#*whips out dvd*

[wikitpowers]

idc what anyone says, this is a BANGER…

[britishchick09]

every single poto unmasking (original book 1910, 1925, song at midnight 1937, 1943, 1962, night gallery's phantom of what opera? 1971, phantom of the paradise 1974, 1983, animated 1987, 1989, mini series 1990, phantom 1990, staller 1991, the canary trainer 1993, journey of the mask 2000, 2004, musical 2011, graphic novel webtoon 2021, phantom heart 2021, ghost on the roof 2022, angel's mask 2023, my rewrite 2022)

[kurthorton]

just watched the first 4 eps of teen wolf back to back feels good feels right

[scp-230]

My sil said she thinks she's knows more about supernatural than me as if I wasn't in the trenches in the superwholock era

[dreamescapeswriting]

So Whipped ~ BC

⤜WORD COUNT: 1.2K (Sorry its so short!<3)

⤜PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader x the boys? (platonic)

⤜GENRE: fluffy, falling asleep around the boys, the boys wanting to tease you but chan is being a cute protective boyfriend and steps in before they have the chance

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The living room of the dorms was bathed in a soft, warm glow from the string lights draped around the windows, casting a cosy ambience over the scattered blankets and empty popcorn bowls. The credits of the final movie rolled silently on the TV screen. Still, the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional car passing by outside were the only sounds filling the quiet room. The boys stretched a little but Felix stayed perfectly still not wanting to move you yet. You were laid nestled on the oversized sectional, your head resting on Felix’s shoulder, your breathing slow and steady. 

"How did she even sleep through your screaming?" Jisung teased as he glanced over at the two of you. You'd fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of the sixth movie the 8 of you decided to watch, exhaustion finally taking over. Felix glanced down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. Carefully, he adjusted the blanket to cover you a little better, making sure that you were as comfortable as possible before he slid out from under your grasp. 

Across the room, Chan stretched his arms above his head, letting out a yawn as he looked over at you. His perfect little girlfriend was already sound asleep, which meant getting you back to your shared apartment was going to be harder than ever since he wouldn't have the heart to move you.

�� “Guess we wore her out,” he chuckled softly, trying not to disturb the serene moment. His eyes softened as he watched you snuggling into the blanket, letting out a soft whine as you realised the one you'd been cuddled up to was gone but it didn't wake you. 

Not that Chan blamed you, the two of you had been up until 4 that morning and then the guys had a full day planned of everything they wanted to do with their time off. Chan counted himself lucky he'd talked them out of dragging all eight of you down to the beach, if you had he couldn't guarantee you would have made it out of the car.

“Not surprising, considering we had a full day before this,” Hyunjin added, his voice a gentle murmur. He stood up from the floor, where he had been lounging and started to gather the empty snack bowls, Minho joining him in the task.

  “Should we wake her up?” Seungmin asked, looking over from where he was tidying up the mess of DVDs and Blu-rays they had pulled out earlier. Chan shook his head at him, there was no need to wake you up when you were sleeping so peacefully,

“Let her sleep,” Chan said quietly, his eyes never leaving your peaceful face, his hand outstretched a little as he ran his thumb along your cheek. 

“She looks so peaceful. Besides, it’s late. We can make her a bed here, she can take my room.” Seungmin nodded in agreement, already stacking pillows and pulling an extra blanket from the closet taking them through to Chan's old room. It wasn't as though the two of you had never shared that bedroom before but it had been a while since the two of you had squeezed into a single bed together. 

Hyunjin and Minho exchanged mischievous glances from the kitchen, the kind that only meant one thing: trouble. Hyunjin crept over to Minho, whispering, 

"What if we put whipped cream on her hand and tickle her nose? Classic prank." He said as he handed Minho the can of whipped cream, a devilish smirk taking over his face as he took the whipped cream into his grasp. 

"Or maybe draw on her face with a marker. Just a little moustache." Minho snickered, as he reached for a pen from the pot on the kitchen counter. 

“Good idea.” Hyunjin laughed from the kitchen making Chan turn around to see what they were talking about together. Minho was standing holding something behind his back with an all too innocent look on his face already letting Chan know he was onto something without even saying a word. 

After years of being the leader of their little group, you'd think the boys would know better than to try and hide something from the one man who knew them better than anyone else.

"What are you two planning?" He walked toward the kitchen door and they shook their heads, only making them seem more suspicious in his eyes. Before they could hide the items Chan darted behind them and took them from their hands, 

"No pranks tonight, guys." He chuckles, putting it all away and the two of them groan at him. 

"Aww, come on, Chan. Just a harmless little joke." Hyunjin pouted at him but Chan shook his head at them, his eyes serious. There was no way he was going to let them disturb you when you were asleep, besides, he didn't want you to wake up and regret spending the night because of some childish antics that they were going to be getting up to. 

"She’s exhausted. Let her sleep." He glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were still curled up in the chair. The others all cleaning up around you. Minho sighed dramatically, a smirk playing on his lips as he took the perfect chance to tease his leader. 

"Protective much? What’s the matter, Chris? Afraid she’ll be mad at you if she wakes up with a moustache?" He wriggles his eyebrows at Chan who merely crosses his arms, an amused yet warning glint in his eyes. As much as he loved playing pranks with the guys this was different, he didn't want anything to happen to you that might put you off coming back to spend time with the guys again,

"Very funny, Minho. But no. Just let her rest." Jisung, overhearing the exchange, couldn't resist chiming in. 

"Someone's whipped." He smirked, joining the others in the kitchen as Chan shot him the same look he'd been giving to Hyunjin and Minho but it only egged the boys on more.

"Yeah, Chan. You're going soft on us." Seungmin said with a giant grin on his face, reaching for the whipped cream Chan rolled his eyes, but it wasn't enough to hide the slight blush creeping up his cheeks at the thought of being whipped for you. 

“I’m not whipped. I just know she needs sleep. Unlike us.” He whines at them, the blush only deepening as the boys continue to snicker and stare over at him,

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, hyung.” Jeongin smirked, unable to stop the laugh that came out after he spoke.

Felix, who had been watching the whole exchange with quiet amusement, chuckled softly and shook his head at them. Felix knew how deeply in love with you Chan was and how he would never do anything to stop that.

“Leave him alone, guys. He’s just being a good boyfriend.” Chan cast Felix a grateful look, but his friends weren’t done teasing him yet. Hyunjin, with a playful grin, leaned over and whispered loudly, 

“Does that mean we should start calling you ‘whipped cream Chan’?” Only Chan shoved him softly and laughed, walking away as he went back over to check on your sleeping form. His fingers gently run along your skin and smiling to himself. Even with them trying to do stupid pranks on you there was no other place he would rather be than right here with all of you around him. All his favourite people are in one safe spot.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie

[nanivinsmoke]

Rated-R

saw this art from @/yunonoai on twitter and i cannot stop thinking about it. enjoy ya freaks

roommate!Choso x F!reader

summary ~ when the movie is a little bit more than you both could handle.

warnings and tags ~ porn, mentions of drinking, fingering, oral, sexual tension, nervous choso, teasing, semi-pussyjob, facial, cream pie, degradation, rough sex, squirting, etc~

“what about this one?” you asked, holding up a dvd and showing it to the raven haired male who nodded in approval at your movie selection. popping it into the dvd player, you pressed play and got up from your position on the floor to sit next to choso on the couch.

every friday night the two of you planned to do something with each other, being that it was your only free night out of the week. with you being busy with work and school, and him being busy with work; this was the only time the two of you had for each other.

thanking him for handing you your glass of wine, you relaxed onto the couch and watched the flat screen tv in front of you as it played the movie. The movie starred your favorite actor, satoru gojo. anything he was in automatically became your favorite movie of all time and if he was shirtless, trust you’d go back to the store to get three more copies.

this time it was a romantic comedy and Gojo played the part of the funny charming crush pretty well. while your eyes were glued the to screen, choso couldn’t help but to keep glancing at you from his peripheral.

you were the most beautiful girl that stepped foot on campus, he knew it and everyone sure damn well knew it too. it was no doubt that he had such a huge crush on you. the first time you spoke to him nearly made him cream his pants right there in the study hall.

from that moment on he tried so hard to avoid you, but it’s like fate kept pushing him to you. be it work or school, he was always around you. and when you asked him to be roommates with you because rent was too high, he immediately gave you his half of the rent.

even though you two got closer, he couldn’t help but be still so shy around you. he was in love with you and you knew it too. walking around in your panties and a small shirt that made nipples stand at attention, just to tease him only made it harder for him to not want to feel your soft gummy walls.

choso didn’t care about watching the movie anymore, so he pulled out his phone and turned the volume down; scrolling on instagram to look at your page. he could look at you for hours and if he’d brush up on his art skills, his whole sketch pad would be filled with you.

you glanced over at him, blushing as you caught a glimpse of the video he watched of you. he quickly double tapped it before moving onto the next one. you turned to look at him, he was shirtless—his abs chiseled and defined. and then you took in his features. the sharpness of his jawline, the way the bags underneath his eyes brung them out and his hair that’s usually pulled into two high ponies, sat low on on his shoulders. oh how you imagine tugging on it as he sucked on your pussy like it—.

you whipped your head around towards the television, hearing loud moans and skin slapping coming from it. you had no idea that there was going to be a sex scene, a long and raunchy one at that. your eyes were glued to the screen and you only moved to place your empty glass on the table next to you.

choso had to put his phone down and when he heard the lewd noises coming from the the screen, he couldn’t look away and he couldn’t look at you either. imagining that him and you were on the screen instead, had him rock hard in his pants and he had to grab one of the couch’s pillows to hide his boner from you.

neither of you said anything, not able to look away—your minds clouded with lewd images. choso slipped one of his hands underneath the pillow and into his sweatpants, stroking his boner—the stiffness and the hardness caused him to stifle a moan. precum leaked from his thick mushroom tip the more he slowly rubbed himself to the thought of you cumming around his cock.

hearing soft moans and whimpers on the side of the couch, he turned his tired eyes towards you—blushing when he saw you clutching your boob and your thighs pressing and rubbing together. he couldn’t believe the sight, you were doing that right next to him? he couldn’t stop looking as you pinched your nipple through your t-shirt, your mouth turned in a slight frown—too aroused from watching gojo fuck the woman in the movie.

and when you finally lock eyes with him and softly moan his name, his cock nearly ripped out his pants. “please, choso~,” your voice low—a soft moan following behind. his nervousness left his body the moment he leaned up and hover over you, laying back on the couch—spreading your legs for him. he took a good look at your body, your nipples standing at attention and the wet stain on your panties made it damn near impossible for him to not cum right on the fabric.

his rough hands traced your inner thigh, sending flutters to your pussy. you grabbed his hand, making him pull your panties to the side—unable to bare the overwhelming sensation. “please touch me~” you begged and he leaned down to kiss you for the first time, his lips soft against yours. his hand rubbed up and down against your folds, covering them in your slick—causing you to whimper in between the kiss.

he back away from your addictive lips, leaning down to be eye level with your dripping cunt; his tongue meeting your clit. you gasped and clutched the side of the couch, his tongue swirling and sucking on your sensitive bud. choso had been dreaming about this moment; tasting you, slurping up your fluids to satisfy his thirst. this felt all too surreal for him, but he wasn’t going to stop. not now, not ever.

the more he tongue fucked you the more you desired to cum all over his pretty face. and when he finally pushed in his middle and ring finger, those soft moans of yours became louder; drowning out from what was still playing on the television. you manicure now tangled in his deep brown locks, pushing his head further into your slick; grinding on his face—building up your orgasm.

