slvt444him

[slvt444him]

bad ideas (and good results)

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader, sort of spencer reid x reader

summary: after aaron’s rejection, you enlist spencer’s help to make him jealous.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: reader putting on a naked show, airplane turbulence, reid calling reader out for daddy issues

a/n: accidentally put too much spencer in this whoops

You couldn’t take it anymore.

The tension between the two of you was so palpable you were practically choking on it. You couldn’t be alone in a room with him without resisting the urge to throw yourself at him. Even with others around, you still had to peel off your drenched panties when you got home and take a cold shower.

And you knew he felt the same, though he wasn’t as obvious about how it affected him. The team had commented how you were his soft spot, always assigning you to him on cases (when you were newer, you had brushed the thought aside, thinking he wanted to watch over you and evaluate your work), getting your favorite coffee every morning and even putting his jacket around you when you’d been soaked in lake water after catching the unsub.

So when you decided to take the leap and ask him if he wanted to have dinner, you weren’t expecting him to reject you so blatantly. Just a flat-out no. Didn’t even try cushioning the blow.

You still couldn’t erase his expression from your memories as he told you he didn’t like you in that way. Confused at the time, you had stood there dumbfounded by what he was saying. Walking out of his office and heading home was a blur and you wondered if you had imagined his previous actions.

Sitting on your couch with a bottle of wine in hand, you thought about your interactions. Surely you didn’t imagine the way he looked at you on those nights you stayed late to help him with paperwork? Or the way he had comforted you after an unsub had harassed you mercilessly during an interrogation. Or when you had to share that hotel room in Alaska and sleep in the same bed for “warmth.”

After an hour of watching The Wedding Date, you had got an idea that was so delusional it might work. Calling Spencer in the wee hours of the night had him pick up the phone after the second ring, concerned it was an emergency. In a way it was, and he had gotten to your apartment in record time.

He had barely knocked on the door when you swung it open, grabbing by the arm and practically dragging him and his Jesus haircut inside. Spencer raised an eyebrow at your excitement, glancing at the state of your apartment as you drag him to the couch.

“What’s going on? Why’d you need me to come at,” he checks his watch. “Eleven thirty-seven at night?”

You sighed, pushing him to sit on the couch and grabbing the remote. “I kind of asked Hotch out. And before you congratulate me for making the first move, he doesn’t feel the same and basically told me he found me ugly and disgusting.”

Spencer gave you a skeptical look. “He did not say that.”

“Whatever, it was implied,” you reply and Boy Genius gives out a snort at your dramatics. “Anyways, I was watching The Wedding Date when I got this idea … In the movie, this girl hires an escort to be her date to her sister’s wedding because her ex is going to be there. And I was thinking …”

“Go on.” he encourages.

Spencer was the only one to know about your crush on Aaron. The others, especially the girls, had a suspicion you did but Spencer was the one you spilled all your information to. Mostly because he was the first to catch you making eyes at your boss and the closest in age to you. He had listened to the details of your days with Aaron, sometimes debriefing you on how Aaron had interacted with you, the words he had said about you, or the way his body language gave him away. You had eaten up everything he had said in the hopes it had been true.

He was also the only one you could go to with this plan. Derek would’ve had you relayed all the details of your crush to him before agreeing and you didn’t want to tell him he had been right about your crush. You’d have rather died than have Derek Morgan know he was right. Spencer was sweet and attractive, and despite your taste for older men than the doctor, it would be believable considering how much time you spend with each other outside of work.

“I was thinking that we fake date to make Hotch jealous.” you finish, slightly grimacing at how stupid the plan was now that you said it out loud. Before Spencer could reply, you jumped in. “I know it probably won’t make him jealous considering he doesn’t like me that way but on the off chance that it does–I kind of want him to hurt a fraction of what I had tonight. And you probably think the plan is idiotic and pathetic–”

“Alright,” he said, cutting off your rambling. When you raise an eyebrow, he lifts a shoulder. “I don’t think it's idiotic or pathetic. I think we should do it.”

It took you a few seconds to process his words. “Really?”

Spencer nods, giving you a small smile. “Yes, I would do anything for you. Besides, it would be a good experiment and I love experiments.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Of course you do.”

“So how is this fake dating thing going to work?”

You spend a good half hour talking about the parameters of the plan. Both of you had decided it was best to keep it subtle instead of announcing to the team you were “seeing” each other. Neither of you would confirm it and if asked, you’d redirect the topic somewhat noticeably so whoever had asked would be able to pick up on it.

Spencer surprised you when he came up with the idea for small touches and light flirting. When you had given him a look, he was quick to explain his idea. Obviously, you had to be affectionate towards each other in front of the team and especially Aaron, but not so much that it qualified as PDA.

The smart doctor had proposed small touches like lingering fingers, a hand on a shoulder (you pointed out you did this with him quite often and he argued it would only make more sense to keep doing it), hair ruffling (again you told him you’ve done this to him and he admitted he liked getting his hair played a certain way), and hand squeezes.

You waited for the shock on Spencer’s face when you wondered out loud if it was effective for you to “sneak” into his hotel room during a case and have a member of the team see you going into his room so they could relay what they saw to the others; instead, you were met with an intuitive hum of agreement.

By the time you’d gotten done with planning, it was ten minutes past midnight and Spencer was yawning every few minutes. And while his apartment was only about ten blocks from yours, you offered for him to stay the night with the promise to stop at his place before work for him to get a change of clothes. He accepted and both of you had fallen asleep in the living room while the credits of the movie played in the background.

In the morning, you came to the realization that the wine you had drank had caused you to oversleep, and keeping Spencer up past midnight had also caused him to wake up about half an hour later than usual. You slapped him awake with a pillow before rushing to get ready.

Spencer had been half asleep as he got in your car but after a near-death experience with a semi, he had woken up and clutched his seatbelt all the way to work. As you entered the building, you were rolling your eyes as he mumbled how you were more of a reckless driver than Derek–impossible–and how he feared for his life whenever you were in the driver’s seat.

As soon as you pushed through the glass doors, Emily noticed something different. You placed your stuff on your desk, plopping down on your chair when she sits on your desk, glancing between you and Spencer, eyebrows raised.

“Reid, are you wearing the same sweater from yesterday?” she questioned, and your ears perked up at her words.

Your eyes flicker to Spencer’s outfit. With your lateness, you weren’t able to stop at Spencer’s place and he had assured you he could change into something from his go bag. He was in the midst of picking up the duffel when Emily commented on his fashion sense. You gave him a look to play along but he was looking down at his outfit to notice.

He tilted his head, nodding. “Yeah, we woke up late this morning.”

You’ve never seen Emily’s head turn so fast–you were worried she had accidentally snapped her own neck. The brunette smirked at you before turning back to Spencer. “We?”

Spencer looked up, eyes finally meeting yours. His eyes flickered with recognition and took the opportunity to start your idea. His slight blush was the cherry on top. “What?”

Emily’s smirk grew, and she looked like a cat that swallowed a canary. She turned to you, giving you the look she’d make when a guy would flirt with you during a girl’s night out. “So … what’d you do last night?”

You couldn’t help but grin at her nosiness. “Work. Long, hard work.”

“Yeah, I bet.” she chuckled, side-eyeing Spencer. “The work definitely looks hard when you’re doing it.”

The water you sipped trickled out of your mouth at the innuendo, and you furiously wiped your chin. Emily cackled at her own joke, drawing JJ’s attention from nearby. You try to ignore her, gently pushing her off your desk, mumbling about having to do work, but it only makes her gasp for breath.

JJ sauntered over to your desk, curious at whatever made Emily cackle like the green witch from the Kansas movie. “What’s going on here?”

Emily leans over to whisper in her ear before pointing at Spencer who had taken his go-bag along with him to the bathroom. JJ adopts Emily’s smirk, sharing a look with the brunette before glancing between you and the men’s bathroom.

The blonde pulls up a chair next to yours, the girls surrounding your desks. JJ leans in close, grinning mad wildly at you. “I thought you liked Hotch, not Spence.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed by the whole thing while you smiled internally. “I don’t like either of them, beyond friends. … Stop looking at me like that!”

