HELLO!!! I LOVE your writing and was wondering if you could please write a dom!spencer who is just a pleasure dom but in the worst way and overstimulates the reader when he thinks some guy is trying to flirt with her at the bar?
No pressure I love whatever you write and I hope your holiday is good!!
content warning: Explicit sexual content, consensual BDSM and Dominant/submissive dynamics, overstimulation, verbal dominance, possessive behavior, public setting sexual activity (bar), power exchange, teasing, sensory play, age gap relationship (implied).
a/n: omg thank u mlllllllllllll this is basically just porn no plot sryyyyyy
room but mostly focused on Spencer standing just a few feet away. His presence was magnetic, but tonight there was something different in his gaze—sharp, protective, possessive.
You caught the way he noticed the guy leaning a little too close, flashing you a smile that was too practiced, too easy. Spencer’s jaw tightened just a bit, that familiar quiet intensity building behind his eyes. Without a word, he slid closer, the heat radiating off him unmistakable.
“I don’t like the way he’s looking at you,” Spencer murmured, voice low but firm. You swallowed, feeling the mix of his concern and something darker—an urge to claim you right then and there.
His hand found yours, fingers curling around your wrist, pulling you gently but decisively toward a quieter corner of the bar. You didn’t protest. The tension between you was electric, every inch of you attuned to the way Spencer’s gaze darkened, the slight smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
He leaned in close, voice barely above a whisper, “I’m going to make sure he knows you’re mine. And you’re going to feel exactly how much.”
Before you could answer, his hand slid under the hem of your skirt, fingers tracing slow, teasing circles over the bare skin of your thigh. Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of his touch spread through you like wildfire.
Spencer’s lips ghosted over your ear, his breath hot and steady. “You like that, don’t you? Want me to show you just how much.”
His fingers moved with deliberate patience, stroking, teasing, but never quite enough to let you fully catch your breath. You were burning, burning with need and frustration, desperate for release but also trapped under his delicious torment.
The guy from before glanced your way again, clearly confused by the quiet storm unfolding in the corner. Spencer caught it, chuckled softly, and pressed a kiss to your jaw before trailing down your neck.
“You’re too sensitive for him to handle,” Spencer said, voice thick with promise. “But I’m going to take care of you right here, right now.”
His hands and mouth moved in perfect harmony, overwhelming every nerve ending with touches and kisses that left you trembling and gasping. Pleasure rolled over you in relentless waves—too much, just enough, always pushing the edge.
You tried to speak, to tell him to stop or slow down, but your voice caught in your throat. You were at his mercy, utterly and deliciously exposed.
Spencer’s fingers slipped lower, exploring with slow, maddening precision, making you arch into him even as your senses spun out of control.
“You belong to me,” he whispered, eyes burning into yours. “And tonight, you’re going to learn exactly how that feels.”
The world narrowed until there was only him, only this—the overwhelming, endless pleasure that left you breathless and aching for more.
You were barely able to steady your breath, Spencer’s touch both exquisite and merciless, trailing down your thigh in slow, deliberate circles that had your nerves fraying in the best possible way. The bar’s ambient noise faded into nothing as his fingers explored, teasing and stroking in a rhythm designed to unnerve and excite all at once.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” Spencer murmured close to your ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps across your skin. His lips brushed against your earlobe, then down the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.
Your fingers clenched the edge of the booth, trying to ground yourself, but Spencer had other plans. His hand slipped higher, fingertips grazing the edge of your underwear, slow and deliberate, testing your limits with each movement.
“You don’t get to forget who you belong to,” he said softly, voice thick with desire and possession. “Not here. Not anywhere.”
Your eyes fluttered open just in time to meet his gaze—dark, intense, completely focused on you. There was no question who was in charge, and the clarity of that knowledge sent a shudder through you.
The guy who’d been watching you earlier tried to approach again, but Spencer’s grip tightened, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together. His low voice cut through the noise of the bar. “I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you.”
The man hesitated, clearly unnerved by the quiet, dangerous energy Spencer radiated, and backed away, disappearing into the crowd. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.
Spencer’s hand returned to your thigh, his touch more demanding now. The teasing had stopped—he was claiming you, marking this moment with his control and attention.
He leaned in and kissed you again, slow and deep, his tongue tracing the outline of your mouth as if memorizing every inch. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel his dominance and affection all at once.