“you taste so good” his words vibrated against your cunt, causing your back to arch off the bed. it felt so good, you were so so close and he could feel it too. his pace quickened, dipping in and out of your walls with precision. your toes curled and the grip on his hair got tighter as you came right there on his tongue. moaning his name as you ride out your orgasm, while grinding sloppily against his face.

he still pumped his fingers inside of you and didn’t detach himself from your sensitive clit either, working on another orgasm out of you. this one more intense than the last. “oh my fuck! ch-choso~” a stream of clear fluid splashed out and onto his face, catching you both by surprise. he had made you squirt, lapping up the sweet liquid that dripped down his face. you had never squirted before, none of your exes could ever pleasure you that good.

leaning down to kiss you again, you happily accepted his tongue inside your mouth—tasting yourself. gasping when you felt something hard poke you, you pulled away and looked down to see his cock standing up through his sweatpants. ‘there’s no way…’ you knew he wasn’t going to fit inside of you either, but damn were you going to try your hardest.

a smirk etched on your face as you began to grind against his clothed cock, earning a low gasp from him. his eyes planted down on your pussy teasing his cock, your slick mixing with his precum had created a huge stain on his pants. the friction earned a moan from both of your lips, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through your bodies.

“can i….please..?” he asked, his tone coming off more as a beg—his dark purple eyes connecting to yours while he pushed himself more onto your pussy. you nod and quickly slid your soaked panties off, throwing them to the far end of your living room, while he did the same with his sweatpants.

‘oh my fu—so big~’ you thought, eyes widening at the sight of his cock. it was so pretty too, couldn’t stop yourself from staring at it. his tip was so pink and had so much pre-cum pooling out of it and from his tip to base he had vein running from it and he was neatly trimmed. you could feel yourself getting even more wetter the more you stared at it, you were gonna have so much fun with him.

getting closer to you again, his angled his cock at your little entrance before he paused and looked at you. “do we need cond—shit, y/n~” he moaned breathlessly as you pushed yourself down onto his girth, answering his question before he could even get it out. “i want to feel all of you cho~,” a whimper leaving your mouth as he began to fill you up.

he thumbed your clit and held your other leg up, easing the pressure as he pushed in you. when all of him was finally inside, he didn’t move and allowed you to get used to his size. the feeling of you clenching around him made him slowly move his hips, stroking in and out of your tight little cunt.

he was so so so fat—he was stretching you out with each stroke with his tip brushing over your spot, clit throbbing as a result. oh you knew you made the right decision when you asked him to be your roommate. choso moved slow, but hit all of the right spots—not wanting to hurt you. “choso, you could be rough with me….i can take it,~” he looked at you wide eyes, hesitant to do anything further until you gave your nod of approval.

all the air was sucked from your lungs when he slammed his hips into yours, his tip making out with your cervix. this is exactly what you wanted, to be fucked like a whore. he grabbed you by the hair, making you watch as he begun to tear your pussy in half, stretching you completely. “look at how good you’re fucking taking me. cunt’s so fucking wet.”

nothing played on the tv, but all that was on your mind was cumming for you roommate and have your belly full of his cum. balls slapping your cunt hard, cream coating his dick with each stroke and his hands now at your throat, fucking you so hard into the soft burgandy couch cushions.

“you love this shit, don’t you? mhm—I knew you were a slut, teasing me with those little ass panties. fuck, gonna let me breed this cunt?” his hand was still wrapped around your throat, only allowing you to nod. he strokes became faster and harder, your little cunt would be sore the next day. he let out a loud groan, his load panting your walls in long thick ropes.

he knew you were going to cum that way you were squeezing and milking his cock as he came. “hold it. don’t cum, yet” you whined as he pulled out of you, halting your orgasm. He sat back on the couch and pulled you on top of him, entering you with ease and pushing your head down as he proceeded to pound the shit out of you.

choso jackhammered you like his life depended on it, grunting in your ear while you moaned softly into his. the sounds of your slick made it harder for him to not bust inside of you again, not before he made you cum again. “daddy, please don’t stop—pound me harder!” hearing the name you called him made his dick twitch, he held your waist and slapped your ass as he pounded you harder.

you couldn’t hold it anymore. his cock became drenched when you squirted, wetting up the couch cushions underneath you. pulling you off of him in a swift motion, he got up and began jerking himself off in front of your face—spurting out thick white loads, covering your pretty face completely.

a wave of nervousness fell over him again and he quickly began apologizing for cumming too much on your face, but when he saw your finger glide on your face and dip into your mouth; he calmed down. a smirk etched into your face as you continued to lick the load off your face.

“mhm, we need to do more movie nights. especially if it’s going to end like this~”

[alamari-chibi]

Once again in the process of a long term evangelion art project wish me luck

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Erotomania

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer discovers that his girlfriend has a stalker

Warning: Stalking, obsession, creepy basement, weapons, cursing

Word Count: 3.6K

Masterlist

“Thanks,” I smiled at the barista as she handed me mine and Spencer’s coffee. Well… while my drink was coffee his was just cream and sugar with a little bit of caffeine.

“Have a nice day,” she wished before turning her attention to another customer.

As I headed for the door a fellow customer on their way to work held it open for me. I gave him the same thanks with a smile as the barista, heading for my car.

Arriving at the office I delivered Spencer’s drink to him. “One milkshake for you,” I announced teasingly.

“Actually a milkshake is characterized by it’s mixing process when it is whipped until it’s frothy,” he informed, taking mild offense to my comment.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I dismissed, taking my seat at my desk across from him. “Oh, by the way, I made reservations at Francesco's for Friday but if we aren’t able to make that we have a reservation at Town Kitchen for Sunday.”

“Sounds good but our anniversary is on Saturday,” Spencer informed gently.

“Yeah but I don’t want either of us to be upset if we have to miss the reservation on our actual anniversary.”

Spencer smiled to himself. While Y/N wasn’t like him in the way that he had millions of facts spanning thousands of subjects memorized, she always thought of everything. “That’s why I love you. You always think of everything.”

“And I love you because you know everything,” she smiled.

“Ugh, love,” Emily gagged as she approached.

“Aw, did Sergio not want to cuddle last night?” I teased her about her cat.

“Shut up,” she scoffed.

I laughed, reaching into my bag for the case files I was working on last night. As I pulled the stack out I noticed a bright blue post-it note sticking out of one of the files as if it had fallen in. Pulling it out and flipping it, I noticed some words written on it.

Have a nice day, Y/N

My first thought was that maybe it was something Spencer slipped into my bag last night but the handwriting didn’t match. This was messily scrawled while Spence’s handwriting was neat. Still, it seemed like the most logical conclusion. “Spence, did you leave this?” I asked casually, sliding it over to his desk.

Upon just glancing at the note his brows furrowed. “No, where’d you find it?”

“In my bag. I know that’s not your handwriting— or anyone else’s on the team— but you seemed to be the most logical explanation.”

“Maybe it was a cop on the last case who had a crush on you,” Spencer shrugged, trying to dismiss any jealousy.

“Maybe,” I mused, thinking back to the behavior of the officers from Utah. Nothing seemed to stick out but my attention wasn’t exactly focused on any of the police there. Shrugging I crumpled it up, tossing it into the trash bin under my desk.

“Conference room,” Hotch announced from his little balcony, tearing me from my thoughts about the note.

~

Three days later we landed back in Virginia just in time for Spencer and I to make our anniversary dinner. “L/N for two,” I told the hostess at Town Kitchen. Our reservation was at 7:00 and we had arrived at 7:06.

“Just in time,” she commented, grabbing us our menus and leading us to our table. We sat down graciously, thankful that they hadn’t given away our table.

“I know it’s not the most romantic to be doing this in the clothes we just spent three days in but I’m glad we could do this,” Spencer smiled, reaching his hand across the table.

I placed my hand in his. “Me too.” As much as I loved our impromptu date nights that consisted of takeout and whatever was on TV of the station we were working out of, it was special to be able to have a proper date. “It’s almost like we’re a normal couple right now and not two FBI agents.”

“Do you wish we were normal?” he asks.

“Not in the slightest,” I smiled.

~

“I’m like 99% sure I have all your Dr. Who DVDs in a drawer in my living room,” I said, unlocking my apartment door. “Grab a bottle of wine and some glasses from the kitchen and I’ll start the DVDs?”

“Sure,” Spencer agreed with a smile. “Assuming you can find them,” he teased.

“They’re more than likely there,” I defended, finally getting the door unlocked. “Go,” I laughed, pushing him towards my kitchen. I went towards my TV stand, starting to go through my drawers. By the time I concluded that they weren’t in there Spencer was already sat on the couch with two glasses of wine. He had an amused look as I turned around to face him. “Let me check in my room.”

