#don't even get me started on my sexuality

[mythicalmaven]

Revealed Desires - Lando Norris

(This is a sequel to Secret Desires, but could also be read separately)

Here is part two of the requested oneshot! I loved writing it so much, that I needed to write a part two! It accidentally turned out WAY longer than I intended, but I love how it turned out! Hope y'all like it! Please let me know if you did! :)

Masterlist This is part two of this one (reading the previous part is advised for more context lol, but you technically could read it separately) ↳pairing: Lando Norris x f!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 8,9K ↳Summary: In which the story continues after the reader (Max Verstappen's twin sister) had a rather interesting text exchange with & FaceTime call with her best friend Lando Norris after he had drunkenly texted her about his sexual fantasies about her. ↳content warnings: reader is Max Verstappen's twin sister, Lando is her best friend, but also more, friends to lovers, first kiss, sexual tension, teasing, dirty talk, smut, 18+ content (MDNI!), explicit sexual content, handjob, blowjob, oral sex f!receiving, orgasm denial, p in v, making love, praise kink,

It had been a few hours since that intimate phone call with you, and yet the giddy sensation still coursed through Lando's veins like wildfire. He obviously still felt incredibly embarrassed about drunk texting you the way he did, but it lead to something great. Something he enjoyed so much, he can't put it into words. The knowledge that you felt the same way about him had turned the usually composed British driver into a lovesick puppy, unable to wipe the goofy grin off his face. He'd been in love with you for quite some time, but now that his feelings were out in the open, everything felt more intense, more real.

Since that call, Lando had managed to shower, get dressed, and gather his things to hang out with a few of the guys at Charles’ place. But the whole time, he’d been distracted, replaying every moment of your conversation, every breathy word exchanged, over and over in his mind.

By the time he arrived at Charles' house and plopped down onto the couch, the weight of it all—how much his life had changed in a few short hours—settled in. But just as he began to sink into his thoughts, he felt a pair of familiar eyes boring into him.

Max was staring at him, that infuriatingly smug grin stretching across his face. "Good morning, Mr. Casanova," Max teased, the humor in his voice impossible to miss as he watched Lando try to hide within the collar of his hoodie.

"Oh god, please, shut up," Lando groaned, pulling the hood further over his face in a futile attempt to disappear. "I don't even remember half of what I said to you last night."

Charles, who had perched himself on the armrest of the couch, took a casual sip of his coffee. The amusement radiating off him was palpable as he clapped a hand on Lando’s shoulder. "Unfortunately for you, Max remembers all of it."

Max leaned back into the cushions, making a dramatic gagging sound as if to punctuate his point. "I wish I could forget some of the things you said, mate," he chuckled. "But I have to admit, some of it was pretty funny. Adorable, even."

Lando's face flushed a deep crimson, his stomach twisting with embarrassment. "Do I even want to know what I said?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he avoided the eyes of both his friends.

Charles set his coffee cup down on the table, his expression turning thoughtful. "Well," he began, running a hand through his hair, "you started out pretty innocent. You were going on about how head over heels you are for her—though I can’t recall the exact words, it was clear enough."

Lando groaned again, his face burning with shame as he sank further into the couch. "God, Max, I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "I never wanted you to find out like this."

Max raised his eyebrows, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "You really think I didn’t already know you were in love with my sister?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle. "You’ve been obvious for a while now, even when you weren’t drunk off your ass."

Lando’s eyes widened in shock, his heart skipping a beat. "A-Are… you s-serious?" he stammered, unable to believe what he was hearing.

Charles rolled his eyes, smirking. "Dude, you stare at her more than you do your own race car," he teased. "And let’s not forget that your entire way of talking to each other is just… well, flirting."

Lando felt his heart rate pick up, a mix of relief and mortification washing over him. "Oh," he muttered, his voice small.

"But if that was the innocent part," Lando began, dreading the answer, "what in god's name were the other things I said?"

Max snorted, leaning forward with a grin. "Well, once you were really wasted, you didn’t even seem to notice I was there anymore," he began, the disgust creeping back into his voice. "You were pretty much ranting to Charles about how hot she is and how you’d kill to see her naked."

Charles burst out laughing, almost spilling his coffee in the process. "Hey! Don’t leave out the best part," he chuckled, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "You also said that if you had the chance, you’d fuck her on every single piece of furniture in your house."

Max made a dramatic gagging noise again, waving his hands in front of his face. "Okay, enough, ew," he protested, though the laughter in his voice was unmistakable. "We’re talking about my twin sister here, remember?"

Lando buried his face in his hands, sinking so far into the couch he thought he might disappear entirely. "Fucking hell," he muttered, staring up at the ceiling in defeat. "I really am a gigantic idiot."

Max’s laughter subsided into a low chuckle as he leaned back into the cushions. "Well, spilling the beans on your feelings was one thing, but I’m curious how you’re going to talk your way out of this with her," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and curiosity. "You kept going on about needing to text her about something 'very private.'"

Lando groaned again, this time so deeply it resonated in his chest. "Please don’t remind me," he mumbled, knowing all too well what Max was referring to.

Max grinned, clearly enjoying every second of Lando’s discomfort. "So, after I dragged your sorry ass home, I decided to give her a little heads up," he continued, his voice dripping with teasing humor. "But she told me it was a little too late because, apparently, you had already sent her quite the intense text."

Charles, who had been taking another sip of his coffee, choked on it immediately, coughing violently as he tried to suppress his laughter. "Mon dieu," he managed to gasp out between coughs, his face turning red from the effort. "What the heck did you even text her? Did you send her a nude or something?"

Before Lando could even process the question, Max threw his hands up in the air. "Don’t answer that while I’m in the room! I don’t even want to know!" he exclaimed, half laughing, half horrified. "We’re talking about my twin sister here! I need more coffee."

With that, Max got up and headed towards the kitchen, leaving Lando and Charles alone in the living room.

Charles eyed Lando with a raised eyebrow, the teasing smirk never leaving his face. "Now, do tell," he urged, clearly eager to hear the juicy details.

Lando sighed, running a hand through his messy curls. "God, I don’t even want to think about it," he muttered, his voice filled with both regret and reluctant amusement. "I cringe at myself every time I read it back."

Charles chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Did you at least talk to her about it?" he asked, his tone becoming more serious. "I mean, considering you’re not sulking in a corner, I assume she doesn’t hate you now, right?"

Lando felt the heat rise to his cheeks again, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Ehm… yeah, we talked about it," he admitted, his voice trailing off as he tried to downplay the situation.

Charles’ eyes widened in surprise, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "Oh my god, you guys did not…" he started, his voice dripping with playful accusation.

Lando hesitated, biting his lip. "Maybe," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Charles burst out laughing, clapping Lando on the back with a hearty smack. "So, let me get this straight," he began, still chuckling. "You got wasted, accidentally sexted your best friend, and she… liked it? And then you pretty much continued the conversation? Do you even remember a thing of it, or is your text history your only proof?"

Lando’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he avoided Charles’ gaze, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Ehm… it might’ve happened this morning through text… then later through FaceTime," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Charles let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Nice job, mate," he said, his tone filled with both amusement and genuine admiration. "Better not tell Max that you had literal phone sex with his twin sister."

Before Lando could respond, they heard Max’s voice echoing from the kitchen. "God, I really did not want to hear that," Max groaned, his tone laced with exasperation.

Charles laughed again, turning his attention back to Lando. "Well, now that you’ve crossed that line, what’s the next step?" he asked, his tone more serious now. "Are you going to talk to her about where this is going?"

Lando let out a long sigh, leaning back into the couch as he tried to collect his thoughts. "I mean… yeah, I guess I have to," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I can’t just pretend like nothing happened."

Charles nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. "You’re right," he agreed. "But, honestly, it sounds like you two are already on the same page. You just need to have an actual conversation about it."

Lando nodded, feeling a mix of anxiety and anticipation swirling in his chest. "Yeah… I know, we talked about if for a little.." he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I-I admitted my feelings to her. We did kind of agree to starting something real once she's back in Monaco"

Charles gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, his smile softening. "That's good"

"Yeah, I actually have to pick her up from the airport tomorrow" he told Charles, a hint of something else in his voice "I would lie if I said I wasn't nervous about it. Just scared that she might come to the conclusion that she regrets it, once she sees me in real life again"

*The following day*

Lando sat in his car at the airport, his nerves doubling with each passing second. His fingers fumbled restlessly in his lap as he tried—and failed—to calm himself down. He had spent the entire night tossing and turning, his mind racing with thoughts of how he should greet you when you finally arrived. Despite offering numerous times to meet you at the gate, to carry your suitcases like a gentleman, you had refused each one with a teasing smile, insisting that you were "a big girl" and could manage on your own. Now, he wondered if he had been too pushy, if maybe he should have backed off and given you more space.

As he waited, Lando’s mind continued to wage a war against itself. Should he just hug you like he always did, keeping things light and familiar? Or should he throw caution to the wind and kiss you, putting everything on the line? The thought of kissing you, of finally feeling your lips on his after all these years of longing, made his heart race. But what if you didn’t want that? What if you pulled away, leaving him to wallow in his embarrassment?

His internal debate was abruptly cut short by the sound of a knock on his window. Lando looked up, his heart skipping a beat as he met your eyes. There you were, standing just outside his car, a soft smile on your lips. That smile—the one that always made his chest tighten—sent a wave of warmth through him. He quickly opened the door, jumping out to help you with your luggage.

"Hi," you murmured softly, echoing the way you had greeted him during your FaceTime call. The familiarity of your voice, that gentle tone, sent a shiver down his spine.

Lando smiled back, feeling the tips of his fingers brush against yours as you both reached for the handle of your suitcase. The slight contact sent a jolt of electricity up his arm, and he had to resist the urge to pull you into his arms right then and there. He inhaled deeply, trying to steady his breathing, but the proximity, the way you looked at him, made it impossible to think straight.

"Fuck this," he muttered under his breath, the words slipping out before he could stop them. In a swift movement, he reached up, sliding his fingers around the back of your neck, his thumb gently brushing against your jaw. The world seemed to slow down as he tilted your face up toward his, his heart pounding in his chest as he finally closed the distance between you.

When his lips met yours, it was like every pent-up emotion, every moment of longing, exploded into that kiss. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a confession, a release, an answer to all the questions that had been swirling in his mind. His fingers tightened in your hair, pulling you closer as he let himself get lost in the sensation of finally, finally, kissing the one girl he had been in love with for what felt like forever.

Your response was immediate and overwhelming. You released the suitcase from your grip, one of your hands moved up to tangle in his curls, pulling him closer, while the other slid down to cover his hand, guiding it to your waist. The heat of your body against his was intoxicating, and Lando felt like he was drowning in you, in the softness of your lips, in the way you seemed to melt into him.