“Clearly you like Reid more than that if you guys spent the night together.” Emily wiggled her brows, earning another chuckle from JJ. She yelped at the small smack you gave her on the arm.

“We didn’t spend the night together.” you hissed, keeping your voice low. How you would’ve loved to show Rossi your performance right now after he commented you were a terrible liar. “We were doing paperwork together and we fell asleep because it was late and so we woke up late.”

The girls gave each other a look, nodding at you, clearly not believing the semi-lie you told. (Did it count as a lie if you told them the half-truth but in a way that was unconvincing?)

“Uh-huh.”

“Of course. It makes perfect sense.”

“Yeah, especially if you guys were up late. It’s only reasonable that he stayed the night.”

“Mm-hm. You guys were probably so tired you didn’t do anything before sleeping.”

The sarcasm was leaking from their voices, practically dripping on the floor. You didn’t know how to answer their cryptic responses, covering your smile with a hand. You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips. Despite Aaron’s harsh rejection not even twelve hours ago, you were feeling better.

Thankfully, you were saved from coming up with a reply when Penelope came in the room with a case file in her hands, gesturing towards the briefing room. Unfortunately, JJ and Emily’s amusement was so obvious, Penelope was able to pick up on the brewing gossip from just the look on their smug faces.

You passed her on the way up the stairs, giving her a small smile as she stayed back to get the information from JJ and Emily. You rolled your eyes when you heard the technical analysis gasp, walking to the briefing room faster.

While you temporarily escaped Penelope’s wave of questions upon entering the briefing room, you were met with the presence of the man your bones–and pussy–ached for. You avoided looking in his general direction as you sat next to Derek.

He turned to you as the girls entered the room, smiling. “Damn Mama, you look tired. What’d you do last night?”

And as if on cue, Spencer sat down in the empty chair on the other side of you, causing Emily to burst out laughing. The guys turned to look at her, confused by her reaction to Spencer’s timed action. She waved away their confusion, hiding behind her iPad, pretending to study the case all the while her shoulders shook from silent laughter.

Penelope had her eyes set on you and Spencer, giving you a look that read she wanted all the details directly from you. Saving you from having to explain Emily’s reaction, Penelope started the briefing, pulling everyone’s attention from you and Spencer to the serial killer running around Los Angeles.

It was easy to ignore Aaron’s stares through the briefing, too focused on the case details to give him attention but that couldn’t be said on the plane, especially when he walked up behind you on the steps. Your eyes met his and it felt like your nerves told your brain it was a fight or flight situation, causing you to internally panic.

You more or so sprinted up steps and into the plane, inadvertently sitting down next to the man half your coworkers suspected you were hooking up with. While it wasn’t unusual for you to sit next to anyone on the team, your normal spot had been right beside Aaron, the window seat while he took up the aisle seat. So accidentally sitting next to Spencer had caused Emily and JJ to share a glance with each other.

After Aaron had given the team details on what they were supposed to do–thankfully he had partnered you up with Rossi instead of himself–your phone buzzed relentlessly as Penelope texted you asking for details about your new paramour. Said paramour was peeking over your shoulder to read the numerous Penelope had sent.

After a second of them being left unanswered, she called you, her name popping up on your phone. You playfully glared at Emily and JJ before getting up and answering the call.

“Yes, baby girl?” you cooed, pushing the curtains aside to get a cup of coffee. “What can I help you with?”

“You and Reid?!” her voice was so loud you flinched as it hit your eardrum. “I thought you liked Hotch!”

“I don’t like either of them.” you sighed, heart pounding at the lie. Even just hearing his name had caused your body to tense, and you were sure there was a patch of wetness on your underwear. “And Spence and I are just friends.”

“JJ told me you guys spent the night together,” she replied, and you could practically hear her brain cogs working overtime. “As in doing intimate, not-suitable-for-work stuff.”

“No funny business, I swear,” you mutter, hissing when you spill coffee on yourself.

“Please don’t lie to me,” begged Penelope. “You can tell me anything, you know that. And you don’t have to be ashamed that you like Spencer, he’s cute in a nerdy way! You guys would make a great couple–”

Spencer pushed through the curtains, and it was as if Penelope sensed him through the phone because she went silent. Boy genius reached over you to grab a plastic cup from the counter, pouring his own coffee.

“Is that Garcia?” he asked, motioning to the phone. You nodded, smiling at the nearly inaudible hitch of Penelope’s breath. He chuckled, moving a tad closer to the speaker. “Hi, Garcia.”

Before she could reply, you intervened. “Bye Pen.”

You hung up, sighing. Taking a sip of coffee, you leaned against the small counter. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think our plan would progress so fast. Do you think it makes it look less believable?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, it just made it more so,” said Spencer, mirroring your actions. “It’s very realistic friends would hook up when the situation pushes them to like working late nights, watching movies, or going to chess tournaments together.”

Giving him a blank look, you slurped your coffee rather loudly.

He cleared his throat, feeling awkward. “Anyways, the only thing people may not believe is that I was able to … get you.”

“That’s insane. Why don’t you think you could pull me?”

Spencer blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just that I’m me and you’re … you. It’s kind of obvious you’re out of my league. I mean you’re very pretty and you could get any guy and honestly, I find it hard to believe Hotch would turn you down–”

You grinned, interrupting his rambling. “Aww, Spence, you’re so sweet. But you underestimate yourself. You’re very cute and if I wasn’t attracted to men twenty years older than me, then I would’ve gone for you.”

“Have you ever wondered if your attraction to much older men is caused by your daddy issues?” he blurted.

The plane lurched to the side, bringing Spencer to pin you against the counter, a hand placed on the counter to keep himself from falling right into you as the plane stabilized. Fortunately, Spencer’s coffee had spilled on the floor instead of either of you. Unfortunately (or fortunately), Aaron had chosen that moment to walk into your little space.

You and Spencer freeze in place as your boss–and the object of your desires–catches you in a position that would’ve had Penelope screaming from excitement. Spencer's free hand was on the counter, trapping you in between. His torso touched yours, your breast pressing up against his chest and your right hand was on his shoulder to stop him from crushing you during the turbulence.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed at the contact and the lack of space between you and Spencer. Both of you immediately sprung into action, Spencer taking a step back while you slid to your left, trying to put more space between you both.

While you were internally celebrating Aaron’s almost-jealous expression, you were more embarrassed at what he must be thinking. You didn’t plan to be so outward with Spencer, after all, you both agreed on only subtle touches, not pressed up against each other in a public space.

“Are you two alright?” Aaron questioned, eyes darting between you and Spencer.

You didn’t want to be delusional and lie to yourself but the vein on Aaron’s neck was bulging, a thing that only happened when he felt stressed or angry. You must’ve smiled subconsciously because he stared at you, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, the turbulence just caught us by surprise,” you reply, motioning to the coffee-stained floor. You stepped around him, shoulder brushing up against his arm. The curtains parted and you backed out. “I’m gonna head back.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes linger as you walk back.

By the time you head back to the hotel, you’re grumpy and sticky from sweat. Throughout the day, everyone has heard you moan and groan about the heat. By now, the team has figured out you’d rather freeze to death than heat.

The AC at the police station could only do so much when the temperature outside was over one hundred degrees. Rossi fanning you while you checked out the crime scene hadn’t helped and when you got back to the station, you begged Aaron to let you stay inside, breaking that awkward tension between the both of you through your hatred of heat.

Not that the tension hadn’t grown whenever Spencer and you were in the same room. Aaron would send him out to look at the body or interview close friends but as soon as he came back to the station, Aaron would find some excuse to send him back out, not giving you two the opportunity to work the plan. Not that you cared that much, you were too busy melting.

When everyone got to the hotel, Aaron held out four keys, and the team groaned. You’d have to share.

JJ snatched a key from Aaron’s hand. “Me and Em will share.”

“I’m not sharing a room with Reid, again,” Derek announced, crossing his arms. A confused Spencer tilted his head at him, a little hurt at the comment.

JJ smiled, handing Spencer a key. “Spencer can share with his friend.”

