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pretty-random-writer · 8 months ago

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Sunbathing

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you’ve decided to sunbathe topless, or as your husband Joel would put it, you’ve decided to torture him.

Warnings: needy Joel, kind of sub!joel, unprotected p in v, premature ejaculation, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), come play.

a/n: i sunbathed topless for the first time and well this wrote itself

"You've seen my boobs before babe" A soft laugh bubbled up your throat as you turned your head left.

He wasn't even pretending not to be staring.

"Not like this"

You smiled, "what does that even mean?"

"not out... here"

You lowered your sunglasses to see him better, tilting your head to ask for further explanation

Yes you were outside, by the pool of the beautiful summer house you'd rented, but you didn't get how that made any difference, they were the same boobs he'd seen hours prior in your bed.

"I'm not used to not doing anything about them"

"ah" you hummed "is it that hard?"

You didn't even need to look at the smirk painting his face to regret your choice of words.

"yeah babydoll, it's real hard"

You only needed to lower your gaze a little to asses his statement.

"You're incorrigible"

"And you're torturin' me darlin'"

"How am I torturing you?" you laughed "I'm just taking advantage of the privacy we have to get a good tan"

"and besides, I seem to remember how hard it is for you to see me with the whole bikini on too"

He sat up, the sunbed squeaking as he faced you.

"It ain't my fault if my wife's so pretty it hurts"

"you get so dramatic when you're horny" you chuckled, rolling your eyes.

He smiled, letting his gaze wander all over your body for a good minute, before getting back at your face

"nothin's gonna happen is it?" his tone was full of hope nonetheless

"no baby" you shook your head

He sighed, dramatically letting his head fall to his chest

"I'll have a swim then"

"have fun honey"

__ __ __

"darlin'?"

Not even ten minutes had passed, and that scene from the Barbie movie with the "Ken! Go for a walk or something" line couldn't not pop into your head.

"yes?"

He was standing right next to your sunbed, dripping wet and blocking out the sun.

"don't ya need sunscreen?"

A soft smile pulled at your lips.

Ten minutes, that's how long it took for him to come up with that.

"I put it on already"

He wasn't gonna give up, not on the first try.

"how long ago?"

"an hour, I think"

"the sun's real strong now doll," he said, drying his hair with a towel before throwing it on his bed "I think it's best if you put some more on… I can do it for you if you don't feel like it"

You chuckled, looking up at him, but he stayed in character, continuing to look oh-so worried about your safety.

"Somehow I knew that offer was coming"

"'m just worried about my wife, 's all"

he'd crouched down, taking your hand in his

"mh-mh" you hummed, sarcasm tracing your tone

"can't have you get sunburt now, can we?"

"no, we can't" you played along, smiling at him

"'f course" he murmured, leaning down to leave a soft kiss on your lips as he grabbed the sunscreen.

"I'm so lucky to have such a caring husband"

"I'm the only lucky one babydoll"

He gave you one more kiss, before he leaned away and got to work.

He squeezed some cream into his hand, but to your surprise, his hands didn't land where you'd expected them to-

Only his eyes were betraying him. They were only on one, or actually two things even when it was your legs he was massaging.

The coldness of the cream and his hands felt good against your warm body, so much you couldn't help but hum appreciatively.

"feels good?"

"yeah baby" you breathed as his hands made their way to your thighs.

It always amazed you how hands so big, rough, and strong were able to be so gentle and soft on you.

You couldn't deny the shivers running up your body when his fingers reached your inner thighs, getting close to your core.

"what's that?" your husband was smirking like a cat, as he dedicated himself much too long on that spot.

"I didn't say anything"

If he thought this was gonna work, he was wrong. It was too hot, and you were too relaxed to do what he so obviously wanted to do... although you both knew how much you liked seeing him desperate...

He still didn't touch your boobs, no, next were your shoulders, then your arms, and then... when he felt on the brink of exploding, when he couldn't stop himself anymore, he squeezed a generous amount of sunscreen in his hands, and oh so gently started massaging your tits.

He couldn't stop a soft groan from fleeing his lips.

It felt amazing- of course it felt amazing, but you didn't wanna give him the satisfaction, and this was mostly for him, not for you, so your eyes remained closed as you pretended like it was nothing.

But that only lasted so long, because Joel could endure just about 30 seconds of that before he was bending down, and his mouth was sucking your nipple.

"Joel!" you gasped, your eyes snapping open just in time to see him climb onto you to straddle your waist, and then go right back to groping and licking and sucking your nipples like it was his life long duty.

"baby you're all wet" you tried complaining, but the smile on your lips was everlasting.

He looked so damingly cute like this, looking up at you with those big doe eyes as he worshipped your tits.

"so are you"

And yeah so what if you were- there's only so much a woman can do in front of this.

A soft laugh spilled from your lips as your hand went to find a place in his hair, your back arching to offer more of yourself to him.

"I don't even know how good it is for you to be licking sunscreen"

The look he gave you made it very clear he didn't give one single fuck.

And just when you were about to protest again, his teeth had gently bit your nipple, and a moan had spilled from your lips.

he took that as an incentive to go further, his hand slowly sliding down your belly, between your bodies, until it was seeping underneath your bikini bottoms.

"babe-" you stopped him, your voice breathless

His hand stopped on your mound as he groaned in frustration.

You could feel his rock-hard cock on you since the moment he straddled you- the man was desperate.

"please doll" he murmured against the soft skin of your chest in between kisses "Gimmie something-anything” he pleaded “Have mercy on your poor husband"

Your response was mixed between a laugh and a moan

"I can take care of you if you want"

He shook his head, his teeth grazing your nipple "Need to feel you darlin’"

Again, a soft giggle rumbled from your chest

"’S too hot to have sex here baby"

His hand had gotten out of your bikini to reach the other on your waist.

"the pool- the ground? fuck- anywhere you want sugar, just tell me where"

His clothed hard-on was rubbing against your core now, and fuck but once again you’d succumbed to Joel and his goddamn irresistible neediness.

"bring me back into the house"

It was like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear those words.

In a haze of kisses and lust, he’d picked you up, letting you hold onto him by wrapping your arms and legs around his body as he hurriedly walked into the house.

He didn’t make it far enough to encounter a single surface- and perhaps that was because he’d stopped looking and placed you against the wall the moment he’d passed the threshold.

His mouth was on your tits again, his cock was out, and his fingers had pulled your bikini to the side.

He said nothing as he slowly began entering you, the only sounds in the room being your moan as you threw your head back, and the groan he emitted, muffled by your skin.

“Oh fuck” you cried once he bottomed out.

Your husband was a very gifted man.

"'m not gonna last"

He sounded like the mere act of talking was taking all of his energy, and yet he was thrusting up into you like it was a matter of life or death.

"'s ok"

"I've been hard since you took your top off" he murmured, his breath fanning over your chest “you-you-jesus”

Your left hand passed through his hair, softly soothing him.

“‘S alright baby, don’t wait for me”

“You’re too fuckin’-” he tried to speak, but he was interrupted by yet another groan

“What?” you taunted him, a smirk pulling at your lips “what is it baby?”

His eyes were wide with desperation as he looked up at you, as his mouth stole languid kisses from your tits.

“Too hot- too goddamn perfect”

You bit down a grin at that, still stroking his hair

“I love you baby” you breathed, his cock reaching the deepest, most fucking amazing spot inside you in the meantime.

The moment those words left your lips your husband was fucked- the only words he was able to mutter were a series of -fuckshitgoddamn- before he inevitably reached his peak, filling you up with rope after rope of come that never seemed to end.

He remained like that for a little while, buried inside you, eyes closed, mouth still connected with your boob, until you left a gentle kiss on the crown of his head, and he woke up from his heavenly trance.

He let out a soft groan as he slipped out of you, and took his time letting you down.

You were smiling at him with that soft smile that melted his insides right up, and he couldn’t help but lean in and kiss it, kiss you like you were a soft delicate thing that he was scared of breaking.

“I love you more” he promised, kissing you again, even if you were smiling.

“Feel better now?”

You said it like he was a kid with a stomach bug, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Yeah darlin’” he murmured against your mouth “thank you”

“You don’t have to thank me” you laughed, but he was already shaking his head

“Yes I do”

And without further explanation, he’d dropped to his knees.

He slid your bikini to the side once again, looking up at you with only adoration in his eyes.

“Baby you don’t have to” you tried to reason with him, but his mouth was already latched to your clit, and your hand had already flown to his hair.

He remained on your bud long enough to make you desperate, and then he started focusing on your whole core, his tongue lapping between your folds with what could only be described as feral hunger.

His come was everywhere, and yet he didn’t care, he was happy tasting the mix of your fluids, because that’s how Joel was- a nasty nasty man- only for you.

So much so that you felt his tongue enter your hole, simulating what he was doing just minutes before with his cock.

“Fuck-babe-”

Your moans were breathless, more like whines, like prayers.

You were looking at him as he was looking at you and Jesus... He looked fucking heavenly.

His hair all tussled from your fingers, his blown-out pupils, his never-stopping tongue-

“Joel” you cried, but he didn’t dare speak a word as he went back to your clit.

“Shit-baby- god!”

You had to tighten your hold on his hair as your orgasm crept up your body- and it was as you heard him groan with pleasure, as he sucked your clit into his mouth like a man starved, that it all came crumbling down, and you felt your body light on fire as your climax took over.

You were moaning and crying into the air for a good minute before you were sane again.

Only Joel hadn’t stopped eating you out for a single second, and even then, he looked like he had no intention of doing so

“Baby-baby” you whimpered, having to literally pull him away from your core.

He was smiling like a kid, and you couldn’t help but follow suit.

He put your bikini back in place, and then stood up, his hands lingering on your waist

“You’re crazy”

He couldn’t help but kiss you before answering,

“You make me”

#ria’s recs #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

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pretty-random-writer · 9 months ago

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Home From The Bar

Summary: Y/N goes on the town with the ladies from the BAU, she calls Spencer to pick her up.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: flirty fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, getting drunk, doing embarrassing drunk things, suggestive content (16+)

Word count: 2.8k

a/n: can be read alone but it is a blurb from Finding Home Again !!

main masterlist

Y/N had grown a lot closer to the BAU ladies over the past few months. JJ, Emily, and Penelope had become more than just Spencer’s coworkers—they were her friends too. So when they invited her out for a girls’ night, she eagerly accepted. The evening had been a whirlwind of dancing, laughter, and more than a few drinks. Now, they were sat at a table, cooling off after dancing their hearts out and sweating through their clothes.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept flowing, the conversation inevitably turned sideways, as it always does when good friends and alcohol are involved. And unfortunately for Y/N, everyone was curious about her sex life with the good doctor.

“So… how is he?” JJ asked, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous grin.

“Be honest,” Emily chimed in, leaning forward with a sly smile. “Was he a virgin?”

“Is he a pillow princess?” Penelope added, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Their questions came at her in rapid succession, leaving Y/N no time to prepare. Under the influence of alcohol, she could only laugh at the absurdity of it all, her cheeks flushing with both amusement and embarrassment.

“Oh my god, you guys,” Y/N giggled, trying to deflect the attention. “You’re terrible!”

“C’mon, we’re dying to know!” JJ teased, nudging her playfully.

“Yeah, spill the tea!” Penelope added, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/N shook her head, laughing harder. “I’m not giving you all the details, no way!”

“But he’s so… proper,” Emily said, leaning back with a smirk. “I just can’t picture him getting all… you know.”

“He’s definitely not a pillow princess,” Y/N blurted out, the alcohol loosening her tongue. The words were out before she could stop them, and the shocked expressions on the other women’s faces sent her into another fit of giggles.

JJ’s jaw dropped. “No way!”

Penelope gasped dramatically. “You’re kidding!”

Emily grinned wickedly. “Oh, this I’ve got to hear.”

Y/N held up her hands in surrender, still laughing. “Okay, okay! Look, all I’m going to say is that he’s… full of surprises.”

The women burst into laughter, clinking their glasses together in celebration of the newfound knowledge.

“Who knew the good doctor had it in him?” Penelope mused, still giggling.

“I always knew there was something underneath that nerdy exterior,” Emily added with a wink.

JJ shook her head, smiling. “Well, Y/N, you’re one lucky woman.”

Y/N smiled back, her heart warming at the thought of Spencer. “Yeah, I really am.”

Of course, the conversation didn’t let up—it just took different paths. JJ shared some funny anecdotes about Will, Emily regaled the group with wild stories from her past, and Penelope brought up that infamous “one time” with Derek that always got everyone laughing. The evening was a blur of laughter, camaraderie, and just a little too much alcohol, which led Y/N to realize that she needed Spencer to come get her—now.

