˖ ‹ ꒰ DNI ꒱ ✿ basic dni criteria; blog is 16+ and mdni posts are 18+ but i know that people under 16 or 18 will ignore this, so all i ask is that you exercise caution and make sure you're safe online. this blog is a safe space for people to explore their sexuality and that's just part of growing up. this is a disclaimer, and i would rather only 18+ people interact with this blog, but i can't stop you. NO AI.
༊*·˚꒰ recent works ꒱ ౨ৎ slaves to any semblance of touch ☆ s. reid ₊‧⁺ ៸៸ birthday bash ☆ the B.A.U. ៸៸ ⁺‧₊ cherry ☆ s.reid ₊‧⁺ ៸៸ your lips, my lips ☆ s. reid
(all dividers are made by @/cafekitsune. thank you!!)
about me 𖧧 guidelines & fandoms (about requests) 𖧧 masterlist (coming soon...) 𖧧 taglist form
REQUESTS ARE OPEN !! feel free to request any character listed above in “guidelines & fandoms" (if wanting another, please ask!)
(i’m using tags im commonly seen in to get the word out about the second half of this post)
here’s a small explanation about where i’ve been + the whole ai thing:
1. the last time i posted, i was close to flunking one of my classes so i decided to focus on that instead of my writing blog. i finished my degree in december of last year and like a dumbass i decided to do another degree for fun, this time in english and creative writing. writing already takes a lot out of me and writing both stories for my classes + stories for my blog meant that i would burn out very quickly. im currently almost done my degree and hopefully that’s enough masters degrees for me
2. travelling. i’ve been transparent about how much i travel and end up without internet, but i’ve been travelling around so often.
3. i was planning on returing in february this year but i discovered a bot on chai that plagiarizes the opening of my fic for the opening message. this amused me at first but then it freaked me out a little. here is the screenshot of the fic, the bot and the user who made it.
this bot has a lot of chats and it really pains me that people might not realize that this is taken from me without permission. if you are the user who made this bot: PLEASE DELETE IT. I DO NOT CONDONE THIS USE OF WHAT I WROTE.
(i’m using tags im commonly seen in to get the word out about the second half of this post)
here’s a small explanation about where i’ve been + the whole ai thing:
1. the last time i posted, i was close to flunking one of my classes so i decided to focus on that instead of my writing blog. i finished my degree in december of last year and like a dumbass i decided to do another degree for fun, this time in english and creative writing. writing already takes a lot out of me and writing both stories for my classes + stories for my blog meant that i would burn out very quickly. im currently almost done my degree and hopefully that’s enough masters degrees for me
2. travelling. i’ve been transparent about how much i travel and end up without internet, but i’ve been travelling around so often.
3. i was planning on returing in february this year but i discovered a bot on chai that plagiarizes the opening of my fic for the opening message. this amused me at first but then it freaked me out a little. here is the screenshot of the fic, the bot and the user who made it.
this bot has a lot of chats and it really pains me that people might not realize that this is taken from me without permission. if you are the user who made this bot: PLEASE DELETE IT. I DO NOT CONDONE THIS USE OF WHAT I WROTE.
i added mark grayson, clark kent, diana prince and bruce wayne to the list of characters i’d like to write for so feel free to send in reqs for them (sfw/nsfw)!!
spencer reid would be proud of me because from 2am - 5am i stayed up reading the entirety of frankenstein and analyzing it before i watched the gdt movie
glory, glory, glory to the night / that shows me what i am / as I go to the party on my knees / saying "take it all, please"
summary: you’re drunk and in the mood for making mistakes, and one of them is giving your uber driver your ex’s address.
contents/tw: spencer reid x ex!reader, alcohol consumption, drunk!reader, reader using parties as escapism, mention of spencer’s addiction, post-hankiel!spencer, can be read as a continuation of crack baby but not necessary for understanding
words: 2.2k
a/n: can you believe this has been sitting in my drafts since august… when i was planning to do the whole puberty 2 by mitski series?? (and i still do)
ʚଓ this action will have consequences...
Someone should have told you no.
Starting, for example, with yourself. But it’s hard to expect a person in such a fragile internal state to make rational decisions, the kind that would matter in the long run. Your friends, for example. When the next day you wanted to meet at night, a loud night drenched in colors whose brightness and intensity could cut straight through your shadow.
The bartender, for example. When you went back for another drink. Maybe you didn’t look drunk enough. Some people carry it in their eyes — that dangerous gleam that tells you to deny them the next glass, if only to prevent trouble. You, though, had your own kind of gleam, something unique to you, maybe more of a spark. One more drop of alcohol and I’ll do something stupid. Seemingly harmless, but something you’d regret.
Giving the cab driver your ex’s address was one of those fucking examples.
Someone should have told you no.
That cab driver, for example. Of course, you couldn’t expect a man just doing his job. Maybe with kids to feed, a cat to take care of, or simply trying to survive in this economy. To refuse you. That wouldn’t have been rational. Besides, he didn’t even know the address you slurred out wasn’t yours, but your ex-boyfriend’s. Even if he had known, you were just another body in the backseat that night. A drunk one, at that.
God, let’s hope you didn’t puke in there. You could almost hear that thought in his head as you rode with your face pressed to the window, your eyes wide and unblinking. Their wet surface soaked up the passing streetlights and buildings, but didn’t take them in. At some point, the familiar building simply appeared in front of you.
You got out of the taxi, swaying a little as you did. The cold air kind of screamed at you, reminded you where you had gone. A few steps led up to the building, you only made it up maybe two of them and then sat down there, under the open sky, in the quiet night. Quiet, as quiet as nights in the city could ever be. Quiet, as quiet as nights could be when alcohol in your body worked like earplugs.
You didn’t want to go inside.
Inside was your ex-lover, and there, with you, your current one.
Night.
Glory, glory, glory to the night.
There was something in it, in the night, always. It was more than a time of day, state of mind sounded like something ripped straight out of a Twitter post so you preferred to call it a mirror. The kind from a fitting room. When you’re on your period and your stomach’s bloated. And you’re trying on jeans. The night was stripping. And still, glory to the night. Staring into the starless, ugly city sky you saw your own reflection. Dressed brilliantly, jewelry in your ears and around your neck, party makeup on your face.
In the mirror of the night at first glance you looked very up, physically. But the mirror of the night wasn’t a fitting room mirror, it showed more than just that.
In the mirror of the night you were lonely. Desperate. And terrified. Not terrified that if you fell asleep on those stairs you’d probably be robbed or hurt, though maybe that should have concerned you (it should) but by your own state. Not in that moment. In the last few moments. Many moments, stretching into days.
You heard rough footsteps, cutting through to your awareness even with the alcohol plugs in your ears. You knew it was him, that it was Spencer, but still you didn’t lift your gaze. His steps stopped in front of you, at the bottom of the stairs, you even caught the tip of his Converse, oh how typical of him. If you raised your head you’d see his light shirt with a dark, soft vest over it and glasses on his nose. Your typical ex-boyfriend.
You didn’t feel caught there, on the steps of his building. Slowly you lifted your eyes to him, as if he was the one out walking in the middle of the night. One of his hands rested on the railing, closing slightly around it. Rolled up sleeves and a silver watch on his wrist. His face. Your brows furrowed slightly, in surprise.
His face.
When you work in the same place as your ex, unfortunately you have to be around him. So to slow down the process of salt being poured into your open wounds, you at least try not to look at him. Or do that trick with losing focus in your eyes, the one your parents told you not to do because you’d go cross-eyed.
The last time you really saw him, when you shared a motel room, his face was hollow. His eyes were shadowed, exhausted, barely present. And the pocket of those pants hid opioids, the cause of that state. Now, however, he looked healthier. Could it be…?
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
He did not demand an answer angrily and firmly. He did not ask for it with a gulp of saliva and fear of confrontation either. He sounded almost resigned. As if he wanted to get through this conversation as quickly as possible, with as little effort as possible.
You looked at him calmly, grounding yourself on the step you were sitting on. Cold. You knew your question would irritate him and that he would answer with I live here, and you knew that he knew you asked it only to annoy him with your predictable, casual bitchiness, covered with a mask of innocent ignorance full of holes like a fishing net.
Still, you asked, “And what are you doing here?”
He was so over you already at the very start of this conversation, he didn’t even bother rolling his eyes.
“Living here, for example.”
Your amused smirk, under your breath. Your typical ex-boyfriend, the one you knew like the back of your own hand. He was like your childhood neighborhood. The one your dreams often dragged you back into, because familiar surroundings always offer a certain comfort. Maybe that’s why you went to him that night. When you don’t know who you are, find something you know. When you get lost in the mirror of the night, find something you know.
You felt clearer, soberer, a faint smile wandering across your lips. You tilted your head at him, just a little. “But you’re coming back from somewhere,” you noted. You clicked your tongue in that disapproving little sound. “Roaming around at night. Naughty boy. Were you out with some other girl or boy with skinny, punctured forearms?”
When the mirror of the night makes you hate yourself, you throw it onto someone else.
His gaze locked on your face, unmoving. He parted his lips, then closed them, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said.
You raised an eyebrow. You weren’t sure if he was being honest with you.
“So now you prefer your suffering raw?”
His chest shifted slightly beneath the vest, a breath, a pensive look.
“There’s no suffering here anymore,” he stated after a long silence, both of you still on those steps. You noticed the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. A gesture usually considered nervous, but when he spoke again, his voice was steady. “When you stop focusing on the suffering chasing you, you realize it’s not running after you. It’s not even walking. It’s lost its trail and now it wanders.”