You glared at JJ, and she threw you another smug smile. Emily snorted, faking a cough when Rossi turned to look at her. Turning to Spencer, you nodded. “Yeah, we can share.”

“Actually,” objected Aaron, eyes never leaving you. “It’s Reid’s turn to have a room to himself.”

Derek looked at him, confused. “No, it isn’t. He had a room to himself in Alaska, it’s my turn actually–”

“Morgan, you can share with Rossi,” Aaron said with finality, giving him a key. He looked at you once again. “I’ll share a room with you.”

You knew the plan had worked but you were too exhausted and sticky to be happy about it. Not that you hadn’t wanted to share a room with him again, but all you could think about was taking a cold shower and hopefully freezing your entire body to the point where you stay cold all throughout the case.

The team dispersed. Aaron and your room was on the third floor while the rest stayed on the first. He carried your duffel bag, and you didn’t bother fighting him like you usually had. The elevator ride up was awkward and you wished he could make up his mind on whether he wanted you or not.

As soon as he unlocked the door, you rushed into the bathroom and turned on the shower, setting the temperature to cold. You snatched your bag from his shoulder and ran back to the bathroom, peeling off your work clothes. A moan slips out as the cold water hits your skin, and for the entirety of the shower, you forget about the man behind the door.

Exiting the shower, you notice you haven't shut the bathroom door completely. The tiny crack allowed you to see Aaron sitting at the table, staring at the file in front of him. If you could see him, he could probably see you.

This is fucking crazy.

Maybe it was a breeze from the vent or maybe you mastered some form of telekinesis but the door cracked open further, about four inches wide now. You don’t make a move to close it.

Heart pounding, you dry yourself, turning away from the door as you bend over to dry your legs. The vent was the only noise you hear as you do so. You’re about to cave and shut the door but you feel eyes on you as you stand up straight.

You don’t turn around. Confidence grows as you take your time drying your hair with the towel, sometimes running a hand through it to separate the wet and semi-dry strands. The reality of the situation finally dawns on you when you squeeze the remaining water out of your hair.

Growing wet at the thought of Aaron watching you, nakedly drying yourself, you can’t help but give him a small peek at what he was missing. You turn around, enough so he could see a glimpse of your pussy. No, you don’t look in his direction, but you can see him staring from your peripherals.

The door had cracked open further since you last saw it. There was no doubt he saw every inch of your backside as you hadn’t wrapped the towel around you once.

You let your hands squeeze your breasts once before bending down to grab a t-shirt from your go bag. It’s oversize, the hem falling just below your ass. Putting a pair of red panties on, you remember how much Aaron likes the color.

Once you’re done, you zipped up your bag and looked in the mirror. It’s obvious how free your breasts are under the shirt, your nipples peeking from the thin material. Reading the words on the shirt, you realize it was one of Spencer’s. You remember stealing it from his duffel after swimming into the lake to save an unsub.

Your lips twitched into a smirk. Opening the door, you were met with Aaron’s unrelenting stare, eyes drifting up and down your body. Not giving him the satisfaction, you ignore him, dropping your bag on your bed.

Wait.

Looking around the room, you notice just one bed.

Shit.

In your distracted haze about the one-bed problem, you failed to notice Aaron moving. A hand gripped your waist tightly, pulling you back towards a hard chest. You freeze, glancing behind you to see a heated Aaron. His lips graze your ear.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?”

[slvt444him]

three cents

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: you butt dial your boss during a girls night … the girls night where you told them you’d fuck aaron hotchner for three cents.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: talks of big dick energy, prostitution if you squint, red wine, gray sweatpants (mentioned)

Girls' night out was wild, no one knew where you would end up. One night, you ended up on a boat and the next you were on a train to NYC. After getting thrown in jail with Emily, JJ, and Penelope during another night out, you all vowed to keep whatever happened during the night a secret from everyone, specifically Derek Morgan. Derek Morgan who had bailed all four of you out of jail, Derek Morgan who teased you relentlessly for weeks after.

After a long case, Emily suggested another girl’s night which all of you agreed on, desperately needing a celebratory drink after saving a little girl. It was around one in the morning when you got back to Quantico and though Aaron gave you the day off for tomorrow–or well, later today–all four of you decided to crash at Emily’s and drink to your heart’s content.

Popcorn and Hersey kisses lay on Emily’s coffee table, bottles of half-empty wine and jello shots litter the floor and you’re all giggling about whether to prank Derek by getting phone cases with a picture of him shirtless. You’re all on board and Penelope is getting them custom-made through a website she’s found.

“Speaking of Derek’s abs.” JJ drags the ‘s’ creating a hissing noise. She turns to you, grinning. “I’ve wanted to ask ever since you went to that Doctor Who convention with him. Do you like like Spence?”

You giggled, taking a small sip of wine, thinking about the genius. “Noooo. Spence is my friend. And he runs with his gun like it’s weighing him down. Besides, I only went to that Doctor Who convention because he went to see Barbie with me. He’s, like, too young for me, too.”

“He’s older than you.” Emily points out, smirking, knowing full well you liked older men. “He’s adorable and sweet.”

“Spencer is definitely cute and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had a sex dream about him,” you confessed, smiling as the girls burst out laughing. “But he’s too … inexperienced. I like my men like I like my wine. Old.”

Your phone had been on mute since you entered the plane, not wanting to abruptly wake anyone up if they were resting, so not a single person in the room had heard your phone ringing or Aaron’s multiple “hello’s” trying to get your attention. All of you were oblivious to your boss listening in to the conversation.

“Is Rossi too old for you?” Penelope asked, inciting another round of giggles.

You nodded, finishing off your glass of wine. “Just a bit. I’ve seen pictures of him when he was in the Marines though, and I definitely would’ve been the fourth Mrs. Rossi back then.”

Emily cackled, a bit of red wine spilling from her full glass. “Okay, I have a question. Would you guys fuck Hotch for ten million dollars? Be honest here.”

“No!” both JJ and Penelope spit out. They all turned to you, grinning like madmen.

You shrugged, filling another glass. “I’d do it for three.”

“Damn, three million? That’s–“

“Nope,” you smirked, taking a sip.

Emily paused, head tilting in confusion. “Three … hundred thousand?”

“No.”

“Three thousand?”

You shake your head, grinning at the confused woman. “Nope.”

“Three hundred?”

“No.”

Emily’s eyes widened, jaw-dropping a little further as you denied her guesses. “Three dollars?”

“No.”

“THREE CENTS?” JJ was the one to shout, mouth dropping open when you giggled and nodded.

Penelope threw a pillow at you, and you giggled, dodging it, nearly spilling your drink in the process. “Hey! This is supposed to be a judge-free zone. I’d suck and fuck Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner for three measly cents.”

“Okay, I’d understand if you said Derek but Hotch?” Emily exclaimed, shaking her head at the thought. “He’s like twenty years older than you!”

“Exactly! That’s part of the appeal,” you replied. You were sure by tomorrow no one would remember your confession–though you were positive you wouldn’t either–and that they wouldn’t tease you too much over it. “He’s the literal definition of a DILF.”

The girls laughed at your words, JJ having to clutch onto a pillow to control herself.

“And!” you continue. “I was working out with Derek once and Hotch came in the gym with gray sweats and his dick looks humongous. It was a huge fucking bulge. I think I saw it twitching.”

Penelope slaps her hands over her ears, playfully grimacing at your words while Emily chugs the remains of her glass, absolutely baffled. You didn’t mind, sex and boys were common conversation topics during girl’s night (and sometimes when Emily would catch you making eyes at someone.

The rest of the night continued the same, though less talk about Hotch’s big dick and more on whether you all should make more jello shots. By the time you’re coming up with an answer, it’s five in the morning and all four of you are knocked out from the alcohol in your system. Even in your drunk state, you knew you’d wake up to a pounding headache.

When Derek calls in the morning, telling everyone about a new case, you’re all moody and grumpy. Hotch wanted everyone in even though he had given the day off, so no one was jumping for joy especially not in your hangover state.

