. He seems like he’s genuinely seeking a deeper connection, a way to understand himself in a way he hasn’t had the chance to before. And that’s something you can relate to. 

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you consider your response. You don’t want to scare him off with too much, but you also want to reassure him that he’s not alone in this. He’s not the first person to feel uncertain, and he certainly won’t be the last.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