She fumbled for her phone and dialed his number, her fingers slightly uncoordinated from the drinks she’d had. After a few rings, Spencer’s voice, thick with sleep, answered, “Hello?”

“Hi baby!!” Y/N yelled into the phone, her voice louder than she intended.

“Ouch…hi, Y/N. Are you okay?” Spencer asked, wincing at the volume, his concern evident even through his sleepy haze.

“Physically? Yes. Well, no actually,” Y/N slurred slightly.

“No? What’s wrong? Do you need me to come get you? Are you still at the bar?” Spencer was instantly more awake, worry creeping into his voice.

“Yeah, I’m still here. Can you please come get me?”

“Of course, I’m on my way,” Spencer replied, already throwing on his clothes and grabbing his keys.

His mind raced with a million possibilities—had Y/N hurt herself? Had she drunk too much? What could have happened? When he arrived at the bar, his anxiety spiked when he saw Emily smoking a cigar outside, a mischievous smirk on her lips.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with panic.

Emily took a slow drag from her cigar, exhaling the smoke before she responded with a smirk, “Oh, she’s fine… go get your girl, Doctor. She’s been waiting for you.”

Spencer nodded in confusion, rushing inside to find Y/N. He barely made it through the entrance when Y/N came barreling toward him, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug and planting a huge, sloppy kiss on his neck.

“Spencer! You’re my fiancé, isn’t that just insane?” she laughed, her eyes sparkling with the joy and inebriation of the evening.

Spencer couldn’t help but smile, wrapping his arms around her, holding her steady. “Well, I did propose. I’m still amazed you said yes.”

Y/N’s expression turned serious, or at least as serious as she could manage in her current state. “I will never say no to you, Spencer. You are my best friend.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, touched by her words. “And you’re mine. But are you okay? You said you weren’t physically well?” His gaze quickly scanned her for any signs of injury.

“Oh…um, I have a problem,” Y/N mumbled, looking up at him with wide, drunken eyes.

“What kind of problem?” Spencer asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

“The kind only you can fix,” she whispered, leaning in closer.

Spencer’s concern grew as he looked Y/N over, trying to assess the situation. The dim lighting of the bar didn’t help, but from what he could see, she seemed unharmed—just a bit tipsy. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and the corners of her lips twitched in a way that told him she was up to something. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or more concerned.

“What kind of problem?” Spencer asked cautiously, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, “I’m horny.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in shock, and he instinctively pulled back to look at her, making sure he’d heard her correctly. She looked back at him with the most innocent expression, as if she hadn’t just dropped that bombshell.

“Uh… what?” Spencer stammered, his voice going up an octave.

“I said I’m horny, Spencer,” Y/N repeated, a little louder this time, clearly not aware—or not caring—how public they were.

Spencer’s face flushed a deep shade of red as he glanced around, hoping no one else heard. “Y/N, we’re in a bar,” he hissed, his voice low and urgent.

“I know, and that’s why you need to fix it!” she declared, her hands fisting in his shirt as she tried to pull him closer.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Okay, let’s get you home before you say anything else that’ll make me die of embarrassment.”

Y/N giggled, holding onto him as they made their way out of the bar. “You’re the best fiancé ever, you know that?”

Spencer shook his head fondly, his heart swelling with affection despite the situation. “Yeah, yeah, let’s just get you home, okay?”

As they stepped outside, Emily caught Spencer’s eye and gave him a knowing wink. “Take care of her, Reid,” she said with a smirk.

Spencer simply nodded, still blushing as he led Y/N to the car. He managed to get her into the passenger seat and buckled in before they were on the road. Y/N immediately began fiddling with the radio, her intoxicated focus darting from station to station until she found something she liked.

“Oh!!! I love this song!” she exclaimed, as Lollipop by Lil Wayne started playing.

As the music filled the car, Y/N began to sing along, her voice a little off-key but full of enthusiasm. Spencer couldn’t help but smile at her antics, but when she started doing a tipsy dance in her seat—more of a rhythmic humping, really—his eyes widened.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he sighed, trying to keep his eyes on the road while his very drunk, very sexy fiancée put on quite the show next to him.

Y/N laughed, rubbing her hands over her body in a playful, exaggerated way, even groping her own chest. “See something you like, doc?” she teased, her voice dripping with sultry mischief.

“See something I love,” he grunted, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. It frustrated him knowing he couldn’t act on his desires while she was in this state. He loved her too much to take advantage of the situation.

Apparently, Y/N didn’t share that restraint. Before Spencer could process what was happening, her hand was reaching over, grabbing at his crotch without a hint of subtlety.

“Y/N,” Spencer choked out, his voice strained as he tried to keep control of the car—and himself. “You have to stop that, sweetheart.”

“But Spence,” she pouted, continuing her mischief, “you’re so sexy when you’re all serious like this.”

Spencer’s heart raced as he gently removed her hand, placing it back on her lap. “We’re almost home, okay? Just hold on a little longer.”

Y/N huffed, leaning back in her seat with a dramatic sigh. “Fine, but you owe me.”

Spencer laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

With that, he focused on getting them home safely, all the while knowing that the real challenge would be keeping Y/N at bay until she sobered up.

When Spencer parked the car and rounded it to get Y/N, she was ready. The second he opened the door, Y/N sprang into action, pulling him down for a heated kiss. Her hands tangled in his hair, and she pressed herself against him with all the intensity of someone who had waited far too long.

“Y/N…” Spencer mumbled against her lips, trying to regain some composure before gently pulling back. “Upstairs first.”

“You are no fun, Spencer Reid,” she whined, pouting up at him.

“Hmm, I know, love,” he laughed softly, shaking his head at her antics.

Getting Y/N up the stairs proved to be another challenge entirely. She insisted on trying to walk behind him, grabbing his ass and making it clear she was enjoying the view. Spencer, on the other hand, was trying his best to keep them both moving without succumbing to her teasing.

“Hey, grab hands,” Spencer said sternly, taking her wrists in one hand and holding them behind her back, guiding her up the stairs with a firm but gentle push. “Get your drunk ass into the apartment before I drop you off at the firehouse.”

Y/N groaned, clearly turned on by his no-nonsense demeanor. “Fuck, this is so hot, Spence.”

“Shut up,” Spencer muttered, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

“Take me like this,” she purred, her voice low and sultry.

“I’m going to take you to bed,” Spencer replied, his tone exasperated but with a hint of amusement.

“Yesss,” she moaned, clearly misunderstanding his intentions.

“To sleep,” he clarified, his voice firm.

“With you,” she added, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I will sleep on the couch if you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” he threatened, though they both knew it was an empty threat. Still, the seriousness in his tone made Y/N pause, her eyes widening.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Y/N mumbled, her voice small and contrite.

“Nope, not starting that,” Spencer said quickly, shaking his head as he continued to guide her up the stairs.

Y/N finally shut her mouth, pouting as they reached the apartment door. Spencer unlocked it with a practiced ease and gently pushed her inside, relieved to have made it this far without any further incidents.

“Alright, water, bathroom, bed, got it?” Spencer said, his hands on his hips as he looked down at Y/N with a mixture of amusement and determination.

“If I do it, can I get a kiss?” Y/N asked, her voice slightly slurred but filled with playful intent.

“Yes, you can have one—one—kiss if you do it all,” Spencer agreed, knowing it was the only way to get her to cooperate.

With Spencer’s assistance, Y/N managed to drink a full glass of water, albeit with a few spills. She then, somewhat successfully, removed her makeup, though Spencer had to point out a few missed spots. She brushed her teeth, giggling at the sight of herself in the mirror, and finally slipped into bed in her pajamas, looking pleased with herself.

Spencer turned off the light, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as he returned to the bed. He was ready to give Y/N her promised kiss, leaning down with a soft smile on his face. But as he approached, he realized she was already passed out, mouth open, snoring softly.

“Thank god,” he whispered to himself, shaking his head with a fond smile as he pulled the covers up around her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently, the affection in his heart swelling.

As he settled into bed beside her, Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, thinking about how unpredictable and wild life with Y/N could be—and how much he wouldn’t have it any other way.

—

When Y/N woke up, she immediately regretted every choice she had made the night before. Her head pounded like a drum, her mouth felt like sandpaper, her stomach churned uneasily, and her body was too warm under the covers. She groaned, kicking the sheets off in frustration.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Spencer said, his tone gentle but laced with amusement.

“No,” Y/N grumbled, pulling a pillow over her face.

“No?” Spencer echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Not good morning. Bad morning,” she corrected, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“Feeling the effects of last night?” he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, nodding slightly under the pillow.

“Want me to get you some water?”

“And meds,” Y/N added pitifully.

“Be right back,” Spencer said, pressing a kiss to her head before heading off to the kitchen. He returned shortly with a glass of water and some painkillers. “Sit up and drink,” he instructed, holding the glass out to her.

“You’re bossy,” Y/N sassed, though she reluctantly did as he asked.

“You liked it last night,” Spencer teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“What?” Y/N froze, her eyes widening as she looked at him, horrified. “Oh my god, what did I do?”

“Oh, do you not remember trying to mount me on the staircase? And then moaning when I told you to stop?”

“No! Oh my god, that is humiliating,” Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“It was pretty funny,” Spencer said with a snort, clearly enjoying himself.

“What else did I do?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper, terrified but too curious not to ask.

Spencer grinned, clearly holding back a laugh. “You called me ‘daddy.’”

Y/N’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Spencer sat down beside her on the bed, his expression softening as he watched her. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” he said gently. “We’ve all done stupid things when we’re drunk.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think most people try to seduce their fiancés on the stairs while calling them ‘daddy,’” Y/N muttered, setting the empty glass on the nightstand.

Spencer laughed softly, shaking his head. “Maybe not, but it’s not the worst thing in the world. You were just being… affectionate. In your own way.”

Y/N peeked at him through her fingers, still covering her face. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad? No, not at all,” Spencer reassured her. “I found it kind of adorable, honestly. You’re always so confident and put together, it was nice to see you let go for once.”

“Adorable? I’m pretty sure ‘adorable’ wasn’t the vibe I was going for,” Y/N said, finally lowering her hands, though her cheeks were still pink.

Spencer smiled warmly at her, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. “It’s okay. I love all your vibes.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, finally starting to relax. “Thanks, Spence. You’re too good to me.”

“Only because you deserve it,” he replied, stroking her hair gently. “Now, why don’t you lie back down and rest? I’ll make you some toast and coffee.”

“Toast and coffee sound like heaven right now,” Y/N sighed, leaning into his touch. “But only if you bring it to me in bed.”

Spencer grinned. “Deal. Anything for you, even after you tried to seduce me on the stairs.”

Y/N laughed, her spirits lifting as she watched him head to the kitchen. Despite the embarrassing memories, she felt grateful to have Spencer by her side—someone who could make even the most mortifying situations feel a little less awful.

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tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @noelliece @dreamsarebig

#ria’s recs #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader

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pretty-random-writer · 9 months ago

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Old Man

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel needs glasses but won't admit it, and there's only an amount of teasing a man can take before he decides to show you just how much of an old man he is.

warnings: unprotected p in v sex, creampie, hair pulling, (joel gets a lil rough)

Ellie was the one to start it all,

I mean it's not like you hadn't noticed, but she was the one that started with the jokes.

Not very honorable of you to blame it all on the 14 year old, you knew... but still, just to get the record straight, you weren’t the one to tease him first.

“Gimmie Granpa” she had chuckled one time, grabbing the piece of paper where Maria had written down the recipe for her 'world-famous' casserole from his hands.

"Hey-" He'd protested,

"You can't see shit, man" she giggled, "Stop trying to fight it- you're getting old buddy"

And well from then on things had... escalated.

You'd yet to see a day where the poor man wasn't made fun of because of it, but truth be told, he really did need glasses.

You'd even suggested it to him more gently, in the comfort of your own room, away from Ellie's prying eyes.

"y'know baby, there's nothing wrong with getting glasses"

He'd looked at you as if you'd just told him to go fuck himself.

"Don't look at me like that" you'd smiled, rounding the bed to intertwine your hands behind his neck "It's for your own good"

"I don't need glasses"

"no?" you'd bit down a grin "you sure?"

"'m sure alright" he grumbled

"I bet Tommy would know where to get you a pair if you asked"

"darlin'"

"yes, baby?" you'd asked, hopeful

"I don't need 'em"

And you really did want to keep on trying to convince him, but then he'd kissed you and well- it must have slipped your mind.