As I walked in I stopped abruptly, finding the floor covered in photos and post-it notes. Horror filled my chest. “What the fuck?” I must have yelled it because Spencer was running to my side. Upon seeing all the photos, he was immediately dragging me out of the apartment.

Once we were out in the hallway, Spencer kept pushing me towards the stairs while pulling out his phone. “What are you doing?” I asked as he ushered me out into the parking garage.

“I’m texting the team to come to your apartment but we’re leaving for now,” he explained, opening the passenger door to my car. “We can’t just wait in the apartment. Your stalker may have been waiting around.”

“Okay, yeah, good idea,” I agreed through my hyperventilation. Reaching into the glove compartment I grabbed our guns. We had stashed them there for dinner.

Spencer sped out of the parking lot, parking on the street two blocks away before sending our location to the team. “Okay they’ll be here in a few minutes and then we can go investigate the apartment,” he explained. I only nodded along. Normally I’d be much more rational than this but I was in so much shock in terror I couldn’t think straight. “Hey, hey it’ll be okay. No one’s going to hurt you. The team will be here soon and we’ll find this person. We’ve dealt with erotomaniacs before.”

“You think this is an erotomaniac?” I asked, scared.

“Based on the note I saw earlier and I didn’t notice any threatening imagery in your room. We’ll know more when we get a proper look,” Spencer tried to soothe.

Soon enough the others were pulling up to our location, Hotch and Morgan wearing their bulletproof vests. “Morgan and I will go in and clear the place. Then we can call CSI and have them collect any forensic evidence,” Hotch explained. His gaze and tone then softened as he looked at me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “just a little shaken up.”

He pursed his lips, nodding and unsure what to say. He looked back up at Morgan, nodding as they both walked towards my apartment.

JJ and Emily were both fretting over me as Morgan and Hotch searched the apartment. To my relief they called soon saying there was no one in my home.

Entering again, I made a beeline for my bedroom, wanting to see the photos. As I entered, Hotch was already there, observing the photos and notes spread out on the floor. They were all of me taken from a distance away with a zoomed in lens. There were several of me just going about my life in various stores and coffee places. But the most horrifying ones were of me and Spencer. If he was able to, it looked like the unsub just cut my boyfriend out of the pictures but the ones where Spencer was too close, his face was angrily scribbled over. Among the photos were notes ranging from I miss you, to I’m going to kill him.

By now Spence had entered my bedroom with the rest of the team. “I think we’re dealing with an erotomaniac.”

“Looks like it,” Derek agreed. “I assume you haven’t noticed anyone lurking around?” he asked me.

“No, nothing. The first thing I noticed was as a note in my bag that said Have a nice day, Y/N. We just assumed it was from a cop in Utah but this?”

“You definitely have a stalker,” Hotch concluded. “The question is how did he manage to avoid detection of seven FBI agents and why now?”

“Maybe Y/N and I’s anniversary?” Spencer suggested.

“Well that’s the best we’ve got for now. We’ll let CSI search for forensic evidence, meanwhile let’s all head to the office so we can start forming the profile.”

Back at the office everyone was treating me like well… a victim. “I’m fine,” I insisted as I felt of their lingering gazes. “We need to work on our bedside manner because I hate this.”

I got a few muttered sorry’s until Spencer came and sat in front of me. “Okay Y/N we’re going to try a cognitive interview.” I nodded, closing my eyes, allowing myself to be open to Spencer’s words. “Okay, go back to the day you found the note, what were you doing before you found it?”

“I was getting us coffee,” I answered, bringing the coffee shop to mind.

“Okay, describe it for me. What do you see, smell, and hear?”

“It’s crowded- and loud. The machines are whirring and people are talking.”

“Okay, does anyone get close to you? Close enough to put something in your bag?”

As I’m standing in line I feel a guy brush up against my bag. I hadn’t thought much of it because it was crowded and I thought he was moving to let someone pass. “Yeah, I’m getting in line, I’m near the door, and this guy brushes against my bag behind me.”

“Can you see his face or give any description?”

I strained hard in my memories, essentially begging myself to be able to turn around enough to see him. I open my eyes, looking into Spencer’s hazel ones. “I can’t see his face but based on his body… he’s white, roughly middle aged, medium build.”

Spencer smiles, taking my hand. “You did good. C’mon, let’s go tell the team.” I let him help me off the seat as we headed towards the conference room where the others were discussing theory. “He’s a white male, middle aged, with a medium build,” Spencer informed. “He slipped the note into Y/N’s bag Thursday morning.”

“Okay so average guy, probably feels too average and therefore inferior since erotomaniacs tend to be obsessed with those perceived to be above them,” Derek pieced together.

“So maybe a working class or blue collar guy?” JJ suggested. “Store clerk, janitor, any mechanic, plumber, electrician you’ve interacted with in the past few weeks?”

Before I could answer Rossi jumped in. “Or months, possibly within the last year? There were a lot of photos.”

“Nothing significant I can think of but I know it doesn’t have to be significant to me for it to flip the switch for them,” I explained.

“Garcia, start compiling a list of middle aged white men who work here as janitors, live in L/N’s building, work at shops she frequents,” Hotch looked at me expectantly for a list. I nodded, silently agreeing to write one up. “I know it’ll be a broad list but it’s a place we can start.”

“That’s not even covering all the places we traveled in the last year,” Emily added. “This is like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“Ooh report from CSI. There were no finger prints and absolutely no sign of a break in or picked locks—and I know an FBI agent isn’t leaving her windows or doors unlocked—leading them to believe that the stalker somehow got ahold of a copy of your key.” I felt nauseous at that news. “As for the notes, they’re currently working on handwriting analysis for any other stalking cases in the area, so far nothing. As for the photos, they were shot on real film and developed in like a darkroom so I’ve already cross referenced photographers and frequent buyers of darkroom supplies with the list I have so far. When Y/N gets me that list of frequent stores I will cross reference those as well.” Penelope took a big breath, having not breathed the entire time she was talking.

“Y/N get started on that list, Reid and I will head to the coffee shop to see if they have any security footage of this guy,” Hotch ordered.

~

It was hard for Spencer to watch the security camera footage. He and Hotch watched as the shady looking man slipped the note into Y/N bag and proceeded to hover around her as she waited for her coffee. It was a busy morning in the already cramped coffee shop explaining why Y/N hadn’t noticed his too-close for comfort presence.

~

I shuddered watching the man follow me around the coffee shop. I’m a highly trained FBI agent, how did I not notice him?

Sensing my unease, Spencer stepped closer, squeezing my hand in reassurance. “Have you ever seen or noticed this man before?” he asked softly.

“Nothing I can remember,” I confessed shyly, feeling like a failure for never noticing him.

“Garcia’s running his picture through facial recognition software. If he has a criminal record, we’ll find him,” Hotch assured.

I still felt like I couldn’t breathe. “I need some air.” Everyone looked after me, hesitant. “I’ll stay in the building I just can’t be around this,” I gestured to my pictures, “anymore.”

They all looked hesitant but no one stopped me as I exited the office, heading to nowhere. I had no specific destination, I just wanted to walk around.

~

Upstairs, Garcia ran into the BAU conference room. “Guys, guys, I got a hit on facial recognition. Our stalker’s name is Michael Garrison and the reason he didn’t show up in my initial search is because his juvenile criminal record is sealed. When he was 15 he got a restraining order against him from a senior at his high school and when he was 18 he got another one from a teacher also at his high school. During these trials it came out that he was also stalking middle school girls while in high school. As for him now… he works as a janitor here. Now, he’s not scheduled to come in today but I have a feeling he’s not sticking to that schedule,” she said nervously.

“No he is not, babygirl,” Derek confirmed. “Reid, call Y/N.”

“Already on it,” he confirmed, holding the phone up to his ear. But when her phone began to ring on the very table they were standing around, every heart rate in the room spiked.

“Everyone, split up,” Hotch ordered, everyone already headed for the door.

~

I pressed the elevator call button, ready to head back upstairs when a custodian came up beside me, also waiting for the elevator. I have him a soft smile of acknowledgment before looking back at the elevator call button. Once the door opened I stepped in first, followed shortly by him. Before I could reach to press the button, he was already pressing his floor, the basement. “Where to?” he asked.

“Seven, thanks,” I answered as the doors closed. But once they closed he made no move to press the button. Confused and hesitant I stepped forward to press it, only for him to step towards me as well. “Wha-”

“Finally, we’re alone,” he said with a big smile.

“What are you-” I began to ask, backing away as far as I could, cursing myself for not bringing my phone or gun.

“I knew you’d come find me once I left those notes.” The elevator dinged and opened to the basement, I just hoped someone else would be down here. I looked out into the dark basement hesitantly. His face fell seeing my hesitation. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a government issue gun, one he had probably swiped from an agent. “Go on,” he urged, carelessly waving the gun around.

I hesitantly walked past him, never taking my eyes off of him. “Where are we going?”

He followed me out of the elevator, gun pressed against my back, making me shudder. “I have a space down here,” he answered. We walked down a very long, very dark corridor until we reached a maze of stairs and pipes. Continuing down we reached what looked like an old, forgotten broom closet. Inside was a single dingy lightbulb which he tugged on, illuminating the repulsive room. The walls were covered in mysterious grime and scattered around the walls were pictures of me. I shuddered before looking at the absolutely repulsive mattress on the floor.

Scared but curious about how I got here. What set him off? How did I catch his attention? But I’d need to do this subtly. I pretended to look at all the photos in awe, as if touched by his infatuation. “You did all this, and the stuff in my apartment for me?”

If he was a cartoon I’m sure the hearts in his eyes would double in size. “Yes, yes, of course!” he confessed excitedly. “When I saw your picture on his desk, I knew you were the one.” Based on the way he said ‘his,’ I knew he was referring to the picture of Spence and I at the beach on his desk. “You’re so pretty,” he mused, stroking a finger down my face. It took everything in me not to slap his hand away. “And your notes… I knew you loved me too.” Against my will, a look of confusion must have crossed over my face. His eyebrows furrowed a little. “You know, the ones you left on your desk for me to find! In that glittery ink.” He rushed over to a box, pulling out half a dozen notes. I recognized Penelope’s handwriting and glitter gel pens. The messages came from a time when she was teasing Reid and trying to steal me away from him as a joke.

