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me, a supposed writer, when i can’t find the very specific scenario i made up in my head in any fanfic: am i- am i supposed to write it myself??

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When are you posting next ???

I've been on an hiatus due to lack of motivation because of mental health and university but I plan to come back don't worry

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HANDS-ON LEARNER ft. SPENCER REID, READER

Warnings: Fingering, masturbation (somewhat), praise (so much), sex in front of a mirror, mentions of insecurities + poor body image (reader), implied Afab reader, Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader

Wc: 1,386

In all your years of living, you've never experienced humiliation quite as stark as this.

Fully exposed, legs spread wide, giving Spencer complete, unobstructed access to your core. Your legs are draped over his, allowing him to keep you from altering your position as his hand glides in and out of your center, thumb languidly tracing circles into your clit.

Your humiliation isn't derived from your albeit compromising position, no; Nor is it derived from the uncharacteristically lewd words softly tumbling from Spencer's lips, worming their way through your ear and into your brain; It isn't even the fact that you're spread out for him, completely bare, losing more of your composure by the second while he remains fully clothed and unbothered, save for the bulge growing in his pants. The source of your embarrassment, what makes you want to dig yourself into a hole and never come out, is the giant mirror placed in front of the both of you, forcing you to watch your own debauchment.

It isn't as though Spencer's intentions were at all sadistic; He holds a wealth of knowledge, not excluding that of the human anatomy, and what kind of a man would he be if he didn't extend his intelligence to his other half?

The work the two of you do leaves little time to unwind, to cope with the stress that inherently comes with tracking down some of the worst minds humanity had to offer. What little time you have away from work is usually spent sleeping, and even that's become a challenge. But you should've known your boyfriend wouldn't let you fall victim to the cruel grasps of insomnia, so he'd kindly taken it upon himself to assist you in your conquest to de-stress after a particularly tough case.

"It's honestly no surprise that studies have shown that approximately 21 percent of all Americans use masturbation as a way to de-stress," Spencer murmurs, his lithe fingers continuing to invade your cunt, eliciting yet another strained whimper from your lips as you observe his ministrations in the mirror. "Orgasms cause the brain to release Dopamine, which is primarily viewed as a "pleasure chemical", and Oxycotin, which brings on feelings of love and affection towards others." What you would normally consider irritating from anyone else will always be endearing in your eyes when coming from Spencer ; You've always known his rambles and statistics have come from a place of affection, to share all that he knows with the people that he cares so deeply about. And providing a more logical perspective to the mess gradually building between your thighs ebbs away a tad of the embarrassment, slightly dissipating your urge to bury your face in Spencer's chest and never come out.

Deciding it's time for you to aid in your own release, Spencer gently takes your hand, previously clenching onto his bicep, and drags it down to your clit, lightly rubbing circled into your center. The jolt it sends through you doesn't go unnoticed by Spencer, who merely chuckles and continues on as casually as he would if he was turning the page of his favorite book.

"What aids the most in de-stressing during an orgasm is the gradual shutdown of the Lateral Orbiofrontal Cortex, the part of the brain responsible for logic and decision-making; Deactivation of this part of the brain is also commonly associated with reductions in fear and anxiety," Spencer muses, continuing to drag your hand further down to the source of your wetness, pushing it deep into your hole. Your smaller hands don't quite reach as deep as Spencer's do, but with the right technique, he's confident they'll have the same effect. Pressing on your knuckles to get you to curl your fingers, Spencer continues to observe you in the mirror. "Beautiful." He doesn't mean to say it, likely doesn't even notice it, but the words send a pang straight to your core, and you involuntarily clench, which he does notice. Spencer doesn't bother asking if you liked that; He already knows what the answer would be, and you hardly seem coherent enough to answer. "What you're currently touching, judging by your expression, is your G-spot; formally known as the Grafenberg Spot, it's partially responsible for about 82 percent of orgasms in women, or any orgasms caused by something other than regular penetration." It's no wonder Spencer could so easily tell you'd reached your G-spot; You'd elicited a shaky gasp as you found it, your brows furrowing as your eyes rolled back. Any witty comments you might have made died on your tongue as Spencer resumed massaging you clit, adding to the already overwhelming stimulation.