You were too drunk and too sober for this conversation at the same time.
“But you can always step back,” you noted, losing your arrogant posture for a moment, like a brief lowering of your guard. “And approach it again. It’ll catch the trail once more.”
Spencer tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely considering it. “I guess when you’re focused on pushing forward, you don’t think about stepping back.”
You raised the guard that had dropped, because you didn’t like how your quiet voices had found a rhythm in this silent night. Or maybe you did like it, and you were trying to tell yourself no. Because no one else would.
“Bullshit,” you muttered, pushing yourself onto your feet.
You were on the second step, him just in front of them, and yet you found yourselves eye to eye. His damn height. You grabbed the railing, in case your still-not-quite-sober body decided to mock you, right by his wrist with the watch.
“You always say bullshit when I’m right,” he replied.
“Yhm. And who do you think you are now, profiler?”
You emphasized the word and…it made him snort with laughter. The corners of his mouth curved upward, giving his face a certain softness, a kind of beauty, and you really considered his earlier words. Maybe he really was clean.
For a moment, he glanced down at your shoes, inhaled, and lifted his gaze again. “I’ll order you a taxi.”
You parted your lips, then pressed them into a thin line. “I don’t have the keys to my apartment,” you said. “I gave them to a friend to hold in her bag. I didn’t think I’d come here.”
He studied your expression, his gaze slipping slightly, as if he had just noticed you. Your outfit, what was beneath it, what was beneath that, all of you. The reason you came here. Impressive, profiler-like on his part, since you didn’t even have a clear answer yourself. You only knew you were so damn tired of seeing just your own reflection in the night’s mirror.
“You can’t call her?”
“Phone died.”
He inhaled again, then exhaled through parted lips. “So you want to stay here,” he stated, not asked.
You shrugged. “If you let me.”
His jaw tightened, his whole face tensing. It was a bit of a low blow, you had to admit. Instead of saying yes, I’ll stay, like you usually did, leave it to him. Make him actually invite you. He’s not exactly telling you to go back to nowhere alone, in the middle of the night, so…dangerously lost. He closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded.
You gave a faint, ugly smile. “Thanks. You’re the best ex-boyfriend I’ve ever had.”
He brushed past you toward his building, puffing out his cheeks. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Inside his apartment, not much had changed. It had been so long since you’d been there, yet you could still feel traces of your presence, unmasked by anyone else. You didn’t look around much, just let yourself be led inside, to some dead spot where his steps slowed, you right behind him. You noticed him turn slowly, hesitantly, aware of how close you stood. But he did it, the brave boy.
“Can I change into something?” you asked softly, your gaze sweeping the space for the first time. His eyes took that moment to sweep over you, from your feet to your neck, ending on your face. You slightly pursed your lips. “I left so many clothes here once. I’m sure I still have them.”
For a moment he stared at you without moving, his posture stiff, feeling less natural with you again in his doorway than you did. “I don’t,” he replied.
You tilted your head at him dismissively. “You do,” you insisted.
You knew him, and you knew he had kept them, just as you had kept his. Things from an ex are usually thrown away in emotion and rage, but your breakup wasn’t like that. It was quiet, like this night, and it lingered deeply in the space around you, at work, in every accidental glance, in his apartment, in the things you’d left behind.
You shook your head, refusing. Spencer stayed silent. You snorted and walked toward his bedroom. Pushed the door open, then swung open the closet, full of his sweaters and shirts. Nothing of yours in sight.
“I donated them,” came his voice from behind.
You ignored it and moved to the dresser, opening each drawer—socks, underwear, other clothes. Before closing the last one, you froze, rooted to the floor, unable to move. Spencer leaned sideways against the dresser, gaze fixed on your profile, waiting. The darkness of his eyes blended with the half-light of the room.
He cleared his throat. “You can borrow something of mine, if you want to change.”
“You don’t want me?” you asked.
His face barely twitched, keeping up the act of calm. “Or you can stay in that. Looks… comfortable enough.”
“You don’t want me.”
“You can… sleep in it till morning, and then—”
“You don’t want me anymore.”
His face suddenly flared with irritation, sharp, explosive.
“Did you even want me, though, since we broke up?”
The voices of both of you were bitter. In your case, that bitterness took the form of sharp needles, concentrated and precise; in his, it was loud and spread around. Well, it didn’t need to spread at all when you stood so close, sure that he had seen your burning, wanting gaze.
Spencer drew a breath, as if surfacing. But only for a brief, seemingly fleeting second, before realizing he was still beneath it, deep. “Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, to himself, before closing the distance to you, blocking your mouth from saying anything, anything at all.
Your hand wrapped around the back of his head, and the back pocket of his pants collided with the dresser; you twisted into his mouth as the keys to your apartment pressed into your body.
a/n: another fic from the exes universe (so, a loose continuation) hopefully this weekend!
(i’m using tags im commonly seen in to get the word out about the second half of this post)
here’s a small explanation about where i’ve been + the whole ai thing:
1. the last time i posted, i was close to flunking one of my classes so i decided to focus on that instead of my writing blog. i finished my degree in december of last year and like a dumbass i decided to do another degree for fun, this time in english and creative writing. writing already takes a lot out of me and writing both stories for my classes + stories for my blog meant that i would burn out very quickly. im currently almost done my degree and hopefully that’s enough masters degrees for me
2. travelling. i’ve been transparent about how much i travel and end up without internet, but i’ve been travelling around so often.
3. i was planning on returing in february this year but i discovered a bot on chai that plagiarizes the opening of my fic for the opening message. this amused me at first but then it freaked me out a little. here is the screenshot of the fic, the bot and the user who made it.
this bot has a lot of chats and it really pains me that people might not realize that this is taken from me without permission. if you are the user who made this bot: PLEASE DELETE IT. I DO NOT CONDONE THIS USE OF WHAT I WROTE.
ship inexperienced!s1!spencer reid x inexperienced!afab!reader
content smut (mdni 18+), weed written by a writer who has never touched drugs, non-sober sex (they both consent y’all, weed sex is a thing), p in v penetration, oral (f receiving), loss of virginity, creampie, reader has an iud
synopsis you and spencer have always been best friends since you first joined the bau a little after he did. because of your similar backgrounds, you both decide on a deal: you would experience what you missed out on in teenagehood. this all comes to ahead when you acquire a bag of weed.
word count 5.7k (it was supposed to be 2k)
a/n i’m back (explanation below) also shoutout to my stoner ex for his help in research for this, you should probably get a therapist tho
When you joined the BAU nearly a year ago, you never thought you’d be such good friends with one Dr. Spencer Reid.
You already knew of him before joining the unit, since you had to read a couple of his papers for your degree, but you didn’t really know what he was like as a person until the first week of your new job. Sure, you can relate to his academic prowess, though his achievements are surely more impressive than yours, as well as the fact that you were both around the same age, but other than that…not much. But over time, you found more little things about the two of you that just click: you’re both regarded as nerds, into pop culture, and most of all, you two have missed a lot out on life. You were both too focused on your studies as kids and teenagers that you didn’t have any opportunities to do normal teenage things — or things that are just widely regarded as normal, even if they’re concerning.
So you and Spencer made a deal: you would both try to live out your teenage selves’ dreams. And that’s how you ended up on the doorstep of his apartment unit with a ziplock bag of cannabis and a rolled up joint in your pocket.
You knocked once, twice on his door with a clammy fist, feeling weirdly nervous when you hear his faint voice from the other side respond with “coming!”, almost as if you don’t want him to answer. You obviously know that THC is sort of legal for prescription purposes in D.C., but it’s still taboo to you since, well, you’re both government agents; you still had to pee in a cup just to even be considered for a job in the FBI. But weed is one of the several things that neither of you had done as teenagers, so—
Your thoughts get cut short when the key lock clicks and the door gently opens for you to see Spencer in a relaxed state that you had never seen outside of work; a loose-fitting t-shirt with a faded logo of an old band and plaid pajama pants that hang loosely around his hips. As his friend, you never really found him attractive in that way, but you can’t really deny that he is attractive.
You stand there awkwardly in your oversized hoodie and shorts, holding the incriminating bag of weed behind your back as casually as you can. You try to smile at the sight of him, but your lips end up looking like a polite straight line.
Spencer looks you up and down; damn you for being friends with someone who studies human behaviour for a living. “…You okay?”
Immediately, you nod a little, keeping the same polite smile. “Yeah, I just got a…thing for us to try. Can I come in?”
Since it’s quite obvious, he already knew about that from how only one of your hands is visible and hwo there’s a slight outline of something small and thin in your hoodie pocket. Nevertheless, he wordlessly steps to the side to let you in.
In an attempt to continue to hide the weed behind your back as a surprise, you shuffle awkwardly past the door way, making soul-piercing eye contact that makes both of you feel weird. You make sure that as you enter and toe off your shoes that the front of your body is always facing him, even if it looks suspicious to Spencer.
He leans to the side and tilts his head slightly up, trying to get a peek at what you’re hiding, which only just makes you maneuver your body even more. “C’mon, what do you have behind your back?”
You purse your lips and decide to show him the bag. His eyes go wide at the sight and he quickly slams the door shut and locks it. His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to find the words, like a fish out of water. “Why do you have marijuana!?” he finally whisper-yells.
“Look, this is something that I always wanted to do as a kid!” you adopt the same volume as him. “Besides, it’s legal! It’s not bad, it’s just one time, and I wanna try it with you.”