Unluckily for him, not for a very long time.

He was in the bathroom, trying, or more specifically struggling, to open a bandaid for your injured finger.

It wasn't anything serious, just a little cut, but as you'd disinfected it, he'd insisted on covering it up, only of course you hadn't expected it to take so long.

"Baby, what's wrong, you can't find them?"

But the answer to your question was right before you as you entered the bathroom.

As I said, he was struggling.

A laugh bubbled up your throat as you took in his focused expression, the frown on his forehead, the squint in his eyes...

"Let me do it"

"No I can do it I just-" he tried to get it open again, failing miserably.

"Joel-" you smiled, walking up to him "let me" you said softly

And with a sigh, he surrendered, handing you the poor, tortured bandaid

"I could have done that" he grumbled as he watched you do it in a split second.

"Sure you could, old man" You grinned to yourself, carefully applying the bandage to your finger.

"What did you just say?"

A soft, breathless gasp fled your mouth-

He'd moved right behind you, and his hands were now on your waist.

"Jesus babe" you laughed,

"What did you say?"

His voice was rough, and his eyes... something had shifted behind his eyes.

You watched his reflection in the mirror before you as you answered

"I said I'm sure you could"

"Mhh" he hummed, his head lowering until he could dive into your neck and inhale your scent "The other thing"

"what other thing?" you feigned innocence, enthralled by his demeanor, by the almost predatorial look in his eyes

"You know what"

"no I don'-"

But you didn't have time to finish, he'd already grabbed you by your hair, pulling your head back until his mouth was ghosting yours

"you called me an old man, darlin'?"

He was a different man from a minute ago.

This was the Joel Miller people feared, the one that killed without remorse, the one that fucked you rough- the once that a sick and twisted part of you revered.

"Baby I was jokin-"

"didn't look like it" he growled, his clothed hard-on pressing into your ass making you whimper, "you think I'm an old man, babydoll?" he murmured, his grip tightening around your hair "I'll show you how much of an old man I am"

Next thing you knew, your upper body was flushed against the sink's countertop, and your shorts were at your feet, together with your panties.

You watched from the mirror as he freed his cock with the hand that wasn't holding you down, and then you felt it-

"will you look at that" he chuckled darkly, the tip of his dick sliding between your folds with ease "you're makin' a mess for an old man, babydoll"

"J-Joel" you whimpered

"no no darlin'" he cooed "You've brought this on yourself- now you're gonna be good and take it, alright?"

When you didn't respond, he yanked your head back, forcing you to look at him through the mirror

"alright?" he bent down, growling in your ear

"y-yes"

"try not to be too loud," he whispered "You wouldn't want people to know how much you like getting fucked by an old man"

You had no time to respond, to tell him how much you didn't care, because he'd already pushed himself fully inside of you, and the only thing you could do was scream.

"you can't help yourself can ya?" he muttered, watching your face contort in all sorts of bliss-induced expressions "The old man gives it to ya too good, 's that it?" he groaned, feeling your walls squeeze around him

"look at me" he ordered, pulling your hair again, making you open your eyes and watch him as he ruthlessly slammed inside of you "Look at the old man who's fuking you, darlin', don't be rude" he grinned

The sound of his skin against yours reverberated through the bathroom, and god it was nasty.

"f-fuck" you tried to speak, tears tarnishing your vision

"I know, I know" he pretended to care, getting up from where he was pressing his torso onto your back, using a hand to get you to remain flush against the sink "I'm going too slow, ain't I?"

Oh shit

Oh fucking shi-

If you thought he was going hard before... you hadn't seen anything.

You couldn't fully create one single thought in your mind as he picked up his pace, as he started literally slamming into you fast and hard enough to break you in half.

"I'm jus' an old man after all babydoll, ain't I?" he breathed, one hand still on your back while the other was still forcing your head up to look at him "You'll understand if I can't fuck you as hard as you'd like" it was like he wasn't hearing how loud you were moaning, how breathless your whines and gasps where each time his dick hit your cervix "what's that?" he mocked "you need it harder darlin'?"

"J-Joel-" you whined, begging, pleading for what you weren't even sure

"shh I got you baby" he cooed, bending down to whisper in your ear again, slowing down his pace just to thrust so fucking deep and hard into you you swore you saw stars "I know my old man's pace ain't enough for you doll"

But it was- Oh it was more than enough.

And yet he didn't care- he was going even harder, even faster, even deeper, and you... you didn't even remember your name anymore.

You could feel the thickness of his cock as it slammed into you over and over and over again, the way it would hit the most hidden spots inside of you, the ones only Joel had only ever been able to find, and then-

And then you could hear his grunts and strangled groans as he fucked you within an inch of your life, as his hair fell to his forehead and tears streamed down your face and your eyes struggled to remain open, struggled to keep on watching him as he fucked you from behind with enough force to break the fucking sink you were on.

Until it got to be too much, until you felt your stomach tighten and the fuse lighting, until he hit that secret spot once again, and all you could do was close your eyes as bliss took over your body, as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

"look at you" he groaned "coming all over an old man's cock" he breathed, your walls squeezing him too good to do anything else but follow suit "letting an old man come deep inside of ya"

It took a long moment for either of you to wake up from the sex-induced haze, but Joel was in much better shape than you, so it was him who came back earlier.

he begrudgingly pulled out, enjoying for a moment too long his own handy work before he helped you up, picking you up bridal style once he realized how useless your legs had become.

"baby" you murmured, before he could place you on the bed "You know I was joking right?" you said, leaning up to kiss him, your mouth catching his in a sweet, gentle kiss that contradicted completely the way he'd just ruined your ability to walk properly

"You're not an old man" you promised

"mh?" he hummed, kissing you again just because he could

"yeah" you smiled, melting into the kiss for what felt like an eternity

He was holding you gently, watching your eyes as they begged to close.

"good" he hummed against your mouth, watching it twist into a devious little smirk as a spark ignited in your eyes

"Although I still think you should at least consider getting glasses-"

"darlin'" he stopped you immediately "I suggest you stop talkin''"

"or what?" you bit down a grin, laughing softly

"Or Tommy's gonna be real mad when you tell him you can't make it to patrol tomorrow 'cause your legs don't work"

#ria’s recs #joel miller #joel miller x reader

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pretty-random-writer · 9 months ago

Note

Reader taking control over matt and riding him slowly but then matt quickly grabbing her hips and thrusting up into her mercilessly while saying “shhh shhh pretty girl” out of breath and touching her sweaty hair

Holy shit I just came writing this

── ୨୧ !　a small blurb where you take control over Matt for a split second before he puts you in your place again

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

Y/N's fingers traced the lines of Matt's jaw, her touch feather-light but charged with an electric energy that sent shivers down his spine. She was straddling his hips, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of him, grounding her as she took in the sight of him beneath her. Matt's dark eyes were half-lidded with a mix of longing and surrender, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

"You're so beautiful." She murmured, her voice a sultry whisper that made Matt's heart race. She leaned down, capturing his lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, her tongue teasing his bottom lip before slipping inside to dance with his. Matt's hands roamed her back, his fingers splaying wide to feel as much of her as possible, his touch both possessive and worshipful.

She was riding him slowly, her movements deliberate and controlled, the sensation almost torturous in its intensity. Each roll of her hips elicited a deep groan from Matt, his grip on her tightening as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Fuck, dove." He gasped, his voice breaking on her name. "You're driving me crazy."

Y/N's lips curved into a wicked smile, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"Is that so?" She teased, increasing the pressure just slightly, enough to make Matt's head fall back against the pillows, his jaw clenched in an effort to hold back the loud moans threatening to spill from his lips, letting out low and long whines.

"Yes." He managed to choke out, his hands moving from her hips to her thighs, his fingers digging into her flesh as if anchoring himself to reality. "God, yes."

She leaned down, her mouth finding his neck, her teeth grazing his skin before she kissed the spot gently.

"Good." She whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "I want you to feel everything."

The slow, deliberate movements were driving Matt to the brink, his body trembling with the need for more. He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze with a look of pure desperation.

"Babe, please." He pleaded, his voice a low growl. "I need more."

Y/N paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she considered his words. Her body ached with a desire that only Matt could fulfill, and the sight of him beneath her, vulnerable and desperate, was enough to make her relent.

"Alright, pretty boy." She said, her voice softening, but there was still a hint of command in her tone. She lifted herself slightly, her hands resting on his chest as she began to move faster, her pace still controlled but with a new urgency that matched the fire burning between them.

Matt's eyes fluttered closed, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as he felt the change in her movements. He couldn't take it anymore. In a swift, fluid motion, his hands gripped her hips tightly while his legs moved so his feet found stability above the mattress, and he finally thrust up into her deeply, his movements hard and merciless.

Y/N's eyes widened, a loud and high-pitched moan escaping her lips as she felt the force of his thrusts. She could feel all of him brushing every corner of her warm walls, his swollen head hitting and bruising her cervix again and again.

"Shhh, shhh, pretty girl." He murmured, his voice strained and breathless. "Take it. Take all of it."

The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that left her trembling. Matt's hands moved to her hair, his fingers tangling in the sweaty strands as he pulled her down for a bruising kiss, his tongue dominating hers in a way that left her breathless.

"You know I'm the one with the real control, sweetheart." He growled against her lips, his voice thick with possessiveness. "I control you. Not the other way around, yeah?"

Y/N could only nod, her mind too foggy with pleasure to form coherent words. She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she matched his pace, their bodies moving in perfect sync. Each thrust brought them closer to the edge, the tension building between them until it was almost unbearable.

"Fuck, Matt." She cried out, her voice breaking as she felt the wave of pleasure crash over her, her body convulsing in his arms. "'Fucking me so good."

Matt’s grin was feral, his thrusts never faltering as he watched Y/N lose every control above him.

"That’s right, scream my name. Let everyone know who owns this pussy." He growled, his pace relentless.

Y/N’s vision blurred, the pleasure too intense, her body on fire. Matt’s words, filthy and degrading, only heightened the sensations coursing through her.

"Please, Matt, I can’t-" She gasped, her voice trembling. But he wasn’t having it.

"You can, and you will." He commanded, his hands gripping her waist tighter, bruising, while his hips moved in an incredible fast pace, his legs burning with the force he was applying. "You’re going to take every inch, like the good little thing you are."

His words sent a shockwave through her, her walls clenching around him involuntarily. The friction was maddening, each thrust sending her spiraling further into a state of bliss.

"Look at you, completely at my mercy." Matt continued, his voice a low rumble. "Begging for it. Needing it."

"Yes, yes, I need it." She whimpered, her nails raking down his chest, leaving angry red trails in their wake.

"Fuck, you’re so tight." He groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic, a sign that he was close. "Squeezing me so good, sweetheart."

Y/N’s body arched, the combination of his words and the relentless pace pushing her towards her orgasm. She could feel him swelling inside her, every inch of him claiming her completely.

"Come for me, pretty girl." Matt demanded, his voice rough with need. "Come all over my cock."

With a final, desperate cry, Y/N’s body shattered around him, her orgasm tearing through her with a force that left her breathless, her upper body only remaining up because of his hold on her. Matt’s grip on her tightened, his own release following soon after, his hot seed filling her completely.

"Fuck! That's it, baby. Now you understand why I'm the one in control, huh?"

I'm sorry this ended up being longer, I'm in my period LMAO 🤭😞

#ria’s recs #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader

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pretty-random-writer · 10 months ago

Note

I NEED a fluff of bookworm! reader and gamer! matt 🙏🏾

── ୨୧ !　a small blurb with gamer!matt

　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x bookworm!reader

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow over the cozy room. Y/N was nestled comfortably on her bed, her back against a mountain of pillows, lost in the pages of a thick novel. She had her favorite blanket draped over her legs, its softness a comforting presence as she delved deeper into the fictional world. Beside her, the soft hum of Matt’s gaming setup and the distinct ones that came from his headphones created a soothing background noise, blending perfectly with the rustle of turning pages.

Matt sat at his desk, eyes focused on the screen as his fingers moved deftly over the keyboard. He was in the middle of an intense game in Fortnite, yet every few minutes, his gaze would drift towards Y/N. He loved seeing her like this, completely engrossed in her book, her eyes widening or her lips curling into a smile at particularly gripping moments. It was one of those small things that made him adore her even more.

"Everything okay, babe?" Matt asked during a brief pause in his game.