Despite drinking the most, Emily drives the four of you back to the BAU, mumbling obscenities under her breath on the way. When you enter the elevator, Derek is there, causing all of you to groan at his presence. One look at you and he laughs loudly, knowing what had transpired the night before.

You wish you could shoot his foot.

In the briefing room, Hotch apologizes for having you all come in on your day off, pausing to glance at you before presenting the case. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid that much attention to it, your headache taking up your attention. Fire, serial arsonist, fifteen dead, Seattle.

“Wheels up in thirty,” Hotch announces, walking across the table. As the team filters out of the room, he calls your name. “In my office, please. I want to discuss something with you.”

Confused, you follow him to his office, pushing through your headache to think about what he could possibly want to speak to you about. You come up blank, even more confused when you see him lock the door to his office as you enter. “Did I do something wrong?”

Hotch shook his head, moving past you to his desk. He picks up something and turns around. In his hands are three pennies, and he’s holding them out to you. “Three cents.”

You’re getting deja vu on the words, and it’s not until several seconds of standing in silence and confusion that it clicks. Three cents. You blush, looking at the pennies. “I don’t understand.”

“You said you’d suck and fuck me for three cents,” he smirks at your shock, placing the coins in your hands.

“What–”

Hotch unbuckles his belt, causing you to stop mid-sentence. “You’ve got twenty-eight minutes to suck my cock. Get to work.”

[slvt444him]

i couldn’t help but fall

Partnering: TASM!!Peter Parker x reader | Gwen Stacy x TASM!Peter Parker

Hallway Crush??

Warnings: Angst? (Y/N being delulu like me)

Summary: One side love

A/N: got inspiration while writing my essay so its not proof read

 It was his hair, the way he will style it. How his eyes were gorgeous was this...love? I shook my head how can I be in love with someone I don’t even talk to . Everyday i would change my route just to walk past him which led for me to sometime be late for class but it didn’t really matter because I just wanted to see him. As always i took the hallway to building A , though my class was in building B. But his class wasn’t in building b so i walked in front of his class, nothing...maybe he’s late, i thought and walk right pass again...nothing. I felt sad was he not here, was he okay.? i thought to myself and the security lady caught me. “Go to class” i slightly rolled my eyes and walked towards class. I opened the door i had a frown in my face I was trying to figure out where was he. “Y/N, late. again. go to your seat” Ms.Johnson said i looked up and there he was. sitting in the chair next to mine, why was he here. “Um, you’re in my seat” i said god you’re so stupid he isn’t even sitting in my seat. “Oh sorry” he said. I finally heard his voice, it was sweet and deep. god it was beautiful. He moved seats. i sat in my suppose seat. i want to hear him talk again. what should i ask, why are you here? god, no that sounds mean. what’s your name? thats good, I mean i like him but I still don’t know his name just his schedule. I felt a tap in my shoulder, i turned around to meet his eyes. my cheeks were getting red. I can feel it. “Um, y/n do you have a pen I could borrow?” he asked..me. he could’ve asked anyone else but he asked me. I nodded. I grabbed my backpack and started to look for a pen. I opened my pencil case which there was a bunch of sticky notes of drawings of..him. SHIT SHIT SHIT. “Here” i said closing my pencil case and shoving it in my backpack. “Thanks, you’re really good a drawing” he said with a smile, that smile made me melt. How could anyone not find him attractive, I mean, I’ve asked people and they don’t find him attractive. “How do you know my name?” i asked. he chuckled. god the smile lines. “Ms Johnson said it” he said and i did a ‘o’ with my mouth. “What’s your name?” i asked. “Peter, Peter Parker” he said. Peter Parker. “Why are you here?” i asked god that came out wrong “I transferred since I am advanced in Math” he said. i nodded. “What grade are you in since you know we have a mix of students” I said. he was about to say something when the annoying bitch of Ms Johnson called me out. “Y/n, since you love to chit chat in my class you probably know the answer, right?” she said. shit. shit. shit. “X= 2 1/2 “ i said. Her faced seemed surprised. I smiled and look at peter and mouthed him thank you. He had written the answer in his hand. 

It had been 3 months since the day i met him. I will talk to him in class and sometimes outside of class. And this was the last week of school. I was going to do it. going to tell him i like him. My friends told me he was for sure into me since he will be flirty around me and sometimes touch my hand. i was hyping myself up to go up to him in the bleachers where he sat. My heart shattered at the sight, it was him kissing Gwen, the Gwen Stacy. She was gorgeous smart and an intern in Oscorp. I felt tears in my eyes but then Peter looked at me and smiled at me and called over. Don’t do this to me. I walk up to them. Trying to fake my smile and trying to not at least have a vice crack. “Hey Y/n, this is my girlfriend, Gwen” he introduced me to her. He introduced me to her. It hurted seeing her with him, I felt the tears in my eyes. “H-hi my name is y/n. I’m Peter’s partner” I smiled trying so hard to keep my feelings and not cry infront of him. I felt a vibration it was just a notification from Instagram.. “I have to go, my mom is calling me” i smiled and rushed down the bleachers. There it was..my tears, running down. I looked so stupid as I walked and bumped into everyone. I stayed in the girls restroom the rest of the day. I had one more class. I let a sigh and walked out, no one in sight. I took a turn to go to Building A. SHIT. There he was, i had just bumped into him. “Sorry” i said and try to dash right through him. he grabbed my wrist. “What’s wrong?” he said, Don’t do this to me right now. “I’m good” i said not looking at him, his voice made me melt. “Look at me” he said as he grabbed my face to look at him. “Were you crying?” he asked. I couldn’t move, his hand still in my chin. I cried again, now in front of him. He hugged me tightly, i melted onto his arms. I pushed him which startled him. “What’s wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable?” he asked grabbing my hands. I nodded ‘no’ “Quite the opposite, I fell for you. I like you Peter, wasn’t it obvious!?” I was screaming as if he had cheated on me or if we were dating. he let my hands go and backed away. “I’m sorry” he said sounding more as whisper her put his hand in the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I made you think...there could be something between us.” he said. “It’s not your fault. I couldn’t help but fall for you” i said. he looked at me and hugged me. “Maybe in another life” he said and left. All those times he would make me laugh, smile, hug me, touch my hand...happened but not in a a romantic way buy as a friendly way. I lost the boy i fell for and lost a friend.

[slvt444him]

moth to flame

part 2 to familiar face

pairing: porn star!joel miller x f!reader

summary: you're pining over wicked fantasies or who you recently discovered to be mr. miller, even when it's indubitably wrong.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: explicit (18+), pre-apocalypse, accidental voyeurism, masturbation, age gap (joel's in his mid 30's and reader is in her early 20's), reader is an exchange student but nationality is not mentioned

notes: set in 2013. do reblog or comment if u enjoyed it!

Turbulent wind pushed on the pickup truck to no avail. That, paired with the soothing rhythmic grunt of the ignition created a perfect moody atmosphere. It was the peak of summer; yet somehow, for whatever reason, Austin was looking awfully somber. Gray and bland like the taste of soaked cereals. Sarah was bound to return to school despite the hefty weekends she’s spent with the newest addition to the Millers, and she didn’t like it at all. She’s making it real obvious too for everyone. Cheeks puffed up like she is five and always a loud thump following her every move.

She landed her dad’s coffee on the table with a loud thump. She stormed back into her room with a louder thump. She swung the pickup truck’s door with the loudest thump you’ve ever had, before making her way over to the school’s gate. Her small pout remained on her face despite your cheerful wave and words of encouragement from behind the rolled window.

She’s a cute kid, you decided. 

You’re sure things would link perfectly between you and your host family if it weren’t for the fact that you practically avoided Mr. Miller like he’s the goddamn plague. Everytime you slipped out of your room, you had to make sure he wasn’t in a five meter proximity. You’d rather be dehydrated and starved than to meet him after his day-time job (which you’ve recently learned was a contracting gig), lingering around the kitchen with a stale sandwich up his mouth. Similarly, you treated Sarah as a trusty messenger for every message you had for her dad. Whether it’s a leaky sink or a hefty request to drop you off at your college.