“That act is from 1906 and you are completely forgetting about Initiative 59; it’s not legal and if we get caught with that, our careers are over,” he warns. You should probably listen to him, but then again you’re too stubborn.
“Sure, but consider if we don’t get caught,” you say. “Also who would watch us in your apartment if the FBI didn’t put, like, secret cameras all over your flat?”
“It’s too risky.”
“But I got this from Garcia.” You shake the bag like you’re trying to tempt him.
“You–” He blinks, like he can’t believe what you just said. “Look, as much as I trust her in the field, I do not trust her with my overall health.”
“C’monnn…it’s only one time, what’s the worst that can happen?”
Exasperated, Spencer screws his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his scrunched up nose with his fingers while sighing. Then after some time, he draws his hand back to his side and looks back up at you. “Okay, so…how do you want to ingest it? Garcia gave me a recipe for brownies, and they are the most popular form of weed edibles—”
You cut him off when you pull out a pre-rolled joint from your hoodie pocket, holding it up for him to see mid-explanation. He sets his eyes on it and stutters. “…You want to smoke it? Y’know, even though there’s no tobacco, there’s still a risk of lung cancer involved—”
“It’s just once and then never again, I swear!” You reason, pinching the joint between your fingertips and holding it out to him to prove your point.
Finally, he bites the inside of his cheek and sighs in defeat. “I got matches in the kitchen…”
You squeal in delight at his agreement and crash into his chest for a tight and excited embrace. “Thank you, thank you!” you praise before you let go of him and run towards the small kitchen in search of the matches. It doesn’t take you long at all to find the small box in one of the cabinets; you practically know Spencer’s apartment like the back of your hand from the amount of time you spent here just this year alone.
At the beginning of your friendship, you two would have normally spent time in his living room on the couch. But as time passed, he grew more accustomed to the idea of letting you be in his bedroom and even on his bed for a change. So when you see that he moved from the entryway, you automatically start to make your way to his bedroom, finding him already situated on his bed in a slightly tense manner, with his legs crossed, his back slouched and his fidgety hands in his lap. Upon hearing your footsteps padding in the hallway, he glances up just as you enter the doorway into his bedroom, the box of matches in one hand and the joint and bag of weed in the other.
“See now I thought you had a lighter,” you joke to bring up the tense mood. “Why do you have matches like you’re a Victorian gentleman?”
Spencer awkwardly laughs — though it sounds forced — and he shrugs. “I mean, I don’t think I’m that old-fashioned, am I?”
“You’re a technophobe, what do you mean you’re ‘not old-fashioned?’” You tease back as you sit down, your legs crossed. You set the bag of weed down beside you, gripping the joint between your fingers while you fumble with the matches.
“Let me,” Spencer says hurriedly while taking the matches from you, clearly worried that you’ll set his bed on fire. He’s calm and focused as he strikes the match and carefully lights the joint you’re holding before dropping the burning match in a used cup on his bedside table.
Now it’s awkward. You’re both just sitting there, staring at the joint like it’s going to hurt you both. Since Spencer is clearly not going to try it first, you steel yourself and bring it up to your lips, taking a short drag and holding it in. You have never smoked before so as you let out the smoke, you cough a little, even if you tried to supress it. While you cough into your elbow, you hand the joint to him and he hesitantly takes it.
He studies it in a scientific lens, holding it like it’s an undiscovered object before he eventually puts it to his lips and inhales gently. Normally, he would never put his mouth where someone else put theirs but he finds that he doesn’t really mind your germs.
Even Spencer coughs as he exhales and just like you, his high comes quick. It’s not exactly visible, but his posture, like yours, is more relaxed and he slumps against his pillows after handing the joint back to you.
Slower than usual, you move to sit next to him and you take another drag, this time longer. You still cough, but you’re getting used to the feeling of it. Probably not a good thing, but oh well.
After Spencer takes one more hit of the joint, he puts it out on the side of the same cup on the bedside table. Two hits is definitely more than enough for the both of you. It feels otherworldly.
“Y’know,” Spencer starts with his usual nerdy voice, though there’s a slight gravelly tone to it; it makes your heart race a little, “cannabis has many side effects, both psychologically and physiologically, though it depends on what strain you’re using. Typically, cannabis — or THC — tends to decrease anxiety and stress, but it can have the opposite effect if you have too much. Normally it will also cause increased hunger, appreciation for the arts, and a heightened libido…”
At that point, your brain blanks out whatever else he’s saying as you focus on one thing: a heightened libido. You didn’t really know all that much about the herb before you decided to try it, but now it’s making you think about what it might to do you, or rather, what it might cause you to do. The mention of the libido starts to make you think thoughts, ones that you hadn’t really thought of before. Thoughts about him, Spencer, and what he might be like in bed. But you know that he’s never done anything like that before, he confessed it to you only a couple weeks ago. He had barely even kissed someone before — well, he did so passionately with a couple other girls, specifically one Lila Archer — but he had never kissed someone.
Your thoughts are thankfully cut off by your stomach rumbling. Normally it makes you embarrassed, but you’re glad for the distraction. “I think I’m hungry,” you quickly say, like nothing’s wrong.
“That’s the hunger I mentioned earlier, known colloquially as ‘the munchies,’” Spencer says; you have no idea where his knowledge of weed culture comes from, but it provides something to focus on to forget about your lewd thoughts.
“I’ll raid the pantry,” you hastily exclaim before you hop up from the bed and move to the kitchen, not seeing how he’s squinting his eyes at you with suspicion.
You take longer than usual just staring at rows of food, all nearly stacked and organized in Spencer-fashion in your friend’s pantry, trying to get rid of the carnal thoughts in your head of maybe being the one to take his virginity. All while he’s the one taking yours. That thought just makes you feel warm— oh no, the heightened libido is really hitting now. You don’t know how long you can keep this up, especially with how loose the weed makes you feel.
You take an already opened pack of cookies and eat two to satisfy your hunger, or ‘the munchies,’ before going back to Spencer’s room. You walk in to see Spencer full-on lying down, practically zoned out from the looks of it and muttering something to himself. To get his attention, as well as play off how weird you’ve been acting lately, you throw the pack of cookies at his chest, which he fumbles in his hands. “Hey!” he yells, playfully annoyed but he can’t really find it himself to feel that way with the cannabis in his system.
“Yes?” you tease as you jump onto the bed, draping your legs over his. You nearly don’t notice how he blushes at the touch and how he shifts a bit. You reach over to grab another cookie, practically inhaling it with how hungry you’ve suddenly become.
Then, suddenly, whether on purpose or not, his hand moves to rest on your bare thigh, his fingertips grazing your inner skin. You’re not sure if he’s aware of the touch but what you are aware of is how it makes you feel…which is aroused. Very aroused. Why does he have to be this magnetic?!
Spencer notices how you look like a blushing virgin — because you are one — but he doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t want to seem rude or impersonal. Even then, despite his heightened awareness around what’s going on with you, he is not all that aware of himself. It takes around twenty seconds of awkward yet intimate silence for him to notice his hand’s almost inappropriate position on your inner thigh.
You notice how he hesitates before removing it and this makes you think and imagine. Is he…is he actually interested in you like that? You’re still not sure so in order to test this theory, you gently take his hand and put it on your knee; it’s not as intimate as before, but it’s a suggestion. And he seems to understand, since his hand slowly inches its way up your thigh, almost cautiously to make sure you’re okay with this. You can’t help but nod gently as your back slouches and your legs end up parting for him.
Even with the cannabis in his system, it’s clear that Spencer has little idea of what he should do. “Sorry…I only read what to do in textbooks, but I don’t have any…practical experience.”
You simply shrug; you wouldn’t care even without the influence of the weed. “Just…do what you think is right and I’ll guide you if needed.”
With your permission (and a little hesitation), his fingers brush at the junction where your thighs meet and he cups you. As he rubs and squeezes lightly, you realize one thing that he forgot to mention: weed also makes you more sensitive to touch. It almost feels like he’s touching you directly and not through your shorts, riding low on your hips. The sight is enticing to Spencer and he purses his lips, like he’s trying to hold back.
You encourage him and shock yourself by tugging your shorts down to your mid-thighs, revealing your frankly embarrassing underwear. You aren’t aware of the underwear you’re wearing and neither is Spencer, blinded by your respective libidos. Once again, he cups you over your panties before tugging them down along with your shorts, finding himself face to face with your pussy, already wet.
He swallows nervously, pulling back for a moment to drink the glass of water on his bedside table. “Xerostomia,” he explains but that only makes you furrow your brows in confusion. “It’s cotton mouth.”
“Oh…” Well at least it wasn’t because he was weirded out, which was your original thought when he turned away. You merely lie there, tugging your hoodie up a bit more until your navel is exposed, giving him more room in case things get messy. You’d imagine it won’t, since Spencer is such a germaphobe.
Spencer, now prepared as best as he can be, moves closer to you, lying on his belly between your legs. For a minute — the longest minute of your life — he just stares at your folds, in awe of their slickness and the way they part. It’s like he’s trying his best to memorize the most private part of you. And then he dives in, almost naturally save for the slight hesitation at the start about where to put his tongue. He kisses you first, kissing your labia, your hole and finally your clit before he captures the bud between his lips. It’s almost like he practiced for this. The thought makes you blush almost as much as the view you have right now does.