As your kiss deepened, Lando could feel your breath hitch, your body pressing even closer to his as if you couldn’t get enough. He took the invitation, gently parting your lips with his, and when your tongues met, it was like a spark igniting a wildfire. His hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him as he backed you up against the side of the car. The cool metal of the car against your back contrasted with the heat between you, making you gasp softly into the kiss.

Every touch, every brush of your lips, every flick of your tongue sent shivers down Lando’s spine. He could feel your heartbeat against his chest, could hear the soft, breathy sounds you made as the kiss grew more urgent. His hands roamed your back, sliding up to cup your face, then back down to your waist, as if trying to memorize every curve, every inch of you. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you, completely lost in each other.

You responded with equal fervor, your hands exploring the expanse of his back, his shoulders, as you gave in to the overwhelming pull of desire that had been building between you for so long. The way Lando kissed you—desperate yet tender, with a mix of hunger and reverence—made your heart swell with emotion. It was as if he was pouring all his love, all his need, into that kiss, and you couldn’t help but respond in kind.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady your racing hearts. Lando’s fingers played with a stray strand of your hair, his touch feather-light as he whispered, "Sorry if that was too straightforward. I just… I couldn’t help myself."

You giggled softly, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. "Lan, we both know we crossed the 'too straightforward' line already when you sent me that one text," you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

Lando’s cheeks flushed a deep red, his gaze dropping to the ground as he muttered, "Shut up."

But you weren’t about to let him get away that easily. Smiling, you tilted his chin up with your finger, forcing him to meet your gaze before leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. "Hey, I never said I was complaining" you murmured against his lips, your voice filled with affection.

Lando felt a surge of relief wash over him, his lips curling into a smile against yours. All the tension, all the nerves, seemed to melt away in that moment, replaced by a warmth that spread through his entire being. As you pulled back slightly, his eyes searched yours, finding only the same affection and desire that he felt reflected back at him.

"Now, let's get this stuff in the car and head back to my place. Because I think we both waited long enough now, don't you think?" you teased him, your fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

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As Lando and you finally settled into the car, the engine's quiet hum filled the space, a stark contrast to the roaring thoughts and desires that swirled between you. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, the kind that made every breath feel heavier, every glance more charged. The drive back to your place had never felt so excruciatingly long, and the unspoken understanding between you made the tension all the more palpable.

You both tried to keep the conversation light, casual even, but it was impossible to ignore the undercurrent of desire that crackled between you like static electricity. Lando gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly, his knuckles turning white as he navigated through the city streets. He stole glances at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking, his mind racing with thoughts of what would happen once you finally reached your apartment.

“So, did you miss me?” you teased, your voice playful yet laced with something deeper.

Lando chuckled, his voice strained as he responded. “Miss you?” He shot you a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Yeah, something like that.”

Your hand slowly inched its way over to his thigh, resting lightly at first, but enough to make him shift in his seat. You could feel the muscle tense beneath your fingers, his reaction immediate and telling. You didn’t miss the way his breath hitched, or the subtle clenching of his jaw as he tried to maintain his focus on the road.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and warning, though you could hear the underlying strain, the barely restrained desire.

“Nothing,” you replied innocently, your fingers beginning to trace small, teasing circles on his thigh, gradually moving closer to where you knew he was most sensitive. “Just… thinking.”

“Thinking?” Lando’s voice had dropped to a husky whisper, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried—and failed—to ignore the effect your touch was having on him. “About what, exactly?”

You leaned in closer, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, “About how long this drive is taking. Don’t you think it’s… too long?”

Lando let out a low, frustrated groan, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before he forced them open again, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

You giggled softly, the sound filled with a mix of mischief and satisfaction. Your hand moved higher, your fingers brushing against the growing bulge in his pants, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. He glanced over at you, his eyes darkening with lust, and you could see the tension in his expression, the way he was barely holding himself together.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, your voice dripping with mock innocence, though the wicked glint in your eyes betrayed your intentions.

“Fuck…” Lando cursed under his breath, his hips involuntarily jerking forward at the contact. “You’re going to make me crash this car if you keep that up.”

But despite his words, he didn’t make any move to stop you. Instead, he shifted slightly in his seat, almost as if inviting you to continue. The knowledge that you had this kind of power over him, that you could unravel him with just a few touches, sent a thrill through you, your own arousal growing with each passing second.

As your hand pressed more firmly against him, Lando couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped his lips, low and guttural, filled with the kind of raw need that made your stomach tighten with anticipation. The sound of it, the way his body responded so helplessly to your touch, only fueled your desire, your own breath becoming shallow as you leaned in closer.

“I think you like this,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke, your hand slowly, deliberately, palming him through his jeans. You could feel him hardening beneath your touch, and the thought of what was to come made your own body ache with need.

“Fuck, you’re right,” Lando admitted, his voice rough and strained. He let out another soft moan, his hips shifting again, seeking more of your touch despite his earlier protests. “But you’re also going to regret teasing me like this.”

“Is that a threat?” you teased, your hand now fully exploring the outline of his erection, your fingers pressing just hard enough to drive him crazy, but not enough to satisfy.

“Consider it a promise,” Lando growled, his voice thick with lust. The tension in the car was nearly unbearable now, every second feeling like an eternity as you continued to push him closer to the edge.

The rest of the drive was a torturous mix of heated touches and ragged breaths, the air thick with anticipation. Every kilometer that separated you from your apartment seemed to stretch on forever, amplifying the tension that crackled between you. Lando’s eyes flicked from the road to your hand on his bulge, watching as your fingers continued their slow, deliberate exploration. His breathing was uneven, the struggle to keep his focus on driving becoming increasingly difficult with each passing second.

You noticed how his grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles white, the strain evident in every line of his body. His jaw was clenched, his gaze forward, but you could see the way his eyes darkened, how his breath hitched every time your fingers palmed over the bulge straining against his jeans.

“You’re awfully quiet, Lando,” you teased, your voice low and sultry, your fingers tracing the outline of his erection with maddening slowness. “Cat got your tongue?”

Lando let out a shaky breath, his voice strained as he responded. “Trying to focus on not crashing the car, love,” he muttered, his words laced with a mixture of frustration and arousal. His eyes briefly met yours, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. “But you’re making that damn near impossible.”

You smiled, pleased with the effect you were having on him. Leaning in closer, your lips brushed against his ear as you whispered, “What would you do to me if we weren’t in this car right now?”

Lando’s breath hitched again, a soft groan escaping his lips as your words sent a surge of heat through him. He swallowed hard, his mind racing with images of all the things he wanted to do to you. “You really want to know?” he asked, his voice dropping to a low, husky tone that made your pulse quicken.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, your hand pressing more firmly against his erection, eliciting another groan from him. “Tell me, Lando. What would you do if you had me all to yourself right now?”

Lando’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his grip on the wheel tightening as he tried to maintain control. “I’d start by pinning you against the wall,” he began, his voice thick with desire. “I’d kiss you until you were breathless, until you couldn’t think straight. And then I’d strip you down, piece by piece, until there was nothing between us.”

His words sent a thrill through you, your body reacting instantly to the vivid images he painted with his voice. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, the ache of wanting him becoming almost unbearable. “And then?” you prompted, your voice breathy, urging him to continue.

Lando swallowed hard, his hips shifting slightly under your touch. “Then I’d lay you down, spread you out for me,” he continued, his voice growing darker, more intense. “I’d take my time, kiss every inch of you, taste you until you’re begging for more.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips at his words, the need inside you flaring hotter with every second. “Fuck, Lando,” you breathed, your hand moving up to cup him more fully, feeling the hardness beneath your fingers. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“You think you’re the only one?” Lando shot back, his voice rough with arousal. He let out another low groan as you began to palm him through his jeans, his hips lifting slightly into your touch, seeking more. “Keep that up and we won’t even make it to your apartment.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the way you were affecting him. “Maybe that’s the idea,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his neck, your breath warm against his skin. “Maybe I want to see how much you can take.”

Lando let out a soft, desperate moan, his control slipping further with every touch, every word. “You’re fucking evil, you know that?” he groaned, his head falling back against the headrest as he gave in to the pleasure, his body reacting instinctively to your teasing. “But god, I love it.”

The tension in the car was nearly unbearable now, the air thick with the scent of arousal and the promise of what was to come. Every brush of your fingers, every shift of your body sent waves of desire crashing over both of you, making it almost impossible to think clearly.

As you continued to tease him, your own body was alight with need, every fiber of your being aching for him. The sight of Lando struggling to keep his composure, the way he was completely at your mercy, only fueled your desire, your own breaths coming in short, shallow gasps as you pressed your lips to his neck, feeling his pulse racing beneath your touch.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lando pulled up to your apartment building, the car coming to a sudden, jerky stop as he practically slammed on the brakes. He turned to you, his eyes dark and filled with a mixture of frustration and desire. “Get out of the car,” he commanded, his voice rough and strained, leaving no room for argument.

You didn’t need to be told twice. The moment you stepped out, Lando was there, his hands gripping your waist as he pushed you back against the car, his lips crashing onto yours with a desperate, almost frantic intensity. The kiss was hot, urgent, filled with all the pent-up desire that had been building between you for so long. His hands roamed your body, sliding down to your hips as he pressed himself against you, letting you feel the full extent of his arousal.

“You have no idea what you’re in for,” Lando murmured against your lips, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you even closer as his lips moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you moan softly.

“Then show me,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with anticipation as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “I want to feel everything.”

Lando groaned at your words, his control slipping further as he kissed his way down your neck, his hands sliding under your shirt, exploring the soft skin of your back. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin as he nipped at your collarbone, making you gasp.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with lust, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Without another word, he grabbed your hand, practically dragging you toward the entrance of the building. The anticipation was palpable, every step closer to your apartment only adding to the tension between you.

The elevator ride up was a blur of heated touches and frantic kisses, Lando’s lips never leaving your skin as he pressed you against the wall, his hands roaming your body with a mix of urgency and reverence. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your neck, his voice rough and filled with raw need.

“Me too,” you breathed, your voice trembling with desire as your hands explored the planes of his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Lando.”

His lips found yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if savoring the taste of you. The kiss was deep, consuming, and you could feel every ounce of his passion, his longing, in the way his tongue danced with yours, the way his hands gripped you as if he was afraid you might slip away.

When the elevator finally dinged at your floor, Lando wasted no time, pulling you out and down the hall toward your apartment. His impatience was evident in the way he fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline and lust coursing through his veins.

“You’re driving me insane,” he muttered under his breath, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and arousal as he finally managed to unlock the door. The moment it swung open, he had you inside, slamming it shut behind him as he pressed you up against it, his lips crashing onto yours once again.

The kiss was even more intense this time, fueled by the knowledge that there were no more interruptions, no more delays. This was it. You were finally alone, and nothing was going to stop what came next.