Y/N looked up, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Yeah, everything’s perfect! Just getting to a really good part." She replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Matt grinned, satisfied that she was enjoying herself. He resumed his game but kept a part of his attention on her, glancing over every so often. After a particularly thrilling chapter, Y/N let out an audible gasp, her eyes wide with surprise. Matt chuckled to himself, knowing exactly what had caused her reaction. He paused his game and stood up, stretching his arms above his head before walking over to the door, leaving their room quietly, leaving it half open behind.

He took a few steps before entering the kitchen, his hands rummaged through the pantry, and found her favorite snacks. He poured some coffee she had made earlier that day, knowing she loved a warm drink while reading and grabbed a root beer for himself. Balancing everything on a tray, he carefully made his way back to the bedroom.

"Hey, bookworm." He called softly, making Y/N look up from her book, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Snack delivery!"

"You’re the best, Matty." She said, setting her book aside for a moment.

Matt set the tray on the bedside table and handed her the coffee.

"I know." He replied with a wink. He then settled back at his desk, sipping his soda and resuming his game.

As the afternoon wore on, the room filled with the gentle sounds of Y/N’s occasional gasps and giggles as she reacted to her book. Matt’s game was going well, but he found himself more and more distracted by her. He loved seeing her so animated, her emotions so raw and genuine.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, Matt put down his headphones and walked over to the bed. He gently moved the book from her hands and lay down between her legs, resting his head on her stomach. Y/N looked down at him, surprised but delighted.

"Hey, you." She said softly, her fingers automatically threading through his hair.

"Hey." He replied, looking up at her with a mischievous grin. "What’s happening in your book?"

"Oh, you wouldn’t believe it. Jack just found out who killed the 8 burned girls." Y/N said, her voice filled with the drama of the story.

Matt chuckled. He couldn't understand how his calm and serene looking girl had so much appreciation for death books.

"Sounds intense."

"It is." Y/N agreed, her fingers still playing with his hair. "But it’s so good."

Matt watched her for a few more seconds, his heart swelling with affection. Then, he leaned up and peppered her face with kisses, making her laugh.

"You’re adorable." He said between kisses.

Y/N giggled, trying to dodge his affectionate assault.

"Matt, stop! That tickles!"

"I can’t help it. You’re too pretty." He said, finally stopping and resting his head back on her stomach.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, enjoying the simple closeness. Then, with a sigh, Matt got up.

"I should get back to my game." He said reluctantly.

Y/N nodded, her smile still lingering.

"Go win that game for me."

"Will do." He promised, giving her one last kiss before returning to his desk.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blissful haze of books and games. Every now and then, Matt would look over at Y/N, and every time, he found her more enchanting than before. They didn’t need words to communicate their feelings; the shared silence was enough, punctuated by the occasional look, touch, or smile.

As the sun began to set, casting a soft, pinkish hue over the room, Y/N put down her book and stretched. Matt noticed and paused his game, turning to her with a smile.

"Done for the day?" He asked, noticing how she was almost at the end of the book.

"Yeah, I think so. I wanted to read more, but I'm tired." She replied, rubbing her eyes. "How about you?"

"I can be." He said, getting up and walking over to her. He sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hand. "Why don't you tell me all about that book of yours while I order us something to eat?"

Y/N’s eyes lit up.

"That sounds perfect."

Matt leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"Then it's a plan."

#ria’s recs #matt sturniolo x reader

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pretty-random-writer · 10 months ago

Text

make you mine.

spencer notices that you’ve been skipping a few too many team socials.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: romantic confessions, mentions of alcohol, mental health, hurt/comfort, plenty of fluff, spencer is a huge softie

word count :: 2.3k

author’s note :: don’t think i’ve written anything where reader and spencer confess their feelings for each other?? anyways here’s to more hurt/comfort

accompanying song :: sugar by brockhampton

“who’s up for drinks at o’keefe’s?”

a loud cheer erupts as the elevator doors open and reveals garcia standing in front of the entrance with a gleeful smile.

“count me in!” jj raises a hand and emily promptly follows suit. the two giggle as they lean in to embrace the tech analyst festively decorated with bright red jewelry.

when rossi declares the first round’s on me! the room breaks into an even louder celebration, whistles and applause sounding left and right.

moving past the crowd with a few happy chants of your own, you finally settle in your seat and stretch. sighing, you shuffle through the pile of case files sitting on your desk and stuff several into your shoulder bag. you tie up your hair and take out a pen from your pencil holder. once again exhaling with a deep sigh, you flip through the remaining manila folders, ready to document all of the evidence after today’s investigation.

“you’re coming, right?”

you crane your neck to your left to identify the source of the voice and see morgan, hands on his hips as he scans your face for your usual smile teeming with enthusiasm. you offer a feeble smile instead, shaking your head as you point to the case file you’re working on.

“i’d really love to, but… this paper isn’t going to write itself.”

“oh come on, not again. when’s it due?”

“tomorrow noon,” you mumble, gently rolling your head to the side to relieve the pain that’s been begging for release.

“you’re kidding. well, text me if you need a hand, or if you just want company.” morgan pats your back and turns around to leave, but not without first flashing you a wink. you watch as he slings his arm around garcia’s shoulder and as the rest of the team follow the pair out of the office, each giving you a wave before they disappear into the elevator.

“you’re not going?”

you turn around to see spencer, who’s just coming out of hotch’s office and holding a case file of his own. he turns off the lights upstairs and walks down the stairs, stopping once he’s in front of your desk.

“oh, um, no. i just need to finish writing this up really quickly, and then i’ll head back.”

you brush a strand of hair behind your ear and turn in your seat to get back to work, but spencer pulls up a chair beside you.

“that’s the third time in a row you’ve said no to them. you okay?”

you sit still for a second, unsure of how to respond. when spencer leans his elbow on the side of your desk, you know he’s not going to leave without an answer, so you look back at him hesitantly.

“yeah, i’m good. what’s keeping you here?”

“i just left a request to take two days off.”

“oh, nice. yeah, you seriously deserve a break,” you nod and offer a small smile. despite your friendly expression, the tiredness in your voice overrides your genuine words. before you can expose any more of your sluggish lethargy, you revert your attention back to your documents.

“yeah, and so do you.”

you turn to meet his gaze. a serious expression overtakes his usually lax face, tense facial muscles raising his brows and clenching his jaw.

you don’t know how to dispel the air of its building tension so you chuckle, playfully hitting him in the arm and shaking your head. “oh no, that’s- that’s not necessary. i’m fine, spence. besides, i took a break pretty recently.”

you rub your forehead tiredly as you speak and cock your head to the side, as if waiting for spencer’s dismissal so that you can get back to work.

“you haven’t requested a day off in 102 days. that’s 2448 hours.” spencer lowers his chin and studies you with his unwavering eyes. you feel your heart flutter alarmingly at his stare; you swallow slowly.

of course he’d be the one to count the days, no, the exact hour, since your last break. you try to play it off again by nudging him in the elbow, but he looks way too serious, concerned even. your arm hangs in the air with no warmth to latch on to.

“do you want to talk about it?”

when spencer leans forward, you feel your throat run dry. holding your breath, you weigh your next words very carefully.

“spence, i’m fine. i don’t need the time off.”

“too late.”

“what?” your jaw sets uncomfortably when you hear spencer’s response, and a hint of amusement flickers in his eyes before he quickly narrows them.

“it wasn’t just my request that i submitted. i put in yours as well.”

“wait- wait what?”

“yeah, hotch just wanted me to leave a physical copy for the sake of documentation. but he approved both of our requests before we even landed.”

“hold up… spence, you just… why would you do that?”

surprisingly, you don’t feel mad. yes, he’s just submitted a leave request without your permission, but maybe this is what you needed. someone to force you to take a break, because otherwise, you’d just work yourself to your death.

“like i said, you haven’t taken a leave in 102 days. constantly overworking yourself is detrimental and can lead to burnout because of the buildup of fatigue. in the long run, it can impair your memory and thinking. so,” he says as he grasps the pen out of your hand and closes your folder, “do you want to talk about it?”

as if he’s perfectly hit your pressure point, the tiredness you’ve been masking this entire time instantly unwinds. you let out a deep, weary sigh.

“you know, two weekends ago, when we went down to south carolina to investigate that case? and i stayed back for a few hours?”

out of the corner of your eye, you see spencer nod.

“well, i met up with a friend from college. we just hung out, you know, tried to catch up with each other.”

when you emit a stressed laugh, spencer reaches for your hand. he gently kneads your palm, and you take it as a signal to continue at your own pace. you turn your head to the side so you can take in the sight of him more fully.

“as we kept talking, i realized how she has so many friends, so much fun outside of her work. she’s even getting married in two months. and i just thought… i honestly wished for a second that she was a little more lonely, like me.”

you close your eyes, instantly regretting your confession. are you really making him listen to your childish concerns? you wish he’d laugh at you, dismiss it as plain stupidity and tell you that you were right to keep it to yourself. but he won’t, because he’s spencer reid.

spencer watches you intently, at how you force out a laugh and brush the tears that are welling up in your eyes. he observes the way you shake your head and refuse to look him in the eye.

“i’m so selfish, aren’t i? this whole thing–it’s so stupid. what am i saying, what am i even doing, wishing for something so foul?” your face crumples as you speak, and the words trail off into an absorbed mumble between your sniffles.

“it’s not stupid. you’re not selfish,” spencer hums quietly, lightly brushing his fingers against your cheek and dragging his thumb across your eyelashes to sweep your tears.

a strangled sob spills from your throat, and you lean into his touch, burying your cheek further into his palm. spencer waits patiently for you to recollect yourself, and coos a constant stream of it’s okay in your ear.

“at first, i thought it was the job, spence,” you finally utter your broken thoughts with a dry laugh, “but then i saw how everyone else was dealing with it. emily, jj, garcia. and then i realized, it’s me.”

spencer swivels your chair and draws you closer to him, so your thighs are lying between his legs. like a confused puppy, you let out a small yelp of surprise.

“you need to understand, y/n, that it takes time to find your rhythm, whether that’s at work, with your social life, or just a new place. so don’t compare yourself to others, because we’re all worried about something, and we’re all at different stages of coping.”

his longing glance breaches your lips, and you lower your eyes shyly. his soft-spokenness, undivided attention, and effortless verbal magic read your emotions like an open book. you don’t have to hide. the tears fall, fast and hard.

“let it all out. it’s okay. it’s always okay to cry, but you know what’s not okay? bottling it up all the time.” he pats your knees and rubs his palms across your trousers soothingly.

“bottling your feelings constantly, it’s what psychologists call repressive coping. numerous studies have found that repressive coping has been linked to a less resilient immune system, higher vulnerability to cardiovascular disease, as well as proneness to certain mental health conditions, including anxiety and depression,” spencer continues while looking at you sympathetically with his soft brown eyes.

slowly, you coil your arms around his neck and hold him in a tight embrace.

“you’re not really fair, spencer, you know that?”

“what do you mean?”

“you can’t just cite all these cool facts when you speak. i don’t have an argument to toss back at you.”

spencer pulls away from the embrace slightly, and looks down at you with eyes full of mirth. he bursts into a small spate of giggles, and it’s contagious, because you also exhale a bubbly laugh.

“i can’t help it,” he breathes quietly, and the air that exits his lips tickles your eyelashes.

spencer continues to watch you with the same stare a sculptor would possess over a block of marble, and breathes warmth into your body. you finally let your arms loose and withdraw from the hug, grinning shyly.

“let me finish this report, and i’ll head back with you. what am i even going to do with the two days off anyways?”

“i was thinking that we could check out the steam engine festival that’s happening downtown? the 611 is actually the sole surviving member of fourteen class j locomotives produced by the norfolk and western railway, and there’s going to be special excursions reserved for interested passengers.”

you laugh as spencer happily goes on his ramble, and you go back to writing your report – this time with a rejuvenated spirit.

“be honest, spence. you submitted my request because you wanted someone to go with you to this festival, didn’t you?”

“what? no!” spencer shakes his head, but your suspicions only grow when he starts fidgeting with his fingers.

“if you say so,” you grin cheekily, “but i could really use a drink tonight. you coming?”

spencer nods. he waits for you to finish up your edits and sign off the last page of the document, and helps you pack the rest of your belongings into your bag. with a boyish smile, he offers you his elbow, and you loop your arm in his.

there’s a lot to be thankful for, a lot to be hopeful for, and a lot to love spencer for.

“spencer?” you ask quietly. spencer hums back in response.

you don’t know why, but a sudden wave of confidence washes over you, urging you to say your next words without holding back.