He practiced for this, which he would never admit to you, but all that practice goes away as he decides to just let the drug take over, going based on feel instead. He would never do that as a scientist but tonight he makes an exception for you. He traces around your bud with the nervous tip of his tongue, continuously looking up at you to gauge your response.
Your chest heaves, your heart racing faster than usual to make up for the blood rushing south. Between your legs there’s a warmth that is either caused by the pooling of blood in your clit or by Spencer’s soft breaths. Maybe it’s both. Your fists open and close at your sides, unsure of what to do while you lie there and Spencer does all the work. It feels right when you lift your hand and rest it on the back of his head, threading your fingers in his curly hazel hair. You accidentally tug a little when his teeth bump against your clit roughly, pulling out a “sorry” from him.
But eventually, the two of you settle into a rhythm: you pull when he does something you don’t quite like and you moan when he succeeds. It feels too easy, on account of your heightened sense to touch, but you’re not complaining. How can you when all that comes from your throat are whines and gasps? Your legs naturally part, with your slick and his spit along your inner thighs and his chin.
He’s not exactly a “natural” at this, per se. His technique is all over the place, his tongue pokes and prods at some odd angles and his sucking can be too soft or too hard. But with some time, he gets the hang of it. He focuses mostly on your clit, rapidly flicking his tongue over the bud before suckling your lips. At one point, the tip of his tongue dives in your sobbing hole and that makes your hips buck up ever so slightly.
Your nub throbs with need and Spencer gives into it. He’s seen ‘educational’ videos on the female orgasm but he has yet to see it in action, especially caused by him. You tug on his hair and moan at the same time, which confuses Spencer a bit, causing him to pull back slightly. “Is this okay?”
“Definitely,” you pant, “definitely, keep going, I’m so close…”
Without another word, Spencer eagerly dives into your wetness, lapping at your clit like a dog. You no longer tug his hair to tell him something’s wrong; instead, you tug his hair to guide him, crying “right there!” when his tongue brushes against something you quite like. Your juices are dripping and Spencer is drinking it eagerly, something that you think he would never do if he was completely sober. You aren’t even sure if you yourself would be confident enough to do any of this if you were completely sober either.
But your train of thought is cut short when the coil building in your lower half suddenly snaps, sending a wave of pleasure flowing through every limb and vein in your body. Spencer pulls his hands away, letting you feel your high orgasm to its fullest extent and without his restraint. His tongue, however, keeps moving, gently working you through your climax with such reverence that you can just feel it.
He mumbles something about women’s orgasms lasting longer than men’s and that seems to ring true when you finally calm after twenty seconds (according to him) of pure bliss. When he comes back up from his rightful place between your thighs, his chin is dripping with your juices, his eyes wide and trained on you.
“Was it good? Did I do okay?” Spencer asks, almost like he’s worried. “I know you can’t really compare it but…I hope I was to your liking.”
You pant softly as you prop yourself up onto your elbows to really look at him. “Spence…you were amazing.”
Spencer moves to lie beside you, never taking his eyes off you in the meantime. “Really?” A small smile tugs at his lips, which in turn makes you smile.
“Really.” You shift closer to him until your noses touch. A part of you feels this overwhelming pull to him, but he pulls away instead, grabbing wet wipes from the bedside table.
He notices your staring and his back hunches as a result. “S-sorry, it’s just,” he says as he wipes your juice from his chin, “feels weird.”
You purse your lips and awkwardly nod, not knowing what else to do. What does one even do after cunnilingus? Do you reciprocate orally or do you just go right ahead with the main part? Does he even want to keep going, what with his germaphobia and all?
“I’m sorry,” he says out of nowhere.
You sit up and cock your head. “Why?”
“Well…” Spencer fidgets with his fingers, tapping his index and middle back and forth on his knee, “I haven’t done this before. I feel like I’m doing something wrong, I just don’t know what.”
You can’t really disagree, even though you wish you could. At least in your opinion he’s not doing anything wrong but of course it’s hard to say that since you don’t have experience either. But you can also attribute this paranoia to the cannabis. “So…what now?”
“I don’t have condoms.” Well you weren’t wondering that anyway but now…
“That’s okay,” you say. “I, um…have an IUD.”
“I know.”
You quirk your eyebrow. “You know?”
“Well,” he stutters, “I noticed how your periods tended to be more painful and I figured it was either endometriosis or a copper IUD. And you don’t have any of the other symptoms for endometriosis, so…”
You blink wordlessly. “How did you…” Your thoughts go wild without your permission so you shake your head to ignore them. “You know what? Whatever, I should’ve known you’d know.”
Spencer shrugs his shoulders. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“Spence, seriously, it’s fine. I…appreciate it?” you say, unsure if that’s the word you should be using. It’s the best word you can think of at the moment with your clouded judgment.
“Right, ah…” He glances towards the antique clock hung on the wall and you do too. It’s been only ten minutes since you both took your first hit, which comes as a shock to you, less so to Spencer. You could’ve sworn it had been at least an hour. You probably should have known that. “So, you want to…keep going?”
You scoff and playfully roll your eyes. Of course he would be that type of lover. “Obviously, Spence.”
“Right, sure, sorry–”
“Stop saying sorry.”
“Sor–” For once, he stops himself. You can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows nothing, aching to lubricate his dry throat. “Okay,” he whispers softly while he moves close to you, your thighs practically touching. It’s a bit unfair that you’re pantsless yet he is still fully clothed.
Making sure that he’s watching, your hand drifts over to his thigh and up, tracing along the soft fabric until your fingertips just barely graze the telltale bulge in his sweatpants. You swear from the bottom of your heart that you felt him twitch just the slightest bit. You get further proof of your theory when Spencer chokes on nothing at your enhanced touch.
When your fingers dip into his waistband, his hips lift up, like he’s chasing your addictive touch. You take the opportunity to tug down, the waistband now at his mid-thighs and revealing his boxers, patterned with atom structures and DNA spirals. The sight makes you smile giddily and Spencer blushes, but he doesn’t seem like he’s embarrassed about his dorky choice of underwear; they’re going to be removed soon anyway.
While you work on tugging his pants down before even thinking about his boxers, Spencer wants to be helpful. With a not-so-subtle need, he pulls his shirt over his head. Normally, he would likely curl in on himself, having always been quite self-conscious of his lanky pale body, but for once he’s thankful for the distraction of a controlled substance affecting his regular thinking patterns.
By the time everything else comes off, the only thing left are his boxers, which barely does anything to hide his arousal, currently sticking straight up in the air and even staining the fabric with leakage. If you were able to, your mouth would be drooling at the sight. Nevertheless, you hook your fingers into the boxers and start to pull them down, revealing things one at a time: first his hair, light at the navel, growing darker and more curly as it reaches the base of his penis, which is the second thing you see. The waistband catches on the head and when you pull it down, his cock in all its nerdy glory bounces up, slapping against his belly. His tip is an angry red matching your chipped nail polish, and it glistens with precum in the soft light of the cozy room; maybe it can quench your thirst.
You pull his underwear down further, finishing up your discovery when you glance at his full balls, nestled in his forest of pubes that look just like his hair up north, only curlier. Once his boxers are fully removed, you’re just two naked agents, sweating and high and wanting. There’s nothing in between your warm bodies to prevent either of you from giving into long unrealized desires. It doesn’t feel platonic anymore, but it isn’t romantic either.
Of course Spencer can’t tell what you’re thinking, but the way he looks at you — with his brows furrowed, eyes half-lidded, and his shoulders tight — almost convinces you that he has the same thought process, like telepathy. Your hand once rested on his thigh but now he moves it away, guiding it to his chest instead before placing his own hand on your plump hip. You pet his bare skin, practically hairless with his low testosterone, but that doesn’t matter to you at all.
You can’t even believe the next words out of your mouth. “I’m ready. Are you?”
Even moreso, you can't believe it when he nods.
You take initiative and lie down, assuming that he would be fine with missionary; it is the most popular position after all. You part your legs naturally and the move convinces Spencer to situate himself between them. In doing so, his length, hot and firm, rests against your clit, pulsing with desire. He places his hands on either side of your head, looking down at you with such an intensity that you feel like you’re an UnSub he’s interrogating.
“We could wait until I get proper contraception,” Spencer says; it nearly takes away from the mood you’ve both worked so hard to build up. “Pregnancy with an IUD is rare — only one in one hundred — but it’s still possible–”
“Spence.” Your voice is stern and it immediately shuts him up.
“Right, got it.” He pushes his length against you, coating it with your slick and slipping easily between your soft lips. He does this for a while, a long and painful while. You were about to tell him to just get on with it since the high is going to wear off until he presses his tip against your entrance.
He glances up one last time, gazing upon your determined and needy face, before pushing in, agonizingly slowly. His leaking head enters first, an appetizer before the main course; it gets you ready for more. Inch by inch, he fills you up. You thought the stretch would be painful but it ends up being quite pleasant, like the first stretch after you wake up.
He’s not that big, so he bottoms out quicker than anticipated. For a moment, he just stays there, fully enveloped in your warmth. His sweat beads from his eyebrow, dropping down to your breast. Spencer’s eyes flicker up, meeting yours like how your bodies meet. You don’t know if it’s the weed talking but for the first time, you feel something more than a connection.
Finally, he pulls back. Then he pushes forward. Back, forward, rinse and repeat. There’s less and less of a stretch as the antique clock ticks, having now had the time to get used to his dick. Like him, it’s thin but it more than makes up for that with its above average length, hitting all those spots inside you that you could never quite reach with your fingers, while also dutifully avoiding your cervix.