His hands were everywhere, sliding under your shirt, up your back, down to your thighs, as if he couldn’t decide where to touch you first. Every brush of his fingers against your skin sent jolts of pleasure through you, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, the anticipation becoming almost unbearable.

Lando’s lips left yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jawline to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you shiver. “I’m going to make you pay for teasing me like that,” he whispered against your neck, his voice a low, seductive growl that made your heart race.

“I’m counting on it,” you replied breathlessly, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you pulled him even closer, your body aching with need.

And with that, any remaining restraint between you shattered, the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface finally boiling over as Lando’s hands and lips claimed every inch of you, leaving you both lost in the heat of the moment, eager to make up for all the time you had spent longing for each other.

When his lips left yours again, you barely had time to catch your breath before they were on your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline. His hands continued their slow exploration, moving higher until they reached the curve of your breasts, his thumbs brushing teasingly over your hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

A soft moan escaped your lips at the contact, your back arching slightly as you pressed into his touch. Lando’s breath was hot against your skin as he nipped at your collarbone, his hands moving to unhook your bra with practiced ease. The garment fell away, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze.

“You have no idea how much I want this,” Lando murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with a mix of reverence and desire. His hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples as he captured your lips in another searing kiss.

“Then stop teasing,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with anticipation as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “I want you, Lando.”

Lando groaned softly at your words, his resolve crumbling as his hands began to roam lower, sliding down your stomach to the waistband of your jeans. He unbuttoned them slowly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he tugged the fabric down your hips, leaving you in just your panties.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of you standing before him, half-naked and completely vulnerable. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe as his hands traced the curve of your hips, his thumbs brushing against the delicate lace of your panties.

Without another word, Lando’s hands moved to your thighs, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate paths along your skin, causing shivers to run down your spine. He stood in front of you, his eyes locked onto yours as his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs with agonizing slowness.

The cool air against your exposed skin only heightened your sensitivity, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. Lando’s hands moved back up your thighs, his touch firm yet gentle as he spread your legs wider. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to an exposed bit of skin, just behind your ear, before his fingers began their slow, torturous journey closer to your core.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling with need as his fingers hovered just above where you wanted them most. He teased you, his fingertips brushing lightly against your sensitive skin, drawing out soft whimpers from your lips. The tension in your body grew unbearable as Lando finally let his fingers slide through your wetness, his touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

He began to move his fingers with expert precision, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your reactions, each moan, each gasp fueling his desire. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles as his fingers delved deeper, the sensation building with every stroke. You could feel the pressure mounting, your body arching into his touch as you teetered on the edge of release.

But just as you were about to fall over the precipice, Lando’s movements slowed, his fingers pulling back, leaving you hanging in that unbearable space between pleasure and release. A frustrated whimper escaped your lips as you looked up at him, your body aching with the need for more.

But Lando only smirked up at you, his eyes filled with a mischievous glint. “That’s for teasing me in the car,” he teased, his voice low and filled with satisfaction as he slowly rose to his feet, his hands resting on your hips as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

“You’re an asshole,” you whispered against his lips, your voice filled with a mix of frustration and determination as you reached for his shirt, unbuttoning it with trembling fingers. You pushed the fabric off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor before your hands moved to the waistband of his jeans.

But before you could undo the button, Lando’s hands were on you again, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to the kitchen counter. He placed you on the cool surface, his hands sliding up your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs.

His lips were on yours again, hot and demanding, as his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if trying to memorize the feel of you. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with lust, his breathing heavy as he knelt down between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread you open before him.

The anticipation was almost unbearable as you watched him, his gaze locked on yours as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your most sensitive spot. The first stroke of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your hands flying to his hair as you arched into him, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

Lando’s tongue moved with precision, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge, the pleasure building with every second. You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, your body trembling with the need for release as he continued to pleasure you with slow, deliberate movements.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, just when you were about to tip over the edge, once again, Lando pulled back, leaving you gasping for breath, your body aching with the need for more.

“Lando!” you cried out, your voice filled with frustration as you looked down at him, your chest heaving with the effort to catch your breath.

Lando only chuckled, a smug smile playing on his lips as he slowly rose to his feet, his hands resting on your hips as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “I told you I would make you regret teasing me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with satisfaction as he nipped at your lower lip.

“You're lucky you're hot” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and determination as you reached for his jeans, unbuttoning them with your fingers. You pushed the fabric down his hips, letting it fall to the floor as you slid off the counter, your hands moving to his hips, guiding him against the kitchen counter, sinking to your knees.

Lando’s breath hitched as you knelt before him, your fingers teasing the waistband of his boxers as you looked up at him, a wicked glint in your eyes. “Is this what you want?” you asked, your voice low and sultry as your fingers brushed against his erection, the contact sending a shiver of pleasure through him.

“Please,” Lando groaned, his hands clutching at the counter behind him as he watched you, his eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and lust. “Don’t tease me.”

But you weren’t done with him yet. You wanted to make him feel the same frustration, the same desperation that he had made you feel. Slowly, deliberately, you began to kiss your way up his thigh, your lips brushing against his skin in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.

"You look so good, Lan. You make me so wet.” you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with a mix of challenge and desire as your fingers teased him, brushing against his erection but never quite touching him where he needed it most.

Lando’s hips jerked forward, a soft moan escaping his lips as he clutched at the counter, his control slipping further with every touch, every kiss. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and strained. “You’re killing me.”

You smiled up at him, your hands finally sliding up to his boxers, pulling them down to free his aching length. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, sent a thrill of anticipation through you, your own arousal heightening as you took him in your hand, feeling the warmth and hardness of him against your palm.

Lando’s breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut as you began to stroke him slowly, your movements deliberate and teasing. Your thumb brushed over the sensitive tip, gathering the bead of moisture there before sliding back down his length. His hips bucked slightly into your hand, a low groan escaping his lips as he watched you through half-lidded eyes, his gaze dark with lust.

“F-Fuck, that feels so good,” he muttered, his voice rough and thick with need. His hands gripped the counter behind him, knuckles white as he tried to maintain some semblance of control. But you could see the tension in his muscles, the way his body responded to every touch, every twist of your wrist.

You increased the pace slightly, your strokes becoming firmer, more purposeful as you worked him with your hand. Lando’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to keep his composure. “You like that?” you whispered, your voice sultry, dripping with seduction as you watched him with hooded eyes.

“God, yes,” Lando groaned, his head falling back as another moan slipped from his lips. “So fucking good.”

You smirked, your confidence growing with every sound of pleasure that escaped him. You changed your technique, your grip tightening slightly as you twisted your wrist at the top, your thumb rubbing over the sensitive underside of his tip in a way that made his hips jerk forward, his breath catching in his throat.

“Is this what you’ve been fantasizing about?” you asked, your voice low and teasing as you leaned in closer, your breath hot against his skin. “Thinking about me, touching you like this?”

Lando let out a shaky breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he struggled to find the words. “Yes,” he managed to choke out, his voice strained with the effort to hold back. “Every night. Fuck, you have no idea.”

You smiled, satisfied with his response as you continued to stroke him, your movements becoming a little faster, a little more intense. You could feel him throbbing in your hand, his body trembling with the need for release. “Do you want more, Lando?” you whispered, your lips brushing against the base of his length as you spoke, sending a shiver through him. “Do you want my mouth on you?”

Lando’s eyes flew open, the raw need in them making your own arousal spike. “Please,” he groaned, his voice a desperate plea. “I need it. I need you.”

His words sent a jolt of excitement through you, and without breaking eye contact, you slowly lowered your head, your lips parting as you took him into your mouth. The sensation of his hard length filling you, the taste of him on your tongue, was intoxicating, and you let out a soft moan as you began to move, your mouth working him with the same deliberate, teasing pace you had used with your hand.

Lando’s reaction was immediate, his hands flying to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he tried to maintain control. “Fuck,” he hissed, his hips bucking involuntarily as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

Encouraged by his praise, you began to move faster, your tongue swirling around him, flicking against the sensitive underside as you bobbed your head, taking him in as deep as you could. You could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his muscles tightened and quivered under your touch, his body responding to every flick of your tongue, every suction of your lips.

You placed your hands on the back of his thighs, your fingers digging into his flesh as you pulled him closer, encouraging him to let go, to give in to the pleasure. “Is this what you wanted?” you asked, pulling back just enough to speak, your voice breathy and filled with desire. “Is this what you’ve been dreaming about?”

“Yes,” Lando groaned, his voice strained as he fought to keep control. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

His words only spurred you on, and you resumed your pace, your mouth working him with more intensity, more urgency as you brought him closer to the edge. His breathing grew ragged, his moans becoming more frequent, more desperate as he hovered on the brink of release.

But just as you felt him start to tense, his body trembling with the need for release, you pulled back, letting him slip from your mouth with a teasing smile. Lando let out a frustrated groan, his head falling back as his hands tightened in your hair, the sensation of being so close yet denied driving him to the brink of madness.

“Fuck,” Lando breathed out, his voice laced with desperation. His eyes were half-lidded, darkened with lust as he looked down at you, still kneeling before him, that wicked glint in your eyes. “Why did you stop?”

“Two can play that game,” you whispered, your voice filled with playful challenge as you looked up at him, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his thigh. “How does it feel, Lando? To be so close and yet so far?”

Lando’s breath was ragged, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and raw need. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his voice rough with desperation, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment that he was enjoying this, even if it was driving him crazy.

Lando let out a shaky breath, his hands moving to your waist as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a brief, heated kiss. “Fucking hell, you have no idea what you do to me” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with need, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed you back against the counter.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the heat in his voice, the raw intensity of his words sending a surge of desire straight to your core. Lando’s lips met yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if he was savoring every second. His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you slightly so he could press you even closer against the counter, his body flush against yours. You responded eagerly, your hands threading through his hair, tugging lightly as you deepened the kiss, your tongue teasingly flicking against his.

You could feel the tension building between you, the need to be even closer, but you couldn’t resist playing with him just a little more. You nipped at his lower lip, pulling back slightly to murmur against his mouth, “You’re holding back, Lando. What’s wrong? Afraid you can’t handle a little teasing?”

Your words drew a low, frustrated growl from him, his eyes darkening with desire as he looked at you, the playful spark in your gaze only spurring him on. “Oh, I can handle it,” he replied, his voice a rough whisper, full of promise. And with that, he closed the distance between you in an instant, his hands grabbing you by the waist as he lifted you off the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you towards the bedroom.

Your laughter echoed through the kitchen as Lando carried you towards the bedroom, his grip on you firm, yet gentle, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. The intensity in his eyes sent a thrill through you, your heart racing as you felt the cool air on your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

He pushed the bedroom door open with his foot, and before you knew it, you were on the bed, Lando hovering above you, his hands framing your face as he stared down at you with a mixture of love and raw need. The look in his eyes made your breath catch, the reality of the moment crashing over you. This was real. This was happening.