Refusing to ease up on you, Spencer gently rests his head on your shoulder as he continues to observe the way you fall apart so stunningly; Amber eyes reflect nothing but admiration and adoration for you. This may be the first time you've aided in doing so, but Spencer has made you finish around his fingers enough times to know when you're nearing orgasm.

Admittedly becoming more lax on his original goal for you to watch the entirety of his actions, Spencer gently grips your chin with his free hand, turning your face to look at the mirror. Noticing you still advert your eyes from your reflection, he nuzzles his head further into your shoulder, hand dropping down to hug your waist. "I want you to watch," he asks softly, honeyed eyes pleading with you in the mirror. "I want you to see yourself the way I do, the way I always have." Any hesitance you have eases away as Spencer rubs circles into your waist, encouraging you to reach your end. Forcing yourself to meet your gaze in the mirror, you hold eye contact, even when what you see staring back at you makes you want to cringe, makes you want to look away, makes you want to hide yourself from the beautiful man who's sitting behind you, coaxing you ever so gently to finish. Even with insecurity looming at the back of your mind, you continue to massage your abused clit and prod at the spongey, raised lump within your core; Spencer remains ever-so-loyal by your side, softly encouraging you with murmurs of, "That's it," "'Atta girl," "Doing so good for me."

He's fully aware of your hesitancy when it comes to being accepting of yourself, always has been, and Spencer has always been more than willing to do whatever it takes to get you to become even slightly less adverse towards yourself, whether it be by sitting in between your legs for hours, lapping at your clit until you have to physically push him away, or pounding himself into you until you can barely remember your own name, much less any insecurity you may possess. And yet, his current method, despite the overwhelming amount of stimulation received by you, seems much more gentle, much more personal. Instead of a sole effort on his part to change your perception of yourself, he's given you an active role in it as well, allowing you to face your insecurities head-on while doing so.

Spencer may be determined in his pursuit of adjusting your attitude towards yourself, but he's still merciful; When your hand begins to tire, he gladly takes over, his long fingers picking up where you left off. Feeling your muscles begin to tense, his pace quickens, leaving no chance for your orgasm to fade. As you finally reach your peak, Spencer renews his grip on your chin, forcing you to watch yourself as you finish. He could watch you cum a thousand times and it would never be any less breath-taking: Your brow furrowed, plush lips forming an O, eyes fluttering back into your head; You're truly a work of art in Spencer's eyes.

As the euphoria fades and your mind becomes clear again, your muscles give out; Thankfully, Spencer, ever the gentleman, is there to catch you. "Don't give out on me just yet, Sweetheart," he jokes, eyeing your lips as he holds your hips, keeping you sitting up. "Wasn't planning on it," You respond, reaching up for a quick peck to his lips. Spencer has other plans though, deepening the kiss as his arms wrap around your waist.

"Good, because I have plenty more to teach you."

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Letting You Draw On Them

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Imagine: you have a sharpie, they have skin, its free real estate

Includes: Colby and Sam

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Colby Brock

You knew how much Colby adored his tattoos, he had a story to each one and a meaning that he could ramble on for hours. It was hard to lie that you didn't love his tattoos either, frequently you had found yourself trace the ink with your finger and just mesmerizing the design and details. It especially happened in the morning when you would be tucked to his side, your head pressed against his chest and a palm gently over his heart lock tattoo. When you would finally wake up, that was how you would wake him up just by tracing his tattoos and admiring each one till he eventually work up; tickled from your grazing touch.