Your arms — which don’t feel like yours — come up to wrap around his torso, pulling him closer like you want to join him in every way. His length scrapes no nicely against your spot and it makes your cunt flutter; he moans so sweetly in your ear, just high enough for it to make you moan too.
Your shared wetness drips down your crack, staining the bedsheets underneath. Spencer would be annoyed later but for now, the feeling of your hot pussy is all he wants to be buried in.
His pace is slow, his movements awkward. This is your first time after all and the drugs don’t do anything to lessen that. His movements are too sharp at first, his rhythm off by just a beat but soon enough he moves in 4/4 time.
“So soft…” he whimpers in your ear; you want to hear it again after this whole situation, “so w-wet, nghh…”
Your nails dig into his shoulder blades a bit and that gives him motivation to pick up the pace. His balls now audibly slap against your slick perineum, which feels good, oddly enough. While one hand stays beside your head, his other slips down against your mons, his thumb easily finding your clit.
“18.4% of women can’t orgasm from penetration alone; 36.6% require clitoral stimulation too,” he says as he rubs your little bud in fast circles. “I w-wonder what category you fall under.”
“Those numbers don’t add up to one hundred,” you say before a small moan.
“The additional thirty-six percent find that their orgasms are stronger with added stimulation.”
“I think that’s me.” You laugh before a sudden change in pressure steals your breath. Spencer’s eyes widen and he keeps the pressure going, all while picking up the pace on both fronts.
You feel your ability to form coherent sentences start to slip away and you decide to let yourself be overtaken by sheer weed-fueled pleasure. The fact that you waited so long for this, even with Spencer, is a crime. Never in your life would you have expected sex to be this fantastic or for Spencer to be this talented in bed. You’re sure he wasn’t expecting it either.
Another thing he wasn’t expecting was for how quick his orgasm would be. He was sure he would last longer; he masturbates at least once per week, according to proper medical guidelines, but the feeling of you squeezing around him bare…it’s too much. With one last thrust he moans long as he spills into you.
You feel it: hot, sticky, filling. Doing it bare is the best feeling, you’re sure of it. But even then, you’re not satisfied.
“Spence, please,” you plead softly, “‘m so close, so so close…”
With a tired whimper, Spencer musters up what little strength he has as he puts his all into pleasing you. His thrusts aren’t what they were before: they’re less rhythmic, more uncoordinated and sloppy, but somehow that’s hotter to you. The way he’s still focused entirely on your pleasure even when he’s done. His thumb is still drawing desperate circles on your button.
“Please, please, please, oh g-god…” Spencer mutters against your neck, his breath hot and heavy. You whine, your cunt fluttering more and more until you cry out, squeezing his cock with everything you have as you convulse with the most intense orgasm you’ve had in a long while. Spencer whines pathetically about his dick being strangled by your pussy, but he wouldn’t lie if he said that it wasn’t amazing.
He collapses against you, chest to chest, your genitals still connected even though his cum is spilling out of you and pooling underneath your ass. You both catch your breath before he makes the weak attempt to pull out.
Spencer rolls onto his back next to you. “You…you should pee; to prevent a UTI.”
“Uh…uh huh…” you hum, your body tingling with the aftermath. You don’t move yet, spending one extra moment to gather your bearings before hoisting yourself upright and planting your feet on the cold wood floor. You wobble and you can see Spencer sit up. “I’m fine,” you insist, slowly making your way over to the bathroom before closing the door.
You spend a few minutes there, emptying your bladder per his request and also cleaning up the mess you both created between your legs. You realize that perhaps the most tedious yet rewarding part of this whole ordeal is the aftermath.
Once you exit the bathroom, Spencer had already slipped on a new pair of boxers, no lesser in their dorkiness, with the cookies you had gotten an hour earlier in his lap on the bed.
You join him, making no move to cover yourself; thankfully, he doesn’t mind the nudity. He hands over a cookie. “I’ve read that a snack can really help with aftercare for sex…did you know chocolate is an aphrodisiac?”
You laugh before biting into the gooey goodness of the chocolate chip cookies. It cures your munchies.
sooo it’s been a while; i apologize a lot for my almost two year long accidental hiatus. things just got really hectic in my life. i was planning on coming back in february but i got deterred when i found out someone has plagiarized one of my tumblr fics for ai purposes (made a post abt it; please read it to help with the situation). thank you so much for reading and i hope to be more active on here (or at least be more open about my hiatuses)
taglist @queermaxwooo @theoraekenslover @pleasantwitchgarden @kissesforapence @hbwrelic join the taglist
idk if you do headcanons but I wanna know what you think each member of the BAU team would get you for your birthday?
<33
hi !! yes i def do general headcanons too, and this is such a good idea 🫶
birthday bash ☆ the B.A.U.
characters aaron hotchner, spencer reid, emily prentiss, derek morgan, jennifer jareau, david rossi, penelope garcia, tara lewis, luke alvez, elle greenaway; can be seen as platonic or romantic with any character
content just some general headcanons
aaron hotchner is incredibly observant and he cares for his team, so he will make sure you get at least a basket-full worth of stuff. he’ll likely say it’s from everyone on the team, even if he did pay for everything in the basket himself. he also goes out of his way to get presents for people he cares about (à la the halloween special where he got that darth vader mask for jack). included in the basket are some office supplies, flowers (of course), candies, and maybe a replacement of something you broke (like your favourite mug).
spencer reid will make sure to get you something that is functional from both an aesthetic standpoint and a practical one. of course, he’ll likely get you rare books with the pages yellow and worn from use, but are still delightfully charming, even if you’re not that interested in the contents of those pages. he’ll also treat you to a sort of last-minute-birthday-breakfast if you’re all called in to work, where he’ll get you your favourite pastry and coffee/tea, just the way you like it. antiquities are also a go to, whether it’s jewellery or otherwise.
emily prentiss is an enigma when it comes to gift giving; nobody knows what she’s getting for you, and nobody knows if it’s going to be a joke present or a genuinely thoughtful one (or some combination of the two). one present she might get for you are aphrodisiac chocolates because “you’ll never know if you get lucky” (her words).
derek morgan likely wouldn’t get you a genuinely thoughtful gift at first if you were relatively new to the team. but after some time on cases and at the office and such, he will put effort into his gifts. so for your first birthday with the team, he might play it safe by getting you gift cards; but after getting to know you more, he’ll get you something that is geared to your tastes, but it will be a gift that will remind you of him. although, he is just as likely as emily to get you a joke present, if not more.
jennifer jareau’s presents are quite rushed on account of her having to balance being an agent and a mom, but she does put a lot of heart into them. she knows more than anyone how taxing the job can get at times, so expect some well-deserved spa day coupons that she managed to find strewn around her place. it’s possible she’ll get you a couple instead of one. she will also likely give you a couple drawings henry and michael made, and you can bet that you’ll hang that up on your fridge at home.
david rossi in the early seasons (especially season three) would very likely not even plan on getting you a present unless he was reminded by hotch. however, in the later seasons, rossi definitely acts like the wine aunt who gives you straight up cash as a present. expect anywhere from $100 – $1k+, he has to use up the money he got from being a best-selling author somehow. also alcohol; he will get you expensive bottles of whiskey, scotch or wine, no room for argument (unless you have a legitimate reason).
penelope garcia goes all out for your birthday; obviously she puts the most effort in her gifts and more. for her presents, she will buy quite a lot, to the point where she might spend maybe half her pay check on the presents. her gifts mostly consist of decorations mostly for aesthetic purposes, but has little to do with everyday use. possible presents coming from her include paintings, pillows, fidget toys and mugs, all of which are very colourful. but she doesn’t just stop there with presents; she will likely organize a group dinner (or maybe a group breakfast, just in case of a possible case).
tara lewis is simultaneously the least expected and most expected member of the team to be a chaotic gift giver. she will also likely get you a joke present but while emily would get you something along the lines of a prank present, tara’s presents would be subtle and remind you of inside jokes either within the team or just between the two of you. also, expect alcohol, quite a number of the team will get you a bottle, including tara.
luke alvez definitely tries the hardest with his gifts (after penelope, of course), especially if he’s newer on the team. he’ll ask around for any ideas, either on what to get you or what kind of person you are with the team so he can figure it out for himself. if you have a dog (or two…or five), he will spoil the dog rotten with new toys, biscuits or dog accessories — which he probably collaborated with penelope on.
elle greenaway’s presents are ones that you shouldn’t really open with most of the team present because of their explicit nature. she’ll probably get you incredibly revealing swimwear (yet another collaboration with penelope), and also alcohol — specifically hard liquor. those are likely to be the only presents that you can actually open in front of everybody on the team without getting a lot of stares.
taglist @queermaxwooo @pleasantwitchgarden @hbwrelic @kissesforapence @theoraekenslover join the taglist!
content smut, period sex (kinda?), eating out (f!receiving), while on your period, it’s not that gross i swear, he’s a munch ur honour 🙇
word count 1.7k
summary usually during your period, you get really hot and bothered for no particular reason other than hormones. spencer offers to help out with your problem.
a/n im posting this directly after seeing a show at the moulin rouge, it’s currently 2am; this was inspired by my experience at the eras tour in stockholm; IMPORTANT EDIT (11/11/2025): this fic has been plagiarized in february at the latest for ai purposes on chai. if you see any of my fics anywhere else, THAT’S NOT ME AND I DID NOT CONSENT!