You should be with me

I love you <3

I’m leaving him for you, do the same for me?

I looked up at my stalker nervously, completely unsure what to say. Seeing how unstable this guy was, I knew the safest thing would be to agree. “Oh yeah, I forgot about these.” It took me swallowing my every ounce of pride to say the next words. “It had been so long I was scared you wouldn’t do anything. Like… I’d be stuck with Spencer forever.” The man visibly melted at my words.

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry you felt that way.”

Before he could say anything, the door burst open, revealing Emily with her gun. I nearly sobbed in relief seeing her but before I could react, the stalker’s arm was around my neck, pointing the gun at my head. “I found Y/N, Garrison has a gun!”

Soon enough the rest of the team showed up, including Spencer. “She’s safe with me!” Garrison insisted.

“Then why are you pointing a gun at her head,” Emily countered.

He lowered the gun, pointing it at my teammates who weren’t wearing their vests. I nearly screamed when he pointed it at Spencer. “Tell them we’re fine, that you’d rather be here with me!” Garrison demanded like a child.

“Come on Garrison, you know this isn’t rational,” Derek interrupted. “Look at her, she’s terrified.”

“Shut up!” he screamed, moving the gun towards Derek. “Tell them!”

“I’m fine guys!” I told them. Grabbing at his arm that was wrapped around my throat, I began to plea. “Please let me go. I can’t breathe, we can talk about this. We just need to settle some things so we can be together.”

But he only tightened his grip, I began to feel a little lightheaded. “No, he’ll just steal you away from me.” The gun was once again trained on Spencer.

“I won’t, I swear,” Spence promised, putting his gun away. “We were never really a couple. It was all just a ruse to make you jealous and catch your attention.”

Suddenly his grip loosened and I fell into a coughing fit. “Really?” he asked. Realizing I had fallen at his feet he dropped the gun, crouching down. Next thing I knew Garrison was being pushed back by Derek while Emily pulled me away.

I was immediately pulled up into my boyfriend’s arms. “Thank god,” I heard him whisper as I sobbed into his shoulder. I clung to his shoulders, a sobbing mess as he hugged me tightly, nuzzling his face into my neck.

Behind me I could hear Garrison’s shouts. “No! I trusted you! I loved you! You lying bitch!” he continued to scream profanities at the top of his lungs as Derek dragged him out, not shy about roughing him up a bit.

“Reid, take L/N home. Take the night off too,” Hotch ordered. “Glad you’re okay,” he said to me before following the others upstairs.

That night I couldn’t stand the idea of being alone but fortunately Spencer didn’t mind. He stuck by me all night, whispering assurances and sweet nothings whenever I got scared.

Masterlist

[taintedcigs]

eddie doesn't say i love you like a normal person, he holds both of your hands, eyes never breaking contact before he leans into give small kisses.

eddie doesn't say i love you like a normal person, he makes you a mixtape of all the songs he knew you'd love.

eddie doesn't say i love you like a normal person, he rolls a joint when you can't sleep, and even more, takes you on a late night drive, no matter how tired he is, humming quietly and taking few blocks around the street to help his princess sleep.

eddie doesn't say i love you like a normal person, he gets you small gifts, or makes them, for no reason or occassion, other than he wanted to.

eddie doesn't say i love you like a normal person, he leaves little notes everywhere, in your books, textbooks, dvd's and cd's cases, on the fridge, in between your clothes, casually reminding you how pretty you are, and how you are his everything.

eddie doesn't say i love you like a normal person, he kisses away your tears and lets you vent, hand reassuringly on your back, telling you to let it all out, because he's here, and he'll always be here.

eddie doesn't say i love you like a normal person, he remembers little details about his angel that you probably don't even remember yourself.

eddie doesn't say i love you like a normal person, he hugs you from the back while you make him something for breakfast, lazy sloppy kisses on your shoulder, a tight hold on your waist.

eddie doesn't say i love you like a normal person, he compares his hand size with you, and then chuckling like a kid when he used it as an excuse to interlock his finger with yours, an overbearing grin sitting on his lips.

eddie doesn't say i love you like a normal person, he just becomes extremely comfortable with you, laying around in pj's telling you all about his new d&d campaign, you eventually fall asleep to his lulling voice, feeling completely relaxed by his heartbeat, and he gives you another grin, smitten, head over heels, grinning to himself like an idiot.

he plants a few kisses on your forehead, fingertips softly grazing against your hair, enjoying the way you softly breathe on his chest.

eddie doesn't say i love you like a normal person, but that's okay, because he doesn't need to. because he shows it in every other way. because you know that he's totally whipped.

[kydrogendragon]

Hob stares down at the small medicinal tube in his hands. He has been staring at it now for nearly an hour, and the ripple of excitement still runs through him. He takes a breath and unscrew the cap. The scent hits his nose immediately, and it's not...unpleasant, not really, but it certainly is strong. He squeezes a small dollop onto the pad of his finger and presses it against the under-responsive scent glands.

He knows, from his doctor and testimonials on the internet and even from friends he knows that the effects aren't instant. It's a gradual process, one that will take time, and yet the moment the cream is absorbed into his skin, Hob just feels better. He feels right.

Hob screws the cap back on and sets it down on the sink, beside his toothbrush and razor, ready for daily use. He looks up into the mirror and smiles.

It takes less time than he expects for Dream to notice. He's now been two months on A as of last Friday, and he's starting to notice changes (finally!) Nothing major, mainly that his scent glands have gotten more noticeable—to him, that is. They've started to itch in a way they never have before. And his sense of smell has gotten sharper too. The first time, he caught a wiff of Dream's scent from inside the crowded bar and knew it was him? Hob was ecstatic. So it shouldn't come as too big of a surprise when Dream stares at him with an even sharper gaze than usual when he answers the door.

Hob stands, bag of take-out in one hand, and a copy of the extended Lord of the Rings movies in the other. Dream looks him up and down, his nostrils flaring. Hob wonders, perhaps a bit tok late, if his scent is finally beginning to change as well now.

"You..." Dream starts, then shakes his head. "Come in."

Hob blinks but steps through, making his way to their usual movie spot in the living room of Dream's flat. "Mrs. Chen tossed in an order of samosas for you again," he says, untying the thin plastic bag handles. He hears the telltale sound of drinks being prepared in the kitchen.

"Mrs. Chen is simply determined to fatten me up," Dream calls back. Hob chuckles as he sets out the containers of food, then sets the DVD case on the television stand.

While Dream's still preoccupied, Hob takes a moment and wipes his hand across his scent glands, and takes a whiff. It's stronger, perhaps, than usual, but it still smells like him, he thinks. Maybe he just stinks in general, and Dream was being polite and not saying anything. He has been sweating a lot more since being on HRT.

He hums and settles into his usual spot on the couch.

[Transition stuff. They're chatting/watching the movie, ect.]

"Have you started seeing someone?" Dream asks him right as the screen prompts them to put in disk two. Hob whips his head back to find Dream staring at him with that piercing gaze once more.

"No? Why?"

"Because you do not smell like yourself." Dream's eyes narrow. Hob's heart jumps in his chest. Shit. Maybe he's gotten a bit nose blind to his own scent.

"I'm not seeing anyone, I promise. I'd tell you if I was." Dream eyes him a moment longer before huffing and turning back to the screen.

"I am not a fragile thing, Hob Gadling," Dream says coolly. "I will survive if you have found a possible mate. It is not as if I am some—some charge you are responsible for, that if you leave, I will shatter. Despite what my sister might claim."

"Dream—"

"And if you have found an alpha you are happy with, then I will be... happy—" his tone is anything but "—for you. But you needn't lie to me when I can smell their scent all over you."

"Their scent..." Hob's hand trails up to his neck, palm resting just above his itching gland.

"Yes. You reek of it. It permeates from you as if you have drowned yourself in it." Dream stands, stepping towards the DVD player but not quite finishing the small journey there. "I will understand if you find yourself with less time for me because of it. It is only natural to want to spend time with the one that makes you happy," he adds on, voice smaller than before.

Hob stands and reaches out, grabbing a hold of Dream's arm. He tenses in Hob's hold but doesn't turn, nor does he pull away.

"Dream, I—There's something I need to tell you." Dream takes a deep breath in as if preparing himself for the inevitable. "I should have told you sooner, I just...I didn't know what you'd think.

"I'm not seeing anyone, that's true, but you're right. This scent you're smelling is new. Guess I've been nose blind to it lately. But it's not anyone else's. It's...it's mine. Well, my new scent, I guess. For this moment of time. It might keep changing, I'm not really sure."

Dream angles his head to stare at Hob from the corners of his eyes, his face confused. Hob smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm transitioning. To an alpha. S'why I smell different. And why a whole bunch of other things about me might soon be...different."

Hob waits. Dream just stares. He can practically see the gears turning in his friend's head.

"Why were you afraid of telling me this?"

Hob lets Dream's arm go and slots his hands in his pockets. He looks down as he speaks. "Dunno. I know after Alex—" Hob sees Dream's muscles in his leg twitch at the name "—you weren't...I thought..." Hob sighs, neck tensing as he struggles against the persistent nagging fear lodged in his chest. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me. I didn't want to scare you off or lose you because you couldn't feel comfortable around me anymore."

"Do you truly believe me to be so weak?"

"That's not what I meant. You're not weak, I've never thought you were weak, Dream. But you can be uncomfortable. I can count the number of alphas you're fine with in close quarters on one hands and three of them are your own family."

"And why would you think you would not immediately be added to that list?"

Hob inhales, breath catching partway. "I...I don't know. Didn't want to presume? Thought maybe you'd find my new scent unbearable or something."

Dream shakes his head. "You are a fool, Hob Gadling." He turns to him fully, eyeing him no longer with doubt or concern, but with a new hunger in his eyes. His nostrils flare again as he takes in Hob's scent properly. Hob smiles when he hears the quiet happy trill in Dream's chest.

"Acceptable smell then?"

"Quite," Dream replies, stepping closer. "In fact, it is possibly the best scent I've smelled from an alpha before."

Hob's heart sings as Dream calls him an alpha. It's the first time he's heard it from someone he knows, someone who's not a doctor or pharmacist. It feels good. Feels right. And then Dream's leaning closer, and Hob can feel his soft cheek against Hob's neck, and his body flares at the touch. Dream rubs his cheek against his skin, scenting him, letting their scents combine.