Lando’s lips found yours again, the kiss slower this time, more deliberate, as if he was savoring every second, every taste of you. His hands roamed your body, sliding down your sides, over your hips, before coming to rest on your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them.

But just as Lando was about to move lower, his lips brushing against the curve of your breast, he paused, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice soft, but carrying a depth of sincerity that made your heart swell.

“I’m sure, Lando,” you whispered, your voice filled with certainty and affection. “I want this. I want you.”

Lando’s eyes searched yours for a moment longer, as if making absolutely certain, before he spoke again, his tone gentle but serious. “I just want to make sure you don’t feel pressured into anything. This… this means a lot to me. It’s more than just sex for me.”

Your heart melted at his words, the care and concern in his voice making you fall even more for him. You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin as you smiled up at him. “I don’t feel pressured at all. I want this just as much as you do, Lando. It means a lot to me too.”

Relief washed over his features, his eyes softening as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips, filled with all the emotion he couldn’t quite put into words. “Thank you,” he whispered against your lips, his hands gently caressing your sides as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing warmly against yours.

With that final confirmation, the last of his restraint melted away. The kiss grew more intense, more passionate, as Lando’s hands roamed your body with a newfound purpose, exploring every inch of you with reverence and need. His lips moved down your neck, to your chest, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses that made you shiver with anticipation.

You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, the evidence of his desire only fueling your own. Your hands roamed his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way his body responded to your touch. The heat between you was almost unbearable now, the need for him becoming overwhelming as his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you moan softly.

“Please, Lando,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation as you arched into him, your body aching with the need for release. “I need you.”

Lando let out a low groan at your words, his hands sliding down to your hips as he positioned himself between your legs. He paused for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours as he whispered, “I want to make this perfect for you.”

“It already is,” you whispered back, your voice filled with affection as you cupped his face, pulling him into a soft, lingering kiss. “Just make love to me, Lando.”

With a soft, almost reverent sigh, Lando pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he slowly, gently, entered you. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and emotion that made you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he filled you completely.

Lando let out a shaky breath, his body trembling slightly as he stilled for a moment, letting you both adjust to the new, intimate connection. The feeling of him inside you, of being so close, so connected, was almost too much to bear, the intensity of it sending waves of pleasure and emotion crashing over you.

He began to move slowly, his thrusts gentle and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he made love to you with a tenderness that took your breath away. Every movement, every touch was filled with love, with a depth of emotion that made your heart swell with affection for him.

You could feel the tension building again, the pleasure mounting with every thrust, every brush of his skin against yours. Lando’s hands roamed your body, his lips pressing soft kisses to your neck, your collarbone, as he whispered sweet, breathless praises in your ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with love and desire. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“Lando,” you gasped, your voice trembling with emotion as you clutched at him, your body moving in sync with his. “I love you.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, the raw truth of your feelings finally breaking free. Lando’s eyes widened in surprise, his movements slowing for a moment as he stared down at you, his breath catching in his throat.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and affection as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips. The words hung in the air between you, a promise, a declaration that made your heart swell with happiness.

With those words still echoing in the air, Lando’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate as the pleasure built to a fever pitch. You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter in your belly as you held onto him, your body trembling with the need for release.

Lando’s breath was hot against your ear, his voice rough and filled with desperation as he whispered, “Come for me, love. I want to feel you.”

His words, the way he moved inside you with such passion and tenderness, was enough to send you over the edge. Your body tensed, your back arching off the bed as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, your breathless moans filling the room as you came undone in his arms.

The sensation of you tightening around him, the way you cried out his name in pure ecstasy, was enough to push Lando over the edge with you. With a few more deep, urgent thrusts, he followed you into bliss, his body trembling as he found his release, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sound in the room the heavy breathing of two people who had just found something they had both been longing for. Lando collapsed on top of you, his weight comforting as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

You held him close, your fingers running through his hair as you both came down from the high, your bodies still entwined, the connection between you stronger than ever.

“I love you,” Lando whispered again, his voice soft and filled with affection as he pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

“I love you too,” you murmured back, your heart swelling with happiness as you held him close, your eyes fluttering shut as you savored the warmth of his body against yours, the contentment that filled you both as you lay there, basking in the afterglow of the most intense, passionate, and loving moment you had ever shared.

Masterlist | Promptlist (requests are still open)

[spencerreidenjoyer]

we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is. 

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 

[regiawrites]

And There Will Be No Tenderness - S.R

Warning(s): Sub!Spencer, Fem!Dom!Reader, Brief Overstimulation, Riding, General Idiocy Word Count: 6134 Summary: Y/N and Reid never see eye-to-eye, but one kiss changes everything.

Garcia hustled into the conference room as quickly as she could with the height of her hot pink pumps, fiddling with the remote as she moved. "Good morning, my lovelies," She greeted the team. "Sorry for the hurry, but this one's a bad one."

"When are they good ones?" Rossi asked dryly as he flipped open the manilla folder in his hands.

"An excellent point," she granted, "but this one is particularly bad." 

She clicked the remote and a series of gruesome images appeared on the screen, so gruesome, in fact, that even Hotch's face twitched. Four women, clearly dead, were covered in blood, bruises, and an array of other injuries, although no two seemed similar.

"These unfortunate four are Kerry Whittingham, Jasmyn Willis, Carly Smythe and Louise Fresca," Garcia said, gesturing to each of the women as she did so. "All of these women have been missing for between 6 and 11 months, all reported missing by their families within a week of them vanishing."

"How have they been linked together?" Morgan asked. "They all have different causes of death." 

"Yeah," Y/N agreed. "Kerry Whittingham was evisceration, but it says here that Carly Smythe's cause of death was drowning. What's the connection?" 

"That is where things get really bad," Garcia said with a grimace before clicking the remote again. 

Four images of matching symbols appeared, each woman having the same mark burned into their wrists.

"Are those brands?" Y/N asked, horrified, making brief eye contact with JJ who mirrored her expression. 

"Human trafficking, maybe?" Emily suggested and Garcia nodded. 

"The local police department thinks so, yeah." 

"So, they're being sold-" Y/N started, but was cut off by Reid scoffing 'Obviously'. She shot him a glare but spared him no response as she continued. "-and showing up dead. Are there any signs of sexual abuse?" 

"Only on Jasmyn Willis," Garcia answered.

"So, they're not being sold to be sex slaves," Y/N guessed. "They're being sold to be killed."

"Or they're just being sold to whoever's interested," Reid contradicted, as he always did. "I doubt a human trafficker cares." 

"But they WOULD," Y/N argued with a roll of her eyes. "If they were being traded for sex, the trafficker would be more concerned with keeping them alive." 

"Y/L/N's right," Hotch said, and Y/N shot Reid a smug smile that he ignored. "A trafficker would want to keep the women alive so they could continue to bring in money. They're likely being kidnapped and traded with the sole purpose of being tortured and killed." 

"What like some kind of sick eBay for serial killers?" Rossi asked, face twisted in disgust.

"That's one way of looking at it," Hotch sighed as he stood. "Wheels up in 20."

As the team filed out of the room, Y/N glared at Reid as they walked towards the bullpen. "Stop contradicting me at every chance you get, asshole!" she snapped at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You know," he started, "research suggests that those who frequently use curse words are less intelligent than those that don't."

"Oh, shut up, Reid."

"Most likely due to a lack of adequate vocabulary," he continued.

"Shut up, Reid."

"I'm just saying, maybe you'd be less insecure about me 'contradicting' you if you-"

"If you're about to imply I'm an idiot, I will hit you," she told him, glaring up at him as they reached their desks. She leaned down to grab her go-bag from beneath her desk.

"You're also very quick to resort to threats of physical violence, which further suggests you have a lack of trust in your own intellect," he said, grabbing his own go-bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Don't profile me, Reid," she said, voice flat and unamused, before she turned and headed out. 

Trailing after her, Reid said, "I'm not profiling you; I'm making an observation about a coworker." 

"And your observation is that I'm stupid?" 

"I don't think you're stupid," he said with a shrug, and Y/N narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

"You don't?"

"You're a qualified profiler, you can't be stupid," he said. "I do, however, think you're reckless, untrusting of yourself and quick to jump to conclusions." 

"I'm not untrusting of myself," she argued, though she couldn't say she wasn't reckless. She was notorious for thinking with her heart and acting on impulse.

"If you weren't, my contradictions wouldn't bother you." 

"That is so not how that works!" she snapped. "How would you feel if every time you said anything, someone was like 'uhm, actually'?" As she said 'uhm, actually', her voice slipped into a high-pitched, nasally lilt, and she mimed pushing glasses up the bridge of her nose.

They reached the elevator, and continued to bicker as they stepped inside.

And for the whole elevator ride down. 

And for the whole walk to the jet. 

Mercifully, the pair sat at opposite ends of the jet, and didn't talk to each other for the flight, so the team had some peace.

 ***

Within a few hours, the team was set up in the conference room of a police station in Pasadena, Captain Ray Jenkins sitting among them. He was a tall, portly man with a thick moustache and a heavy brow.

"So, the suspect you have in custody had DNA matching two of the victims in the back of his van?" Y/N asked Jenkins.

"Yes, and he also had Carly Smythe's engagement ring in his glove box," he told them, showing them a picture of a diamond ring. "He's remaining silent, though." 

"I'd like to talk to him," she said, and Jenkins nodded. From somewhere beside her, Reid snorted, and she turned to glare at him. "What?" 

"I'm shocked you want to talk to him, is all," he commented with a tight-lipped smile. 

"Why would I not want to talk to a suspect?" she demanded, and he shrugged. 

"Talking involves patience. And tact."

"Oh, 'tact' says the most awkward person I've ever met," Y/N snapped. "I've had to watch you talk to women before, you don't have much tact then." 

Reid turned to face her straight on and level her with a glare, but Hotch held a hand up. "Don't start," was his only warning, effectively shutting them both up. "Y/L/N, you talk to the suspect." 

***

Kyle Hannigan was skinny.

That was the first thing Y/N had noticed about him as he sat across from her in the interrogation room. 

Skinny and short.

There was no way this man kidnapped those women, at least not on his own. 

"You didn't kill those women, Kyle," Y/N said, leaning on the desk between them, flipping through the pictures. 

"That's what I've been saying all this time," he huffed back, testy. As irritated as he sounded, he looked unnerved as his eyes flicked to-and-from the photographs of the mutilated women.

"You don't even know who killed them, do you, Kyle?" she pushed.

"No!" 

"I don't even think you touched them," she said, fighting back a smile when he raised a questioning brow at her. "I mean look at you-" she gestured to him, "-you're short, you're skinny. Jasmyn Willis was 5'9 and a weightlifter, she could have fought you off blindfolded." Kyle's jaw ticked at the insult, but he remained silent. "You're just the delivery driver." 

He stared at her, dark eyes looking up through his brows.

"So, if you're just the delivery driver, who got those women into the van, Kyle?" she asked. "And more importantly, who's running the operation?" 

