hi! I just wanted to say I think your writing is so good and you seem like a lovely person 🥰 I’m hoping to request a post prison Spencer smut. Basically it’s when he’s just been released and he’s so touch starved and possessive over you? I’m such a sucker for prison Reid I can’t 😅
A/N: Nothing hotter than a man who looks like he has been through hell, and dear GOD, is post-Prison Spencer DELECTABLE. Thank you for your request!
Warnings: 18+, minors dni. Penetrative sex, creampie, slight dom/sub themes, use of pet names, spoilers for s12 of Criminal Minds, mentions of prison, mentions of blood/ wounds and injuries sustained in prison.
The seconds ticked down as you waited for the key to be pushed into the lock, the door to swing open and for your life to be put back together. 84 days and you were on edge, almost three months without him.
Your leg shook as you waited, heard the footsteps coming up the hall. You stood, wiping the sweat off your hands and taking a deep breath.
You hadn't been allowed to visit Spencer in prison, his teammates taking priority as they worked to keep him safe, to get him out. You hadn't seen him in three months, though you'd moved yourself into his house to be able to wrap yourself in his scent, haunt yourself with his presence.
He wasn't a ghost anymore, as he opened the door and you found your eyes on Spencer Reid for the first time in too long.
“Spencer,” you voice was pathetically small, as if you didn't trust him to be real anymore. You supposed that was probably justified. Your entire body was on edge as you looked him up and down.
Before, he'd keep himself clean shaved, but you found yourself greatly appreciative of the stubble framing his face. He'd never been the best at taking care of his hair, and now it looked perfectly ready for you to run your hands through. His clothes were still messy and by god did you want to grab the lapels of his jacket and pull him back into you.
“You're still here,” his voice was nearly as weak as your own, as if he'd not used it for nearly as much as it should've been used. “I know they said you were but… god I'm so happy you're still here.”
He took a step closer to you and pulled you towards him. You weren't used to Spencer initiating physical contact like this, his hands strong and certain on your hips as he grabbed you, one hand coming up to the back of your head to cradle it and push you further into him.
You melted into the touch, finally feeling warm after the coldest spring of your life.
“You can't get rid of me that easily, Spencer.”
“Good,” he said, tilting your head up and not hesitating even one beat before he pushed his lips against yours. His grip was hot as you let out a soft moan into his mouth, taken aback by his sudden affection.
Before prison, you'd been quietly intimate. A soft kiss here and there, and some awkward and tender sex. While you didn't mind your earlier boundaries, you certainly weren't mourning them now, gripping his shirt tighter as his tongue began exploring you. You'd been happy just to be in his presence before, but now you needed to be so close that you could no longer find where his body stopped and yours started.
When you lifted your leg, he instantly took your hint and pulled you up, holding you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist.
Not breaking from your kiss for longer than a breath, he dropped everything to carry you back to the bedroom.
“84 days.” You gasped between kisses as he dropped you on the bed, falling down with you as he moved his attention to your neck, your chest, your bared throat.
A growl was all the reply he had to that, knowing instantly what you were talking about, but needing to feel you more, to pull comfort from the warmth of your body.
“84 days and I thought with each of them that I would never do it again. You're never leaving me again, I wouldn't survive. I'd refuse.”
“84 days, 7 hours, 23 minutes. Every lone moment thinking about this and you, and being here again,” he said, pulling back again to stare directly at your bared soul.
“I need to feel you now, Y/N. Please, be a good girl and let me.”
If you could will your own clothes away, you would've at that moment, already aware of the mounting pleasure pooling between your legs.
Instead, Spencer handled it for you, tearing where he couldn't unbutton fast enough, divesting you of shirt and skirt and beginning to work your underwear slowly down your legs. At the same time, you pushed yourself up, scrambling to unbutton his own shirt, moaning in frustration as you struggled to get it pushed off his shoulders.
“Spencer, clothes off, now,” you begged, and he finally paused for a second.
“I'm different. Not a lot, but there are some…wounds. Don't be alarmed.”
“Spencer, if you think a few cuts and bruises are going to dampen the absolute desire I have burning for you, you are dumber than I thought.” Taking his momentary surprise to your advantage, you pushed him up and straddled his lap, sitting together with him as you rid him of his clothes.