It’s a genuine miracle Sarah never questioned you on your abnormal behavior, nor did Mr. Miller. Was this your streak of luck?

You tucked your phone back in your pocket after a quick run through your texts, eyes focused back towards what laid ahead of you. Mr. Miller’s broad shoulders stretched across the length of the car’s cushioned seat, moving with a steady pulse at every breath of air he claimed. Your careful eyes watched over the seams of his shirt; the correct side up after Sarah’s clever remark earlier that morning. Slowly, you traced along the nape of his neck with your bare eyes. Further and further, right until you could finally  spot the dark brown strands tangled in with hints of gray. It looked soft.. much like how it appeared to be on his videos. You wondered how it’d feel like to run your hands over it, feel it through the ridges of your knuckles, and pull on‒

“Hey, you listenin’ to me?”

The man’s baritone voice penetrated the thick silence and you were left aghast. Soul sucked out of your body as your eyes flickered towards the rearview mirror, eventually catching the small smile playing on his dangerously charming face. He’d be the end of you that’s for sure. This was a bad idea, asking him to drive you to college just because taxi rates are crazy high this time of the year, leaving the two of you alone. Alone and hidden under the privacy of his truck, you were fucked through and through. You just hoped he wasn’t clever enough to somehow figure out your utterly shameful thoughts.

“Sorry.. um.. I was thinking of something. What were you saying, Mr. Miller?”

Yeah, that’s right. You were thinking of how nice his hair would feel when you’re gripping on it for dear life, but he didn’t have to know that.

“No worries, kiddo. Just.. I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

At the last syllable he uttered, you were already rigid. Parched, feeling like your tongue magically turned into sandpaper; you’d always consider yourself to be an excellent debater at all parts of life, but his lone question left you high and dry. Your eyes darted back onto the rearview mirror and instead of his candid expression, you were met with his scintillating gaze. Curious and prodding into the deepest part of your head. It enthralled you, encouraged you to say the truth.

“You’re always scurrying off when I’m around,” he gave a thought to what he’s about to say. “I get that Sarah is friendlier and a lot more relatable to talk to. Talkin’ to an old man isn’t exactly preferable, is it?”

He let out a polite set of laughter, which was met by a deafening silence. You crumpled under the tension. Awkward and wanting nothing more than to escape the car like some fugitive in handcuffs. Killing Me Softly With His Song by Fugees continued to play faintly in the background, once again becoming a fitting ringtone for your impending response.

“No,” you denied slowly. Effectively lying, but it was as obvious as a kid trying to pocket candies from the cash register. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

His expression eventually twisted into one of mirth; brows quirked with interest, a tight smile edged to unfold. He’s probably finding the telenovela-inspired reply hilarious, but the man’s polite enough to store all his witty comments in the back of his head.

“What I mean is,” you paused to inhale deeply. What were you even supposed to say? You used to watch all his explicit videos and therefore you couldn't look him in the eye without getting reminded of every single scene? Lying has never been your forte, but the other option was far too humiliating. Even for you. “I’m naturally awkward, Mr. Miller. I.. I feel embarrassed when approaching you. Feels like I’m bothering you or something.”

That was half a lie. A white lie, you’d conclude.

“Oh sweetheart, you never bother me.”

The way he said that nickname had you sweating buckets. Seconds away from throwing up your entire breakfast menu out of sheer nervousness. You knew he meant it in a platonic familial-bond type of way, but God did it remind you of what he calls all his pretty co-stars.

“You and Sarah are my number one priority now. You know that, right?”

“Right. Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

“I’m home.”

Exhaustion trailed after your every step as you made your way through the empty hallway, a result of caffeine-induced studying paired with the buzzing busyness of commuting in peak-hour. This was all easily avoidable. You should’ve accepted Mr. Miller’s offer in picking you up after his gig up West, but the fear of making a slip up is overriding your desire for convenience. You wouldn't want to make things even more weird than it already is. Your most prized possession, the laptop you’ve owned since the beginning of time, weighed your shoulder down exceptionally as you trudged through. A loud grunt passed your lips as you stumbled across; appearing exactly like the hunchback of Notre Dame.

“Oh! You’re here!”

You took a step back to meet the feminine voice, bubbly and hearty from the girl sitting in a criss-cross manner in front of the TV. Sarah was smiling. A big toothy smile that was too hard to resist, despite the fatigue weighing your shoulders down. You’re just soft when it comes to the little girl.

“Dad’s giving me a massage. Do you want one too?”

You must’ve been dog-tired, because you foolishly didn’t notice the large figure looming over her from the sunken couch. It was admittedly dim in the living room, but he was as obvious as an elephant, big and rigged with muscles out of a need for his profession. Both his contracting gig and his other.. scandalous endeavors. Breathing was all that you needed to focus on for now, and perhaps schooling your expression. You’re almost entirely sure you wouldn’t be able to speak no matter how hard you try.

A small unsure quirk of your head was what you settled with and Sarah, being the nicest girl you’ve ever known, quickly ushered you to sit by her side. On the wooden floor. For a damned massage from Mr. Miller.

You complied, of course. Even when you look mildly petrified by the idea.

“What’re you up to all evening?” 

His voice grazed your eardrums, alike to a powerful gust of wind, as you seated yourself on the foot of the couch. Sarah by your side, looking fondly in your direction, giving you all the more pressure to appear put together when you could simply falter at the bare sound of his voice. You needed to get your shit together. Mr. Miller’s an actual man, for fucks sake, it’s horribly immoral to think of him as the Wicked Fantasies in these kinds of setting.

“Studying.”

“Is that why you’re so pent-up?”

No. You’re pent-up because you’ve spent the entire week trying to be in your best behavior, trying to act like you’re not openly thirsting over this sweet girl’s father, trying to act like you’re not tipping into insanity from merely being placed in the same room as he is, but he didn’t have to know that.

“Think so,” you hummed softly.

“Poor thing.”

Anticipation almost killed you right there and then. You knew he was going to place his calloused fingers over your shoulders, knew that it was the basic requirement to give someone a shoulder massage, but you couldn’t help but develop butterflies in your belly at the thought. It wasn’t beautiful nor poetic, instead, it was an absolute nuisance to conceal your thoughts. When he began to place his hands on your upper back, you flinched.

A hitch in your breathing, then a throaty groan.

You were sensitive, touch-starved, and his touch practically confirmed that.

Mr. Miller’s touch was expertly firm yet gentle, the way you imagined it for a long time, his calloused fingers glided along your trapeze muscles with finesse. Fluid and seamless, as if he’s a master to the human body. Your eyes fluttered shut as he focused on the tension points. The nook between your bones which was constantly weighed down by your bag didn’t go unnoticed. His skilled fingers kneaded away every knot and tightness, making you surrender to his ministrations.

You didn’t want him to stop.

You wanted him to touch you more.

To have each one of his rough fingers stroke every soft bend of your body, like how he treated May and Sadie as if they were his own personal ragdoll.

To feel him under the constraints of your thin t-shirt, without a veil separating the two of you.

You craved him so bad, even when it’s wrong.

“You feel better?”

When he spoke, his raspy voice was magnetic to the core of who you were, as if he's able to resonate with all of you when others can barely achieve a fraction of it. It sounded sincere, like he truly cared about your well-being and not to simply feed into your secret desires. He meant well and you’re here acting like a starved pervert. The thought made you cringe ever so slightly.

“Yeah. Much better.”

“Good then, kiddo.”

The nickname turned you sour. You're more than willing to debate him on it, unlike last time.

“I’m not a kid.”

“No?”

He was so smug about it too. Even when you're looking all pissy.

“No. I’m a fully grown adult, Mr. Miller. Do note that I’m in my twenties,” you schooled him persistently.

“Twenties? Wow, you’re truly ancient.”

“Yeah and you’re a dinosaur, Mr. Miller.”

The silly quarrel you’ve gotten into with the older man made Sarah burst into laughter, breaking your tenacity and effectively making you laugh along with her.

It was the first time in forever that the Millers laughed that hard together.