Hob takes a deep breath and is smacked by a nose full of Dream. It's intoxicating. It's rich and smooth like silk. And it's doing something to his mind that it never did before. His instincts scream at him, tell him to hold, to touch, to claim. His skin ripples with anticipation, and it's torture. And it's this that he was afraid of. That he wouldn't be used to the instincts that come with being an alpha, that he wouldn't be able to resist or wouldn't be used to stopping himself.

He steps back, pushing Dream back by his shoulders. His hands dig into Dream's shirt, and when he sees the hurt expression on his face, Hob wants nothing more than to pull him back close, to comfort his omega.

No. Not his.

"I'm sorry, I..." Hob grimaces as he drops his hands and wraps them around his chest as if it would somehow quell the utter need to bite and to mate. "I should go, I—I don't want to accidentally hurt you."

"What is wrong?"

Hob growls, heat beginning to rise in him "Fuck," he hisses. "I think it's a damn rut. Well. A pre-rut, technically. Not a true one but—" he's cut off as a sharp lance to his side causes him to gasp. He stpes back, falling into the couch. When he looks back up, Dream's eyes are dark.

"That is what I smelled on you. Rut. Or the start of it. No wonder your scent was so strong. Is this your first?" Dream closes the distance, standing between Hob's legs, which does nothing to help the deaire to pull him down into his lap and ravish him.

"Technically," he replies, breathing growing shorter. "It won't last as long, at least it shouldn't. Maybe a day max. But they'll start more frequently until I get my first actual rut." Hob growls once more as that lance of pain shoots through him again.

"Fucking hell," he yells. "Do your heats hurt like this?"

"Sometimes, yes. Though, it is easier if shared with a partner."

Hob squeezes his eyes tight as he rides out the wave of pain. "Yeah? Guess I'm shit out of luck then."

There are hands on his knees, slowly pulling his legs apart. When he opens his eyes, he sees Dream knelt between them looking predatory. "Not quite. I am here, after all."

Hob's breath catches in his throat. "Dream—"

"I know you do not want me for a mate, but it is not uncommon for friends to help one another through ruts and heats—"

"—the fuck do you mean I don't want you for a mate?" Hob cries, his hands cupping Dream's face. Clearly this was not what he expected Hob to say because Dream kneels there, blinking for a moment before continuing.

"You...do? Wish me as a mate?"

Hob laughs. Dream scowls, but Hob just leans forward and presses a light kiss to his forehead. "I've wanted you for years now, Dream."

[They figure their shit out briefly]

[Then Dream rides Hob like a goddamn professional bull-rider. Hob's never come so much in his life. And he even gets the barest hint of a knot going. Dream compliments it and tells Hob he fills him so well, that he can't wait to get Hob's final knot in him and how he looks forward to going on this journey with Hob as well.]

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Break-Ins and Bandages

Here is my 1500 Followers Celebratory Snippet! Thank you for helping me brainstorm, @surplus-of-sarcasm and @lilywolfgray!

The sound of the window opening had Hero whipping their head around so fast it gave them a bout of dizziness. They had been perched on the end of their mattress, holding a pack of ice to their throbbing head and trying not to aggravate the rest of the wounds littered across their battered body. As the window opened the rest of the way, Hero’s heart leapt into their throat. Villain climbed over the sill into the bedroom. Hero jumped to their feet… and promptly keeled over. Villain sped over and caught them before they could hit the floor.

“Easy, easy,” Villain said, depositing them back on their bed, “not here to hurt you. I think I did enough of that this afternoon.”

“Why- how-?”

“I banged you up pretty bad, I felt like I should try to fix it.”

Villain had a bag slung over their shoulder, and as Hero got a proper look at it, they could see it was stuffed to the brim with medical supplies.

“After I gave the cops the slip, I may have followed you home… heh, sorry.”

Villain gave them a lopsided, apologetic smile. Hero’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Don’t give me that look! I’m a villain, not a monster! Now, let’s have a look at you.”

Despite their protests, Villain helped Hero out of their shirt and started to examine them.

“Hm,” Villain said, “I really pack a punch, huh?”

“Ya think?” Hero winced as Villain touched a particularly tender spot.

“Okay.” Villain started to rummage in their bag, “let me start with the antiseptic.”

Villain pulled out a bottle and a cotton pad. Hero scuttled back on the bed.

“Villain, I appreciate this, but please don’t-”

“Hush.”

Villain lunged with the antiseptic. Hero cried out when Villain started to clean their cuts.

“You big baby,” Villain teased, “you can survive buildings falling on you, but a little wound tending is gonna be your undoing?”

“YES!” Hero hissed, their knuckle-white fists gripping the blanket under them.

Villain shook their head with a chuckle. Once every wound was cleaned, they started to medicate them and bandage them up.

“…Thanks,” Hero said uncertainly.

“Yep,” Villain said with a satisfied smile.

Villain started to put everything away. They were about to climb back out the window when Hero found themselves grabbing their arm.

“Uh…yes?” Villain asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Hero blushed in embarrassment.

“Um… I have some old movies on DVD… if you weren’t doing anything after this…”

Villain smiled knowingly.

“Because,” Hero added quickly, “I’m still injured, someone should probably keep an eye on me so I don’t aggravate the wounds, and-”

A peck on the cheek shut Hero up straight away.

“Took you long enough, gumshoe,” Villain said.

Villain set the bag down, closed the window, and swept Hero up into a bridal carry. Hero yelped.

“Villain! Put me down!”

“You’re still injured, you said so yourself,” Villain said, “where’s your living room?”

A huff from Hero and some directions later, and the crime-fighter was nodding off on Villain’s shoulder to some fantasy movie. Villain kissed Hero on the crown of their head. Mission accomplished.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

[fletchingbrilliant]

"This ritual is gonna go great! No regrets, baby!"

Angel Dust is all decked out for some cultist shenanigans of a kinky variety. To be filmed and brought to a scuzzy DVD near you!

Whipped this up for @zaebeecee in anticipation of the next chapter of To Sever a Loveless Bond, the fic I am currently COMPLETELY OBSESSED WITH Y'ALL I'M LOSING IT

[maeby-cursed]

i just personally believe that izuku midoriya would freak out if his s/o got sick. 

he’s watched his mother carefully throughout his life, hysterics are ingrained in his genes. 

he paces back and forth as you take your own temperature with a thermometer and whips his head around when you confirm it: you have a fever.

a fever.

his face drains of all color, and suddenly he’s gone. you just shake your head, confused but not surprised by your boyfriend’s antics.

he comes back half an hour later, arms filled to the brim with blankets, cushions, two thermoses, his favorite hoodie and a stack of films.

he drops it all by the foot of your bed and you pick up one of the cases.

“dvds? really?” “what if all streaming services shut down all of a sudden?” he asks, frantic, his eyes wide, “you’d have nothing to distract yourself with! it’s not right, i won’t allow it.”

you chuckle softly, too tired to engage in banter.

“whatever you say, ‘zuku.”

he dedicates the next few days to taking care of you devotedly. he visits you after classes – leaving the extra notes he took for you on your desk – and again after training. he makes you chicken soup, after begging and, ultimately, bribing, bakugou to share any tips on broths and other warm foods to make you. he also spends most nights during the week you’re sick in your dorm room.

“you’ll end up catching it, izuku.”

“that just means extra time with my partner, i don’t know why you’re so worried.”

he calls his mom once or twice to make sure he’s doing everything in his power to help you. 

at one point he sets an alarm every thirty minutes to make sure you’re hydrated. it’s a bit smothering but you can’t complain.

he cares, you think after he drops a fourth blanket on top of you, after he calls you seven times in the span of twenty minutes, after he sends all might to check in on you while he’s in class. 

and finally, when you’re healthy again and he begins sneezing, you get to show you care just as much.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Playing with Fire: The Book Store

Fandom: Marvel (Dad's Best Friend AU)

Pairing: DBF!Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad's coworker and best friend, Bucky, decides to tag along with you on your errands after your boyfriend bailed on you last minute.

A/N: Bucky is in his late 40s, reader in her mid to late 20s. inspo came from these recent pics of seb. ugh. also broke this up into parts cause i didn't want a long oneshot

You glance over your shoulder as Carol, the owner of the second-hand book shop, go through your box of books you were looking to sell.

"It'll take me about twenty minutes to go through this stuff, so feel free to look around. You know the drill."

You give her a salute, "Aye aye, Captain," you turn on your heel and go towards Bucky in the DVD aisle.

"You find anything good?"

He looks up with a grin, "A movie I haven't seen in a while. It's funny. We can watch it back at your dad's."

You shrug, "Sure."

"All finished?" he asks, looking at another DVD.

"Carol said it'd take about twenty minutes for her to go through everything and such. So I'm just gonna peruse around." You gesture to the romance section and Bucky nods, watching you walk towards the book shelves.

He looks around the DVD section for a little longer until he was satisfied with his find. He walks over to the romance section where you are. He just watches as you read the back of a book and you're hesitant to put it back. But you eventually slip it back into it's spot on the shelf.

"You're not gonna get it?" you jump when you suddenly hear Bucky's voice.

"Oh, um, I want to, but I shouldn't. I already have some books I'll be getting," you lift up two books you're already carrying.

"I'll get it for you," he says with confidence as he approaches you and picks up the book you just put away.

"Bucky, no."

"Bucky, yes. You seemed really interested in it. Besides, this is me encouraging you to broaden your mind, exercise your brain and whatnot."

With the book in hand, he heads towards the front where Carol is finishing off your pile of books.

"Oh good! I can take the entire pile for $30. Sound good?"

"Yup!"

Carol hands you the receipt and cash and places the books off to the side. She turns to Bucky, "Ready for purchase?"

"Yeah," he places the DVD and book onto the counter then takes the two books in your hands, "These too."

"Bucky-"

"Nope."

"But-"

"I got it," he says with a wink and pays quickly before you could even pull out your wallet.

After paying, he hands you your books and you thank Carol, waving good-bye as you and Bucky exit the shop.

You sigh, "Can't believe you did that."