He continued to stare at her, silent. 

"You know, whoever's above you in the food chain is absolutely going to let you go to prison for this," she told him. "Hell, they probably want you to take the fall. You gain nothing by protecting these people." 

"It'll be my word against his, and no one will believe me over him," he said, low and slow, leaning towards her with a glare. "So, what's the point?" She, too, leaned forward and matched his fiery glare with a cool, flat stare.

"Your word against who's, Kyle?" 

His eyes flicked towards the one-way mirror behind her, then back down to her, and she didn't miss the desperation in his eyes. 

He wanted to tell her.

He looked up at the CCTV camera positioned in the corner of the room.

"Who?" 

He continued to stare at her before raising his right hand, forming it into a claw shape and tapping it to his shoulder.

"That's all you're getting out of me," he said, before folding his arms over his chest.

***

"A claw shape that he tapped to his shoulder?" JJ asked. "What does that mean?" 

"It's ASL," Reid said matter-of-factly, pulling out his phone. 

"And what's it ASL for?" Jenkins asked him, and Reid shrugged. "I thought you were a genius."

"That doesn't mean I'm all-knowing," Reid said, simply. He began typing something into his phone.

"Great load of good that is, then," Jenkins grunted. "What do we do now?" 

"Our tech analyst is looking through his cell phone history to see if there's any suspicious activity that could be an accomplice," Hotch informed him, but Y/N didn't pay much attention to Jenkin's reply as her phone vibrated. 

She unlocked it and, surprised to see a text from Reid, she looked up to give him a questioning look, but he was pointedly not looking at her. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she tapped on the notification and had to force her face to remain neutral.

Reid: It's ASL for Captain.

And that was how Reid and Y/N found themselves snooping around Jenkin's office, looking for incriminating evidence. After forwarding Reid's text to Hotch and Garcia, she slipped into his office, followed by Reid.

"This is not how we're supposed to do this!" Reid hissed at her as she rifled through one of his drawers while he kept watch. "Nothing you find like this will be admissible in court."

"Yeah, yeah," she grunted, closing the drawer as quietly as she could before opening the next one down. 

"We're going to get caught." 

"Not if you do a good job keeping watch, we won't," she said, reaching for a drawer with a lock on it. She pulled and it didn't budge. "Shit, it's locked," she mumbled, looking around the desk for a paperclip, which she found in a small plastic cup, and bent it into an L-shape. 

"What are you doing?" Reid whispered, panicked and stepped away from the door.

"Keep watch!" she hissed back, wiggling the paperclip around and managing to twist the mechanism, unlocking the drawer. "Aha!"

"Why am I not surprised you can do that?" Reid asked, not looking at her. She glared at the back of his head.

"Because I'm a cornucopia runneth over of useful skills," she snarked as she started digging through the drawer. 

"Sure, that's why," he said, but she paid no mind as she started flicking through a folder she found. 

"Holy shit, Reid, I got something," she said, and he spun around to look at her.

"What, really?" he asked, walking over to her and she tilted the folder so he could see it. "Is that-?"

"Carly Smythe, yeah." 

From Y/N's hands, Carly Smythe's bruised, but very alive, face stared back at them from in front of a dirty wall. She was only wearing a white tank top in the picture, and her hair was flat and greasy, eyes hardened as she glared at the camera.

This picture wasn't a part of the investigation.

The picture was stapled to another sheet of paper, one with messy writing scrawled over it. 

Carly

24

140lbs

5'6

Brown eyes

Brown hair

No Tattoos

Limited known sexual history

Sweet voice

$10k min

$33k to Poseidon

"Oh my God," Reid muttered. 

"She isn't the only one either," Y/N said, flipping through the rest of the pages, through profiles of several women, including the four known victims. "We have to get this to Hotch." 

Before Reid could say anything, they heard Jenkins' voice coming from somewhere outside. Y/N's heart dropped.

"You were supposed to keep watch!" she whispered accusatorily at Reid, who sputtered out a response she didn't listen to as she lifted her shirt and shoved the folder into her pants, covering it when her shirt fell back down.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, eye flicking Wilding between her and the door as Jenkins' voice got closer. 

"Smuggling this out of here," she said, like it should have been obvious.

"And what excuse are you going to give him for us being in here?" he demanded, holding his hands up in distress.

"Kiss me," she commanded, and he choked.

"Excuse me?"

"Kiss me!"

And he did.

As the door handle turned, he surged forward and their mouths connected, lips crashing together. 

Reid grabbed Y/N's hips, pulling her body towards his as his tongue glided over hers, taking her by surprise as he took complete control of the kiss. She slid her hands into his hair, tugging it at the roots.

He whined into her mouth, and all higher thought ceased in Y/N's mind.

Pulling his hair harder, she kissed back with a punishing harshness, vaguely registering her ass hitting the desk as Reid pushed her against it, sliding his hands from her hips up to her waist, around her back and pulling her back against him. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged on it, making him whimper in a way that had her whole body heating up in response. 

"Ahem." 

Gasping, they tore away from each other and spun towards the door to see Jenkins smirking at them. "I don't think that's an appropriate workplace activity, Agents," he commented, and Y/N grinned in faux sheepishness. 

"Sorry, it’s all new," she said, pushing Reid away from her less harshly that she ordinarily would. "We can't keep our hands off of each other." 

"I won't tell your Captain, don't worry, sweetheart," he said, a look in his eye as he turned his gaze to her that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Both Y/N and Reid managed to get out of the room, and the folder shoved into the front of Y/N's pants felt like it weighed a tonne.

It took less than 24 hours before Jenkins was on the other side of police custody, coughing up information about his clientele.

Six days later, four other men had been arrested for the murders of the women, and had several other murders linked to them.

Three weeks later, the Team had busted a huge ring of human trafficking. 

One month later, Y/N was still thinking about that kiss. 

Each member of The BAU had been rewarded (read: forced to take) a two-week period of leave after the events of the bust. Morgan had been shot, Rossi had a joint dislocated and, all-in-all, it was an incredibly stressful time.

Five days in and Y/N was going stir-crazy from both the boredom and the haunting thoughts of Reid’s mouth on hers. Every so often her mind would wonder to the plush look of his lips, or the intense furrow of his brow, or- when she was particularly out of control- the whine he’d made against her lips when she pulled his hair.

By day seven, she’d exhausted her Netflix subscription and had purchased Disney plus.

By day nine she’d nearly finished The Golden Girls and was out-of-her-mind bored.

As Dorothy made a snide comment, Y/N’s phone notification went off, and she practically jumped on it in all her enthusiasm. Her enthusiasm promptly dissipated when she realised the text was from Reid, and she rolled her eyes.

Reid: Are you busy?

You: No why?

Reid: I’m bored.

You: Okay and?

Reid: Are you telling me you’re not?

You: Well obviously but I didn’t text you to complain about it

Reid: Can I come over? Everyone else is busy. I’ll buy you pizza.

You: I can buy my own pizza

Reid: It tastes better when it’s free, no?

You: Fine you can come but if you don’t have the pizza I’m not letting you in

Reid: Deal. I’ll be there in an hour.

Oh, God, Reid was coming over.

She tidied up her living area, even rearranging the throw pillows on her couch before looking down at the ratty T-shirt she was wearing and had been wearing for a least three days. She debated leaving it on, but your skin tingled unpleasantly at the thought of Reid seeing it and she reluctantly decided to change.

But she couldn’t change into clean clothes without showering.

And if she was showering anyway, she may as well shave.

But if she shaves without exfoliating, she gets ingrown hairs.

That dangerous train of logic is what compelled her to take an ‘everything shower’, listening to music while she pampered her skin and ridded herself of all body hair. For Reid of all people too, to add insult to injury. He probably wouldn’t even appreciate it, not that she’d give him the chance to appreciate your silky-smooth legs, but still. Some acknowledgements of her immense efforts wouldn’t go amiss.

She stepped out of the shower and slathered herself in vanilla-scented lotion, before dressing into a simple pyjama set consisting of loose (but very short), plaid shorts and a black tank top. The doorbell rang just as she slid her feet into her slippers. Checking the clock, she rolled her eyes when she realised it had been almost exactly one hour since his last text, the punctual motherfucker.

She shuffled to the door and looked through the peephole to make sure it was actually Reid, snorting at the way the lens disfigured his face in a bizarre perspective, before letting him in. “Reid,” she greeted, as neutrally as she could when she wanted to tear into the pizza box that he was holding. It wasn’t lost on her that it was from her favourite local place.

“Y/L/N,” he responded in much the same tone, stepping in and slipping his shoes off and revealing a mismatched pair of truly bizarre socks, setting them on the shoe-rack beside the door. He’d known her for long enough to know she absolutely did not tolerate shoes inside her home, and she tried not to feel fond.

“That pepperoni?” she asked, jerking her head towards the pizza box.

“Obviously,” he said, shooting her a distinct look of irritation, like she’d asked a stupid question. “Hey, I don’t know your life,” she snapped. “You could be one of those freaks that like Hawaiian.”

“You know, it’s widely considered fact that the components of balanced flavour are ‘salt, acid and sugar’, so by that logic, a Hawaiian Pizza would-“

“Oh my God, you’ve been here less than five minutes and you’re already doing the thing,” she groaned, taking the pizza box from him and walking to the living area.

“What thing?” he asked, following behind her.

“The ‘uhm, actually’ thing!” she says, plopping down onto the couch and setting the box on the coffee table. He rolled his eyes again and sat down next to you, not deigning to respond.

Silence settled over the two of them.

Dying for anything to relieve the awkwardness, Y/N leaned over to grab a slice of pizza, aware of Reid’s eyes on her. She turned to shoot him a questioning look, but he didn’t meet her gaze and pointedly stared at the TV.

Fuck, his jaw was sharp, and his neck was an elegant arch.

An echo of his desperate whine ricocheted in her head for a moment as she stared at him.

Such a sweet noise from such sweet lips, pillowy and plush against hers. If a kiss was all it took to wring noises like that from him, she couldn’t help but be curious what noises he’d make if she put her hands places that weren’t his hair...

When he swallowed and cleared his throat, she snapped out of her stupor and chewed on her slice, turning back to the TV.

Half an hour later, neither of them had said anything. At some point, Y/N had taken the half-eaten pizza into the kitchen, and bought back a bottle of water for Spencer, who nodded in gratitude, but the awkward silence remained.

They snuck glances at each other, but it became apparent they didn’t know how to be civil with one another.

“So,” Y/N started clumsily. “You done anything interesting on your leave? “I- uh-“ he cleared his throat “-Re-read some of my favourite works in their original languages, I wanted to see if they held any nuances that got lost in their translation.” “Interesting,” Y/N said. “I imagine that killed time for about a day.”