As the evening sun painted the kitchen in sepia hues, you stood before the cutting board; a bunch of onions staring right back at you, waiting to be transformed. You have always been passionate about cooking as you viewed it a stress-relieving activity, similar to those medley of coloring books marketed for adults. With a polished kitchen knife in hand and earphones stuffed in, you began your culinary adventure. Your hands moved swiftly, guided by blind confidence. The rhythmic sound of knife to wood began to echo all around the room.

“What are you cookin’ up?”

You could hear him as clear as day, timbre vibrating through your ear canals. Only then did you notice that he had indeed pulled one of your neatly stuffed earphones away, leaving you exposed to the world. To him who you’ve been avoiding despite your little chat in the truck. You looked dumbstruck. Lost in your own thoughts, your eyes wandered up the pools of honey in his eyes. The subtle movements of his eyes, his thoughtful expression, all seemed to weave a tapestry of intrigue in your mind.

“I’m just chopping up onions here. Nothing exciting, really.”

It took all of you to tear yourself away from his gaze. Even so, the sensation lasted, leaving an anchor of trepidation in your chest.

“You’re back early,” you remarked matter-of-factly.

“Construction guys finished cementing early. Why? You miss me?”

You chuckled fondly. Only to shake your head as you mouthed a brief ‘no’. It’s hard not to entertain the cheeky older man despite your best effort. He was better than you could ever imagine from the confines of your laptop. He had a personality, one that easily made anyone hooked, and a kind heart, therefore it’s terribly hard to keep your burning feelings at bay. It’s wrong. Terribly wrong to view him as such when you’re almost entirely sure he viewed you as his kin, as someone to protect and show guidance to. You were drawn to him like a moth to flame, but he didn’t need to know that.

A sudden lapse in concentration caused your knife to slip, nicking your finger in the process.

A sharp sting shot through your hand.

Then a bead of crimson appeared, mingled with the pungent scent of onions.

“Shit..”

Momentarily stunned, you sucked in a sharp breath, your eyes widened with surprise. It didn’t hurt that bad yet, but it’s still a sight that made you frantic and out of your element. You instinctively brought your injured finger close to your tightly pressed lips, intending to investigate how deep the knife went. Droplets of blood seeped its way through the slim cut as you pressed on the soft pads of your pointer finger. You need to get the wound clean and so tap water was your first option.

However, fate had other plans in store.

“Oh no.. does it hurt, sweetheart?”

You grimaced at the nickname. This wasn’t a good time to get all desperate, but his voice did nothing but burn you with need. Without hesitation, Mr. Miller took hold of your nicked finger, his touch tender and reassuring. He guided your finger closer to his lips and in the many years you've lived, this was the most sensual scene you’ve ever witnessed. Your eyebrows quivered, a mixture of confusion and anticipation swirled within you. 

He was your drug.

One touch and the intoxication was fatal. Whatever he wants to do is what you’ll do and there isn't a thing you can do to stop him - not that you’d want to.

With gentle care, he leaned in. He had to crouch ever so slightly to get to your level and never once did his velvety brown eyes leave yours. You’re starting to think that he was doing it on purpose. That this entire scene you’re trying to make sense of was just a part of his orchestrated show, that he indeed felt the same way you do and was just as afraid in confronting it. Though you’re never really sure; the sheer attention he gave you made your brain turn into mush.

His warm breath ghosted over the wound, and before you knew it, he pressed a soft, delicate kiss on where crimson was pooling. Your breath caught in your throat. You wanted to choke. The sting that had plagued you a moment ago now seemed to dissipate into thin air, replaced by a warmth that spread from your hand to every inch of your aching body. His mouth was a furnace. Plush at all sides as his slick tongue stuck flat against the nick.

The concentration in his face, the emphasized crows feet, the stray strands of brown dappled on his sweaty forehead. 

“It’s a little old-fashioned, I know,” he whispered, his eyes locked with yours, “but sometimes a little love can make the pain go away.”

“Love?” you mumbled foolishly, still in a trance.

“You’re a part of the Millers, remember?”

What he said stung you more than the nick. It pushed you off the ledge of delusions. Your gaze slowly grew somber despite your best efforts to stay nonchalant.

“Of course, Mr. Miller.”

The steady patter of rain upon his window stirred Joel awake, droplets yet to scatter the nascent rays of the settling moon. A strange occurrence for late summer. Though, the gentle sound brought a certain calmness to his mind; a soothing melody, one that stripped him of fear and incompetence. He looked around, blurry vision still intact while he scrambled to find the time. His alarm clock flashed back the time in big bold numbers. Barely past midnight, he noted internally. Joel wasn’t so sure on why his throat felt incredibly parched, dry to the bone, in need of refreshment even when it’s only been a few hours since he tucked himself in. Was it the one beer he had at dinner?

With an irritated sigh, he groggily stumbled out of bed. His knees creaked at its rusty hinge everytime he took a step down the dimly lit staircase of his home. He felt like a nutcracker. An old worn-out one at that. He wondered if he’s gotten too old for this, too old for construction and his side job - has he developed arthritis? His worries came to a halt when a soft glow caught his attention, emanating from a partially open door. 

If he remembered correctly, it was the small room by the garage he’s gifted to you. 

Curiosity piqued, he hesitated for a moment.

Would he be an absolute prick if he took a short peak? Probably. But you interest him. You’ve always been interesting to him, in ways that confuses him more often than he’d like.

He neared the door. One step at a time, praying to whatever God up there that’d be kind enough not to let the wooden boards ahead of him creak at his heavy steps. In that solitary moment, he felt a mixture of emotions welling up within him. It was as if he knew that he was about to stumble upon a secret, a private moment that’d be permanently embedded in his mind. He contemplated once again when he’s just a step away from getting a clear view. Respect for you tugged at his conscience, yet an overwhelming ugly curiosity pushed him to stay, to try to understand the significance of your nocturnal act.

His brown eyes peered through the small gap left.

He could see you now, but you couldn’t see him.

In the dappled moonlight, he carefully mapped out each and every one of your soft curves. How you were bathed in gentle light, sat comfortably on top of your stacked comforter as you typed away at your laptop with lightning-like speed. How you slowly leaned forward to get a closer look at the blaring screen, hair left relaxed and rear-end clearly emphasized by your inept sleeping shorts. How you eagerly repositioned yourself, straddling two rolled pillows as if you were to ride a horse. Joel didn’t mean to look. He didn’t mean to stare in such a perverted, disgusting manner. You were just too captivating and he was one weak-willed man.

With bated breath, he continued to observe.

Joel found himself captivated, his thirst momentarily forgotten, as he marveled at the scene unfolding in front of him.

This was wrong, he reminded himself. This was you he was looking at, not anyone else. You who he always viewed as a wide-eyed young girl still trying her best to navigate around her life. You who’s naive enough to believe his lies that the pink condom packets in his pick-up truck were single-packet wet tissues. You who’s sweet enough to cook his entire family a good dinner for once; turkey, mash, and green beans. He shouldn’t be looking at you like this. He shouldn’t crave for you, because you’re you and he’s him.

His dilemma fell short when you clumsily tugged both your thin shorts and cotton panties off your legs, shin planted deeply into the pristine comforter. Your cunt gleamed under the thick moonlight, arousal formed in globs of clear stickiness right around where your tiny hole appeared. The visage caused him to stiffen in his sweatpants, twitching uncontrollably as he watched you rub yourself along the soft material.

Joel had a first-class view on how you cautiously ground down against it and he was.. shamefully thrilled. A moan bubbled up, before you did it again, and again, and again, each time the pillow appeared more and more damp.

“Fuck,” you hissed to yourself and it drove Joel insane. He pushed his pants down embarrassingly as if he’s some teenage boy catching a coincidental sight of a strip tease, before he cupped himself through his briefs. You’re putting on such a good show, even when it’s not for him, or for anyone on that matter. He watched with anticipation as you leaned back on both hands, edging yourself, before you grinded against it desperately.

Your hole throbbed, contracting and loosening everytime the soft material made contact with your sensitive nub. It’s all that you focus on now. Which was working wonders, considering your quiet gasps and labored breaths were starting to turn into much vulgar noises. Loud moans and whimpers that made Joel’s cock grew with interest, dribbling with pre-cum and desire.