You traced hands over every ridge of his skin, trying to document every change and appreciate every line. Tracing your way downward, you let your hand disappear into his lap as you looked up at him again, catching his eye as your fingers unbuttoned his pants.
His hand stroked lazily across your cunt but his eyes locked with yours and you found yourself aching with a need for him.
Before, he'd been thorough about foreplay, making sure you were absolutely ready for him, ensuring your pleasure and bringing you to climax before he even palmed himself through his pants.
It was generous, and everything you didn't want right now. You needed him to get everything he'd missed, needed to see him relaxed, pleasured, sunk deep inside of you and losing himself with each stroke.
You softly pressed a kiss to his lips, releasing him from his pants. A few strokes was enough to have him at full mast, and in another moment you were pushing yourself up on your knees and sinking back down.
Three months and you'd almost forgotten how perfectly he filled you, steadying yourself with hands on his shoulders as you bit back a whorish moan.
“Good girl, just like I remember…” his words came out slurred, as of he were drunk on the feeling of you, intoxicated as you began rocking your hips up and down his length.
“I'm better than you remembered,” you mumbled, stroking the small soft curls at the base of his neck. It was ridiculous being jealous of your past self, but god did you want to grab the you of January and shake her within an inch of her life.
You'd tell her to grab Spencer Reid and never let him go, to make him spend his entire life filling you up, to pleasure him until he hadn't a single thought of going anywhere.
You kept up your pace, riding him at an even pace, making sure to lower yourself down as far as you could manage without becoming a moaning mess, but soon the pleasure became overwhelming.
Spencer kept one hand working over your clit, and you had to resist falling apart in his hands, determined to pleasure him before you thought of taking that same ecstasy for yourself.
“It's okay, Y/N, you can let go. I know how long you've waited for this,” his words were soft but his tone was demanding, ordering you to cum on his cock. He lifted his hips slightly, grabbing your hips in his hand as he took charge of the pace and strength of your thrusts, going harder and faster than you'd been able to manage.
You loathed to give up control, bit your body betrayed you, thighs shaking as you gave into his wishes, cumt clenching around him as you rode out your orgasm.
“That's it, nice and tight for me.” He grunted the words into your ear as he really took control. Tipping you until you were again flat on your back, he lifted his hips up and let his pace speed up, rutting into you deeply as he breathed in your scent, head buried in your hair, arms tight around your waist.
You moaned for him, knowing he loved every sound that passed your lips, knowing that he craved the knowledge of your pleasure.
He, too, didn't hold back. His voice filled your ear, filling your brain with every fantasy, every memory of you that had kept him alive for 84 days of hell.
Each story was lustier than the last, your mouth dropping open in a moan as you, too, imagined him in each of the scenarios he'd spent time on in prison.
You across his desk, his head between your legs in the morning, you in his cell, him inside you in public, the red scratches your nails dragged against his skin that had been commented on in the showers.
You'd guided his through 84 days of hell, and you were finally embracing him on the other side.
“Y/N, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna- shit.”
To your surprise, he didn't pull out as he usually would, but instead slammed himself deeper as he began releasing string after string of his sperm into you.
“Shit. I'm sorry I should've asked if that was…”
“I don't care. Just next time, make sure you do that again.” The feeling of his cum inside you was enough to push your body over the edge once again, and you panted as the aftershocks continued milking his cock.
“I missed you.” He whispered, pushing a few stray hairs behind your ear as he stared at you with all the love in the world.
“I missed you more.” You whispered back, and you meant it.
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Jock Cock, Part 1
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Adam Johnson, next year's star quarterback and this year's bane of my existence, looked up at me with his baby blue eyes. If he was trying to look small and unintimidating, it would have worked better without carrying 200+ pounds of muscle on a six foot frame.
Well, if he wanted to be melodramatic, two could play that game. "You know full well why I called you here, Adam." I thumped the stack of papers on my desk for emphasis. "You've been failing ECON 105 all semester, but suddenly you can score an 83% on the final exam? It's enough to get you D- in this class. It's not a perfect score, but it's still enough for you to avoid academic probation."