“Yeah, it didn’t take long,” Reid laughed quietly. “I’ve spent the rest of the time writing to my mother and watching Doctor Who.” “It’s a good show. Tennant is the superior Doctor.” “Naturally,” Reid agreed, shockingly enough. “Although I’m partial to Eccleston for nostalgic reasons.”

“Who’s your favourite sidekick?” “Donna Noble,” he replied. “I think she had the most character, and her personality complimented The Doctor well.” “I thought Martha was cool, too,” Y/N said. “Even though she was obviously just a rebound for The Doctor to try to get over Rose.” “Some of my favourite episodes are from when Martha was on the show,” he told her and she smiled, smally at him.

“Really?” “Yeah! ‘The Waters of Mars’ was incredible!” Y/N felt her heart flutter at the way his eyes lit up and his mouth broke into a wide grin, deciding to ignore it. “Oh, God, that’s the one where the water’s poisoned and makes the people at the station into- like- zombies, right?” Y/N asked, twisting around in her seat to face him properly. “That freaked me out. Like the one in the library.”

“Where River Song is first introduced?”

The conversation flowed with an ease that was unfamiliar to them after that, and it turned out they had a lot more in common than either of them thought.

It wasn’t long before they were sifting through Y/N’s streaming service subscription, settling on a horror movie they were both fond of.

The Fly.

“You know, even with the clunky visual effects, this movie is still incredible,” Reid commented quietly, not looking away from the screen.

“Probably because it’s a romantic tragedy more than a horror movie,” Y/N said. “It doesn’t need to rely on visuals, the story-telling does most of the heavy lifting.” She turned to him. “Although the ‘clunky visual effects’ are better than some CGI I’ve seen recently.” Reid laughed at that and nodded. “Yeah, I can’t argue with that,” he said.

This was too weird, and it was making Y/N itch. It was making Y/N come closer to giving in to the urge to press her mouth to his.

“Shocking,” she said, drily, trying to shift their dynamic to what it normally was. “You usually contradict me every chance you get.” Reid stopped laughing and cast her a side-ways glance.

“I’m simply correcting you,” he said.

“My asshole you are,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “And don’t start with the whole ‘people who curse are less intelligent’ shit, or I will throw you out, pizza and all.” “And to think we managed to have several civil conversations,” he groaned, taking a sip of his water and rolling his eyes. “Well, it was nice while it lasted.” “I’m being perfectly civil,” Y/N said, knowing full-well that she wasn’t. “Just admit that you get off on proving to everyone that you’re smarter than them.” “You have no idea what I get off on,” he snapped, turning to her. When their eyes met, time stilled for a moment.

She’d never noticed before how his deep, brown eyes flashed gold in the light.

“What do you get off on then?”

The question had escaped her lips without her permission, and she abruptly snapped it closed as they looked at each other with wide eyes.

“What?” he asked wearing a look of pure shock, like he didn’t even believe he’d heard her correctly.

“Nothing!” she practically squawked, looking away from him and ignoring the feeling of her cheeks heating up.

“Did you just ask me what I get off on?” he choked out, looking incredulously at you as you awkwardly looked at him, looking away again immediately.

“Pfffft, no,” you lied, stupid as he’d clearly heard her.

“You totally did!”

“Okay, so maybe I did,” she admitted. “It kinda just slipped out, I don’t actually wanna know.” “Don’t you?” he asked, voice dropping into a husky tone she didn’t know he was capable of.

She gaped at him, not even knowing what to say. “I-“

“I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me since we kissed,” he told her, leaning forward. “Your eyes keeping dropping to my lips, and your pupils dilate when they do.” He leaned in closer to her. “You also keep absentmindedly biting, licking and playing with your lower lip when you look at me.” “…So?” she asked, not denying it. They both know he was too good a profiler to lie to, especially about something he’d observed himself.

“So, you can’t stop thinking about it,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “And you want to do it again.” When she didn’t say anything, he moved closer to her, so close, in fact, that they could feel each other’s breath puffing onto their faces.

“Do you want to know why I really asked you if I could come over tonight?” he asked, lips so close to hers it was agony.

“Why?” she asked breathlessly.

“Because I want that, too.” She gave in.

With both of her hands on his cheeks, she dragged him the extra inch forward and slotted her mouth against his, swallowing down a keen that threatened to bubble out at the contact. His long, deft fingers gripped her waist and pulled her closer to him, and she followed his pull as elegantly as she could to land in his lap.

Immediately, and like she’d been wishing she could do for a long month, she sunk her fingers back into those brown curls and tugged. The soft noise he made against her lips was hardly the high-pitched whine that had haunted her, but it was enough to make her double her efforts, pressing her body against his and kissing him with poorly hidden aggression. He matched her sudden ferocity, sliding his hands around to her ass and squeezing hard enough to have her breath stuttering out of her chest. When he chuckled against her mouth, she bit down on his lower lip, just a quick tug in between her teeth, but it was enough to make him gasp, and she took that as her opportunity to pull his head back by his hair and look down at him.

Eyes blown out, cheeks flushed pink and his lower lip already kiss-swollen, he already looked like a mess.

“God, I want to fucking ruin you,” she hissed, grinding down over his hips and grinning wickedly at the firmness she felt against her. He whined, his eyes flicking upwards momentarily before he refocused on her face. “Please do,” he gasped, rocking his hips up against her, gripping her ass again.

“Already begging?” she teased. He glared at her, but it was hollow, before he reached up to grab the back of her neck and drag her to his lips again.

When their lips crushed against each other’s, Y/N’s hands immediately started to rip at Reid’s shirt, almost ripping the buttons off in her haste to get it off him. He whined into her mouth at her aggression, reluctantly taking his hands off her to slide the sleeves of his button up off his arms, leaving his chest bare to her. She raked her nails down his chest, trails of pink following her fingertips, and he arched into her with a sweet keen. She pinched his nipple with one hand, and he gasped. Taking his surprise as an opportunity, she slid her mouth across his jaw to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, pausing to bite and suck at the sensitive juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“Oh!” Reid moaned, thrusting his hips against her particularly hard at the overwhelming sensation. “Oh, God, Y/N, please.”

“Please what?” she taunted, continuing to leave marks on his neck, and continuing to tease his chest. She ground her hips against him far more firmly, speeding up her steady rhythm. “I don’t- I- Oh!” he struggled, breaking off into a whimper before he could get the words out.

“If I knew that this was all it took to get you to shut up, I’d have done it sooner,” she said, laughing cruelly when he glared at her. Still choking out a chain of whimpers and whines, he slid his hands up her tank top, cupping her breasts, long, deft fingers pinching her nipples harshly in retaliation. She squeaked, shocked, turning to him with her own glare. He gave her a paradoxically shy little smirk, proud of himself, and it infuriated her.

When she pushed herself backwards, down his legs and away from the bulge in his pants, he whined in protest. She pulled his zipper open, shoving the soft fabric of his boxers to pull his cock out, hot and heavy in her palm; it was bigger that she thought it would be, definitely bigger than average, and delightfully thick.  “Oh, God, what are you going to do with me?” he asked, voice breathless and desperate as he tried to buck into her hand, whining when her weight on his lap meant he couldn’t drive up enough to get any real friction.

“I’m gonna use you,” she told him, stroking his cock deliberately slow, squeezing around his sensitive head.

“Oh, fuck!”

“Until you can’t even think anymore.”

Nodding enthusiastically and gripping her hips, he tried to drag her back towards him, but she tsk’d. She placed a hand on his chest to push him onto the couch and used the leverage to stand up. Slowly, she began to push the waistband of her shorts down, the way he stared at the movement as though hypnotised flooded her brain with a heady feeling of power. “Reid?” she cooed, and it looked like it took a tremendous amount of effort for him to drag his eyes from her hips to her face.

“Ye-yeah?” he stuttered out, almost absentmindedly reaching for his cock and fisting himself in a loose grip. She bit her lip as she watched the tentative movement. “Do you have any condoms?” she asked, hoping to God he said yes. The hope was foiled when he looked at her with an expression of panic.

“No, shit, no, I don’t,” he huffed, and she could see him calling himself an idiot in his own head.

“Fuck it, I’m clean and on birth control,” she said. “Are you-?”

“Yes, I’m clean, Y/N,” he said, a pleading look on his face. “God, I’ve been thinking about this for a whole month, please don’t make me wait.” Ordinarily, she’d tease him, but seeing as she had felt exactly the same way, she finished sliding her shorts down her legs, leaving them on the floor as she straddled him once again. She pushed her hips down on his, grinding her wet pussy over the throbbing heat of his cock and they both gasped. “Please, don’t tease,” he begged, looking up at her with the saddest puppy dog eyes. “Just fuck me, oh my God, please.”

“Eager,” she teased and slapped her ass in retaliation, making her yelp and jolt forward, making her wetness slide over his cock once again. She started grinding down deliberately hard to get back at him.

He threw his head back and gasped, and she took that as a chance to start sucking and nibbling on the column of his throat.

It didn’t take long before he was whining in that sweet, sweet way that made her head spin. “Please!” he whimpered desperately, pushing his hips up to meet her movements, and she relented. Pulling away from his neck, she lifted herself up before sinking down on his cock.

“Fuck!” “Oh, God!”

He was fully inside of her, stretching her out in a dull ache as her adjusted to him. “Fuck, you’re so big,” she mumble, gently starting to rock as the ache lessened. He didn’t respond, and the glazed look in his eyes made her question if he’d even heard her. He grabbed her ass, kneading the firm flesh in a way she thoroughly appreciated.

Slowly, she started bouncing, and he screwed his eyes shut, whimpering quietly at the almost overwhelming feeling of her hot, wet pussy squeezing him. “You feel like heaven,” he whispered, jaw going slack as she started moving faster.

It didn’t take long before they we both panting, flushed and desperate as the moved against each other. At some point, Reid had wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck, licking and sucking and biting wherever he could reach.

Y/N sunk her hands into his hair, gripping it tightly to keep him there as the brutal pace she had set brought her closer to the edge. The way he was practically sobbing into her neck told her he was close, too.

“Reid,” she panted, pulling his head away from her neck by his hair. He looked up at her, flushed cheeks and mouth hanging open, eyebrows hitched and eyes watery. He looked so fucked out she couldn’t help the pride that rushed through her. “Are you close, baby?” she asked him with a cruel smirk, and he nodded pathetically, crying out when she gripped his hair tighter to cease the movement.

“Please,” he begged. “I’m so close!” “Don’t you dare cum before I do,” she hissed, leaning back a little so the hand that wasn’t in his hair could rub her clit.

“I’m trying, I’m trying, but you feel so good! Ah, ah, please cum, please cum, please cum!”

His begging, desperate and needy, pushed her over the edge, her fingers on her clit and his cock filling her up as she toppled over the precipice of her orgasm. She cried out his name as her walls shuddered around him, dragging him over too. He cried out, louder than he had before as his orgasm wreaked havoc on his body, his legs shaking and tears finally dropping onto his cheeks. He babbled an incoherent stream of pleas as oversensitivity kicked in, crying that it was too much as she rode her own orgasm.