When the words left your mouth, you expected an immediate no but in your surprise, he just gave you a spare sharpie marker he had and his hand. He seemed to be too focused in his conversation with Sam and Jake to really care what you were doing to his skin or what you were putting on it. Of course, you weren't an ass. You weren't just gonna draw a penis and call it a day, no you wanted to make something nice on his skin, something he could be proud of and go 'hey my partner did this' so you did.

When he finally looked at your little drawing on the back of his hand, he smiled at it and kissed the side of your head, "you're so talented baby, thank you."

These little drawing sessions had continued, every now and again when he would just be sitting there and not doing anything too important, you would pounce with the sharpie. Or if the drawing had started to fade, he would offer up his hand after a shower and ask you to redraw it, wanting to wear your artwork for a little longer than the universe would allow.

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Sam Golbach

Sam never thought he would ever have a tattoo, it was one of those things he would admire from a far but would never do to his own skin. Months of dating and you had never told Sam about your passion for drawing, it was one of those little things you did when you were bored and you were never bored around Sam. But one night he had been editing while you were sitting on the bed across from Sam's desk, he had been in his editing zone and you found herself finding a pen on the bedside table of his bed. Without paper around, you leaned against the wall against Sam's bed and start to draw on your exposed skin, every now and again looking up to Sam who had his eyes glued to the screen.

You had lost yourself in a zone and soon found your entire forearm covered in your little drawings. When Sam had finished his editing and took off his headphones, he eyed you doodling on your skin and laid down on the bed, propping himself up on his elbow and watching you draw.

"Would you do those little drawings on me?" when you had asked Sam to repeat, not quite believing what you had heard, he had repeated with a soft smile, "I just think you're really good and I'd like to have your work on my skin." You watched Sam roll up his sleeve and offer you his arm and a giddy little joy went over you.

You practically bounced on your knees and soon had a matching doodled up arm with your boyfriend. After that day, Sam soon had asked to see all your drawings and you were happy to show him no matter what, especially when soon after the showing of your art, you found Sam asking for your drawings more and more. He loved when people would point it out in parties just so he could get a little bit more to brag about to people about how awesome you are

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Thanks for reading, please reblog to show your support for my work and maybe comment to make me happy :)

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So I like to smile at strangers when I'm walking past them and for the past few weeks I've had the good old sniffles so I've been wearing a mask lately to work and such. But I've realised the reason people have given me weird looks lately when I try to smile at them is because they can't see me smiling, they just see me stare at them and my eyes bunch up so I just look like I'm glaring

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Now I had a plan to release 'It's Been A Month' tonight but I may have gone a little more ambitious than planned so you guys are getting to enjoy Colby tomorrow, I want to sleep

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colby brock in music videos (14/?) - hug by love for hire

bonus:

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Scars That Heal

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Pairing: Colby Brock x F.Reader

Warnings: mentions of self harm, self harm scars, angst turned fluff

Note: This was written in a way for people to help heal, if you believe this will affect you for the worse rather than the better, please skip this fic and find something else. Take care of yourself <3

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It felt rubber clinging to your body, rubbing uncomfortably against the skin with the pitiful attempt to smooth out the fabric to make it look less wrinkly and remove the dust from the amount of time the bathing suit spent in the drawer. It was odd, living in a house with such a big pool and where parties were almost daily, you would think that you would be swimming laps almost everyday and while you thought the idea was pleasing, one thing stopped you, the dark secret.

You still remembered the look on your boyfriend Colby's face when you first showed him and explained why you did it all in the first place. Of course, you didn't try to guilt him with it, more just explain why you were the way you were. And you fully expected him to just walk away and never talk to you again but it was the opposite, he just held you and nodded. Not a word was said and you thanked him for that, it made you feel comfortable to not have to cover up in front of him anymore.

But that was only Colby, only Colby knew of the little white lines that littered your forearms and thighs. The reasons that you stuck to long sleeves and never wore shorts, even in the hot temperatures that came with living in LA.