“Please, please, please,” you begged breathlessly.

Both of your hands disappeared for a split second. He wondered silently where it went, but the dappled shadow on your wall told him more to the story. You were cupping both your breasts, massaging it kindly before going over to pinch and roll your nipples to harden. You seemed to be sensitive there. Would you enjoy his thick fingers around them?

“More!” you begged helplessly.

He wished to come and help you, to stick a finger into that tight hole of yours, to circle your clit with his thumb, flicking indulgently until you gave up. But it’s all a part of his far-fetched fantasy. Watching is more than enough for now. Joel couldn’t even see your face, but this entire thing got him off better than all the pornos he’s personally made.

“I’m gonna- oh, oh, God.”

Your cries echoed around the room, He could see how you quivered, thighs clamping shut around the drenched pillow as you reached your final ecstasy. Everytime you rolled back, he salivated over the sight of your sopping cunt. Untouched and sensitive even from just humping. Your thrusts never falter, not even when you’re making a mess on top of the once pristine, white pillow. What a dirty girl.

Joel watched you until the very end. Right until you collapsed forward, flat on your stomach after exerting such work on your body.

Cock sore and in need of relieving.

Though, something else caught his interest. A revelation that he found to be more important to comprehend than the state of his throbbing cock. 

The video you're watching to get yourself off.

They were his.

[slvt444him]

bfs

Star wars men you will always be famous, i’m in love with them.

[slvt444him]

crying bc this was amazing

★彡[ʏᴇʟʟᴏᴡ ꜱᴜɴᴅʀᴇꜱꜱ// ꜱ.ʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (4)]彡★

Summary: Spencer and Y/n were childhood friends who lost touch when he left for college, but fate is a cruel mistress.

word count; 0.9 (sorry, its just filler)

previous chapter

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“Okay, you’ve been acting strange all day, spill,” 

She had been cornered; there was no escaping Angela’s interrogation now. Y/n sighed, trying hard to slip by her friend, but it was no use. 

“It’s nothing, Angie, I promise; I’m just tired,” She said unconvincingly, sending her a weak smile. 

Angela was unconvinced, not that y/n was putting much effort into her performance, but she stuck out her hand and stopped y/n from walking off. 

“Y/n, please, we’ve been friends for what? Twelve years? I know when something is bothering you, you mope around and look at people like they’ve kicked a puppy,” 

She deliberated for a second; she was right. Of course, Angela was right. She resigned herself, deciding there was no use in hiding anything from this woman. 

“Okay fine, but it’s kind of a long story,” She began.

Angela looked down at her watch. 

“We have an hour for lunch,” 

She smiled slightly, rolling her eyes and following the woman to one of the sofas. 

“Okay, spill,” She said. 

“Okay, do you remember me telling you about when I lived in Nevada and my best friend at the time?” She questioned; Angela nodded, listening intently “Well, you know I lost touch with him after moving to England, but the other day when I was asked to work with the FBI on a case, I found out he worked for the unit,” 

Angela gasped loudly, an excited grin spreading across her face. 

“Its fate!” She announced loudly, “All those years apart; you’ve found each other again; it’s like something right out of a romance book,” 

y/n rolled her eyes. 

“This is nothing like a romance book Ange,” she explained, motioning for angela to keep her voice down. 

“It is,” Angela shot back, “Childhood sweethearts meant to be together, lose one another for twenty years only to be reunited once more,” she said wistfully. 

“We were not childhood sweethearts,” Y/n protested, “We only kissed one time,” She added quietly.

“Well, all I’m saying is that the universe works in mysterious ways, and if you don’t take this opportunity, you’ll never get another one like it,” 

“Sometimes, when you talk a lot, I question if what you say is actually inspirational or if I’ve just been brainwashed,” she teased.

After lunch, Y/n's thoughts were plagued with Angela’s words. 

Maybe she was right; when would there be another opportunity to have Spencer in her life again? 

Did he even want to be in her life again? 

She thought back to the night of her elementary school graduation.

They were waiting outside the sports hall for Y/n’s mother to come to pick them up. 

“Do you think we will be friends when we are older?” Spencer had questioned, eyes not looking up from the blades of grass he was picking at. 

“What kind of question is that?” She asked, “Of course, we will be friends when we are older. You ask silly questions sometimes,” She said. 

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” he asked. 

y/n thought for a second before shaking her head. 

“No, boys are annoying. Why would I want to marry one?” she announced. 

“Do you think I’m annoying?” He asked.

“Yeah, sometimes, when you want me to play chess with you even though I’m busy playing pokemon,” She explained, “But you’re nicer to me than all the boys in my class.”

“Do you want to marry me?” He questioned. 

She thought about it for a moment. 

“Yeah, I’ll marry you. And when we are grown up we can live in a house together, and you’re room can have all your books in it, and my room can have all my video games in it. Do you think we should have a cat or a dog?” She asked. 

Spencer thought about this question for a second. 

��Hmm, we can have a cat and a dog,” 

y/n’s eyes lit up in excitement. 

“Oh yeah, and we can live on a farm and have cows and horses,” She explained. 

She smiled fondly at the memory. 

How she wished she could have that childhood innocence once more. The simple way children loved one another without the complications of adult life. 

She thought about what her life would have been like if she had been able to keep in touch with Spencer. 

Would they have gotten married? 

Logically she knew it was unlikely, but there was still this tiny part of her that wished they had. 

Would they have had a big wedding? Something extravagant? Maybe it would have been small and intimate.

She saw them living in a suburban house with their cat and dog. 

Would they have had children? 

She blushed suddenly, shaking her head and bringing herself back to reality. 

She stared down at the car keys in her hand. 

She felt stupid standing in the parking garage, fantasising about a life she had never had with a man she hadn’t seen in over twenty years. 

She didn’t know if she wanted to cry, scream or laugh. 

So she unlocked her car, slid in and sighed deeply, deciding to sort out her feelings later. 

Why was she so worked up?

She did not sort out her feelings later. 

“Later” came in a blur of pasta and red wine. 

“Late” came and went, and y/n lay awake, staring at the ceiling of her room, feeling sorry for herself. 

“Later” came and went, and before she knew it, she was getting ready to go back to work. Her feelings are still not sorted, and her emotions are as unstable as ever. 

She wanted to scream at the universe for being so cruel.

@aliives @stevenknightmarc @flowersownme @instabull @sajova @imaginexred @livsh20 @criminalmindsbau-spencerried @reguluscrystals @willowecho25518 @whos6claire @evaa-hdlr @lost-fantasy @kylakins88 @amateur-author597 @imnotsiriusyouare @stresseyzesty @shesoperfectt @dudewithastick @jazzydoesstuff @corpsebridenightamare @roastyyytoastyyy @a-lil-bit-nuts @callsignwidow @voteforevilthoughts @v-i-o-l-e-t @gabrielleisalanastan @vyctorya @sebastiansstanswhore @jenna-2-pretty @fefa-la-printcessa @funkycheese101 @oneconfusedbisexual @smilechannie @splderbxy @daisyjoons @alexa-33 @lazyavenuewhispers @ssa-uglywhore27 @eternal-fandoms @ashisonthefloororsomething @probacryingoutloud @sophie4567 @funkycheese101 @fefa-la-printcessa @simpforthemo0n @ryns-world127 @

[slvt444him]

*whispers in you ear* reader who doesnt have a gag reflex and hotch who likes face fucking and deep throating

this post is 18+, minors dni.

You think you might have Aaron's cock in your mouth more than food. But there's nothing you'd change about that, and you savor the bump of his cockhead against your closed lips before you stick out your tongue.

"Good," Aaron hums, easing your jaw open with his hands on your cheeks. You lick an obscenely wet stripe against the underside of his length, finally leaning forwards to envelop him fully into your mouth.

Aaron lets out a sensitive hiss as your lips close around his base, and you slowly drag them backwards until they come off of the tip with a pop. Your plan is go to slow, to savor the taste of the precum that's already starting to bead at the head of his cock and suckle him dry until he's shot cum down your throat at least twice. But he's got other plans, and he puts them into action with a firm hand.