Periods are hell for you. Not just because of the cramps, or the blood, but because you just get so horny.
Now, to others it’s completely normal to masturbate while their periods are happening, either with a fingers or with a toy. Period sex is also a thing you’ve heard of, even from your friends who have often recommended the activity.
But to you, doing anything remotely like that, either by yourself or with anyone else, is a no. Mostly because of the messiness and how troublesome it would be to clean it up. So instead of getting relief by just touching youself, you always decide to wait until your period is finished to start doing sexual activities again. Besides, you only just have to go a few days without stimulation.
But this week is hard. You have the urge to just rip your underwear off and play with your clit until your wrist starts to ache all the time. It’s pure agony for you, and sometimes you find youself clenching your thighs together, or pushing your heel against your clothed pussy to get some sort of relief.
In the middle of your monthly period, one day is especially hard. You’re laying on the couch with a heating pad on your abdomen, your hair hidden in your drawstring hood, and your legs on your boyfriend Spencer’s thighs while he reads a book at 20,000 words per minute. He sometimes glances up at you from his novel whenever you squirm a bit, though you’re not sure if he thinks you’re just in pain from your cramps or if he’s able to read through you.
Besides, you know for a fact that your boyfriend won’t help you get off while you’re on your period. Spencer’s known to have a thing with germs, so there’s no way that he’ll touch your pussy, especially if it’s bleeding.
The next time you shift slightly and whine softly, Spencer closes his book and sets it down on the coffee table. “Are you okay, honey?”
“‘M okay,” you respond, your voice muffled by your pillow being cuddled in your arms. You unintentionally clench your thighs together at his caring voice which unfortunately, Spencer notices.
“You sure?” He gently massages your calf, which only adds fuel to the fire. You hate that he’s a profiler now. “Just cramps?”
“Mmph…” You nods your head a bit as you hide your face in the pillow, trying to hide your soft blush.
“Maybe you’re aroused?” He asks suddenly. One of his hands moves up your leg to squeeze your thigh. Profilers.
Again, you nod your head, defeated since he can so clearly see how horny you are. “Mm-hmm.”
“I see,” he mutters under his breath, but you can hear him. Disproving your previous judgements about him, he shifts his position so that he’s directly facing you, leaving one of your legs to hang off the couch and allowing him to be between your legs.
You pull the pillow down to your chest, wanting to see what he’s trying to achieve. “What’re you doing?” you ask, your eyebrow cocked.
“Can I help you?” Spencer suggests, his hands planted on your upper thighs, close to your core.
“With what?”
“You’re aroused,” he points out again. “And you’re in pain. Studies have shown that orgasms can help subside period cramps.”
Oh, that’s probably why your friends keep recommending period sex. But you feel too tired for full-on penetration right now. Yet again, he could maybe help you in another way. “Are you sure? It’s gonna be messy, and I know you don’t like germs, and I just feel gross.” You argue self-deprecatingly.
“Well I can put a towel down.” He gets up from his position between your legs and goes off to the bathroom. From the couch, you can hear him opening cupboards before he comes back with a black towel in hand. He continues with what he was saying. “And I want to help you. It’s not gross, it’s natural. I want to make you feel good. Here, lift up your hips.”
He puts a hand on your hip to guide you as you lift your bottom half up just enough for him to place a towel down and make sure it’s flat before he guides you back down. The towel is only just there if you say yes though, which he eagerly awaits before he does anything else to you.
You sigh, and figure that this might be worth a shot. You drop the pillow to the ground in front of the couch, quickly followed by the heating pad that was on your stomach. “Okay, fine,” you say as enthusiastically as you can which, with your cramps and your tiredness, isn’t really that enthusiastic.
Still, Spencer mouths a silent “thank you” before he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweatpants. You lift your hips up once more to make it easier when he tugs them down and off, leaving you in your underwear. Following the same pattern, he once again pulls your period panties off, and you let your hips settle onto the towel-covered couch.
His hands find their way between your thighs and he spreads them just enough for him to have access to your core, wet from your arousal and your blood. The five seconds he spends just staring at your vulnerable pussy, dripping blood onto the towel, are the most nerve-wracking five seconds of your life. You halfway convince yourself that he’s going to back out and leave you like this, horny and bloody with your pants off.
And yet, he buries his head between your legs and starts by gently kissing your heat, then licking a long stripe from the base of your slit all the way up to your sensitive clit, causing an equally long moan to erupt from the depths of your throat.
“You’re so beautiful, honey,” he says before he dives back in again, drawing circles around your bundle of nerves with his tongue before he traps it between his lips and suckles.
You kick your legs up a bit when he focuses on your clit, the stimulation to your sensitive bud ripping sudden moans from your lips. Your hands find their way to the top of his head and you grasp on to his hair tight.
He looks up at you through his lashes, still working his lips around your clit before he moves his tongue down to your slit, licking a bit before thrusting it into your wet cunt. His thumb replaces where his tongue was before, rubbing small tight circles around the bud.
You can’t believe how good he’s making you feel right now, and you can feel your pleasurable knot in your stomach tightening because of his undeserved-but-needed efforts. You don’t know if he’s doing this for you just to be helpful — considering his complicated personal relationship with germs and the like — or if he just really enjoys eating your pussy this much. With each second that passes by having Spencer lapping at your cunt like a man starved, you start to think that it’s the latter thought.
And he can tell you like it too, with the way you moan and arch your back and even when you start to grind your clit against your nose while his tongue is deep in your pussy. Even if you’re wearing a baggy hoodie and were wearing sweatpants, he still manages to make you feel incredibly sexy. Or “sexy” is maybe not the right word — loved; you feel loved in this moment.
He appears to feel the same as well, with the way he moans in content seeing you like this and feeling your fingers nestled in his hair and tugging lightly. With every small pull, a tiny sound emits from his throat and it feels oh so pleasurable on your pussy.
Sensing your impending orgasm, he takes his tongue, wet by your slick and blood, out of your weeping hole and quickly replaces the muscle with his index finger. He slowly pushes the digit in, feeling your walls pulsate around him as he pushes and pulls it in and out in a steady rhythm. A minute later, he adds a second and starts to curl his fingers against that gooey button inside your cunt once he’s knuckle-deep into your warmth.
It’s so much for you; almost too much. Your jaw hangs open in a silent moan and you almost can’t believe it when you start to grind your hips against his thrusting fingers, fucking yourself with his index and middle as it continuously and without fail hits the spongy button everytime.
Your orgasm hits you almost unexpectedly, a wave of pleasure overflows you as your eyes flutter shut and your back arches just a bit more. Your chest heaves while you gasp for air; this is just what you needed during your period. Seeing you’re damn near overwhelmed, Spencer works you through your orgasm, your arousal forming a creamy circle around his still-working fingers.
“There we go, that’s it, you’re doing so well” are among the small praises he breathes onto your pussy while you slowly but surely come down from the high. At the same speed, his fingers slow down until they become stationery, before he pulls them out with a wet squelch, causing you to whimper softly. When your eyes meet next, he can see how glossy your eyes are with satisfcation pulling at the corners of your lips.
“You didn’t have to do that.” You half-lie with a small laugh trailing behind your words. Though to be fair, you definitely needed it.
He pulls himself up to be eye level with you while you’re still laying there on your back catching your breath. You can already see a mixture of your arousal and your blood dribbling down his chin, though he doesn’t seem to mind all that much. “No, but I wanted to.” He says with a dopey smile, still pussy drunk.
Though the lower half of his face is still covered by your juices, he tries to lean in and kiss you, only to be stopped by your hands on his shoulders and you turn your head to the side with an amused smile. “Ew! I don’t wanna taste my blood!”
Spencer scoffed playfully at your reaction. “I just ate you out and I don’t even get a kiss?”
The way he pleads just makes you melt a little and you decide to give in just a bit by gently kissing his cheek. You can feel his cheeks heat up against your lips. Despite his previous openness, he gets flustered and smiles sheepishly, sighing a little. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” you joke, your mouth still planted on his cheek.
i’ve been plane-hopping around europe for over a month so i haven’t had a lot of access to wifi + i nearly failed one of my courses bc my professor was horrible at giving feedback, hopefully this explains my absence and i hope u enjoyed this !! (i posted this in a flurry btw, lmk if there are any errors whatsoever 🫶)
taglist @queermaxwooo @theoraekenslover join the taglist!
content/warnings smutty smut (mdni 18+), mutual masturbation, mommy kink, accidental voyeurism, he sounds like a slut you can’t blame yourself
word count 2.5k
summary after spencer returns home early from a case, you come back home after work to find him in an incredibly compromised position.
a/n ignore the accidental hiatus, but hi !! im probably not going to be able to post at all in may bc im going to be in europe for the entire month. i’m posting this before going in a cave so…enjoy this as a treat!
To put it briefly, Spencer was…awkward.
That’s not to discredit him, though. You can tell that he loves the team and you (especially you). Although he’s less awkward around people he trusts and has known for longer, he still can’t really speak up for what he wants.
And the poor boy is just so touch starved. It’s clear he’s practically clueless when it comes to other forms of intimacy aside from sympathetic hugs to friends or victims in a case. Hell, it even took a month since you started dating for Spencer to be comfortable huddling next to you on the couch; it took even longer for him to be fine with sharing the same bed.
You had barely done anything sexual yet. The closest you had probably gotten to something intimate like that with him was him involuntarily jutting his hips up into your ass when you were making out on the couch. You had hoped that he would continue to do that, especially with how you could feel his hardness pressing up against your core, but he got so flustered and started stammering out high-pitched apologies before moving away and retreating into the bathroom. You imagined that he probably took care of it, but knowing him, maybe he doesn’t jerk off.
