#consent a lot here

[agnesandhilda]

when I used to do arnis (filipino stick fighting/martial arts, which has a handful of different names, but that’s what the group I practiced with called it) we practiced chokeholds and I, understandably, was kind of freaked out about the idea of being choked even though I understood it wasn’t real.

we were doing triangle chokes. to clarify how that works, you’d be facing someone (we’d usually run through some brief drill before this to simulate a “fight” that someone would “lose” and end up positioned for the chokehold) with their throat pressed to your bicep and your stick against the left side of their neck, resting against your own shoulder, to keep them in place. your stick and arm together would make a triangle shape with someone’s head in the center---that’s where the name comes from---and you’d press in against the side of their neck, not directly on the front of the throat but to one of the soft, fleshy sides on either side of the neck to restrict blood flow. (and, fun fact, not all chokeholds work by targeting the airway! some, like triangle chokes, affect circulation)

so we pair off to practice and I’m with this dude I’ll call andrew, a mild-mannered older man, and he walks me through it. I tell him I’m nervous, and he explains that I can tap out, (which is common practice for martial arts, and means exactly what it sounds like--you tap your partner to signal that they stop. I had done this before for exercises related to joint locks and takedowns, so I was already familiar with the concept, though I was never nervous for those) whenever I feel like.

anyway, I’m still skittish, but I’ve known andrew for like a year at this point and know he’s a responsible guy to partner with for drills, so whatever. we’re doing this. we get into position. he’s got me in the crook of his arm, and he starts to press down very, very slowly. now, if you’ve never been put in a triangle choke, I’ll tell you that it feels like there’s pressure building up in your face, inside your head---or at least that’s how I remember it feeling now, years after last doing it, so take that with a grain of salt if you want. anyway, I let that feeling of pressure build a little, and then tap his arm twice, solidly. and he lets me go on the spot. 

we do that a few more times. he catches me, gradually increases the pressure on my neck, and whenever I feel like I’ve hit this natural threshold of discomfort I tap out and he releases me instantly. at some point, I think, oh, he’ll stop whenever I tell him to, and it was oddly empowering.

like, I know it sounds weird to say, but I was what, sixteen at the time? and like most kids I had never gotten much of a say in what happened to me or my body---you can’t dress too boyish, it’s rude and improper, (even if I just wanted to wear what cis boys would in that same situation), you can’t refuse physical affection in polite company, even if it’s from people you despise---it was novel to me to be able to give my no and have it respected instantly and without question.

andrew’s turn to practice ends, and mine starts. I put him in the chokehold and he corrects my stance so I do it properly, and I start to actually choke the guy. now, if letting someone practice their chokehold on you is nerve-wracking so is being the one to do the choke, in an equal and opposite way---I did martial arts for years, and I never got entirely comfortable with hitting another person with force, even though they always consented to it! fuck, I do taekwondo now (sort of, I’m bad about actually showing up), and I’m still hesitant to strike up until my partner pretty much up and tells me to go for it already. 

anyway, I’m a bit shy about this whole choking business, so I go in slow as a snail (to be fair, you’re always supposed to go slow for safety reasons during any chokeholds or joint locks or takedowns, but I’m going extra slow), pressing into the side of andrew’s throat with my stick, and after several moments he taps my shoulder once, firmly, and I break the triangle to let him out. 

we do this until my turn to practice the chokehold is over, and then the guy who runs the class stops everybody to tell us to break up and find new partners to practice with, and I make a beeline for one of my favorite partners, one of the few other women in the class, and one of only two female black belts, which left her as one of my only options for a role model. I’ll call her edith! edith was blunt, funny, a no-nonsense teacher, and I thought she was the coolest. 

edith had been practicing there for fifteen years and, unlike andrew, who was a straightforward, no-surprises kind of guy, would mess with you. she’d sometimes break out of the routine of the drill we were supposed to be doing to try something else she knew---because she’d been practicing arnis for about as long as I’d been alive at the time, and blindside me. I remember once we were doing this drill, a fast-paced one, swaying around the room, our sticks clashing loudly, and she snaked her stick around my arm to catch my elbow and pull me in, twist my arm behind my back, and tease me. she said I was stiff and predictable, which was embarrassing advice to get, but also hard to be upset about when the whole situation was fun for me. 