He shrugs with a mischievous smirk, "It's not a big deal, sugar. Besides, wouldn't want you to miss out on the steamy scene in chapter seven."

You whip your head to him, completely taken back at the fact that he knows one of the books he just bought you was a spicy romance book.

You gulp, "You've read these books?"

"A few of them. They're...interesting," he says with a look that makes you start to sweat and your cheeks heat up.

"Right. Cool," you mumble, chucking your new books into your backseat and getting into the car. You try not to imagine Bucky reading about fairies fucking as you drive to your next destination.

Maybe having your dad's best friend accompany you on errands was a bad idea after all. If only your boyfriend, John didn't procrastinate on his Master's program assignment...

[soda-sparkss]

HOME-BOUND

Its me again, hi <3 I've made yet another Welcome Home Au called Home- Bound where You're on a Train to Escape Your Mundane Life. Every friendly neighbor has their own cart on the train, with Julie's being the first one you're seated at and Wally's being the conductor car. Make your way through this whimsical little train ride that seems to last for Eternity! Where are you headed? Who knows! Trying to Escape the train once you're on will result in a proper Punishment. If you get off before the train Stops, there will be no moving from the spot that you landed on. Any physical or emotional violence caused to the train will result in consequences varying in severity depending on how much damage you've done. Please do Remember that the train is your Home the train is your Home the train is your Home the train is your Home the train is your H Oh, and one more thing! Don't Forget Your Ticket.

Cars are in order starting from the back. Sleeping/Boarding Car Jullie's Car Poppy's Car Sally's Car Howdy's Car Frank's Car Eddie's Car Barnaby's Car Wally's Car/Conductor Car

First off, We have our Humble Conductor, Wally Darling!

Being at the front of the Train, Wally has many responsibilities as a Conductor. Once you board the Train, he will come back to the Boarding Car to punch your Ticket. It is Imperative that you have it, lest you be sent right back to the station!

Second up is Barnaby B Beagle! Wally's very very very close "Friend".

In this lovely dog's car, he can be found cracking so many fun jokes! Heck, he has an entire book full of Comedy skits from passengers who were Fortunate enough to make it up to his car all the way from the Boarding car! Though, if you want to leave, you'll have to give him another skit to add to his book!

Next up is the darling Mailman, Eddie Dear!

This dearest mailman send out all the letters and Tickets to future Residents of the Home Bound Express. He's quite the workaholic, especially during the nighttime hours! If you happen to make it to his car, be in for a load of sorting letters, snacks, and lovely stories about all of his travels on the Train! Poor guy is a afraid of snails too..

Next up is the trains Librarian, Frank Frankly!

If you enter his car, you'll be greeted with books up the Wazoo! He will insist you look at any one that interests you. The books are written by him and consist an encyclopedia of facts about every existing bug on the planet. Not one bug left out! Unfortunately, if you want to leave, you'll have to take a quiz. Find a book about a specific bug he tells you about, read through it, and then tell him what you learned. Careful not to let the bookflies(book butterflies!) distract you! After you tell Frank the facts you learned, you have to navigate your way through a maze in the garden behind his library. Don't worry, the bugs will guide you!

Next up is the 'local' Grocer, Howdy Pillar!

Who can resist a Pillar who advertises his wares so well? He has everything from the little doodads to wild thingamajigs! Careful you don't get lost in the maze of his stock. If you want to leave, however, you must buy something or solve a little riddle of his!

Next up is the ONE AND ONLY!! Sally Starlet!

This Star is always putting on a Show!(With sleep and snack breaks, of course.) Her seemingly endless act will have you wrapped up in a world completely different from your own! Her whips and twirls will thread a story right before your very eyes! It's Almost Impossible to Look Away!! Also, nighttime shows are provided for people with insomnia, headphones are provided for those with sensory issues, plushies and hand santizer are provided for people with anxieties or obsessive compulsions.

And following right behind her is Poppy Partridge!

Who doesn't want an absolute sweetheart to take them under her wing and provide a comfortable place to Relax! Treats are baked for anyone who wants one! Beanbag chairs cots, futons, and a plethora of cushions are provided, as well as DvD players and a TV for Entertainment. Careful, too many sweets from this lovely Partridge will send you into a Deep Sleep.

Then we have the lovely Julie Joyful!

Julie is so playful! If you step foot into her car, you're in for a whole day full of fun games like Tag, Tic Tac Toe, and Hide and Seek! Hide and Seek is her favorite game! Though I can't say the same for her victims Passengers.

And then the Train himself, Home!

While Home is the train, pictured above is his physical manifestation. If he doesn't have a cup of tea, he'll probably be smoking Candy Cloud, which is their form of tobacco.

And Last but not Least, You!

That's right, You! YOu reading this right now! Go ahead and put yourself in the au, draw yourself interacting with the neighbors! You can use this base, I'll post a blank version soon enough! A HUGE huge thank you to @mumimoondrops and @severalbonez for helping me with designs and the story! Mumi is a co-owner of the au. Notes and Disclaimers: Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in Welcome Home. They all belong to @partycoffin. And while two people have already made train conductor au's I wanted to make my own story and designs for the cast! Design Inspirations: @chez-cinnamon, @clownsuu Tags: @3amclothesmonster, @dottyorange, @doggwwoggy23, @kennethmoop, @snowshinefivez5, @larzuen, @nyx-mrbones-2360, @vixxproductions, @sedittedice, @mumimoondrops, @ari-jay, @strugglebugglemoth, @wheatlover, @unpleasantbread, @mockhound, @purplefoxy14, and @anonymous-paperbag

[milla984]

It's the Great Pumpkin, Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer and Reader get to spend some quality time together on Halloween

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader, virgin!Spencer Reid x plus size Reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, brief mention of an anxiety attack, body image insecurities (both parts)

Word Count: 5.4k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“I am officially traumatized,” Penelope blurted out when the end credits rolled on the screen, “remind me to never watch another Halloween movie with you, guys!!”

You could almost hear Spencer squeak in disbelief. “What?! This is a classic!”

She stood up to adjust her skirt, the one with jack-o’-lanterns and spiderwebs arranged in a casual pattern all over the dark fabric, and the bats standing on top of her fuzzy headband wiggled in different directions. 

“Uh–uh, La Dolce Vita is a classic. This is what goes on in the twisted mind of someone who desperately needed a hug and a large cup of hot cocoa with a ton of whipped cream and sprinkles as a child.”

You smiled as you finished loading the dishwasher, amused by the discussion unfolding in your living room; in your heart you were the greatest admirer of Spencer’s ability to conjure up any kind of random information on the spot but the exact moment you saw him open his mouth you knew he was about to make the situation worse.

“In fact, Barker’s grandmother had a fascination with the macabre. She would often tell gruesome stories which she presented as true tales so he grew up with the fear of being murdered in his own house.” 

Garcia gawked and raised a hand in his direction, simultaneously turning your way. “See?! Forgive me if I don’t think that having my entire body ripped apart by giant hooks is the ultimate frontier of pleasure!”

“And I’ll never look at a puzzle box the same way! What if it’s a brain teaser from Hell and there’s one of those chattering monsters inside?” she added and you had to hold back your laughter because Spencer’s perplexed frown was probably one of the cutest and funniest things in the whole world.

The mustache glued to his upper lip and the cravat he wore over a white shirt and black vest were only adding to it so you forced yourself to remain serious. “I’m sorry… pizza and a movie from my dvd collection were all I had to offer on such short notice,” you said, to which she replied by shaking her long, wavy hair.

“Oh no, sweet pea! You did great, I’m just too attached to the illusion that life is a rainbow to be into the traditional Halloween gore,” she sighed and wrapped herself in a colorful poncho. “Hey, Raven Man! Ready to leave?”

Spencer squirmed: an IQ of 187 and still he was unable to come up with a semi-plausible lie when it came to hiding the truth from his friends. Feeling the weight of her curious stare he swallowed nervously.

“I was kind of considering the possibility of going to the midnight screening of Nosferatu, at the Silver Theatre. It’s the 100th anniversary so the Silent Orchestra will play the entire score live, have you ever heard of them? They use contemporary musical idioms to convey the art of pre-talkies films to modern audiences, they’ve been widely acclaimed for their work.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Midnight screening, huh?! Which means you don’t need a ride home… what a coincidence,” she teased, leaning forward to squeeze you in a passionate hug. “I knew it! I saw it the minute I walked in!”

This time was your turn to shrug with a puzzled expression: Reid and Garcia should have been on the opposite side of D.C. for a relaxed dinner at the Morgans’ after a thorough raid of all the neighborhood porches. However, Derek had called just as they were getting in the car to inform them that Hank got unexpectedly sick and forty-five minutes later All Hallows’ Eve enthusiast Reid (dressed up as Edgar Allan Poe) plus a very concerned Penelope had showed up at your apartment, making you wonder why on earth wasn’t she already busy baking since she kept repeating chickenpox called for the best pumpkin pie ever.

“Well, there goes our plan to keep a low profile,” you groaned as you closed the door behind her, and Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“How…?! Is this what they call ‘female intuition’?”

“Call it whatever you want but I’m glad she’s not mad we didn’t tell her right away,” you replied, proceeding to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “and I can think of another person who’s probably very happy for you, now.”

Spencer got rid of the fake mustache with a pensive stare. When it finally dawned on him that Garcia’s phone buzzing during your impromptu horror-themed movie night had in fact started out as live updates on their godson’s health and most likely turned into a gossip session about you two as a couple he squinted.

“I almost bailed on going trick-or-treating with them. I didn’t because I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, but I also wanted to see you. It’s our first Halloween.”

You nodded. “Maybe we can still get tickets for Nosferatu. You’re a terrible liar, so I’m sure there really is a midnight screening at the Silver Theatre.”

Spencer stared at you, entranced, then pulled you closer and in a heartbeat your lips met his - a sweet caress, tender and soft, your breaths entwined and your noses rubbing against each other in delicate strokes. You gave him a gentle push and he plopped down on the couch as you placed one knee on either side of his legs to straddle him; one of his hands sneaked behind you, exploring you as if he was trying to blindly map your whole back. 

You felt his other hand on your waist, hesitant. 