Her bouncing slowed to a still and she fell against him, both breathing heavily and flushed.

It took several minutes for both to catch their breath, and for coherent thought to be functional again.

Y/N hurried into the bathroom to clean herself up and tried to not spiral into panic; not only had she has sex with a coworker and totally violated the fraternisation policies at the bureau she’d had sex with Reid. Worse, she realised she didn’t regret it. She should, but she doesn’t, and she has never believed in being guilty about things that don’t warrant guilt.

She supposed it was harmless, really. Honestly, if they had this new way of working out their animosity towards each other, they’d probably be more pleasant to be around.

So, really, fucking him was for the good of the team.

Yeah, I’m totally doing it for the team, she told herself as she finished cleaning herself up.

When she left the bathroom and returned to the living room, his shirt was back on his body and his cock was tucked back into his pants. He was sitting there looking so awkward it was painful, and he didn’t look at her when she sat beside him.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly, and she sighed. “No, we shouldn’t have,” she agreed. He nodded, eyes not moving from his hands where they were folded in his lap. “So, what now?” he asked.

“I have condoms in my dresser,” she offered, laughing when his head shot up and he looked at her so incredulous it would have been offensive if it wasn’t so funny. “You don’t want to do it again?” “No, no, I do,” he rushed out with pinkening cheeks. “I just didn’t think that you’d want to! “Well, I do,” she said matter-of-factly before standing up and walking towards the bedroom. When he didn’t immediately follow, she turned around with a raised eyebrow. “Are you coming or not?” she asked.

Reid had quite possibly never moved so fast in his life as he followed her giggles to her bedroom.

[transwolfsmut]

CW. Force feminization followed by soft force masc, some intox. Older cis guy 4 younger trans guy; I imagine them as being around 45 and 22 but adjust as you please in your imagination.

This is an erotic fantasy. IRL I do not condone any way of disrespect towards trans bodies and identities; and I'm an adult trans man + gender fluid.

You've been for a while at the bar when you notice I've been watching you. You've come here on your own, unwinding after a though week. I've seen you have a cheeseburger and 2-3 beers while I drink some harder liquor. You are a cute boy and you catched my attention right away with your alt clothing, like you're trying very hard to look rugged and masc. I knew that you're trans, it's not my first time around you boys and I've never hidden how much I like your smaller hands, your curvy bodies, your chin fuzz, your masculine ways, your smell, your taste. You get startled when you notice you're being watched by a handsome middle aged man who smiles at you when you lock eyes with him. For a split second you feel this weird sense of opposing gender envy and sexual attraction, looking at my salt-and-pepper beard, the chiseled jawline, how good the shirt falls into my chest, the insinuated bulge in my jeans. The hairs of your nape stand and your eyes nervously go back to the remaining fries on your plate when you see me pick up my glass and walk towards you. I sit next to you and your heart is pounding.

I introduce myself and offer a hand to shake. You aren't the guy that is used to talking to strangers but there's something in my voice that makes you feel relaxed, almost hypnotized. You notice a tiny trans flag enamel pin on my denim jacket and you wonder if I'm trans or an ally- either way it makes you feel safe and start to relax around me. I offer to buy you a drink and when you ask for another beer I laugh a bit. "No, kid, you've gotta drink like a grown man." I ask for a couple more drinks, same of what I've been drinking before. I drink it down in a gulp and lock my eyes into yours, waiting for you to do the same. You do so, nervous. The liquor burns in your throat and warmth rushes beneath your skin. I smile, it's a pretty smile. I ruffle your hair. "There you are, my man." You blush. You didn't get annoyed at me ruffling your hair, it actually felt good to be petted like a good dog.

We go on talking and I go on getting you drunk. You know I am. You're getting dizzy, you laugh, you're enjoying the company, you finally feel relieved from the week's stress. Making a friend, that's something you didn't expect tonight. It feels good, the attention of an older man who actually shows interest in you, your chit chat about the stuff that you like. You lean your head on my shoulder for a second and then you jolt back to sitting straight, you've gotten too comfortable around me and feel ashamed. You don't even know if I'm into men, but you've felt kinda attracted to me. Is it the liquor? Is it the loneliness? Is it my musky scent, the protective aura around me? I grope your leg, a bit too close to your crotch. "Let's get somewhere more private." I suggest in a whisper. Your eyes widen, you blush and nod without looking at me.

I pay for the consumption and we leave the bar. "Are you out of your mind!?!?" Your brain screams at you, but you don't stop. You follow me into my car, you gasp when I lean into you and kiss you, you are melting at the way my beard tickles you and how I'm exploring the inside of your mouth with my tongue. I hold the hair of the back of your head brusquely and pull you away from me. "You ok with this, man?" I ask. You nod, speechless. I smile. "Fine, let's go home".

My place is nothing special, the small apartment you'd expect from a single man. I am groping your butt as I push you to the bedroom and into my bed. It's fluffy and comfortable. You'd happily sleep away the intoxication of the alcohol but I'm quickly on top of you and you realize my erection is rubbing on you bum. I lick your ear, and you roll on the bed to face me. "God, you're so handsome" I compliment as my hand creeps down between your legs. I rub on your bits through the hard fabric of your denim pants, and in the moment you moan, I step away. You're a bit perplexed, then you see me strip away from my jacket and shirt and go to the nightstand to grab a joint I carefully pre-rolled before I left the house. "You don't mind?" I ask, while already blazing it up. You shrug. You've done pot before, maybe had some edibles, but that shit I'm smoking definitely smells stronger than anything you've had before. I offer the joint. You take it, smoke from it and cough violently. "Good boy" I say while I again caress the spot between your legs. You smoke some more and the movements of my hand get more pleasurable. You soon realize I'm rewarding you- the more you smoke, the better it feels down there. You're feeling so relaxed, it feels good to let your guard down. You let me strip you from your pants and I start eating you out. I'm careful to only lick your clit, I'm not going anywhere near your hole. I mean your dick. But it's so small I can't think of it as anything than a clit. I notice you're getting wet. You're too high to offer any resistance when I grab you and place you in the middle of the bed, undoing your shoes and taking away every piece of clothing except for your binder. I take off the remaining of my clothing and lean on you, rubbing my boner on your pubic area.

"You want it inside of you". I whisper in your ear. You gasp. "You do want it inside, don't you?" You nod, you shake your head, uncertain. "Oh, puppy, don't deny it. Your body knows." I tap on your bits and a sweet splotchy sound confirms you're soaking wet. "You wouldn't be so naturally lubed up if you didn't want it". My cock is teasing at your hole. "It wouldn't feel so good if you didn't need to be filled". It's just one inch of me going inside of you, parting your labia. "You wouldn't spread open like this if your body wasn't made for this." You moan, as you feel me slowly penetrate you. "Your body wouldn't have this precious hole if it wasn't meant to be filled with cock". You feel it moving inside you. You suddenly realized I never put on a condom, but you're so dazed by the alcohol, the weed and the pleasure to care. I catch up speed, going in and out of you. "You wouldn't enjoy cock in your pussy so much if you weren't made for this... To pleasure males". You open your mouth, you want to protest but only more moaning comes out as I rub your clit while pumping my penis inside of you. "Oh you wanna say something?" I pull out and force you to open your mouth and take my cock covered in your wetness. "Can you detect those? The taste of your vagina, the smell of my balls? The natural distinction of your body and mine?" You're choking on my cock the further into your mouth I push it and face fuck you while I extend a hand behind me to reach into your clit and rub it. It feels both pleasurable and degrading. "I'm gonna pull out and you will say Yes, Sir" I tell you. I wait for one more minute before I do so. You gasp for air, confused and dripping spit. "Yes, Sir" you hear your own voice reply, but it doesn't feel like your own. "Good girl" I whisper in your ear as I ram back inside your pussy and it clenches around my shaft, your hips move by mere instinct in reaction to my own movements.

You hear your voice moaning, and yet it doesn't seem like your own. You're making high pitched girly noises while some guy you met in a bar is fucking your cunt. Perhaps it's the anonymity of being strangers what's allowing you to show yourself like this. Perhaps it's all the booze and the weed that's brought down your defenses. Perhaps it was me who saw through a crack in your stoic mask and knew what you needed. Some good thick cock pumping away all the worries. Your mind is drifting away when I pull out from you, panting. We're not done yet, and you know it so you just remain on the bed. You see me take something out of a drawer.

"It's ok, my man. Let her have this." I tell you before ripping your binder with a pocket knife. I have quickly and masterfully picked up the fabric with one hand while I ran the blade with the other hand, making it slide between your boobs. Just a tiny and swift caress of the knife on the center of your chest, and it feels like I just cut through some energetic field of yours. You fall into the mattress, your binder now like an open vest revealing your tummy and your chest, your tits bouncing liberated from the restriction. You feel ashamed and free. How come? This opposing sensations clash in your brain and before you can even start to process it, I'm grabbing your tits and my mouth latches onto one of your nipples. I lick on your nipples- going back and forth between the right one and the left one- I'm making a circular motion with my hands that feel just right and then I suck on your nipples and press on your breasts as if I wanted to milk you. "You're just divine, sweet one. To be praised, to be corrupted. I want to do so many things to you." My voice is jumping between need and authority. I start to finger you, circling between using a single finger to press directly into your G spot, using two fingers to explore deeper and three of them to dilate your pussy before I use it again with my cock. "I know you're a boy but let's be honest, you're enjoying being my sweet girl. Don't you?" You nod. You obey when I make you take off what's left of your binder and and get on all fours. "Say you want this". My dick is pressing at your opening, my hands are making circles on your buttocks. "I want this." You confess in a whisper. "I need this". Your teeth tighten around your words, you're too ashamed to actually say how much you need this and it feels so good to finally admit it. "You're such a good girl" I say when my cock slides back into you and you gasp with pleasure, feeling it go as deeply as possible and poke at your cervix. It's a bit painful but you can take it. "You were made for this. Your body was made to take cock like this. It's ok. Your body knows it's female and it doesn't matter your mind is that of a man. It feels good to be bred." I grab your titties and milk them while I fuck you deeper and faster. "A horny, eager female boy that was desperate to serve his purpose, her purpose. To be filled with cock and please a real male man". You feel me making circles very deep inside of you feel your body twitch in pleasure like never before. "Say you're my girl." I'm stroking your clit with one hand, grabbing your hip with the other and giving you additional movement so my cock digs more aggressively into your cunt. "Say you are my girl." You're so close. Your legs are shaking and your body is dripping sweat. You feel your heartbeat deep inside your vagina. "Say you are my girl". You feel it coming from inside, this heat, this thundering wave. You raise your upper body from the mattress. I'm sort of kneeling and you're sitting on my thighs, my penis buried inside of you. Your hips bouncing up and down, taking the penetration desperate for release. "I'm your girl!" You are almost screaming. "I'll be a girl for you!" You cum. It's massive. A release like never before. You've squirted on me and soon you realize my own cum is dripping from your cunt. The sticky heat makes you shiver, and you feel me make a few more circular movements around your cervix before I pull out and my cock rests between your labia. You look downwards and see your own body. Your exposed breasts and my penis between your legs. It sort of looks like if it was your own dick. Your brain is confused. Your mind, your gender and your sex feel like static.