His face flashed with a brief moment of irritation before setting back into his normal, casual stupor. "Well, I wasn't studying before, and now I did. It's not like I scored all that great... sir."
"We both know that you don't know what 'sustainability' means, Adam. You tried to fly under the radar, you didn't cheat your way into a 100%... but it's still cheating. We both know that academic misconduct is a serious crime." I tried my best to sound stern and disappointed, but it was hard to be angry at a face this sexy.
Adam just laughed at me. "And if you could prove it, you wouldn't be calling me into a private meeting, would you?" He leaned back into a shit-eating grin, displaying his dazzling white teeth. This asshole had the upper hand, and he knew it.
"I checked every single essay!" I said, pounding the stack of papers once again. "Every essay, in every single TA's session of this class. You didn't plagiarize... but we both know this isn't your style of writing. And we watched you like a hawk during the exam itself, so you didn't cheat that way, either."
Adam leaned close into my face. "Professor Michaels has no idea that you called me in here, does he? You're just a Teaching Assistant on a power trip, and it's all because you can't stand knowing how I did it." He was right, and I hated him for it. Worse, when he stood this close to me, I could smell the musk of his body.
"Tell you what," he added, pulling off his tank top to reveal a set of firm abs. "You let me get away with this... sign off on my scores, whatever you need to do... and I'll let you live out one of your deepest, darkest fantasies." He struck a pose, showing off both his rippling muscles and his hairy pits. "We both know that you'll never get jock cock any other way. Come on, Teach. You want this."
Was I really that easy to read? "I-- I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Look, if you're going to stick to your lie about studying, then you can just leave. I don't... there's no need to insult my moral character. You're a student, Adam."
He responded by leaning in close to me, and placing his hand on top of my bulge. "Your body betrays you," he whispered, letting his fingers massage my inner thigh. "If it makes you feel better, I'm not your student. Adam and I swapped bodies so that I could take all of his final exams."
"I... yes, well..." That was the last thing I expected him to say, but it would explain a lot if it were true, somehow. It seemed much more likely than a desirable athlete like Adam coming onto me, at the very least.
"Be that as it may," I said, grabbing his hand and moving it away before my cock started leaking though my slacks, "that body still belongs to one of my students. And I still have meetings to attend today, so if we're done here..."
Adam, or the stranger in Adam's body, just laughed at me. "You're the one who wanted to have this meeting, remember? But that's fine, I know when I'm not wanted. But here's the thing-- once you submit grades at end of day, Adam's not your student anymore." He started typing something on his phone. "And honestly, I expected this from you. You're so uptight. Good thing you gave everyone your cell phone number on the syllabus at the start of the year. So if you change your mind... now you can have Adam's number, and a bonus pic from me."
"I know you don't know the real me, but trust me Kevin-- I've wanted to plow that uptight hole of your for months. And in this body, I've actually got a shot at it." The stranger slapped my ass before I could react, and swaggered out of the room. Whoever was inside of Adam's body, they knew my first name.
I looked at the retreating wall of shoulder muscles, and down at the teasing bathroom selfie the stranger sent to me. God help me, I was only human. And he was right-- how else was I going to get jock cock? He wasn't a student, not really, and that's what mattered. "You win. Tonight at 8pm, my place. Bring lube."
Check out Part 2 here.
Check out Part 3 here.
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hi gwen!! could i request a "i just wanted to hold your hand" dialogue prompt with dan heng, romantically for the 200 event? if you can't do it, it's alright! take your time with it if you can 💗
"I just wanted to hold your hand."
Are you hallucinating? Has every star in your immediate proximity exploded into a raging supernova yet? Has someone set off a gas bomb in the parlor car? Are you really lying half-dead in an infirmary somewhere, frothing at the mouth and dreaming up impossible scenarios?
Dan Heng's gaze flickers to the floor sheepishly, only for a moment, before he continues.
"That is why I have been, quote, 'staring at you like I want you dead'," he repeats your earlier remark, only meant to be a bit of harmless teasing. "I am not used to asking for... things like that."