Usually if the boys were hosting a sort of pool party, you were lucky enough to make the excuse of being on your period and you were believed, there was no needing to panic about them trying to pull you into the pool and having to hide the scars that would follow with so many questions and stares. But you couldn't use that excuse this week, just a week ago you had used that excuse for one of the pool parties the boys were pulling and they're hosting another one this week; your period excuse didn't work.

You would just skip out on this party but you knew how much this would matter to Sam, it was his birthday party for crying out. And Colby had asked you to at least try to show up, even if it was only for five minutes, it mattered to him. You didn't want to disappoint your best friend and boyfriend so now you stood in front of the mirror, memories of younger teenage years returning like a terrible flood that you were struggling to hold your nose above, gasping for air that never came to your struggling lungs.

A knock at the door had startled you out of your thoughts as you stopped your fingertips movements on the tiny lines and turned your attention to the door. Colby stood there, leaning against the door way. He was without his shirt, only in his bathing shorts and hair slightly messed from being in the water. Drops of water ran from his strands of hair, dropping to his face or chest and streamed down slowly.

"Are you coming? Sam has been looking for you," Colby asked, hand still on the doorknob and his eyes scanned your figure in the bathing suit. "You look beautiful," he commented, reaching his hand out to you as you just shook your head, looking back at the mirror and the little white scars that revealed themselves in the open air; no sleeves to hide behind.

Downstairs you could already hear the music booming and the shouts/laughter of all the guests, most being other influencers that had some kind of connection to Sam. Complete strangers for you and the thought of being so open and exposed to people who didn't even know about your past seemed to be a chilling thought.

You reached for one of Colby's hoodies on the bed and started to shuffle through the laundry on the floor for a pair of pants to match, "I've changed my mind." You replied, the sound of Colby's exhausted sigh falling deaf on your ears.

Before you could pull the hoodie over your head, Colby had been in front of you and had hands on your wrists, stopping your movements, "you don't have to cover them you know?"

"They're gross..." you mumbled, eyes glued to the floor and the want to just shove the hoodie over your head corrupting.

Holding your wrists, Colby raised them to your view and let you look at the scarred flesh. Your breath hitched in your throat as you gazed down at the scars, memories and regrets flooded and you fought back the tears. Colby shook his head, "you're beautiful, scars and all. Nothing about you or these scars or anything that comes to your mind makes you gross."

You looked at him, disbelief in your eyes.

"And if my friends don't agree with me well guess what, they weren't my friend to begin with," Colby smiled warmly at you, god damn him for his smile being so contagious because you soon found yourself smiling back up at him, the hoodie you were holding slipping from your grasp.

"But I'll feel uncomfortable," you said bashfully, removing your arms from his grip and tucking them behind your back, out of view, "I don't want the stares, questions."

"No one will stare," Colby smiled, his fingers grazing under your chin and making you look back at him, "promise. And if someone does, come to me and I'll take care of it. Now please just come downstairs and have a good time, ignore the bad thoughts and let go. Besides, I don't think Sam will let you avoid him on his birthday; he's been asking to hang out with you since the party started."

With a hesitant breath, you nodded your head and tucked your hand into Colby's, enjoying how his fingers felt overlapping yours and the comfort it brought just from the touch. Leaving the safety of your shared bedroom, you soon started to feel the nervousness and worry the closer you two got to outside where the party was happening and where a bunch of strangers either could be staring at you or completely ignoring you.

When the backdoor opened, you quickly saw the blonde man's face light up and run over to you and Colby. Practically in a bone crushing hug, you exchanged the hug back with your best friend and apologized for taking so long; making a lame excuse of that you fell asleep.

"Oh sleep is more important than your best friend's birthday," he crossed his arms childishly, pouting in the way a toddler would as his blonde hair went over his eyes and he shook his head disapprovingly.

Colby laughed at Sam's reaction, "not all of us are early birds Sammy."