I push you softly down into the bed, I caress your hair. Your eyes close, and your body goes limp with drowsiness. You hear me walk to the bathroom and move some stuff there. I come to you and lead you to the bathroom where I have set up a small chair, where you now sit. I make you raise your head, holding your chin. I gaze into your face, still blushing from the intense sex. I comb your hair and start trimming it. You're so deep down into your subspace you just let me do whatever I want to your hair. I use an electric clipper and some scissors on you, like a soft caress. "A man like you deserves a good haircut" I whisper in your ear as you feel the hairs falling on your shoulders. "You'll make one lovely gentleman". You feel the cool air in your scalp, it's refreshing.

I lead you into the shower and let the warm water carry away the trimmed hairs away from your shoulders. Your body relaxes and feels safe as you allow me to bathe you, a certain sense of danger that was lingering from having a stranger do all those nasty things to you is washed away. You know you are safe with me. The smell of soap and stereotypical male scented shampoo fill your nosetrils. I take a bit too long to wash your genitals, rubbing my hand between your labia and making you tremble from the stimulation, but I stop as soon as I see you're getting too excited about it. I wrap you in a towel, and take you back into the bedroom. You are smiling goofily when I show you a mirror and let you look at your brand new haircut. It suits you fine. A rush of gender euphoria jolts up your spine, and your sense of gender is no longer mixed up. The smells of the bath, the haircut- you already feel more manly.

You see me grab some stuff from my clothes drawer and you look in awe as I hand you a brand new binder, much better than the one I just ripped while fucking you. You had forgotten about it, distracted by all the pleasure. "You wouldn't think I'd leave you without any means to flatten your chest, right? Go, on try it". A thought crosses your mind: did I just have a drawer full of binders in different sizes or have I been watching you for days or even weeks and calculated your size? Do I do this often to other trans guys? You shake the thought away and you put the binder on. It fits great. You put your shirt back on and just before pull your underwear up, I get close to you coming from behind, feral. You feel a pinch in your buttock. You turn around hastily and find out I've got an injection in my hand. Your eyes widen, confused; your heart starts racing, afraid. It lasts only a second because I show you a vial of testosterone. The fear becomes surprise and then exhilaration. I've just injected you T. You hadn't started before, this is the first time the hormone enters your body. You want to get angry at me for doing so without telling but you can't, you're just amazed as the possibility of changes open up in your mind. I turn around to deposit the vial and injection in a shelf and grab something more from my closet.

I stick my hand down your undies and you feel something different: I'm shoving a packer in between your legs. You didn't have one when you arrived at my place. "A man needs his own dick" I whisper as I pull my hand out to rub your new soft dick over your clothing. I push you to the wall and masturbate your new dick while grinding my own on you. "Maybe next time I'll fuck you in the ass, make you take it as men do". You moan, about to cum again. "That shot I gave you will make you insufferably horny. You'll have to get back to me, to this place, so you can get more of that T-juice and to get fucked... Who knows? Maybe one day I'll allow you to top me". I squish your balls and jerk you off strategically, you feel the packer pressing against your bits in just the perfect way so it feels like it's your own penis. "Will you come back?" You nod. I rub you faster and harder. "You're such a good boy". You cum. You surrender. You're mine. My girl. My boy. All of you. Mine.

[heartofmorioh]

Being transmasc is weird because I still feel connected to a lot of aspects of girlhood. But when I express that part of myself, I feel like I'm too feminine to pass as a boy. And I WANT to pass as a boy. Above all, I am a boy. But the more masculine I start to feel, the more afraid I get that people are going to become scared of me. That I'll become part of "Men DNI" or "I hate all men". It's scary to think that people would view me as a threat.

On one end of the spectrum, there's not being seen as who I am. On the other end, there's being seen as an abuser. And I don't know how to find the balance.

[emdotcom]

I 100% don't get people that think sexualities or identities that are "too confusing" can't or shouldn't exist. Like, bub, my gender is a mystery wrapped in an enigma behind a puzzle to everyone, myself included, & you DON'T think that's cool AF??

[tumblweeds-omegaverse]

random omegaverse thought:

There must be people who experience specific instinct things with indifference or boredom.

Procreative cycle coming up? "Crap, I've got plans this weekend...stupid skip weeks."

Caught an intriguing scent while walking? "But I need to get to work! Shut up brain."

Had a snap response to a distressed sound? "Who was it?! ...right, it's my day off, I can go back to sleep."

Somebody growled at them? "Kid, I'm not a rival, that's my sibling."

Super cozy cuddle session happening nearby? "I'm gonna pass tonight guys, no social battery left, maybe next time."

Group of friends heading out to flirt and check out other singles? "I'm coming with you but only to make sure you all get home safe."

Setting where fated mates or soul bonds or permanent marks are a thing? "Meh. I don't really want one or care if I ever get one."

People in the actual omegaverse would get as bored of their stuff, as we do of ours, you know? It could be interesting to see that kind of vibe in fics. Biological demands faced with all the excitement of paying bills or doing laundry or tying your shoes.

Even if that kind of energy might not drive a plot, it could be interesting to have as a contrast to the people who do have big feelings about them - good or bad.

There's the friends who can't wait til they have a pack of their own, and the one friend who isn't against it but couldn't care less. There's the group in the office who are all about scent compatibility tests and figuring out one's best match and what sprays most highlight it, and the coworker who has no intentions on putting that much effort in. There are parents who hover and protect their offspring by scenting them multiple times a day, and others who don't see what the fuss is as long as it's done in the morning.

...also: packs with introverts who show care by giving each other space. So often, closeness is depicted through physical touch and tactile affection, but comfortable silence is meaningful too. Knowing people are near, but not having to interact until you're ready. Sitting in the same room doing different things, knowing that all it takes is a "hey, look at this" to share what you're up to. People understanding and accepting each other's differing or fluctuating needs for how and when to recharge. Seeing somebody reaching out or sharing space, beyond what's their norm, as a signal of the fact that they care.

[iridescentis]

i have to try so hard not to get upset when i have conversations with my family about love and sexuality because i know they will never understand anything outside of amatonormativity but fuck it hurts

being told that i will never have a best friend who will want to be with me forever because 'everyone will eventually leave because everyone wants to fall in love and build a family' just gets to me even though i know there are people who want that but it's just so hard to remember when no one in my life does

[spacebunniesmha]

It's been hella irritating seeing people misunderstand ochako's character, again, because they lack reading comprehension.

Ochako not getting with izuku doesn't make her a bad person, coming from an izuocha shipper. She didn't stop talking to him because he doesn't have a quirk but because their days off don't coincide. People can be close and not have to time to talk, especially in their adult lives.

She also didn't ghost izuku, as many people are saying. Like I said above, She cannot find the time to talk with izuku as often because of their schedules. Infact, that applies to all of class 1-A because some of you think bakugo isn't included in that and use it to bash on the other class 1-A members.

I think it's disgusting that people are making her out to be a golddigger or something because of how things played out even though, in the end, she didn't have romantic connections with anybody. She's more focused on making the world a better place and that's admirable.

[themthistles]

i think that while micro labels can seem useful and affirming ultimately they're isolating and kind of an obstacle to your understanding of self. that's because you can never find a word specific enough. there will never be a label or two labels or even ten, twenty of them to perfectly capture and describe all of your thoughts, feelings, experiences, preferences, needs, interests, identities, etc. because you learn more and more about yourself every day and then you change and your wants and needs change with you. having to hop between labels, fearing that you don't 'fit' into a label anymore (both in your own and others eyes), worrying how soon your current label will wear out, questioning if you'll ever fully fit a single one. all that causes a lot of uncertainty and anxiety which could be avoided by just picking a more general thing and molding it according to what it means to YOU. because words will always mean different things to different people, you will never be understood immediately and maybe never completely by anyone but yourself and that's fine

[lunarharp]

wip thing...

of my bg3 avatar hellebore. i also did some casual nude studies of my 3 characters which i'll put under a cut... rather unlike me after all. (so WARNING for abrupt non-sexual full Artistic nudity lol...,,,,) (< won't be making a habit of this)

they mean the world to me

[papaziggy-devblog]

I'm currently jumping in and out of the closet because I'm so confused and can't make up my mind I keep thinking I'm one thing and then I think I'm another mama please help

This is also fine!

Some people's process is smoother than others! And thats perfectly normal uvu

Just take a breath and and take it one day at a time, there's nothing wrong with flipflopping or even going under multiple labels until you find that fits you!

And even then if you think you find one that fits you and then 3-4 years down the line you feel its not quite right and wanna hop to another go ahead! You do you and do what feels comfy!

Its all a never ending, swirling spectrum bay-beeee

[lucifer-kane]

I call myself transmasc sometimes and like I don't think that's fully It. Like My identity fluctuates a lot and especially in the last like 1-2 years especially since I've been dressing in more 'fem' styled outfits because there's something comfortable about them vs how I wanted to crawl out of my skin when I was a teen at the mere thought of wearing a dress. It's a thing if I think going on T at a low dose hypothetically would be for me, but I'd still want to wear the dresses and stuff (if safe). But I wouldn't consider myself femme even in those moments. I wont ever be fully androgynous because of the way I'm built and I don't really want to be (even if people did call me sir or someone asked my dad about 'his son' when I had my head buzzed and wore a binder)

I think it's why I've settled on genderfluid/queer because it's easier, I think the only thing I'd think about doing presentation wise outside of T is a breast reduction just for the sake of pain and maybe being less wonky in some outfits. But in general gender is so weird. I don't think it ever really made sense to me and I've always been pretty apathetic towards it even before I knew what being trans was (I only found out about all that stuff when I was like. 17. Like. Fully understood it)

It's mostly just a thing of I don't want people to see me as a woman or a man, neither really masc nor fem even if I dress in either of those styles, I'm just wearing what's comfortable to me in whatever moment it might be.

And lastly actually the whole being fat and trans thing is such a different struggle as well like it sucks so bad. It makes things harder and annoying and frustrating.

[mingot-studios]

I'm sorry I've been so angry lately

I just have a lot of feelings about op I only know how to express them though anger and personal attacks because it's feels better than the alternative of crushing despair and hopelessness in the face of insurmountable odds and unimaginable horrors and the worst of humanity :(

I WANNA GO BACK TO WANO!! 😭

(read tags for further traumadump)

[finexbright]

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