anyway. I went over to her immediately so she could choke me next

#bolo speaks #to clarify yes I was attracted to her I think but it wasn't exclusively about that like she was also super cool generally #not gay not not gay but a secret third thing #anyway. I really loved doing combat sports even though I did eventually quit bc the atmosphere around them was too misogynistic #and there are a lot of interesting ideas floating around about them if you want to be a dork about it! like I bring up body autonomy and #consent a lot here #years ago I read this rly interesting article about prizefighting and consensual violence and capitalism that I'll link here if I find it #the Themes the Motifs etc etc etc

[milla984]

It's the Great Pumpkin, Spencer Reid

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

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

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

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

Word Count: 5.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt his other hand on your waist, hesitant. 

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

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

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

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

“Wait…” he whined, squirming under you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, no! Ditto,” you confirmed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y– yes…” he muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no… it’s good, I like it…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brain was going in severe overdrive. 

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

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

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

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

“Your microexpressions say otherwise,” you retorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spencer…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do I feel? Spence...?”

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

“You like it?”

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

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

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

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

“Spence, I need more…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if I get…? I mean... again?!”

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

NB: I'm not using my regular taglist for Spencer Reid smut fics but I'm obviously tagging only the users who sent a request. If you wish to be added you can send me an ask or leave a comment below with the request to be added.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid smut #criminalminds #criminalminds fanfic #criminalminds smut #virgin!spencer reid #smut #smut with fluff #mdni #minors do not interact #lots of consent #not beta read #halloween feels #friends to lovers #garcia is a ray of sunshine #bonus points if you guess the movie #virgin!spencer is my bby and no one is allowed to say bad things about him #spencer's tummy is adorable #i love him your honor #reposting here bc i deactivated my sideblog #my gif #milla writes n*s*f*w*

[canisalbus]

I had a scrap piece of paper and drew the little freakish dog 👍 I have been silently enjoying your art for like a couple months now? I found it randomly on uploaded Pinterest and was like “oh huh that’s rad” and yeah he’s such a lovely sad little beast

.

#oooh another tiny machete sighting! #I don't know but I find it just so endearing that people are out there doodling his weird little face #on post it notes corners of scrap paper and at work #I do that too but then again I'm rotating him in my head at least fifteen times a day so I kind of have to #the WHISKERS ah #scruffy little animal #putting him in my pocket and taking him to the grocery shop as we speak #thank you! and I'm glad you've been enjoying my art! #I've always had a little difficult relationship with pinterest because a lot of art gets uploaded there without proper sources or credit #and whenever a piece of yours gets reposted sourcelessly often enough you kind of end up losing ownership to it which isn't fun #it gets used without artist's consent as bootleg prints and shirts and tattoos and such #but lately a lot of people have come to me saying they discovered my stuff through pinterest #or had seen my character there and recognized it later when they came across one of my own posts #and it's always very nice to hear that I'm glad you've found me here #but I'm getting very off topic didn't mean to ramble like that #gift art #answered #wwildcatt #own characters #Machete

[benkeibear]

If you're complaining that fandoms are falling apart and want things to change please start right at your own doorstep. Only pointing fingers doesn't help when you get jealous over other peoples accomplishments and try to tear them down.

Be better, then you can help others working on themeselves. Spread kindness to those who need it. Helping each other instead of tearing each other down. That is fandom.

No writer or artist here has more worth than another. We're all here to giggle about lines and make friends along the way.

#rhy speaks ♡ #coming from the bottom of my heart #it's upsetting me a lot to see people being scared to interact with artists/writers bc they have a larger following #no one bites without consent here and if they do I will take them to the trash where they belong #no mean people allowed

[goldkirk]

I'm taking a survey--I'd love to talk about thoughts for Shutterbug Series and the magic Tim series on here, but I also don't want to spoil the story or future events for people.

Do you feel okay with me just talking about whatever I want even if it's spoilers or even if I don't end up writing it?

Or would it really make it hard for you if I was on here posting potential spoilers at random?