Three months had passed since the day you both came to the conclusion you were not “just friends” - three months made of late night phone calls from six different States, of handwritten silly notes you hid in his leather bag each time you drove him to the airport to catch a flight for Houston, three months of you hoping things would eventually move past the PG rated phase.

Three months of your self-consciousness sowing the seed of doubt in your heart, encouraged by the notion of whom he got to share his workspace with: you were no Emily or JJ and even if Spencer wasn’t the type to pay attention to details he frequently referred to as ‘trivial’ you were growing less and less confident.

“It’s fine, you can touch me,” you whispered, guiding his palm to cup your breast. They were pretty difficult to ignore, nevertheless he always seemed to steer away from them as much as he could.

You ran your fingers through his hair until you grabbed a small chunk of his curls; Spencer gasped for air and you brushed your tongue over his lower lip, letting out a muffled moan when the heat between your legs became almost unbearable. You started grinding on his lap to adjust tightly against his body.

“Wait…” he whined, squirming under you.

A second moan escaped from your throat while the pressure of his stiff cock hit your thigh but he shoved you away to free himself and spring to his feet, shaking heavily as if he was experiencing a full blown anxiety attack. 

His cheeks were flustered and his hair stuck to his dampened forehead so that he couldn’t even look at you straight - which gave him the perfect excuse to avoid doing it altogether. “I– I’m sorry…”

“No, no, I am…” you muttered, because the guilt building up in your chest felt so heavy you find it difficult to breathe.

Spencer was standing there, fumbling nervously with the cravat around his neck; his body language was screaming discomfort and he was clearly thinking of an excuse to remove himself from the situation. It was then that the hidden and irrational side of you, the one that desperately feared he would have disappeared forever if you’d let him go, kicked in and a rush of adrenaline came running down your spine.

“Please…” you continued, placing a hand over his, “it’s okay, really… there’s no way to control it, you should know better than anyone—”

“Why? Because I’m a man and men are supposed to have zero impulse regulation?!”

The embarrassment and shame in his voice broke you: you had sworn a thousand times in your mind to do your best to be his solace, yet now it seemed you were hurting him like no-one had ever done before.

“No,” you replied, “because you’re the genius, here, and you should know it’s a perfectly healthy and natural reaction.”

He huffed, visibly irritated at what he must have perceived as a patronizing tone. A different sort of emotion crawled under your skin, sparked by the amount of tension stagnating in the air.

You offered him a cushion and glanced at him with your usual no-nonsense attitude. “Sit down, so we can have a proper conversation? You know, like… functioning adults.”

Spencer pouted for a second, evaluating numbers and statistics about two years and a half’s worth of interactions. The truth was, intellectual affinity was such a familiar concept for the two of you that talking your way through an issue was indeed a synonym for a positive outcome. 

He grabbed the cushion and held it onto his stomach to shield himself from your gaze, though it was purposely focused on his face; you thought it was best to put some distance between your bodies when he sat on the couch again so you folded your legs underneath you, shivering like a cold draft had found its way inside the room.

“Listen, we can both agree this is not your regular, everyday casual topic of conversation… which is why we’ve never discussed premarital sex—”

“I’m not against it,” Spencer rushed to declare, “I’ve assumed it was the same for—”

“Sure, no! Ditto,” you confirmed.

His furrowed brows relaxed while his mouth curved in a timid smile. “Did you know that every person’s intimate relationships follow a script that has been written according to their own individual attitude towards all –uhm, sexual experiences?”

“I did not,” you admitted, and Spencer’s hands started dancing to the sound of his own words. 

“There are sets of guidelines for appropriate behavior, each partner in consensual encounters acts as if they are an actor following a script rather than acting on impulse alone. Researches indicate that women are more likely to initiate contact in well established relationships, negotiating sexual activity in developing relationships can be difficult 'cause both parts have multiple goals to deal with, such as providing relational definitions or following specific standards or morals.”

“Yeah, speaking about relationships… I think we’ve been in one since Christmas, we were just too dumb to say it out loud. And to each other,” you explained. “Sounds like a well-established to me but what’s your take on us?”

He curled into himself. “Every time we’re together I know there’s no other place I’d rather be. I’ve never even imagined it could be possible, I want to feel you even closer… and I’m so afraid I’m forcing this on you—”

“You’re not, I want it too,” you reassured him, “but to be honest I was starting to worry you were not into… me.”

Spencer’s beautiful eyes roamed over you and what you could see was all but repulsion. “Actually it’s the complete opposite.”

“So, what if my script says I’m ready to take things further?” you inquired, inching towards him to tug at the cravat of his costume. 

Spencer cupped your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Mine is on the same page,” he whispered.

Your fingers immediately went to the vest he was wearing and trailed the line of buttons in a slow movement; you undid them one by one, the hems eventually coming apart to reveal the white shirt underneath.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” you purred while you loosened the cravat to uncover his Adam’s apple. The way his muscles tensed as it bobbed up and down drove you crazy, so you teased him with the tip of your tongue - your lips grazing over the short stubble. 

Damn him and his impeccable bone structure: the scruffy look suited him so well it always sparked in you the urge to pin him to a wall and sink your teeth into his tender flesh. You loved how he could sport a smooth, professional style when the situation required it still wasn’t concerned with shaving each morning, almost as if it was an impractical activity which took energy away from whatever he considered to be a priority at that moment. 

You heard something flop on the floor and stopped your ministrations: the cushion he’d been holding over his stomach wasn’t there anymore, meaning you got to notice his trousers were becoming increasingly tight.

You squeezed his knee to make sure he was prepared for a more intimate contact then you slid it even further on his leg, giving him a couple of minutes to adjust to your gentle strokes before you felt confident enough to move the action to his inner thigh.

Spencer gasped, surprised rather than shocked or disturbed by how close you were now to where he was aching, and he leaned back to ease the pressure of the fabric but kept his eyes on you. 

He gave a silent nod in response to your interrogative stare, so you finally traced the outline of his hard cock between your thumb and index.

He jolted this time and muttered under his breath, a deep rasp in his voice you didn’t expect: you were unprepared to hear your name spoken as it was the quintessence of pure desire and you quivered, the throbbing in your ears rolling to your core.

You kissed his temple as you pointed at the waistband of his trousers. “Can I…?”

“Y– yes…” he muttered.

His clothes didn’t have any space left to accommodate his bulge. You palmed over it and felt an impatient twitch, which nearly had Spencer cursing; it was becoming torture for him so you reached for the zipper. 

For a split second the historical inaccuracy of a Victorian era costume featuring a device first introduced years after Edgar Allan Poe’s death hit you - a remark Reid himself would have been very appreciative of, which showed how much you could relate to the way his brain worked. Then you shook out of it and peeled his slacks open.

You crumpled the shirt over his stomach and marveled at the sight of his soft belly, the flawless navel, the dark fuzz pointing directly to his raging erection. With a cautious approach you freed it from any restraint, chewing on your lower lip as you often did when you were entirely focused on a challenging task. 

You couldn’t exactly say you had many options in your mind to compare him to but you had done a lot of fantasizing: now that he was in front of you, undressed and defenseless, you were downright mesmerized by—

“What’s wrong?!” Spencer screeched, interrupting your train of thought. “Is it odd? Does it look odd?!”

You shook your head, taken aback. “... odd?! No, why?!” you asked. “It’s just…” you petted the roundness to demonstrate, “I like your tummy so much.”

The way it pressed against his belt whenever he sat next to you on your couch or his was overly inviting and in the past weeks you had to fight the temptation to sneak a hand inside his shirt to squish it, because you didn’t know how he would’ve reacted. 

“Really?!” he marveled, confirming he wasn’t even aware you had a thing for soft tummies. His soft tummy, to be specific.

You smiled and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. “Are you okay with me doing this?”

Spencer nodded, his eyelids half-closed, so you let your fingertips follow the trail of hair below his belly button; his hardness twitched again when you got near, then you wrapped your hand around it. 

You both moaned in unison, a harmony of pleasure that filled the silence of your living room. You moved along his entire length, feeling the satiny skin sliding over the shaft, and he threw his hair back in a movement that left his jugular exposed: his neck was too inviting and you sucked on it, the groans vibrating in his throat reverberating on your lips.

You gripped tighter when he got used to your caresses. As soon as his muffled whimpers seemed to increase in frequency you circled your thumb over the tip, spreading his leaking precum over the sensitive head. Spencer was at loss for words, a good indication that he was definitely enjoying the moment.

You were enjoying it too; you started to rub your legs together, your imagination running wild and picturing all sorts of scenarios. The mere thought of having him inside of you made you want to touch yourself but you resisted: Spencer was undoubtedly new to this and deserved someone in his life to love him and shower him with attention, so you decided to put his release before your own.

When you twisted your hand at the base of his cock he jumped, missing the bridge of your nose by a few inches.

“Too much?!” you cooed, and he seemed to come out of a sort of drunken stupor.

“No, no… it’s good, I like it…”

You sighed. “Spence, you have to tell me if—”

“It’s really good,” he replied, the urgency sensible in his tone. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, low-key ashamed of how needy he’d sounded.

You pecked him on the nose as a reassurance you accepted and cherished this version of him: he wasn’t the kind of man to be interested in the crude physical aspect of sex, he’d made it clear. He wasn’t desperate for just anyone to satisfy him - he trusted you to do it, because he knew you were safe in each other’s arms.

You shifted to adjust at his side and returned to your previous occupation; you let your other hand wander over his thigh as a forewarning, then you sheepishly cupped his balls so you could provide additional stimulation and send him over the edge.

He bucked his hips, a loud “Oh, God!!!” escaping from his mouth before he grasped a fistful of your hair. He was hungry for you, his tongue sliding lustfully against yours and his breathing so ragged you were sure he was getting close. 

Kissing him was your drug of choice but you also wanted to watch him come undone, thanks to you, so you turned your head while he tensed: he arched his back and bucked his hips once more, nipping at your earlobe. He became harder as he spilled himself over your fingers, wrist and his own stomach with a feral growl.

You didn’t let go of him, not even when his whole body finally slumped down.

The well-defined jaw and unruly curls falling on his face, now so serene, made him appear like a Botticellian masterpiece. Botticelli would have never painted one of his subjects in such a disheveled state, for sure, but the contrast between his angelic aura and the fact he was sprawled on the couch with his trousers unzipped and his softening cock still in your hand was a vision to behold.