“i like you.”

you thought your years spent concealing your feelings for spencer would have culminated in a much more formulated confession, but it’s too late to retrace your steps.

almost immediately, spencer looks at you with widened eyes. you’re almost scared he’s going to abandon you and run away in a nervous flight, but he stays put, his cheeks flushing with the shade of deep red.

“y-you can’t be drunk already,” he stammers and then abruptly chuckles, making you wonder if he’s just attempted to respond to your confession with a joke.

but maybe you are drunk, drunk from the hazy feeling of love and the highs of spilling the emotional torrent earlier. you furrow your brows and fix your stare on the office floor.

“no, spencer, i like you as in i really like you. like, romantically.”

spencer hesitates this time, moving only to press the elevator call button. you think you’ve just screwed up, right then and there, because his brows shoot up in surprise while his lips thin into a line.

but then slowly, he smiles, his hazel colored eyes light up, and his gaze darts left and right excitedly.

maybe all of the stars have aligned perfectly, because the air starts to collapse in on itself rapidly, and he stoops down to press a shaky kiss on your lips. it’s unlike anything you’ve ever shared with him, so different from when he hugs you, when he ruffles your hair, when he pats your back. it’s so tender and he leaves you to glow in the warmth of his lingering touch.

it’s only after he does this that you realize that you’ve actually just confessed to your coworker, the man you’ve had a crush on for so long, the reason why you show up to work with a smile. before you can second-guess anything, spencer grabs your wrist and pulls you in. it starts with small pecks, but then he works up to a bigger kiss; by the time the elevator arrives, you’ve fully melted into his arms.

“2190 days.”

you look up to meet his blissful gaze with your own love-tainted eyes. “hm?”

“that’s the number of days that have passed since i first met you and started to work with you. i uh,” spencer swallows, toying with the strands on his leather bag nervously.

he opens his mouth, only to shut it immediately after. he looks at you with a shy smile, the bashfulness dimpling his cheeks, and then clears his throat.

“i like you too.”

#ria’s recs #spencer reid x reader

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pretty-random-writer · 10 months ago

Text

Happy Birthday, Javi!

summary: It’s the early morning of his 42nd birthday, and Javier is in the midst of having a very dirty dream when he’s awoken suddenly and finds out it wasn’t all in his head—his wife really is on top of him, something he loves waking up to.

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! This is literally smut and fluff. No y/n, mostly Javier's POV but shifts to reader at the end, Husband Javier Peña, Dad Javier Peña, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it up), consensual somnophilia, creampie (he’s told not to pull out), lactation kink, cockwarming if you squint, woman on top, Javier fighting for his life not to come immediately, he dreams reader is pregnant, Javier loving your postpartum body a lot, slight body worship, Javier being so in love, domestic fluff (IT’S SO FLUFFY), breastfeeding, Javier being the best dad, Javier and his son wearing matching outfits, Javier loving his wife and child so much, Javier getting the love and happiness he deserves)

word count: 4.4k

a/n: This can be read as a standalone or part of the Learning to Live ‘verse (it’s canon). This idea came to me at 4:30 in the morning, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Then I had a really rough week, and writing about Javi being a dad cheered me up (he’s very cute in this), and here we are. It’s close to being half dirty nasty smut and half domestic Javi-being-a-father fluff. I hope you enjoy! A big thanks to the love of my life, @juletheghoul for betaing!!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Winter has barely sunk its teeth into southern Texas, and already, when the sun retires for the evening, the temperatures have begun dropping below freezing—It’s so cold the home’s heat has kicked on, something that hardly happens for the majority of the year.

With the house warm and the blankets on their bed thicker to combat the season’s chill, Javier is snug and cozy beneath the covers, having fallen asleep with the woman he loves curled up in his arms.

It’s a deep sleep that’s taken him, the kind where you melt into the mattress and sink so far into your dreams the world fades away, and reality becomes whatever your mind conjures—Javier’s mind has transported him back to his fully furnished apartment in Colombia, the one with the leather couch, and the colorful afghan blanket that was already there when he moved in to try and make the place feel homey. He’s naked and sitting back on the sofa with a sheen of sweat all over his body, his skin sticking to the leather, a situation he’d been in so many times he’d lost count, but this one—Jesus Christ—this one is unforgettable.

The love of his life is in his lap, bouncing on his cock; he’s mapped out every inch of her body and memorized all the ways she likes to be touched to the point he can play her like a virtuoso of her pleasure, and he can’t help thinking how fucking beautiful she looks taking what she wants.

She’s his Cielito (little heaven), his amor (love), his wife, and the mother of his one-year-old son—and in this scenario, she’s also pregnant with their second child, which is riling him up when the soft swell of her belly bumps into him—fuck, he misses her being pregnant—he knows that look on her face means she’s about to come, and he’s going to get her there no matter what it takes.

Javier can feel her hot, wet cunt around him as she moves up and down; he can feel it so perfectly, the way she’s starting to squeeze his length and how she’s dripping down his shaft, the arousal in his gut burning like an inferno. Her perfect tits are right there in front of him, pearly dribbles of milk leaking from her nipples, causing his mouth to water at wanting to lick it all up, and he can’t help himself, carefully taking her breasts into his large hands, dipping his head forward—“Javi,” she moans, but it doesn’t come from inside his head, it’s something said into the room and has his consciousness slamming into him hard enough to jolt him awake.

It takes a second to process his surroundings, and when he realizes what is going on, he groans loudly, “Fuckkkkk,” drawing out the word; his entire body shudders, his dick twitching hard inside his wife—his wife who is currently riding him and has been riding him while he was asleep.

Their bedroom is bathed in darkness save for the glowing red numbers on each of their alarm clocks on their bedside tables and a sliver of light from a night light filtering through the cracked bathroom door. His head is cushioned on a pillow, the blankets are pushed down his body to where they’re bunched up at his feet, and all he can make out is her shape.

She braces herself with her hands on his chest for leverage and picks up pace, rising until just the tip of him remains and dropping her ass down, fucking herself on him over and over again—like in his dream, her pussy has a tight grip on him, all hot and wet, her need soaking him, and dripping down his cock to catch on his balls.

“Happy birthday, Javi,” she pants, now that he’s awake.

He’s hoarse, his voice deeper from sleep. “God, I fucking love you.” He grabs the tops of her thighs bracketing his hips, feeling her muscles flex beneath his palms as she moves.

“I love you, too.”

“Close your eyes,” he tells her and waits a beat. “Are they closed?”

“Yes,” she gasps, keeping the same tempo; this faster rhythm she’s going at is a rhythm that’ll have her coming quickly, which is good because Javier isn’t sure how long he’s going to last—he’s wound up so tight, his toes are curled, and he’s fighting for his life not to blow his load so soon without getting a chance to see her with the light on.

Immediately, he reaches over to the bedside table to turn on the lamp, squinting at the sudden brightness, and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, his palms resting on her thighs again.

When he can finally see, all of his attention is on the woman atop him and Christ, she’s even more gorgeous than in his dream; her head is thrown back, putting her kissable neck on display, her skin dewy with sweat, and there’s no baby bump, but it drives him just as crazy to see the reminders that she carried his child—the things she sometimes frowns at when she looks at herself in the mirror, and that he makes a point to show her how much he loves, worshiping the perfect imperfections with his lips and words, kissing her stretch marks, and constantly telling her how beautiful she is, always reassuring her that he thinks her body is perfect. Her incredible body that grew and feeds their son and makes Javier so fucking hard when he sees her naked.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says.

His hands slide up the soft skin of her belly to her ribs, and his eyes zero in on her tits jiggling as she uses him to make herself feel good; they’re bare, freely bouncing as she bounces on him, and they’re leaking—a flaming hot spike of arousal cuts through him, his eyes squeezing shut as he chants, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He’s hanging on by a single, delicate thread and starts recounting the digits of Pi in his head to calm himself down: 3.14159265…

She’s so wet he can hear the fast, slick strokes of her working herself up and down his throbbing shaft, and it’s not helping that she’s no longer holding back her moans and is letting them slip unbidden from her perfect parted lips. After a few big, steady breaths, he gets to a point where he can look at her again without coming instantly. His jaw goes slack, his heart pounding in his ears—her eyes are glossy with pleasure as she watches him, a furrow between her brows, and her mouth slightly agape for her heavy breaths and intoxicating sounds; it’s a look that tells him she’s close to coming, and when that happens, she’s taking him with her.

“You good?” her question comes out breathy, and she slows to a grind, rubbing her clit against the coarse hair at the base of his dick—her legs must be tired—his attention is on her breasts, and he wants so badly to taste the liquid beading from her nipples, that’s dripping down her stomach.

His response is delayed. He licks his lips and meets her gaze, sweat glistening on his temple. His voice sounds strained, “Tell me you’re close.”

Because he’s balancing on a razor’s edge, and he sure as hell is not finishing before her.

She smiles. “I’m close.”

Thank fuck.

“Can I take over?”

“Please.”

That’s all the answer he needs—he tugs her down to have them chest to chest, and with an arm around her, he rolls them so he’s on top and still inside her. His knees dig into the mattress, and he lifts her legs high up on his ribs for a better angle; his arms framing her head hold up most of his weight, and then his hips are moving, matching the fast, hard rhythm she was going at before she got tired that’ll have her coming in two, maybe three minutes.

“Oh, god,” she moans. “Don’t stop.” Her hands are on his ass, her nails digging into his flesh. “Oh, fuck it’s so good—you’re gonna make me come—make me come.”

His eyes are closed, his teeth clenched as he does his best to stave off his looming orgasm. The wet smack of skin on skin sounds in the room, his wife mewling beneath him, and Javier grunting with each deep kiss of his cock into her inner depths; arousal is drooling from her pussy, slicking up his strokes so he can easily pound into her, and Javier is dangerously close and needs to get her off sooner rather than later.

Some days she’s okay with her tits being played with, and others, she doesn’t want them touched at all; with her purposefully not wearing a bra—a rare occasion since she’s still breastfeeding—it’s her way of telling him he has free reign as long as he’s gentle. He puts all of his weight onto one arm to free up a hand he palms her breast with while the snap of his hips continues. Javier ducks his head down, wrapping his lips around her pebbled nipple, gingerly sucking; her back arches beneath him, and he groans as a spurt of the sweetness hits his tongue, his cock jerking.

She’s so sensitive that all it takes is another suck, and she’s cresting with a cry of his name, her body seizing up, and her pussy clamping down on him hard enough his pace stutters, and his breath catches in his throat—he’s going to come.

His mouth leaves her, his balls tightening, his thrusts turning frantic, and he has a split second where he thinks a rational thought—he can’t come inside her, he has to pull out, she doesn’t want to get pregnant until they experience the terrible twos with their firstborn. The realization has him panting out, “Shit, I’m coming.”

When he goes to get off of her, he finds that her legs are locked around him, stopping him from moving away. He looks at her with wild eyes, and her own are closed, her mouth turned up in a happy little smile.

“Then come,” she tells him.

“Are you sure?” He’s clenching hard to hold the orgasm at bay, his heart feeling like it’s going to beat right out of his chest.

Her eyes open, and she gives him a bigger smile. “Yes—Happy Birthday, Javi.”

Her answer has a choked whine leaving his throat, his dick pulsating; he’s at the point of no return where he couldn't stop himself from coming even if he wanted to—he’s a goner. His head drops against her shoulder, closing his eyes as his hips start moving fast, all of the nerves in his body lit up like the fourth of July. The muscles in his belly are coiling, winding tight, and then it’s game over; Javier pushes into her as far as he can go, his balls drawing up, and he shatters with a ragged moan. His cock jerks as spurts and spurts of his come gush inside her, euphoria exploding out from his center to take over every cell in his body, and it doesn’t seem to end as it continues pulsing through him in aftershocks.

He comes so hard all thoughts leave his brain, and everything goes black, Javier so wrung out that his arms give out.

—★—

He has no idea how much time passes.

What he does know is that his face is pressed into the crook of his wife’s neck, where she smells like the fruity body wash she used in the shower before bed with a salty hint of sweat. His scalp is tingling as her fingertips trail all over it. He’s still coming down and so relaxed that he’s practically boneless. Javier smiles, pressing a kiss to her skin.

“You come back to earth, yet?” she whispers.

He’s still inside her, and she feels so fucking good around him he doesn’t want to pull out, but he knows she’s probably uncomfortable under his weight—he grips her thigh, holding it against his hip to roll them to their sides without dislodging himself. He hugs her in his arms, peppering her neck in kisses, and his words come out muffled. “Pretty sure I’m still on cloud nine.”

She huffs in amusement, her fingers still in his hair. “Good way to wake up?”

His lips are on the underside of her jaw. “The best way to wake up.”