No kidding. Ever since you began dating, nothing's really changed. You still sleep on the same pallet with the same guy in the same Astral Express archives. You still initiate all the physical contact (not like there's anything wrong with it being that way), and you definitely are the one to render him speechless - not the other way around!
"I--" you actually stutter, "you w-want to what?"
Delight erupts in your chest as he rushes to backpedal, in that constipated-but-endearing-Dan-Heng-way.
"Hold your hand. You are not obligated to," he elaborates quickly, cheeks and nose dusted with pink. "It's just a whim. You haven't been around as much lately."
That's true; you've been busy occupying Jarilo-VI while the rest of the crew has been traipsing about elsewhere. It's been an arduous separation (you cried after seeing a stray gray kitten in Rivet Town), but you didn't know it was affecting him this much. You frown.
"Don't," he warns, entirely willing.
"My love, my one and only!" you croon, giving him approximately one second to prepare before you launch yourself into his arms. On instinct, Dan Heng catches you, cradling your form with the utmost care - bespeaking any kind of declaration he could possibly make.
This is a lot more than he'd bargained for, you realize. You have to bite down your mad giggles so you can give him what he wants. Pulling back just a fraction, you fumble for his hand, stopping just shy of grazing his trembling fingers.
His admission echoes in your head - he wants to hold your hand. If you initiate, it'll be just like all the other times, just as nice... but not what he needs right now. Your top priority, though sometimes hard to tell, is to give Dan Heng exactly what he needs.
"Go on," you encourage, chin perched on his shoulder.
You feel the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows and takes ahold of your hand successfully. You were right; it is just as nice, maybe even a little nicer. You can't hold back your laughter anymore, even as you press your face into his neck (where gooseflesh just happens to be breaking out).
"Does that feel okay?"
Hidden inside Dan Heng's sudden question, you're able to decipher the underlying message with ease: 'Am I doing this right?'
Of course, there is no right way to show love. But for a man like Dan Heng, who would rather sustain a spear to the gut than take anything at all from you, it makes sense he'd need something to go off of; a basis to fall back on when the tide sweeps him under.
"Yes," you murmur, "it feels perfect."
You don't see yourself as his life-preserver or anything. Your boyfriend is perfectly capable of taking care of himself and finding his footing in gray areas - more proficient than you are, probably. However, as sappy as it may be, you're proud and overjoyed that he stepped out of his comfort zone all the same.
Sometimes he won't allow you to be so supportive (and it breaks your heart every time), so any praise has to be concealed in a plethora of entendres and the gaps of your interlocked fingers - the only time Dan Heng favors such an indirect approach.
That's just fine with you.
Maneuvering just enough to allow it, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. He sighs, tension melting from his shoulders.
"Okay," he nods, likely signaling that it's time for you to let go.
Respectfully, you take the hint, stepping back--
Then he kisses you.
His lips are chapped but warm, swallowing up your ensuing gasp. Seems like you were doubly wrong, because Dan Heng has surprised you more than he ever has in the brief window of two minutes. You're rendered speechless, alright, more than that - you feel your eyes sting as they close in tandem with his.
After the best silence of your life, he notices your tears, something like panic in that sweet, sometimes flat voice of his.
"I'm sorry, I--did I overstep?" like he'd been scorched, he pulls his hands back immediately, much to your displeasure. They only return when you positively beam, your smile shadowed by his thumb wiping away any perceived evidence of despair.
You admire his visage, marred with concern, confusion, and an ever-growing warmth. "No, never. I'm just really happy, okay? I'm so happy with you, Baobei."
...your predilection for the cheesiest pet names is concerning, you know, but he hasn't put a stop to it just yet (at least not in private).
He withdraws for real this time, eyes of crystal enchanting as always. And when you think he can't possibly surprise you anymore than he already has, he proves you wrong again.
"Then I am content. With you, I mean," he states, firm.
That's all you need, you decide, yanking Dan Heng into another embrace for round two.
🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren, @mikashisus
a/n: BELL... your brain is HUGE!! tysm for this prompt and all of your support. you're so fun to chill with and i'm glad ure my mutual :3 as for other notes, thanks seth for linking those chinese naming basics. if i used baobei incorrectly, please lmk!
event post here
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