"It's eight at night.."

The rest of the party had went by smoothly and you had a better time than you would have imagined. You spent a lot of it sitting on the edge of the pool with Katrina and Tara. Sam had found the volleyball would responded with pool volleyball; you, Colby, and Jake on one team, Sam, Katrina, and Corey on the other. You hesitated at first to join, playing volleyball would result in lifting your arms and exposing the scars you spent so long hiding. But Colby only gave you a grateful smile, and you had decided to join the game.

You had stopped paying attention to the scars that you had tried to hide and didn’t even realize they were on display all night. Even with the occasional too long look for your own comfort from some people when you would get out of the pool or going to reach for something, you still managed to have a good night and there wasn't any questions; no why's, no when's, nothing.

Sam's party had started to slow down, people were drunk and getting ready to head home; calling rides and saying their goodbyes. At the kitchen counter, you sat with a bottle of beer in your palms and Colby no where in sight. As you drank your beer, you looked down at the scars and a small smile came to your face, maybe they weren't such a bad thing to be hiding.

Footsteps entered the kitchen and you looked up to see Sam with a towel on his shoulder and dressed back in a loose grey shirt and his swim trunks. He smiled warmly at you, "thought you might want one of these." He tossed the towel to you, thanking him gratefully as you started to dry your hair. He was basically your brother Sam, you knew him the best of the entire crew having known him the longest and he was the one to introduce you to Colby in the first place back in junior year band.

"Thanks Sammy," that was another perk of being so close to Sam, you were one of the only people beside Katrina who got to call him that without the annoyed whine coming from his mouth. Putting down the towel, you looked at him curiously when he seemed to be thinking on what to say, "you good?"

Sam nodded, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he seemed to think on how to word something, your anxiety started to increase. Sam pointed to your forearm, "the scars, I kept noticing them.." A chill met your spine as you looked down at the white lines, some long, some short, some jagged, some straight. You had only ever showed Colby, not even Sam had known, "please tell me if I'm going too far but.." he paused, leaning against eh counter, "you've stopped right?"

You nodded, a sense of shame tickling the skin that was scarred. You looked up at Sam, who's eyes wouldn't leave your forearms, "last time was two years ago. Colby has helped me stay clean." You paused, memories if the nights with the razor coming back like they were yesterday, "I guess not all wounds heal."

Sam gave a smile, "you're strong, you always were."

You thanked your best friend, wrapping him in a sort of half hug. You enjoyed Sam's company, almost as much as you enjoyed Colby's and to know that you had such a strong friendship and support network, it made the healing a little more easier.

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Thank you for reading <3

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Men: I need my girl to be 5 ft, big rack, no more than 100 pounds, more hairless than my cat blah blah

Mentally ill girls when they see an emo ghost hunter:

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Fluff

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Angst

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Ns/fw

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Fluff

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Angst

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Ns/fw

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Fluff

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Angst

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Ns/fw

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Fluff

-Letting You Draw On Them

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Angst

-Scars That Heal (TW)

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Ns/fw

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Fluff

-Letting You Draw On Them

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Angst

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Ns/fw

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Masterlist : Rules

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Rules

✎Please be kind in my asks, everyone is valid and loved here

✎I am alright with writing fluff, angst, and ns/fw

✎Keep requests respectful

✎I won’t write fics about themes that involve: self harm, suicide, eating disorders, abuse (altho I may do comfort from past relationships), etc

✎ I'm only posting my work here! If you find my work anywhere else, I didn't consent to it and please send me the link so I can deal with my work being stolen

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Ghost Boys

✎Colby Brock

✎Sam Golbach

✎Katrina Stuart

✎Jake Webber

✎Corey Scherer

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Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotch

Derek Morgan

Dave Rossi

Elle Greenway

Emily Prentiss

Jennifer Jareau

Penelope Garcia

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Taglist

-Under Construction

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