“I’m glad you liked it—Happy Birthday, babe.”

He kisses her chin, then her lips all slow and tender, wanting her to feel his love and devotion, his gratitude and appreciation for the perfect life she’s given him; years ago, at the beginning of their relationship, she asked him what he wanted in life, and he told her, a marriage founded in love, a dog, a house, happiness, and her—he wanted the American dream of a wife, dog, and white picket fence, but back then he didn’t think he was worthy of the two and a half kids, even though deep down he desperately wished he was.

And this incredible woman gave him everything he wished for and the greatest gift of all—fatherhood.

Agustín ‘Gus’ Jesús Peña was born the same year they were married, and even though he arrived a month before it, Javier considers him the best birthday present he’s ever gotten in his entire life—nothing would ever top becoming a father for his forty-first birthday, except maybe them having another baby.

They break apart, and he nudges her nose with his. “Thank you, mi amor.” For everything, he leaves unsaid.

“You’re welcome.” She pecks his lips. “We should probably go and shower since our child inherited your morning-person genes and will be up soon.” She yawns.

He lifts his head to look over at the alarm clock on the bedside table, his eyes squinting as he reads the numbers; it’s a bit past five, and she’s right, their son is an early riser, and he’ll be up within the hour.

He kisses her again. “You don’t have to get up with us morning-people, Cielito,” he says. “You took the day off—“ It’s a Wednesday in December, and she’d gone back to working full time after her maternity leave because she loves her job. “—so, go back to bed after we shower and sleep in a little. Mornings are my thing, anyway. I always get up with him.”

She moves her head to meet his gaze, smiling. “You’re very sweet.” She lightly pats his cheek. “And I’m sorry for intruding on your guy time. I know he’s your little morning buddy, but my boobs are leaking really bad, and I need him to help his mama out.”

“I could help his mama out…”

She laughs, and he frowns. “If we weren’t on a time crunch, I’d say yes; unfortunately, we are on a time crunch, and it’s impossible for you to put your mouth anywhere near my tits without getting unbelievably horny.”

He sighs. She’s not wrong. “Fine.” He smacks her bare ass and quickly kisses her. “I love you—let’s get going.”

—★—

Their toddler woke up after they showered and dressed in lounging clothes—Javier, a pair of grey sweatpants, his wife, an oversized T-shirt, a nursing bra, and her panties—they’d actually get dressed later on when the sun had risen. They heard their child stir while they were finishing changing out the sheets on their bed, and Javier went to get him, even though she protested that it was his birthday and she’d do it.

A diaper change, and a few minutes later, found the Peñas in their bedroom, his wife lying in bed on her side with her shirt shoved up and out of the way for their toddler to nurse, and Javier spooning her from behind, his arm over her, and his palm resting against the little one’s back. He loves his regular morning routine with his son, where they sit in the rocking chair he built, which lives in the child’s room, and he feeds him his bottle of warmed milk. But the mornings where the three of them cuddle together while Gus eats are hands down his favorite—he just hates remembering one day their kid will outgrow this—he’ll get big and won’t need to nurse anymore, and he’ll no longer be Javier’s sweet, little baby who greets him every morning with a big gummy smile, that’s now a big one-toothed smile.

He can hear their son suckling, and Cielito coos, “Is that my nose?” It makes Javier’s lips turn up. Gus has loved to poke people’s noses ever since they started teaching him parts of the body.

He nuzzles his face against the back of his wife’s head and thinks it’ll be okay his nene (baby boy) is growing—it's a new adventure in parenting having a toddler, and he’s their first child, after all. They need all the practice they can get before they have more babies, something Javier can’t wait for.

—★—

When asked what he wanted to do for his birthday, he gave the same answer he did the prior year: he wanted to spend the day with his wife and kid. Last year, they stayed at home with their newborn, and his dad came over to have dinner with them, bringing a tres leches cake his tía (aunt) made. This year? He wants to go out with them, starting with breakfast at the diner, then a walk around downtown to see all of the Christmas decorations and do a little shopping, maybe a stop at the park, or they could go on a drive so Gus can nap, and they’ll end their day having dinner with his father at a restaurant; in other words, Javier wants to show off his perfect family to everyone in town.

It’s later in the morning, and they’re preparing to leave for breakfast—he’s fully dressed in dark-wash jeans and a baby blue short-sleeved button-up his wife picked out for him so he’d match the sweater she’s wearing, and she insisted on getting their kid ready; it was one of those times where he knew he wouldn’t win, so he stood down, and let her do her thing while he put their dirtied sheets into the washer, unloaded the dryer, fed their dog—a two-year-old beagle named Bandido—and Javier is currently, setting down the dog’s full water bowl next to his food, the beagle nowhere in sight.

“Javi?” Cielito calls on her way to the kitchen. He can hear the soft padding of her socked feet on their hardwood floor and the patter of the dog following her.

Gus speaks before him, “Mama, dido!”

“Yes, baby,” his wife replies, the smile evident in her voice. “Bandido is down there.”

She addresses Javier again, “Babe?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“Don’t look yet—” He straightens and continues facing the wall, smiling and wondering what her surprise is. “—but do you have your camera out there?”

“Yeah,” he answers. It’s sitting on their kitchen island’s marble countertop nearby since he’ll be bringing it with them.

“Okay, good.” Seconds later, she’s in the same room. “Turn around, Javi.”

Javier doesn’t wait another second and spins to face them. He sucks in a breath—his grinning wife has on a cable-knit sweater in a similar color to his shirt and black leggings, and their son, in her arms, is wearing the exact same outfit as Javier; same color shirt, same wash of jeans, he’s even got on a pair of brown Chelsea boots like his, and she put him in a matching black leather jacket to the one Javier planned to wear when they left. If all of that isn’t the cutest fucking shit he’s ever seen, she stuck a fake tiny mustache on the baby.

As Gus has grown and his features have become more pronounced, all it took is one look to know who his father is; their shared eyes, nose, eyebrows, chin, and dimple in their cheeks, he’s a miniature version of his dad, and with him all dressed up like Javier and the mustache, they looked exactly alike much to his delight.

The tiny leather jacket creaked as the one-year-old held out his arms toward his father, “Pap��!”

“Oh, papito!” Javier says, smiling big. He briskly walks toward them, scooping up his son, making him giggle as he kisses all over his face. He holds him in one arm to look at him, smoothing his other hand over the soft, baby hair. “Mira lo guapo que eres! (Look how handsome you are)!” He rubs the child’s cheek with his thumb. “Mi nene lindo (My cute baby boy). ¿Tu mamá te vistió como yo (Did your mom dress you like me)? ¿Eres mi gemelo hoy (Are you my twin today)?”

Gus grins at him, his one tooth peeking up from behind his bottom lip. His chubby little hand reaches towards Javier’s face, pointing at it, and the man closes the distance so the baby pokes the tip of his nose.

“¿Es esa mi nariz? (Is that my nose)? ¿Dónde está tu nariz (Where’s your nose)?”

The child gestured to his own. “Correcto, papito (That’s right, papito),” he says. Javier hugs the baby to him and kisses the top of his head. He lifts his face, focusing on his wife, who’d grabbed the camera, his eyes softening.

“I love this,” he tells her.

She smiles. “I know, and I know that yes, you want to spend the day out and about with us, but you also want to flaunt us around town because you love when people comment on how cute our family is—I figured we’d up the cuteness.” She shrugs. “They’re gonna go nuts at you two twinning and all of us color coordinating. I even told your dad to wear baby blue when we go to dinner tonight. Happy Birthday, Javi. I love you.”

“Come here,” he says, holding out his free hand, and she takes it, Javier pulling her close enough to wrap his arm around her, gazing into her eyes. “I love you, too.” He kisses her, and Gus starts happily squealing—as they’ve done many times before, their mouths separate, and they turn their attention to the toddler, each choosing a cheek that they press many loud, smacking kisses to, their son laughing, a sound Javier loves so much.

This is the fucking dream, and he’s living it. He’s never been happier.

Without a doubt, marrying Javier Peña is the best and easiest decision you’ve ever made in your entire life. He hates that he settled down so late, but for you, his age is a perk—he’s mature, experienced, and he took your relationship seriously; he didn’t want to play around. He was more than ready for commitment and marriage.

What it came down to is that you hit the husband jackpot. Javier is a man who loves you more than anything and gives you all of his devotion. He’s caring, sweet, amazing in bed, and absolutely the best father in the world to your child.

There’s nothing better than watching him be a doting dad. Right this second, you’re walking down a sidewalk downtown after having breakfast; Javi’s holding his tiny twin, who removed his fake mustache on the car ride to the restaurant, wearing their leather jackets to keep warm, while you push the stroller. The father keeps stopping at store windows for Gus to see the pretty, colorful holiday lights and decorations.

Practically everyone at the diner stopped by your table to comment on the matching father-son duo’s adorableness, and on your walk, many people have said how cute they are, which has Javi over the moon with happiness. Just moments ago, an elderly couple approached you and were delighted when your son waved and greeted them with, “Hi!” They told Javi he had a beautiful family, and he’s still beaming from the compliments.

The happy man is strolling along beside you. He leans your way and whispers, “I want another.”

“Another what?” you ask, keeping your focus forward. There aren’t too many shoppers out.

“Another baby.”

An exasperated breath leaves you, and you glance at him. “You always want another baby.”

He’s smirking under his perfect mustache. “Yeah, I do—we should go for it.”

“I love you, Javi, and I know it’s your birthday, but my answer is no. Not yet—we’re waiting.”

He pouts. “If your answer is no, then why didn’t you let me pull out this morning?”

Pulling out isn’t the best birth control method. Still, you didn’t want to get back on the pill or do anything that fucked with your already fucked postpartum hormones, and the two of you would rather risk pregnancy than use condoms—you’re married, financially stable, want more kids, have extra space in your home—if any of this weren’t the case, he’d be wrapping up, as it was, an accidental pregnancy wouldn’t be the end of the world; It’s simply your preference to hold off on another kid until you see what your firstborn is like as a two-year-old.

You also keep track of your cycle, and the chances of him knocking you up are currently slim to none.

“Because birthdays are a day to indulge in things you don’t normally get to, so cream pies are back on the menu today.” You wag your eyebrows, and his eyes widen, seeing his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“All day…?” he asks.

You smile. “Yes.”

He suddenly stops, and you do, too, facing him.

“Turn around, we’re going home,” he says, his chocolate-colored eyes darker.

“Javier,” you giggle. “You have a whole day planned!”

“Sure, but that was before I knew all of my options—we’re going home, Gus is taking a nap, and we’re gonna fold a hell of a lot of laundry.” Folding laundry is your codeword for sex that you use in front of your toddler and around other people so you don’t scandalize anyone.

“Javi?”

His tongue peeks out, swiping along his bottom lip. “Yes, Cielito?”

Your hand leaves the stroller to press your palm to his leather jacket-covered bicep, looking at him through your lashes. “It was going to be a surprise, but your dad is taking Gus for the night after dinner.”

The smile he gives you is blinding.

“Christ, I love you so fucking much.” And the way he ends his sentence is to wrap his arm around your waist and tug you toward him so he can crush his lips to yours in a searing kiss, Gus cooing on his other side.

Your words are muffled against his mouth between kisses, “Happy Birthday, Javi.”

He sounds just as distorted, “I love you.”

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

#ria’s recs #javier peña x reader

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pretty-random-writer · 10 months ago

Text

trip | matt sturniolo

contents: established relationship; fingering; p in v; creampie; cockwarming; use of “y/n”; soft dom!matt

- ♡ -

notes: hihihi two posts in a week whaaat! thank you a thousand times for almost 700 followers and all the love you guys have been giving me and my stories. this video was for us matt girlies and someone requested a story based on it ♡ it’s a bit short but i hope it’s up to your expectations! not proofread but enjoy, love you all

- ♡ -

matt usually hated when people honked at his car - but tonight was different. as soon as he arrived at my front door, i heard the loud sound of his horn taking over the street and i didn’t even think before running downstairs.

as i opened the door, i could see matt taking quick steps towards my direction, biggest smile on his face. his arms wrapped around my waist and raised me off the ground, our hug getting tighter as if we had spent years apart, even though it was only five days.

“missed you. missed you so much” he muffled on the crook of my neck, allowing my feet meet the ground again, but not letting our bodies separate. i giggled, my hands going to the back of his neck, caressing his hair.

matt moved his head up to stare at me, blue eyes and pouty lips. i held his cheeks and brought his face closer to mine, quickly sealing our lips in a peck. he hadn’t loosen the grip on my waist and deepened the kiss, hands making their way to my ass, tugging his fingers on my skin as he slowly slid his tongue inside of my mouth, both of us already out of breath.