Would you be okay with it IF I had a separate tag for just-thoughts-and-ramblings like "shutterbug braindump" that you could blacklist?

#polls #shutterbug series #coraline au #i didn't have this concern back when i was writing latchkey because it was just so fast and not a lot of people had found and read it yet #and certainly not many followed me on here #but now I know a good number of people do and I don't want to just subject people to my brain dump writing vomits without consent haha #my audience has evolved from what it previously was #i want to make sure i evolve my habits/boundaries with that if necessary too #2024 #gold thoughts #i'm going to try to create a new tag to see if i'm still capable of creating new tagging habits i won't forget forever #it's an experiment

[mock-arts]

A gift for Tyu, as part of the @spreadyourwingsexchange! Alpha/Obi-Wan, with some sex pollen implications 👀

#alphaobi #alpha 17 #obi wan kenobi #star wars clone wars #sex pollen #murky consent issues are my fav part of sex pollen but it’s like really hard to convey via art 🤔 #also kinda wishing I’d gone with less perspective to emphasize the size diff more but I didn’t know if giftee was into size diff anyways #and this way I got their faces visually close together #I went w the most yonic orchids I could find for sex pollinators lol #nsft #I used a lot of white in this piece which makes it feel less finished to me but it’s what I was aiming for so kept being like #I guess this is done?? #a lot of decisions I’m not super confident in here #but I like the pose and concept a lot! #tentacles #but just a bit #dubcon #but like only implied?

[8rujaa]

my therapist really saved me….

#tw abuse // tw sa #i can’t sleep bc i keep thinking about this. #like i probably would’ve not been here if it weren’t for her #i started seeing her january of 2023… my life has changed entirely since then and she was definitely the one who got the ball rolling #literally so much has changed since then and it’s all because of her #i was so dissociated during our first few sessions #thanks to her i was able to get diagnosed and medicated for adhd. i was able to realize i was in an abusive situation and plan a way out #i was able to focus on myself and my healing and she’s helped me reframe so much of my negative thinking #i was able to process a lot of emotions and become a better version of myself with each session #she’s truly incredible. #i remember the first comment she made about the relationship had been ‘’so it’s like there’s an imbalance of control in the relationship’’ #i had put my partners on such a high pedestal that i had no idea they could be doing anything wrong #and i asked her what she meant and she said ‘from what you’ve been describing it’s sounds like a strict parents and child type of dynamic’ #she told me they didn’t need to understand why i wanted to leave and they didn’t need to make that decision. if that’s what was going to be #best for me the only thing i could do is let them know my reasoning and simply leave. i didn’t need their permission.’’ #i remember being so confused at that realization bc like… i had been putting their emotions over mine the whole time i had forgotten simply #doing what’s best for me was an option… l #ever since then i’ve been putting myself first and it’s been a steady uphill from rock bottom… i’ve made an incredible amount of progress #when i first started with her getting out of bed and walking to the kitchen was incredibly difficult and took all my strength. #yesterday i conquered a mountain!!!!!!! i hiked all the way to the top!!!!! :D #me a year ago thought it was going to take me years and years to recover. as soon as i left i made leaps of progress #im incredibly proud of myself and grateful for her. and my reiki lady she’s also been a great great help. #the silver lining is i realized who really matters. and the relationships i cared about deepened. #my sweet virgo friend was the one who was always like ‘THATS A GROWN ASS MAN WHO CANT UNDERSTAND BASIC CONSENT???’ #LMFAO i would be like ‘but he has trauma and bla bla bla’ she looked me dead in the eyes and said #’jess you said with your last boyfriend that you would never make excuses for a man who was hurting you again. stop defending him.’ #she’s really a gem and i treasure her with my life. i hope she knows i love her. she’s family at this point #she’s also literally saved my life before (like deadass called 911 for help) #im glad i had the support system i had. that was a rough situation with so many layers and im glad i got through it #my 22nd year of life was by far the worst of my life and i don’t ever want to put myself in that situation again. im glad i learned.