His large hand presses against the back of your head and he rams his hips forwards, slamming his cock into the back of your throat. A strangled moan garbles from your throat, muffled by the intrusion of Aaron's cock, but you cram your face impossibly further onto him, nose buried in the small patch of dark, wiry hair that's curled above the base of his cock. It's musky, it smells like sex, and it makes your cunt throb.

Apparently the vibrations from your moan fuel Aaron's thrusts even more, and his hand puts more pressure against the back of your head.

"Fuck," He groans, balls hitting your chin, "'Want you to-" You run your tongue through his slit when he pulls back, and he hisses, "-Ah! Want you to choke on me," He heaves gruffly, voice a delicious rasp, "'Want you to swallow me, baby, 'gonna cum down your throat and you won't even taste it."

"You want that?" He curls his fingers into your hair, suddenly pulling where he was pushing and yanking you off of the head of his cock. Drool seeps down your chin and you're breathing heavy from the lack of oxygen you'd gotten buried in his pubes, but you nod eagerly.

"Yeah," You pant, reaching for his cock that your mouth waters for, wrapping your hand around the base and using your spit to pump his length, "Or- or no, Aaron, I want to taste it," You beg, processing his words late, "Please, I wanna taste you."

"Now," He urges, nodding down at his leaking cock. You rush to lap at the slit, gathering his precum on your tongue and moaning at the taste.

"Taste me now, sweetheart," He groans, jaw clenching as you lick him clean, "'Cause it won't hit your tongue later. Not when I'm down your throat."

[slvt444him]

Yall stay safe im taking one for the team.

[slvt444him]

How to write romantic love

Writing romantic love is simultaneously one of the most joyful things you can do as a writer, and one of the most difficult. There’s a lot of emotion to cover - from the highs of a new relationship, to the struggles of a relationship on the rocks.

Like all of us, your characters will display love differently. Are they open and affectionate? Shy and nervous? Loud and blunt? To help you along the way, here’s some examples of descriptions you can use to show (not tell) your readers that your characters are in love. Movement

Inching towards each other to touch

Shyly tucking stray hair behind the ear

Unconsciously parting or licking lips

Embracing with full bodies touching

Nervously shuffling feet

Running and reaching with open arms

Fiddling with hair or clothing

Crossing or uncrossing legs

Leaning forward to show attentiveness

A bounce in the step

Glancing flirtily over the shoulder

Facial expressions

Flirtatious winking

Smiling to themselves at nothing

Glancing up through lowered lashes

Unblinking eye contact

Grinning or beaming uncontrollably

A look of yearning

Lips slightly parted with desire

Dilated pupils

Glowing cheeks or flushed skin

Faraway, daydreaming look

Slight, secretive smile

Sounds

Deep sighs

Unconscious swallowing

Nervous coughing or throat clearing

Light chuckle with a silly grin

Grunts of appreciation or praise

An inner, audibly racing pulse

Thumping heart

Quick, short breaths

Low, whispered voices

Listening to love songs

Joyfully humming

Feelings and sensations

Nervous tingling

Butterflies in the stomach

Hot and flushed face

Hyper-sensitive skin

Acute awareness of personal proximity

Weak knees or legs turning to jelly

Shaky hands

Loss of speech or getting tongue-tied

Daydreaming and absentmindedness

Seeing the beauty in the world

Pulse racing

[slvt444him]

My Sweet Boy

Chubby f.reader x Ethan Landry

A/N: Pre!Ghost face. I made y/n chubby because I haven’t seen many chubby y/n stories (if you have any request on any characters feel free to request it!) Might have grammatical errors 

Warnings: Mentions of Suggestive Adult content, Language, Possessiveness maybe?? Insecurity                                                           

                                                 ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

    As I stare onto Ethan from afar his curls falling onto his face as he looked at his phone. He was standing a couple feet away from the bench you sat at. You couldn’t help but smile. “Y/n, who are you staring at?” asked tara as she sat next to you. I turn to look at her and my cheeks flushed with a pink tint. “No one” I said trying my best not to stutter from embarrassment. She put herself next to me trying to match where i was seeing. “Him? Still?” she said. I just looked at my thighs and nodded “I thought you were over him” she asked “I mean... I thought I was but he talked to me and I don’t know what happened” I said kinda ranting. I couldn't help but notice how she tried holding her laughter. “Are you trying not to laugh?” I asked slightly trying to raise my eyebrow. She nodded no but then started to laugh but not loudly “Look y/n you know I love you but couldn’t you do any better?” she said I just rolled my eyes slightly and tried to look at Ethan but he was already looking, at me? But I then realized who I was sitting next to. I felt a lump in my throat. “Hey, you okay?” Tara asked then she looked at Ethan. He started to walk over here “Hi Tara. Hey y/n” he said. “Hey” I said trying to avoid his eye contact. I grabbed my bag and book. “I have to go...to class see you guys later” I said and tried to walk away but i bumped into Chad. Tara has had thing for him but she never knew if he like her or was just friendly. “Hey y/n, why the rush?” he asked. “No rush just class” i said. “anyways let me walk you over to your class” he said i nodded and turned back to say bye to Tara but she was gone. Ethan was there, standing and staring at me. “So, I wanted to know if Tara is seeing someone?” he asked. “Who’s asking?” i asked jokingly He semi-rolled his eye knowing I knew who was asking. “Me, probably?” he said with a chuckle. “Oh right now, no” I said. “Tell her that you like her, the worst she can say is no” I said with a smiled. I was becoming the “cupid”. He smiled and put his hand in the back of his neck. “Thanks also I thought you were going to class?” he said as he was following me to the dorms. I chuckled nervously “Just wanted to get away” i said and he nodded. “Im going to ask her if she want to hangout with me” he said. “Seriously? Hanging out?” i said “Not a good idea?” he asked. “Don’t say hanging out or she’ll think our friends are going out with you guys. say something like ‘want to go out just the two of us if you are down...to go?” I said. “Just saying. I don’t know much about relationships” I said before he said my idea was probably stupid. “yeah..yeah thats actually really smart thanks y/n” he said and i smiled to him “anytime” I said. I started to walk inside the apartment towards my dorm room. When I saw Ethan sitting in front of the dorm me and tara will stay in. “Ethan?” i said and he looked up. “If you’re looking for Tara she’s not here” I told him unlocking the door. “no, i came looking for you” he said and i froze. I felt something in my stomach. “Want to go in?” I asked as he nodded. “Why do you want to see me for?” I asked as i walked in with him behind me. I placed my bag in my bed. “What were you talking about with Chad?” he asked. “We talked about..wait why do you want to know?” I asked curiously. “Because. Just because” he said “Uh okay?” I said “We talked about classes, you know” i said. “No you weren’t” he said slight raising his voice “what? how would you know?” I asked. “Because when I talk to you about your classes you’re always quiet and you were laughing with him” he said. he was jealous? upset? “What does he have that I don’t” he asked “What!? I’m like so confused right now?” i said. he stood in front of me. I felt my cheeks flush with a red tint. “I like you, y/n.” he said as he grabbed my face making me look at him. “Say something please” he said. I looked at him and grabbed his face and his lips met my lips. It was soft kiss then he grabbed my waist. I couldn’t do it anymore. I pushed him away. “Hey what’s wrong?” he said “Was it something I said or did” he said, he seemed concerned. “No, it just” i laid on my bed and tried not to cry. “Hey, hey its okay. Tell me what’s wrong?” he asked. “Ethan, when you grabbed my waist I felt like I wasn’t skinny or pretty enough because i felt like u could feel my body rolls” I said. “Hey I like you just the way you are he said as he got on the bed on top of me. he started to kiss my cheeks. “Your...are...beautiful...just...the...way...you...are” he said kissing my cheeks to my neck within each word he said. “My sweet boy” I said His hand started to go to my thigh caressing it. He started to kiss my neck, sucking on it softly. He took his shirt off. “let me pleasure and please you” He said. Just to hear  a gasp. We both turn around to see Tara.