You went with that assumption for a while since you — and especially him — hadn’t initiated anything potentially steamy. For him, makeout sessions were enough and although you wanted more, you were okay with indulging in him. You figured that with how touch starved he was, you should take it slow before moving on.
You got to leave work early, and you’re usually glad when that happens but today you’re especially happy because Spencer had just gotten back from a successful case a couple hours ago. When he landed, he immediately texted you, letting you know where he was. When you left your workplace, you had forgotten to text him that you’ll be home earlier than expected, but you’re sure that he wouldn’t mind.
After all, he’s probably just as excited to see you, if not more.
You don’t call out to him when you unlock and open the apartment door; he should hear that you’re home with the locking of the door and the tossing of the keys, as well as the rustle of your coat as you take it off and hang it up.
It’s quiet, but that isn’t really saying anything since it usually is. But you’d figured that he’d meet you at the doorway, which he didn’t.
Odd.
You’re just about to call out to him when you hear a peculiar and out-of-place sound: a moan.
Although it startles you a bit, you think that it was probably the neighbours; that doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense consdiering it’s coming from inside the apartment, but it’s more believable than…
Then you hear another one, and this time you can finally pinpoint its location. It sounds like it’s coming from the bedroom. Spencer? It’s not impossible, but you had just figured that he wouldn’t be the type to pleasure himself, especially with those sorts of reactions.
You slowly make your way towards the room in question, seeing that the door is slightly ajar, leaving a sliver for you to peer in.
What you find is a heavenly sight: Spencer, fully unclothed, splayed across the bed with his length in his fist. His pace is slow, but it’s still enough for him to whimper and moan quite audibly. His other hand is gripping tightly onto the sheets as his head pushes back against a pillow.
It’s perverted, but you feel as if you can’t tear yourself away from watching. At this point, you start to wonder if he knows you’re here or if he even heard you come into the apartment. You struggle to keep quiet as your panties grow damp, and you end up biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning at the sight.
The sound of his fist moving up and down his leaking cock is lewd, his precum dribbling down and even slightly coating his hand.
“o-oh m-mommy—” Him saying that is your breaking point, and you push the door open and enter the room.
He finally notices you and he pulls the sheets he was just grasping onto for dear life up to cover his throbbing dick. You were expecting him to do that; although what he was just doing was insanely hot, he’s still shy, even around you.
He looks away from you, clearly embarrassed he was caught. “Uh, I was— I— ah…” he attempts to explain himself but it leads nowhere. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispers, sounding defeated.
“Why are you sorry?” It’s not a needed question; you know exactly why he thinks so. You move to sit on the edge of the bed as he moves away, still having the sheets pulled up to cover himself. He stammers, but no words come out. He’s so flustered and red in his cheeks, you fear he’s about to pop.
He squirms in his position slightly while a tiny noise that you can barely hear escapes from his lips. A noise of discomfort, you recognize quickly, but you’re not sure if it’s because you just caught him in a private moment or if it’s because his cock is starting to get achy from the lack of stimulation.
“Baby,” you say in a more serious tone, leaning into the notion of his fantasy of you as his mommy, “why are you sorry?”
You stare at him, though you wish he could return your gaze. “Y-You probably feel…uncomfortable b-because—”
Softly, you shush him, holding a finger up against his lips, and you smile. “I’m not uncomfortable,” you assure him.
“You’re not?” he asks, his words vibrating against your index.
You shake your head as you pull your finger away from his lips, instead moving to grab his chin with a soft grip. His cheeks squish against your fingers softly, making his lips look even more plush and kissable. You push your lips against his gently, though it’s obvious that he’s eager from the way he pushes against your mouth to chase the kiss.
The way he whines when you pull away from him is so cute, you feel as if you want to give in to his need to have you closer to him. But he can tell that you want to do something else to satisfy him, so Spencer quiets down. Your hand, however, remains firmly yet softly gripping his jaw.
You look down at the sheets covering his lower half, his erection not-so-subtlety poking the thin fabric, and you glance back up at him. “Do you want me to…” you trail off before looking down at his boner again.
In all honesty, it takes Spencer a good second or two before he gets what you meant by that offer. “U-uh, well, ah…” he stutters. You’re not exactly sure what he wants and frankly neither is he. Based on his previous experiences with intimacy, you decide to not give him a blowjob, or even a handjob.
You both sit there in silence; you can practically cut the tension in the room with a knife. As you think of what to do — since you don’t just want to ignore it, nor do you want to leave him unsatisfied and awkward — Spencer squirms uncomfortably, shifting ever so slightly. His thighs accidentally clench together, squeezing his erection under the blanket, causing him to whimper softly. He silently hopes that you didn’t catch that noise he made, but you did…and it gave you an idea; one that will satisfy both of your urges.
“Do you wanna keep going?” You ask. He would probably much rather do this himself, although you don’t know how he would feel if he were to masturbate right in front of you.
He hesitates for a second, but he does nod shyly. You notice how he’s not meeting your gaze with his own, avoiding eye contact almost entirely. Instead, he’s looking in the direction of your waist.
Without informing him, you stand up and your hands quickly find their way to the buttons on your pants undoing them. Spencer watches with an air of anticipation and slight anxiety as you pull your pants down, a bit hastily and it definitely shows just how eager you are at this moment. Your underwear is certainly damp with how much this situation has you turned on and he can see it clearly too. You couldn’t pinpoint his expression as he sees the wetness, whether he’s nervous or intrigued, until you see him lick his lips — a motion that he only does when he’s excited.
At last, you peel off your soaked panties, but you keep your eyes on his face, wanting to see his reaction at seeing you half-naked. Sure, he’s seen you in your bra and panties before, but that was never sexual and only when you were changing clothes in front of him. He’s always looked away, the gentleman that he is, but he couldn’t resist taking a peek or two at your near-unclothed state. Just like how now, where he can see your bare pussy, glistening and wet, he just can’t resist staring.
He doesn’t mind it; no, not at all. In fact, it’s just making him even more excited, to the point where he slightly pulls down the sheets that are covering his dick — not enough to actually show his arousal, but enough to clearly see his happy trail, which has you salivating.
You get back on the bed, not bothering to take your shirt off as well. You just want to get started already, but you think it would be better if you know he’s comfortable with this whole situation first.
“Is this okay?” you ask, alluding to your nakedness as your thighs are slightly spread, giving him a nice view of your cunt.
He swallows and nods feverishly as his gaze continues to bore into your pussy; all of his attention seems to be focused there, which amuses you.
Deciding to take the initiative, your hand makes its way towards your core. You dip the tips of your fingers in your wet folds, collecting some of the slick and bringing it up to your clit, where you start to gently rub it in small and slow circles.
You hear Spencer’s breath hitch as you do this. It’s like you’re subtly encouraging him to do the same thing and start masturbating again, which is exactly what you’re going for.
He ends up pulling the covers off his pelvis completely, allowing you to see his cock-filled hand. You bite your lip at the sight of him starting to slowly stroke his length again, although timidly, as if he’s being judged. You’re not doing that, of course; you wouldn’t dare judge him for doing something so pleasing in front of you.
He keeps avoiding your gaze so you lean forward as you continue to massage your clit gently and you bring your other hand to tilt his head up by his chin to look at you. The eye contact you both have now is both awkward yet erotic. You’re not really doing anything with each other, you’re just two people touching themselves in front of the other.
A couple minutes into this shared experience, Spencer is starting to get more confident and less self-conscious. His strokes are getting longer and faster, making him produce more noises from his throat; mostly small whimpers with the occasional moan but by god, those small moans just get you going. You end up quickening your pace too and you let yourself make tiny whines too.
Eventually, your fingers move from your clit and back down to your folds, where you insert a finger into your cunt. The sound that falls from your lips after you do so is more motivation for Spencer to speed up again. You thrust your finger in and out at the same pace as his hand and you’re sure you both are imagining something more intimate at this point.
You add a second finger and then later on a third and now, a few minutes later, you’re both moving in sync and moaning up a storm. His moans are louder though, but you don’t mind at all. They just give you more reason to speed up and keep going.
Nearing the end, you’re wondering who’s going to cum first. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Spencer did so before you since he’s been jerking off for longer than you have but with the way the pleasure is building up in your stomach, you’re not entirely sure anymore; your mind is just focused on the intense pleasure and nothing else.
“O-oh god…” you hear him whine. Now you know who is going to finish first.
“You gonna cum, baby?” It takes you some effort to ask that question, especially since for the past ten or so minutes, you’ve just been touching yourselves without even talking.
“Mhm,” he hums in response as he nods. His hand is going at such a quick pace that you can clearly hear how his precum-coated palm is moving up and down his cock. “S’much, I…”
“It’s okay, honey,” you stammer out. Then, in your pleasure-fueled haze, an idea forms in your head. “You can cum. Cum for mommy~”
The use of that nickname for you really gets him going and he can no longer hold himself back. “M-mommy!” he cries out with a gasp for air as cum spurts out of the tip of his cock. He lets his head hang back and his eyelids flutter as his orgasm hits him and it’s beautiful for you to watch. It only motivates you to speed up even more, wanting to reach your peak as fast as possible. You probably shouldn’t rush it to savor the moment but in this case, rushing is fine to you.