[thequeenofsastiel]

I kind of love that Rain doesn't remotely struggle to get away while Payu is spanking him, and afterwards, despite complaining, he doesn't use disrespectful language. He still calls Payu "P'Payu", and uses "Pom" instead of "Goo" for "I/me". In fact, so far after their linguistic domination scene, Rain has stuck to respectful pronouns, no matter how indignant he acts. Payu has been trying to be Rain's Dom, and Rain is slowly letting him be.

I admit I'm wildly curious where it'll go from here.

#it could be said that the only couples I find interesting are ones with power dynamics #I would mildly contest that #after all there's no real power dynamic in my otp #the one in my screen name #but I mean I'll be honest it's mostly true that D/s couples are my favorites #anyways I still resent the way their relationship started #just assume that from here on out #any post I make about this couple comes with a disclaimer about the importance of consent #and how it was not there for the first one and a half episodes #okay now that that's out of the way imma let myself enjoy this couple bc MAME and I have a lot of the same kinks #I can't help it #love in the air #payu x rain #payurain #rainpayu #rainphayu #rain x phayu #phayurain #phayu x rain #jfc I wish there was a consisent spelling of Payu's name #payurain meta #my meta

[mondverde]

wait i think i forget how to breathe

#PLEASE PUT YOUR SHIRT SIR #theres a lot of children here #did you ever consent about my sanity? #my therapist will be hearing about this #moon junhui #wen junhui #junhui #svt jun

[selfshippingtrinity]

Imagine your f/o making the cutest flower crown for you.

#putting the mdni panel here bc a lot of 'minors dni'/'18+ only' blogs have been liking and reblogging my posts without consent #and if any decent human beings on this app have the common decency to check my dni #they'd see 'minors dni blogs' listed on there #the part where I said 'im blocking if you meet anything on this list' isnt a lie #anyways tl:dr a lot of a very certain group of adults violated my dni so now I have two panels here #which will hopefully warn these ppl beforehand before they like or rb my posts #since im guessing a majority of them didn't take the time to read my dni #but still #dont tell minors to shoo when you literally make me have to see your spicy dirty profile #to make sure youre good to go #anyways done with my pathetic rant in the tags that wont matter a year from now #and for the record I'm not mad or pissed at all I'm just saying #f/o #fictional other #fictional others #romantic f/o #self shipping blog #imagine ur f/o #self ship blog #self shipping community #romantic f/o stuff #self ship #f/o stuff #imagine your f/o #imagine your romantic f/o #self ships #fictional shenanigans #imagine your f/o prompt #self shipping #platonic f/o

[snailwife]

DR CULLEN WILL SEE YOU NOW.

*

Introducing horrorlight - Twilight reimagined as horror. Starting off with everyone’s favourite immortal blood thief, Carlisle.

[ko-fi | commissions]

#snail draws #snailposting #twilight #carlisle cullen #twilight revival #twilight renaissance #i used another screenshot as reference for this :) it's the scene in the hospital #after bella gets gently bonked by a car #where carlisle edward and rosalie are talking and see bella and just give her the MEANEST looks. all of them #and shes just like o<-< #anyways yeah. i know a lot of folks on here like the good doctor #but i think some of his behaviours in the series are pretty horror worthy #stealing from blood banks and taking jacobs blood without his consent. i dont think thats in the hippocratic oath my guy........

[bluest-planet]

A Lesson in Darkness, Snippet

Small bit I wrote on a whim for my OC, Yoruhua and Vanitas based on this art we drew. Some Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles references and fan lore. Anyways, onto adoptive sibling bonding moment shenanigans;

Vanitas scoffed, leaning against the much taller Yoruhua. He was completely unimpressed with what he was looking at, "so this was what you were so excited about? It's just another dead Keyblade. We saw plenty of those in the Graveyard."

A large boney gloved hand gently ruffled his hair from behind, which he tried to swat away to get them to stop- earning him some scratchy chuckles.

He looked up at them and frowned (but from their perspective seemed like adorable pouting,) getting them to stop.

Yoruhua simply smiled back peacefully to him, old tearstain marks over their discovery long since dried but still evident. It was embarrassing to him, how were they not? The look was so ill fitting on another creature of Darkness- especially for one so ancient and powerful as they claimed to be.

So weak, so mushy, so soft.

So unlike him.