“Do you want more?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
You nodded, breathless. The thought of stopping was impossible. You were caught in the storm of his pleasure and power, and you didn’t want it to end.
Spencer shifted, adjusting his position so his body pressed against yours, his hard length evident beneath his trousers. His hands didn’t stop moving, sliding beneath your skirt to explore, touch, and tease until you were trembling under his every stroke.
“You feel so good for me,” he said, voice a seductive whisper. “I’m going to take care of you right here, right now. No one else gets to.”
His mouth moved to your collarbone, teeth grazing softly as his hands explored with relentless hunger. The sensation was overwhelming—too much and just enough all at once.
You moaned, the sound lost in the music and chatter around you, but Spencer caught it, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.
“Louder,” he commanded gently, voice dripping with dominance. “Let them hear how much you belong to me.”
Your breath hitched, and you obeyed, feeling the delicious sting of exposure and ownership. Spencer’s hands moved faster now, fingers teasing you in ways that made your knees weak and your heart race.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, eyes never leaving yours. “Only mine.”
Every nerve ending sang as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his skillful fingers and heated mouth driving you wild. You were trembling, gasping, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was lavishing on you.
“Come for me,” he urged, voice low and commanding. “Show me how much you want this.”
Your body betrayed you, folding into the wave of release that crashed over you with fierce intensity. Spencer held you steady, grounding you even as your senses spiraled, his hands gentle yet unyielding.
When you finally came back to yourself, your skin flushed and your breath ragged, Spencer’s lips were on yours again, kissing away every shaky breath, every trace of vulnerability with a tenderness that made your heart soar.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured, pulling you close. “And I’m not letting anyone take you from me.”
You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, comforted and consumed all at once.
The night stretched on, but in that moment, nothing else mattered except the way Spencer made you feel—desired, protected, overwhelmed in the best possible way.
Spencer’s hands never stopped moving, never lost their purpose. His fingers danced over your skin with expert precision, teasing and kneading every sensitive spot until you were gasping for air and desperate for release. The heat building between your legs was a wildfire, and Spencer was the only one with the power to control it.
His lips traced a line from your jaw down to your collarbone, biting gently before sucking on the tender skin. You could feel his breath hitch as he tasted you, his hunger matching your own. The bar around you faded further, the noise reduced to a distant murmur, irrelevant in the face of what he was doing to you.
“You’re so sensitive,” he whispered, voice low and possessive, “and I love that about you. You’re mine, and I’m going to make sure you feel it every single second.”
His fingers slipped beneath your panties with slow, deliberate intent, circling and stroking your slickness. The sensation was maddening, waves of pleasure crashing through you as your body tensed, begging for more. Spencer’s mouth followed his hands, kissing and sucking along your inner thigh, marking you as his in a way no one else could.
“Look at me,” he demanded, voice rough with need. You obeyed immediately, eyes locked on his dark, intense gaze. “Tell me how much you want me.”
“I want you,” you breathed, voice trembling. “Please, Spencer. I need you.”
His smile was a promise and a warning. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”
Spencer’s hand tightened on your hip, pulling you flush against him. His other hand found the waistband of his pants, undoing the button with quick fingers. You watched him, breathless, as he revealed himself—hard, swollen, ready.
Without hesitation, he pressed himself against you, the heat and weight grounding you even as your body begged for more. His lips found yours again, claiming you in a fierce, hungry kiss as he began to move, slow and relentless.
The sensation was overwhelming, every inch of you alive with pleasure and need. Spencer’s hands roamed freely, gripping, teasing, holding you in place as he drove deeper and deeper, each movement a delicious torment that left you gasping and trembling.
“You belong to me,” he growled, voice thick with dominance. “And I’m going to make sure you know it.”
You cried out his name, the sound raw and desperate as the waves of pleasure built higher and higher until they crashed over you in a shattering release. Spencer held you tight through it all, grounding you, claiming you.
When you finally came down from the high, his mouth was on yours again, gentle and possessive. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, soothing the trembles that wracked your body.
“You’re mine,” he repeated softly, “and no one is going to take you away.”
You smiled against his mouth, overwhelmed and utterly content. Tonight, Spencer had shown you exactly what it meant to be his—completely, utterly, and without reservation.
The night deepened, but you were wrapped in his arms, safe in the knowledge that Spencer Reid, brilliant, dominant, and utterly devoted, was yours.