After his intense orgasm, Spencer watches with bated breath as you cum. Your hips rock forward, practically riding your own fingers while your back arches and your murmurs grow incoherent. If he wasn’t tired, Spencer is pretty sure that he would be turned on again immediately just from watching you finger yourself. He is almost positive that you’re thinking of riding him instead of your fingers, and he would be correct in that assessment.
The pleasure slowly dissipates until you’re left with the incredibly awkward feeling of having just jerked off in front of your boyfriend. Both of you aren’t really sure what to say or what to do considering this was technically your first shared sexual experience since you had started dating.
“Um—” “So—” you both say at the same time. You don’t know how to move forward in a gracious manner, so you shyly get off the bed and put your underwear and pants back on. He still sits in the bedsheets, which are slightly damp from the sweat accumulated from the experience.
He moves towards the edge of the bed — towards you — and sits up straight, trying not to feel embarrassed that he’s still naked. And even though he felt uncomfortable about being touched while nude prior, he plants his lips on yours.
You weren’t expecting this but it’s a welcome surprise, as you chase his kiss with all the energy you have left; which isn’t a lot, but is enough. He breaks from the kiss, but leaves his forehead against yours as he looks at you like a dog.
Could I request headcanons of Elle Greenaway and Jennifer Jareau with a fem!reader who insists they’re not drunk (when they most definitely are) XD
sounds like a funny idea, ofc you can request this !!
“i’m not drunk!” ☆ elle greenaway & jennifer jareau
ship elle greenaway x jennifer jareau x drunk!fem!reader
warnings reader is hammered lol, alcohol (ofc)
a/n took a while, so sorry about that! this is also my first polyamorous post so i’m excited about that :D
★ you’re probably at a bar with the team, celebrating a case that went by easily.
★ yeah everybody’s drinking (minus spencer and his arnold palmer), but you are HAMMERED.
★ stumbling around, slurring your speech, giggling and flushed type of drunk.
★ as such, you have to be supervised. downside is that you are probably the single worst person to look after while drunk because you are incredibly good at getting other people drunk too.
★ so penelope was originally slated to supervise you, but ten minutes after she joined you, you and her were drunkenly giggling about nothing at all.
★ the rest of the team that are present are also quick inebriated, but elle and jj didn’t drink that much tonight. so now they’re stuck with you.
★ they take the initiative and decide to take the team to their respective homes. after dropping everyone off at their houses, the only person left was you.
★ elle holds you upright the most as her and jj carry you to your front door. while elle has her arm around your waist and you arm around the back of her neck, jj fishes into your pockets for your keys. it’s definitely worrying that you don’t really react.
★ they practically drag you inside and then drag you some more to your bedroom after jj closes the door and takes off your shoes.
★ they plop you down onto your bed as you groan drunkenly. jj goes to get an aspirin and some water for when you go to sleep and wake up with a wicked hangover.
★ elle, on the other hand, tries to make sure you’re comfortable by only taking off your pants and situating you under the covers.
★ after she pulls the blanket up about halfway over you, you reach out and pull her into the bed with you, immediately wrapping your arms around her as if she were a stuffed animal.
★ jj returns with the pill and glass in hand to see you sloppily kissing elle on the cheek as she pulls away from you. jj chuckles, setting the items in her hands down onto the bedside table as elle tries to get you to calm down and sleep.
★ once you appear to be close to clocking out for the night, elle gets up from the bed but you whine in response, beckoning both of the women to join you.
★ elle sighs, but jj seems completely fine with it. they both do end up climbing under the covers next to you, holding you until you fall asleep.
★ of course, they end up staying. your bed is just so warm and they want to make sure you get your rest and you take your aspirin when you awake next.
★ luckily you have a day off, so next morning, when you wake up with a throbbing headache and the worst hangover, you find the two women still asleep on either side of you.
★ you do notice the water and aspirin on the table, but that can wait (even if your headache is telling you no).
hi!!! i love your writing!!!! idk if you’ve done this yet but maybe…. a nsfw alphabet with hotch 🤭🤭
I BEG
omg yesss
nsfw alphabet ☆ aaron hotchner
ship aaron hotchner x afab!reader
warnings smut (duh), mention of sex toys, implied unprotected sex (practice safe sex please!), size difference kink, thigh fucking, mention of degradation and spanking, masturbation, office sex, oral (mostly f receiving), rough sex, quickies, shower sex, phone sex, teasing, mentions of haley (rip queen)
a/n i need him; also sorry this took so long !!
A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)
it’s like a half-half thing; sometimes he’ll run the shower for you, get you some water, etcetera — or he’ll just lay in bed with you and hold you. either way, you’re not complaining.
B = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and of yours)
aaron hasn’t really thought about a particular body part of his that he likes more than others, but he does sometimes favour his hands. a size difference kink might come into play with this preference, but he just likes stroking your cheek or thigh, or maybe just holding your hand.
as for you, it’s no contest that he loves your thighs the most. it’s obvious to you, but he honestly also hasn’t thought about his preference for your body parts too. but during sex, you notice how his hands tend to trail down to your thighs, or he would pay extra attention to them when he’s eating you out.
C = cum (anything to do with cum)
buried in you; that’s how he likes to finish. he loves cumming in you and filling you up to the brim, it’s a mouth-watering visual for him.
D = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)
with other partners (mostly haley), he’s definitely vanilla; like definitely, no degradation/dirty talk either. however, with you, he’s been thinking about discussing trying more spicy things in the bedroom — namely things like degradation and spanking.
E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)
ahem, haley. most of his experience with sex is with her, so after she died and he had time to heal and go back into the dating scene, he experimented a little more with different types of partners; he’s probably more experienced than you, at this point.
F = favourite position (this goes without saying)
prefers missionary for more control and intimacy but if you wanted, he would be more than willing to let you ride him.
G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)
serious both outside and inside the bedroom; he’d definitely take sex much more seriously at the beginning of your relationship. as you both grow much more comfortable with each other, he’ll make small quips of humour during the act.
H = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
just look at his hands — you can tell that he has a lot of body hair without even seeing him naked. definitely has a mouth-watering happy trail.
I = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)
he absolutely does not do one night stands or hookups, so romance is a necessity for him to even think about having sex with someone. expect a lot of “i love you”s during the act and expect to return them.
J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)
he does it, but not as often as other people might. probably would do it on a case in the hotel/motel if he really misses you :(
K = kink (one or more of their kinks)
before you, aaron didn’t really explore the kinky side of sex, so he always remained pretty vanilla in that department. one kink that you noticed he has but he himself would never admit to is a size difference kink.
L = location (favourite places to have sex)
as much as he would love to fuck on the desk in his office…yeah, he prefers to keep it in the bedroom. he has yet to tell you about his office sex idea but knowing you, you’d be onboard for it.
M = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
doesn’t have any specific things that turn him on — except whenever you wear his work shirts. they look loose and a tad too big to be form fitting, but he absolutely loves it and can’t wait to rip it off you.
N = nope (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)
as much as he would like to experiment with kinky sex, he really objects to being too dominating; he wants you to still have some level of control so if you want, you can take the helm anytime you so wished. of course, he’d also never want to hurt you, and he might not want to experiment with possible bondage until a while later into your relationship. also, he absolutely does not want to be called any dominating title in bed, like “sir,” “master” and especially “daddy.”
O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
aaron’s a giver, through and through. there are times where he does like getting a blowjob, he likes eating you out way more. probably because you tend to bury your hands in his hair and tug a little bit to signal something you like him doing.
P = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
it does depend on mood and the reason you’re having sex, but typically the pace is slow and deep. this can change since — considering how stressed out he usually is because of his job and workload — some cases would just get to him, or his job gets to be too much. so he would take it out on you by going fast and rough.
Q = quickies (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
doesn’t particularly favour them, but what can he do when he’s on-call 24/7? the only time he likes quickies are when you’re showering together and he just can’t handle how good you look soaking wet. first round in the shower, then the second, third, or even fourth round(s) in the bedroom.
R = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
later in your relationship, he does want to experiment with kinkier sex, but risks are a hard no.
S = sexts (yes? no? pictures?)
aaron wouldn’t be into sexts and nudes so much as he would be into phone sex. considering how often you’re away from each other, and you both have the opportunity to be alone with your phones, he would 100% take it.
T = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
he knows the different types of sex toys, but he doesn’t own any and has never used them. but sex toys are definitely on his list of things he would like to test on you during sex. only if you’re up for it (who are you kidding, of course you are).
U = unfair (how much they like to tease)
again, depends on the mood, but sometimes he does like to tease you. only sometimes though; usually he just wants to get right to the fucking just in case he gets called in.
V = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)
unfortunately, aaron’s the type of guy to mostly be quiet and not outright loud. he also doesn’t moan; he sticks to grunts and groans (they’re still hot to listen to).
W = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)
he really wants to try thigh fucking. seeing his cock push and drag through your closed thighs, getting lubed by a combination of your wetness and his precum is a visual that turns him on so much. he has yet to tell you though, but he’s been hinting at it…
X = x-ray (dick size)
girthy, above average, and not one, but THREE prominent veins (good lord…).
Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive? how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)
not that high, unfortunately; you definitely have a higher sex drive than him, that’s for sure. rarely, he’s one and done, he does tend to aim for two or three rounds if possible. if he’s worked up or stressed out, however, he could probably go all night.
Z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
he tries to keep himself awake until you fall asleep. he wants to make sure you’re comfortable and content with the outcome of the night’s activities before he can relax; you’re a top priority to him.