“Hey,” you hummed as he re-opened his eyes and found you looking at him, “you’re too cute to be real, you know that?!”

Embarrassed - yet adorably proud - Spencer lowered his gaze, only to grimace at the stickiness on his belly. And on you. “I made a mess, I’m s—”

“We made a mess. Besides, it’s nothing a towel can’t fix, don’t be sorry,” you said, patting his tummy.

You were almost tempted to ask him how long he’d been saving it for, in a clumsy attempt to remind him you’d fallen so head over heels for him you were not at all grossed out; at the last moment you ruled the joke out, though, stretching your legs to get up instead. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

He flashed you the most awkward smile and you forced your feet to move towards the bathroom. 

You washed your hands under the hot running water and silently watched a part of Spencer swirling down the drain; the floral scent of the soap was now in the air but you could still feel his - coffee and cologne, accentuated by the faint traces of sweat on his skin. 

You had just discovered something new: Spencer was often oblivious of how good he looked (despite the dark circles under his eyes) and that was no mystery, but the idea he might have been insecure about different parts of his body was something you’d never taken into account. If being a couple was the natural consequence of the emotional bond between you - rather than a result of some physical infatuation alone - why was he so preoccupied with your reaction to his half-naked self?

Your brain was going in severe overdrive. 

You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, your fingers gripping on the honed marble of the countertop, then you dried your hands with a towel, grabbed a fresh one and returned to the living room; the instant you approached your couch you realized Spencer had been doing a lot of thinking of his own, and your heart sank into your stomach.

“Wunderkind, are you alright?” you questioned as you offered him the towel so that he could clean himself up. “What’s going on in here?” you added, tapping lightly on his temple.

He shrugged and proceeded to meticulously remove any trace of his seed from his belly and clothes before tucking the shirt into the waistband of his trousers. “Nothing special.”

His left eyebrow raised, due to an involuntary movement of his facial muscles: it was a flash, a glimpse, the undeniable proof he was hiding something. The sound of your intrusive thoughts and fears got so loud you wanted to scream to cover their noise.

“Your microexpressions say otherwise,” you retorted.

Spencer lifted his head to meet your eyes, mouth agape, and you couldn’t decipher the meaning of such a bewildered reaction. You had always been able to recognize his lying frown, his anxious smile, the suspicious squint and a hundred more variations: you were not a member of the BAU but you were an expert on detecting and classifying his emotions, yet you’d never seen that one before. 

“It’s… uhm, I’m wondering if it was good for you.”

Your heart leaped and bounced back where it belonged. His job required him to be the one calling people out on their behavior, not the other way round; your presence in his life forced him to face a situation in which his skills as a profiler couldn’t shield him from his own vulnerability, so he was in serious need of some consolation.

You bent over to whisper in his ear. “It was.”

“But you didn’t...” he nervously licked his lips, “and I want you to. Just tell me how.”

In the back of your mind you were 100% sure it would have been the right moment to confess you’d been harboring a few insecurities of your own but your fight-flight-freeze response was already answering on your behalf, making you freeze on the spot.

“Spencer…”

“You don’t think I can?!” he inquired, still convinced his lack of experience was the motivation behind any episode of miscommunication. 

“NO! It’s not about you,” you responded in a hurry, hugging him as he was still seated on the couch. “Or maybe it is… ” you gestured to your whole figure, “I guess I’m a bit worried this isn’t what—”

Spencer wrapped you in an equally sweet hug, his chin dimple pressed on your abdomen. “This is soft,” his hands ran to the back of your knees, trailing up, “it’s so soft I’ve got only one thing in mind every time you hug me and I have to stop myself…”

He stopped talking mid-sentence when you guided his palms over your chest and he finally laughed, fascinated by the feeling of your breasts through the shirt.

If he was so happy at the idea you were starving for his touch and was clearly eager to reciprocate it was time to consider the strong possibility he wasn’t just settling for less. “Do you really—”

“Yes!” he replied, enthusiastically. “But I could use a few hints, you know.”

You knew. “May I sit on your lap, kind sir?”

The ‘are you even serious?’ pout on his face deserved an award; now you were both allowed to act silly without the slightest concern one of you was making fun of the other, high on the intoxicating concept of true intimacy.

You positioned yourself so that you were seated on his groin, your back flat on his chest and your head nestled in the crook of his neck, thanking Mother Nature for the existence of refractory periods. Not that it was necessary, but Spencer hooked his left forearm around your waist to secure you as his tongue glided over the soft skin behind your ear. “How do I start?”

“Step one: make some space,” you tipped him.

He gulped loudly and began to caress your knee, ghosting his fingers along the thigh-bone. You shivered in anticipation and when he tried to reach for your inner thigh you spread your legs apart; he flattened his palm, gripping on your muscles and rubbing back and forth - still keeping some distance from your most delicate spots. 

You turned to offer him your lips. “Tease me… up and down, light touches.”

He did as he was told. When he ran the back of his hand over your mound you whimpered, the oversensitivity being too much to bear combined with the mind-blowing taste of his mouth over yours.

“Isn’t it frustrating for you?” he managed to articulate in between kisses and you rocked your hips against him.

You could already feel the familiar and insistent throbbing, accentuated by the fact that delayed gratification was a real pain; you were dying for him to placate the fire his hard cock had sparked in you, so you grabbed his wrist and guided it over your stomach, down the front of your panties.

He gasped at the feeling of your tender flesh, the curly hair, the dampness - too many sensory inputs to process all at once. “You’re so… warm?”

“Core body temperature is higher than the temperature of the skin,” you reminded him. 

“So warm,” he kept repeating, basic biology facts lost on him because his brain seemed to have switched off. 

His palm grazed over your folds and your legs fell further open to give him better access; you stroked his left forearm and tilted your head back. “Only two fingers now, Spence… up and down. But don’t go straight for—”

You tensed when his fingertips danced on your clit and he gripped you even tighter. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but the sensation was so good you could only smile.

“If you plan to go there it’s left and right. And draw a few circles around, big and small...” you explained before words turned into muffled moans as he put your suggestions into actions.

You were still grinding on his lap, your back glued to his chest, and he took advantage of the proximity to trap your earlobe between his teeth, sucking lightly at each change of the pattern he was tracing.

You squeezed his wrist when the flame inside of you grew fiercer. “You can slip your finger in if you want.”

Spencer let go of your earlobe and paused. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks,” you admitted, the weight of your secret vanishing in the air like a puff of smoke.

He sighed and shifted underneath you; just as you were ready to tell him he didn’t have to if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea he slid his middle finger past your entrance and you shuddered in his embrace. His hands were elegant, veiny, and his slender digits made for playing piano or reaching your hidden crevices - you had no doubts about it, but judging by how he was sitting still he had more than one question regarding what to do with them.

“How do I feel? Spence...?”

Even if you couldn’t really see his face, you knew he had a confused-slash-excited look on. “Hot… and wet, I never thought—”  

“You like it?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?!” he asked in the cutest high-pitched tone and you laughed, making you both wince at the sudden movement. 

All the words in any existent language put together couldn’t describe the amount of affection you had for him. “I like it, Spence,” you hummed, “and it would be even better if you tried curling your fin— FUCK!” 

Spencer wasn’t one to waste time once he was given a specific instruction.

He pushed his finger forward and curled it as you said, gliding in and out to slowly familiarize himself with the different textures of your inner walls. He adopted a very empirical approach, experimenting several techniques based on what he’d learned not so long before, while you whimpered and moaned his name; he was moaning, too, and so prettily you couldn’t control yourself.

“Spence, I need more…” 

He nipped at your jaw, his long hair tickling your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I promise”, you panted, almost out of breath.

When he slipped a second finger in you realized that his arm wrapped around your waist was the only thing still keeping you in place: your legs were giving up on you, your hips swayed to let Spencer’s fingers plunge deeper as your back arched and your fists closed around his clothes. He was pumping relentlessly, overwhelmed by your wetness and the way you were taking him inside like he was a missing part of your own body; he tried to reach for your mouth and you turned to grasp the nape of his neck.

“Your hands are perfect,” you whined, “you are perfect…”

He huffed, his heart pounding fast. “Are you…?”

“Please... make me come, Spence,” you begged him in a whisper.

He pressed his thumb on your clit and started alternating between rough circling motions and the upward movement of his fingers, as you bucked your hips at a frantic pace; your thighs muscles contracted, you clenched around him and you ears plugged as you climaxed - something that had never happened to you before.

You tugged at his hair and screamed his name, before settling against his body once the tension faded. 

He kept his fingers inside and he cuddled you throughout the aftermath of your orgasm, planting butterfly kisses wherever his mouth could reach and cradling you like his only mission in life was making you feel safe and protected. 

Your self-consciousness awoke first, despite the rush of feel-good hormones flowing in your bloodstream.

“Am I crushing you…?” you mumbled, and he grunted as you wriggled free to lean forward and pick up the towel from the floor. 

He stared at his wet fingers with a pensive frown, then he wiped them clean and turned to face you - now seated on the couch with your legs across his and your forearm rested on his shoulder, so that you could play with his curls. 

“Doctor, you deserve a gold star for your performance.”

He smiled and lowered his gaze for a second. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“You’re not bad at improvising, either,” you pointed out, “the thing you did with your thumb…?”

“I figured it was only a matter of combining the exact pressure and the right angle. Technically speaking—”

“Spencer?!” you cut him off, before he could lose himself in his own rambling. “Thank you,” you added, kissing him lightly on his lips before you stood up to fix your panties and trousers. “You can tell me all about the mechanics behind one of the best orgasms of my life on our way.”

“Nosferatu. First Halloween together…?” you elaborated when he looked at you in total confusion. “You’ve changed your mind.”

He shifted on the couch, his hazel eyes fixed on you. “Is that okay?”

This time you looked at him with your best ‘is ice cream cold?’ frown: you wanted to spend eternity with him, not just an hour or two more. You climbed into his lap and tangled your fingers in his hair while he cupped your breasts.

“What if I get…? I mean... again?!”

“Well, it’s not going to happen right now, Professor!!" you snorted, and his giggle sounded like celestial music. "But don’t worry, we’ve got the whole night."

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