“i need you” matt whispered. “right now” he narrowed his eyes and looked down, tent start to form on his sweatpants.

“i could’ve helped you out even when you were away, you know that” i teased, my hand running down his chest to his boner, palming him over his pants.

“you know i can’t…” he bit his lower lip, speaking in a low tone so no one would hear him “can’t get off without you”. i grabbed his wrist and took the lead, walking inside the house and going upstairs. matt threw himself on my bed, holding his weight with his elbows, spreading his legs while i locked the door.

as i walked towards matt’s direction, i could see the grin on his face, showing the excitement for having me after a long week. before sitting down on his lap, i removed my t-shirt, exposing the new lingerie i had gotten just for him. i put both of my thighs on each side of his legs, sitting by his crotch.

one of matt’s hands went to my breasts, groping my tits and sticking his head in between them, muffling “fuck i missed your tits”. his lips started running on my skin and his digits went to my back, quickly untying my bra and letting my boobs fall freely onto his face. matt swirl his tongue around my nipple before hungrily sucking it - i couldn’t help but start grinding on his lap, feeling his hardened cock underneath my already wet pussy.

“your mouth- matt, gosh” i said, letting my head fall behind and arching my back so he’d have more access to my tits. “spent the week waiting for this”. he moved the kisses to my neck, sucking deeply enough to leave a hickey there. at this point, i was unashamedly humping him, but not really having any relief.

“fuck y/n, stop moving” i heard matt speak and slowed down my movements, my hands resting on his shoulders as i faced him. matt, however, looked away from me “i’m gonna- gonna cum in my pants if you keep on doing that” i raised my eyebrows and he knew i was mocking him - i wouldn't get mad if he did, but he felt beyond embarassed when those things happened ever once in a while.

“now that's enough young lady” he joked back, “you don't want this?” he asked, looking down his own torso, “then i'm gonna take a cold shower” and he tossed me out of his lap, letting me fall on the mattress. i whined in protest, standing on my knees on the bed and hugging him from behind.

i bit his ear and put my palms on his chest under his shirt, brushing my digits slightly over his nipples and receiving a gasp from him.

“want you” i said and he turned over to me, softly pushing my body so i’d lay on the bed. matt removed his shirt while one of his legs went in between my thighs, and soon his knee was pressing against my heat. i couldn’t help but moan when finally getting some friction “oh, gosh”

“what is it, sweetie? missed me?” i nodded, closing my eyes as he kept his movements, rubbing my cunt with his covered leg. i felt his lips attach to my breasts and one of his fingers went to the waistband of my shorts. i had forgotten i wasn’t wearing any panties, only realizing when matt groaned as he saw the wet patch forming under his eyes.

he gave me that puppy look, asking silently if he could remove my last piece of clothing. his knee went back to the mattress, holding his body up while he slowly removed my shorts, exposing my leaking pussy. “fuck, so pretty” he whispered.

one of matt’s fingers brushed over my clit and went down to my folds, rubbing my lower lips in a torturing pace. “f-faster” i complained, jointing my hips forward, trying to get closer to him.

“i’m gonna need you to help me out here, you gotta stop moving so i can stretch you up, baby. think you can do it?” he said so sweetly i wasn’t even mad - i just missed him, needed to feel him. “uh-uhum. yes, fuck”

“you get so tight when i’m not around, hm?” he talked to himself, boosting up his own ego - and he wasn’t wrong. “gotta open you up so i can fit my cock”

matt’s finger slowly entered my tight hole, making me clench my walls. his free hand went to my hip, strongly holding me against the mattress so i wouldn’t move around. i opened my mouth as he slid in another finger and matt kept on nodding his head, his blue eyes locked with mine, reassuring me i could take it. his thumb went to my clit, applying pressure and rubbing it in circles. i bit my lower lip as his strokes got faster, trying my best to stay quiet.

“nah, don’t hide it from me. be a good girl hm? wanna hear if you really missed me” and i immediately let out a groan, matt’s slender fingers curling inside of me and hitting my spot. i saw the smirk on his face before rolling my eyes back and letting my head fall down completely, relaxing my body as i felt my orgasm approaching.

“i can’t do this” matt breathed out, hovering his body over mine and stopping his movements. he was edging me for the second time at this point. “i really wanna make you cum babe, but you keep on moaning my name like tha and my cock fucking hurts here” he explained himself, holding my thigh and slightly opening my legs.

my hands went to his lower back, playing with his waistband as he went on to kiss my neck. i helped him pull out his pants, the lack of underwear making his cock slap against his lower belly. matt held his hardened shaft and gave it few pumps before positioning himself in my entrance, teasing my hole with his leaking tip.

“f-fuck matt i’m s-so sensitive” i said, one of my hands resting on his shoulder while the other one caressed the bare skin of his chest.

“don’t need’a do anything. let me do it, i just need to feel you” matt said, putting a strand of hair behind my ear and sealing our lips in a kiss as he pushed his hips forward, his thick cock stretching my pussy. “you’re doing so good, taking me so well” he praised, not even fully in yet.

“you’re so- big!” i whined, trying to get used to his size again.

“keep looking at me huh?” wanna see your face when you cum” he spoke and i couldn’t do anything besides moaning as he started to fasten his pace, the knot on my lower belly begging to finally be released.

“f-fuck, i’m close” it only took a few more thrusts until matt spoke and i nodded, letting him now i wanted him just as much.

matt pounded into me mindlessly as he tried to reach his own high, the wet sounds of our skins slapping against each other taking over the room. i wrapped my legs around his waist, bringing him closer to me as he finally released the white ropes of cum inside of me, filling me up with his sticky spurt.

the feeling of having him like that once again threw me over the edge, my orgasm washing over me, making me arch my back and my curls toes - but not taking my eyes of him. his body collapsed over mine, the weight of his body making my chest pant heavily as i gradually came back to my senses.

“you’re so pretty, so so beautiful” matt said, digits caressing my waist.

“you’re not…” i started, trying to catch my breath. “pulling out?” i asked, still feeling his veins pulsing inside my pussy.

“no” he responded, snuggling into me. “he missed you too much” matt talked about his cock. “we’re sleeping here tonight”.

- ♡ -

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @marselise @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @her-favorite @bugeyedgrl @mattswhore-44 @sturncakez @riowritesitall @joemamaaa42069

#ria’s recs #matt sturniolo x reader

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pretty-random-writer · 10 months ago

Text

Between the Books

Summary: Reader is a librarian at the library Spencer frequents while he's finishing one of his degrees. They find themselves in a precarious situation when everyone's left, and they're the last two people there.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: unprotected penetrative sex, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), themes of exhibitionism, public sex.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

Being observant came naturally to you, almost as if it was a reflex embedded into the core of your nervous system. You’d say “hello” to a new face and as if under command, your eyes would naturally drift to the small pieces of hair on that stranger’s coat.

Dog? Cat? Freakishly large gerbil?

Whatever it was, you couldn’t turn it off. And that’s why when Spencer Reid caught your eye, you simply couldn’t find it in yourself to look away.

And with time, it seemed like his actions mirrored yours.

You’d taken interest in a position at a university library for the summer. The job seemed to be a welcome change of pace from the likes of hectic summer jobs you’d go for typically in the past, a position that would mostly consist of monitoring graduate-level students who were, thankfully, much calmer than their undergrad counterparts.

For the most part, you were right. Your days were filled with reading in an air-conditioned building, looking up titles of reference books for other students, and of course, the unexpected, yet welcomed, occurrence of Spencer Reid.

The longer you spent at the library, the more you came to learn more about him.

Well, as much as you could learn without actually speaking to the man.

You’d learned his name from the library card he’d brandish when it came time to check out materials. He’d frequent books about Jean-Paul Sarte, Camus, and Nietzsche, opting to stay in the same, well-lit corner by the window every time he visited. While he could come in at any part of the day, he seemed to prefer later hours, when the library would be mostly vacant. His outfits weren’t over-the-top with formality, but he clearly wasn’t in the business of dressing casually.

You found it attractive, honestly, how put-together he seemed.

His return-rate on books was freakishly fast, and at one point, you’d assumed he was checking out books to read a certain page or chapter for research, and would then put it back, until you found yourself properly watching him and realized, no, he actually was just reading that fast. He could finish texts that would take almost a year to cover by seasoned professors and scholars in mere hours.

How? You had no idea. Nevertheless, you desperately wanted to learn- to know him beyond the gazes of a library hall.

You’d decided to try your luck at speaking to the man, noticing the three books he’d chosen all seemed to have one incredibly common theme amongst their authorship.

“Existentialist?” You ask, trying to make your tone seem polite but still friendly.

He blinks, as if he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to, and takes a second, his gaze meeting yours. “Sorry, what?”

“Existentialist.” You repeat, motioning to the books you were checking out for him. “Kierkegaard, Dostoevsky, Kafka. Your books seem to share a commonality.”

He chuckles, realizing the meaning of your words and shakes his head. “No, no. Not an existentialist. I’d like to believe the world is better than what any of them make it out to be.”

You smile, and nod. “I’d hope so.” Your eyebrows furrow, head tilting slightly. “Why the interest then?” There’s genuine fascination in your tone, and he seems to absolutely thrive off that, his eyes lighting up as you continue the conversation.

“I’m completing my Masters in Philosophy.” He responds. “We’ve been doing an assignment on existentialism, hence the ridiculous amount of gloom and doom in my reading.”

There’s a pause, before he cracks a smile, and then asks you, “Romantic?”

You look at him in confusion. It’s your turn to not get the joke. “Sorry?”

“Are you a romantic?” He asks. When you retain that confused look on your face, he continues.

“You’re almost always reading some variation of a romance novel here. So far I’ve counted Austen, Bronte, and I think I saw a copy of Anna Karenina on the counter once.”

You find yourself blushing, realizing that in his own way, he’d been observing you as well. In a second, the tables were turned, and the lens you often used on others was abruptly focused on you instead.

“Well, Anna Karenina is hardly a romance, I’d argue.” You say, before nodding. “But, yeah. I guess I’d say I’m a fan of romance in novels.”

He smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not asking you if you’re a fan of romance in novels, I’m asking you if you’re a romantic.” He says, putting emphasis on the last word, as if that was supposed to provide some grand difference to the statement.

“Just as much as anyone else, right?” You respond, still a bit puzzled at his insistence on contrasting the syntax of his statement.

“I see.” He says, nodding, continuing to look at me, as if he was sizing me up. “I’ll have to pick up a copy of Anna Karenina sometime then. See if it’s as much of a love story as I remember.”

“I think you’ll find it’s absolutely not.” You reply, smiling. “I believe we have a copy of it here, as a matter of fact, if you’re actually interested.” There’s a hint of skepticism in your tone, wondering why he seemed to be taking so much regard to your conversation.

“Of course I’m actually interested. You seem passionate about the subject.” He counters, grinning.

“I mean- yeah, I am! It’s a pretty misinterpreted book, I think.” You say. There’s a slight moment of silence, before you find yourself saying your next few words. “I’m also surprised you’re interested. I’m not always sure if it’s up everyone’s lane. Lots of people can’t get through it.”

“I’m sure the least I can do is try.” He says, shrugging.

You check out the last of his books, placing them in his outstretched hands. “Honestly, I’m even more surprised you noticed. You seem pretty into it in your corner over there.” You say, half-jokingly, but with a hint of seriousness mixed into it.

He gives a softer smile, almost boyish, as he replies.

“You’re pretty hard not to notice.”

He keeps the smile on his face, giving you a slight nod of his head, before leaving you to deal with the sudden heat that had risen to your cheeks as a result of his words. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond to his quick wit in the moment, your heartbeat still racing long after he’d left.

Over that summer, the two of you get continually closer. To your absolute delight, he does end up reading Anna Karenina and better yet, he agrees with you. You immediately take an even stronger liking to him than before. Thus starts your tradition of recommending books to each other, the two of you discussing them when he’d come to the library, almost like a secret, private book club that only you two were privy to.

You come to learn more about him. His doctorates, his job. The secret of his inhumanely fast reading was revealed to you later down the road, when he explained the abilities of an unconscious mind.. or something. While you wanted to give your undivided attention to him, there was an unspoken part of you that couldn’t help but find it ridiculously attractive when he explained things to you. He never seemed to notice that enduring part of your psyche, and you were grateful for that.

Overall though, he made quite the friend. He shared your love of literature, and could be a wonderful listener at times. Your previous days of solitude in the library were long forgotten, and you found yourself looking forward to his daily visits, ready to share your thoughts on some book he’d last asked you to read.

You find that his visits become less and less about the actual establishment, and more and more about you, especially when he opts to visit you at the front desk first, as opposed to over at his usual spot by the window. Somedays, he makes it obvious, not even bothering to peruse the selection of books he was previously accustomed to, and merely opts to talk to you the entire time, right up to the point where you’re locking the doors of the library and heading to your own place for the night.

There’s a part of you that wonders why he hasn’t asked you out. You wonder why you hadn’t asked him out. It only seems natural, given how much time the two of you were spending- a date seemed like an obvious byproduct of the lingering gazes you’d catch him throw at you, the absolute joy that would bubble in your chest everytime the two of you shared an afternoon.

You shrug it off. All in good time, right?

It’s another night at the library, and you found yourself a bit frustrated. You’d asked your manager if there was any way she could take on the later shift of the day, increasingly tired with the hours of the job and simply needing a break from it all. She refused, and tonight, that refusal seemed to be on the forefront of your mind.

“I just- I don’t get it, Spencer. I know she can take on this shift.” You say, wheeling around a cart of books to be reshelved, talking openly since the library was empty at this point in the day, all patrons packed up and soundly at home– while you were stuck here.

He stayed, of course, following you around diligently as you completed the task, listening to every word.

“I get that this is the worst shift to have, but come on. I’m a good employee, you know? I feel like I deserve a break here and there.” You come to a stop, picking up a stack of books with a huffy sigh. “But no. I’m the one who has to go home late. I’m the one who’s on closing every single night. I’m sick of it.”

He nods sympathetically, and you continue to grovel, deeply appreciative that he was allowing you to vent to him like this. You stand on the provided step-stool on the ground, allowing you to have the height necessary to shelve some books that belonged further up than normal.

“Like, is it really that hard?” You grumble, your face turned away from Spencer as you find each book’s proper place. “God forbid she sleeps at a later time than normal- or I don’t know, hires someone else.” The last book is reshelved, and you turn around, about to dismount the stool. “And another thing-”

In the midst of your rant, you find yourself distracted, missing the step on the stool that would’ve allowed a safe dismount, and you quickly realize you’re falling off, letting out a small yelp before a stronger force keeps you upright- a force that happened to be Spencer’s arms catching you.

“You alright?” He asks with heavy concern, trying to look into your eyes or your legs, attempting to discern for signs where you might’ve hurt yourself on your descent.

It takes a second for you to process that you are insanely close to Spencer. His features are almost enhanced by the low-lighting of the dark library, his eyes entirely dilated as he stares at you, his lips soft and perfect– and those cheekbones, god. You could practically cut yourself on them.

You quickly return to your senses, trying to go back to a more suitable position that wouldn’t leave you so absolutely tongue tied. “No, no. I’m fine, honestly.” You step back, wiggling your leg a little. “See? Entirely fine.”

He smiles a little sheepishly. “Sorry, I just get worried. I’m a doctor, you know.” He says, a teasing quality in his tone as he steps closer.

“Not an actual doctor.” You say, rolling your eyes fondly.

“Come on.” He says, letting his hand drift over back to your arm, which had taken most of the shock of falling onto him. “Humor me.”

There’s that grin again, and you can’t help but relent.

And so you humor him like he asked, letting his fingertips trail over the skin to properly check for any injuries, the action much more sensual than it should’ve been for a friend checking up on another friend.

“You know.” He murmurs, his voice a bit lower than before. “I don’t actually think this is the worst shift to take on.”

Your throat is dry, a physical reaction being drawn out of you as he touches you, and there’s a conscious reminder you actually have to respond to his words.

“Oh? Why is that?” You force out.

“It’s so quiet.” He mumbles out, immediately, his fingertips now tracing down to your waist, as the two of you made eye contact. “Nobody’s even in here at this point.”

You swallow, trying to calm the rapid beat of your heart. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“I like the quiet.” He says, continuing on. The previously feather-like touch on your waist becomes more grasping than anything else. “There’s just so much more you can get done when it’s quiet.”

You nod and half heartedly mumble. “Mhm.” You’re far more focused on your growing proximity than his actual words, the act rendering you entirely breathless until he’s standing face to face with you, your breaths mingling due to the closeness.

“I can feel your heart beating.” He mumbles. “So fast. Do I make you nervous?”

You lick your lips and nod out of instinct, before squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head. “No, no. It’s just the closeness. I’m not used to it.” You whisper, eyes opening– and his gaze is as intense as ever.

One of his hands goes to cup your face. “Unless you tell me otherwise, I’m going to kiss you now.”

You don’t move a single muscle.

And then all of a sudden, he’s everywhere. He’s pulling you closer, absolutely devouring you like he’s been starved for your touch all along. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you respond in approval, humming with a deep content against his lips, your hands going to wrap around his neck, pulling your bodies flush together. You don’t want space– not now, or ever again.

“Fuck. Wanted this for so long.” He mumbles, as soon as he breaks off the kiss, finding the pulse point on your neck, and going at it with his lips, causing you to quietly moan out in pleasure. You’d never heard him curse before, and the act only served to add to the steadily growing throb in between your legs.

He pushes you even more insistently up against the counter attached to the bookshelves, your weight slightly more supported by the wood, as opposed to his body like before.

“You’re so pretty.” He breathes out in between his assault on your neck, his mouth finding every inch of your nape, and marking it as his own. It’s almost like he’s hellbent on mapping out every plane of skin there, committing every spot that makes you whine or let out his name to memory.

You’re breathing so heavily, and you think it can’t possibly get any better than this, but he proves you wrong when he abruptly gets to his knees, your eyes widening.

“Need to taste you. Please.”

He’s begging, like, on-his-knees, doe-eyes, broken voice- begging to eat you out.

And how could you ever say no, what, with those pretty eyes of his, and that expression on his face that made you practically weak with need?

“Yes.” You whisper out, and in record time, he’s undoing your jeans and underwear in one clean swoop, not even bothering to fully remove the material before his tongue is all over your cunt, lapping up the wetness that had accumulated in the past few minutes. You’re half surprised he didn’t just rip your clothing off, given the enthusiasm he was showing at this moment.

You’re suddenly incredibly aware of where you are- your place of work, a fucking library, and Spencer Reid was buried in your thighs like a man parched, lapping up wherever he possibly can. You can hear the obscene noises of your passion, his tongue lavishing over you, before he pays special attention to your clit, wrapping his lips around the nub and sucking softly. You cover your mouth with your free hand- grateful that the wood behind you was supporting you, because without it, you truly think you’d topple over from the sheer pleasure of it all.

“Fuck.” You whisper, voice high-pitched as you try to hold back your noises. “Fuck. Gonna come.” You warn, legs shaking as you barreled towards your release.

Without warning, his fingers enter your cunt, and you’re fighting back a scream.

How long had you stared at his fingers before this? How many times had you watched them run up and down the spines of the books he read, or gestured with them constantly whilst speaking? How long had such a simple part of his body captivated you?

How many times had you secretly wondered to yourself how they’d feel inside you?

It didn’t matter anymore. You had your answer now. Fucking amazing.

“Spencer!” You whine out, his fingers naturally reaching that soft spot inside that you often struggled to even brush against. His lips find your clit again, sucking softly and you know you’re an absolute goner.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

Before you can even voice in coherent terms how good this feels, you’re coming, the walls of your cunt spasming around his fingers as he relishes in the reaction, using the tip of his tongue to circle your clit, and slowing his fingers down as you ride out the remnants of your orgasm. He slips the digits out of you as he rises to his knees, and sucks on his fingers, one by one, practically moaning as he tastes your release.

The sight is downright sinful.

“You taste so good.” He whispers, crashing his lips against yours again, and you’re already needy again when you can taste yourself on his tongue.

His hands drift down to his own slacks, undoing them and pulling his cock out, already dripping with precum.

“You ready, pretty girl?” He murmurs, guiding his tip to your waiting cunt. You’ve situated yourself on the wood of the desk entirely now, needing the support for what happens next.

You nod, and without even realizing he was already mostly there, he pushes into you entirely, and your jaw drops. Your head rests against his shoulder, trying to accustom to feeling of him stretching you out so fucking perfectly.

How could you ever fuck anyone else again, when he just felt so perfect for you?

It seemed that he agreed with the sentiment, moaning softly as his free hand steadied himself by gripping onto the shelf. “You feel so fucking good.” He murmurs. “Can I move? Are you okay?” He asks, softly.

His other hand rubs soothing circles into your hip bone, and you’re nodding, touched by his concern for you, even during such a salacious act.

His thrusts are slow at first, still allowing you to get used to the feeling of him inside of you, before he’s truly going at it, his thick cock rubbing against your wet walls in a way that makes you feel light and full all at once. It's delectable, and you never want it to end.

You whine, holding onto his neck, your head thrown back as you take it, feeling the books rattle around you with every hump he deals into you. You can’t even find it in yourself to care– all that matters right now is you, and him, and how fucking amazing it feels when he’s fucking you like this.

You can feel yourself building towards another pleasurable release, before you hear the telltale click of the library door opening, effectively removing you from the moment. Fuck. The janitor.

“Spencer, Spencer!” You whisper-shout, biting your lip. His cock doesn’t once slow inside you, and you find it hard to think when it feels that good.

“We’re gonna be caught!” You whine out, dizzied by how you were simultaneously turned on and utterly panicked.

“No, we won’t.” He whispers, gruffly. With your hands now around his neck, he lets his hand drop from the shelf and covers your mouth. He leans in even closer, if that’s possible, eyes dark.

The sight makes a shiver go up your spine.

“Stay quiet.” He murmurs, as he begins to deal slower, more deliberate thrusts into your cunt.

“Feel that? Feel how I’m filling you up, nice and slow?” He whispers, the words barely audible, but with how close he’s standing to you, they overtake every one of your senses, and you nod desperately, eyes glistening as you feel yourself dancing on the precipice of release.

“Shh. I know.” He murmurs. “Come for me, yeah? I know you want to. Show me how much you like my cock inside of you.”

It's a combination of his tone, of the risk you two were facing, and the sensation of him that has you responding exactly the way he wants, and in an instant, you’re coming with a shuddering breath, holding back a loud whine, just like he asked you to.

The feeling of your walls spasming has him releasing as well, a warmth flooding in your deepest point. His head drops into your shoulder as he attempts to muffle his moans the best he can, and you both bask in the afterglow for a second, trying to pant as quietly as you could.

Spencer immediately springs into action, redressing you with precision and care, guiding your underwear and jeans back up, buttoning them up for you. You’re still in a slight haze from the two orgasms he’d just given you, and when you properly come to, his slacks are back on, and he leans in for a much more chaste kiss. It leaves you with butterflies, despite everything, and you find yourself smiling softly at him. The fondness reflected in his expression is undeniable.

“Let’s get out of here.” He murmurs, grabbing your hand and guiding you in between the shadows of the shelves, effectively keeping you both from being caught. The janitor remains clueless, as you two sneak out, giggling like teenagers as you find yourselves outside, the summer night warm and cool all at once.

“That was..” You mumble, laughing a bit, surprised that had even happened.

“I know. I- uh. Might’ve gotten carried away?” He says. “I usually like to do that after a date. I just-” He steps closer, cupping your cheek. “I couldn’t wait. I hope that’s okay.” He whispers.

“More than okay.” You whisper back.

His thumb slowly strokes over the expanse of your cheek, and he bites his lip. “Could we? Date? Try this out?” He murmurs. “I know I didn’t get much of a chance to say it back there, but I really like you.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. This man had just been inside you, and now he was blushing and stuttering whilst he attempted to ask you out.

“Yes.” You nod. “Let’s try this.”

He’s got the most genuine smile on his face, and a sigh of relief can be heard as he leans in again to kiss you, and you can’t help the smile on your face as your lips meet his, the elation in both of your bodies absolutely radiating inside and out.

You recount your first conversation and know now, there was a difference between liking romance, and being a romantic.

You reckon Spencer Reid could make quite a romantic out of you.

this is uploading an hour later than i wanted it to :( but whatever. i hope you guys like this one <3 i'm trying something new! not first person pov, but "you" ? pleaseee let me know how this works for you guys! i love experimenting out with new fic methods but if it's clear this isn't working TELL MEEE so i can go back to what did work. anyway, any likes, reblogs, comments are so so so genuinely appreciated. thank you thank you thank you for reading either way <3

#ria’s recs #spencer reid x reader

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