Too much like those of the Light. Like Ventus.

"you're right, oscuritó, however... Out of all the blades from before; copies, mimics, mass produced... This is one of my design. We're getting closer to finding her, me, my Heart's Promise. It's a good sign..." He said quietly, though his voice was still rough from disuse the past eons, trapped within Void Gear.

The homunculus moved forward, forcing him to stand on his own, and pulled the old keyblade from the poisoned earth around it with no issue, unlike Vanitas had earlier; unable to pry it from centuries worth of weathering and miasma clinging to it. Not even he could do it.

It irked him seeing how easy it came to them. But if she really did helped create it, her ability to wield almost any keyblade was stupid useful in their quest and in his training.

In Yoruhua's grasp, she gently rotated it to see it from all angles. As if it weighed nothing at all, despite its hefty design- but if he was going to be honest, he had no idea how they were able to recognize it so quick with how dirty it was. Crusted in mud, muck, and bent all out of shape. He wouldn't have even notice if he hadn't tripped on the damn thing- it's Dark signature so hidden under all the poison it was undetectable.

But Yoruhua held it as if it was made just for her, instead of by her; light as a feather, just forged.

He still glared at it, "it's useless, not even worth the scrap metal all messed up like that. Worse than the ones in the graveyard."

She hummed, "well, its been eons since it's last wielder even held it. It's name is Breath of Achlys. Its what's oozing all this Miasma; still loyal to my fellow homunculi's dying wish to bring permanent ruin wherever they went." She slowly trailed the twisted blade's flat side with a finger starting from its broken teeth to the deformed hilt.

A wry, half-hearted smile on her lips, "ironically, I made it to purify the Miasma as an alternative to dangerously collecting drops of Myrrh. It was supposed to assist Orichalchemi's caravan in restoring their Tribal Crystal, make things easier for them all... Until a fellow homunculi slayed the Wielder it was made for, and made it her own."

He was mildly fascinated seeing it come to life in seconds with just a pinch of Darkness to revitalize something loss to time, back to its former glory. He's never seen Darkness being used in such a way.

He channels some of his power into the blade, both of them watching as the rust crumbled away revealing stark lilac steel, and twisted back into a curved, winding snake like shape. It's teeth reforming into a gaping spitting cobra, and the hilt slowly opening like the leaves of a corpse flower to shield the wielder's hand from its volatile poisons. The handle covered in a snakeskin leather.

Now that, was a true keyblade. Pity it was made for one of the Light originally.

"So, still think it's useless?" Yoruhua teased Vanitas.

He huffed, "I thought you had to be bequeathed in order to wield a Keyblade. Or prove yourself, so how could some other Darkness hold what was once held Light? Let alone a Light holding something made by the Dark in the first place."

Yoruhua twirled the blade again, watching it flash purple for a second, and started to suck in the poison around them. The effect wasn't immediate, but Vanitas could feel the shift in the air. Cleaning the area up to find any hidden clues.

He nodded, "asking the important questions- good." He lowered the keyblade for him to get a better look, "let's just say the way keyblades are made and used now barely resemble at all what they were originally created for."

"Just like the current worlds don't resemble the past world I came from. Life itself, changes relentlessly. Back then, Hearts and Light were still so new- like fresh clay they were easy to mold and much more adaptable. Before they set and dried into what they are now."

She smirked, "but that, will also inevitably change. It's a never ending cycle, little brother. Besides, what's important is that it still recognizes my authority as its creator."

He sneered at them, "what a lousy explanation. You're no better than the old man at explaining things. And don't call me 'brother' I've already got two of those already. I don't need anymore."

Yoruhua shrugged, "I never said I was any good at teaching; it's hard to explain things to someone so detached from the collective." She used her spare hand to point at his chest, right at his heart, "I speak in a way that I thought you would understand better; but evidently, just as I said, things change. The connection all those from the Dark should share, the language and the inheritance... It's lost on you. Just as you call Sora and Ventus brothers due to how your Heart and body are connected. So too do I call you brother in honor of that past connection."

Vanitas looked at them in deep thought, a scowl permanently etched in his face, before coming to a begrudging acceptance, "if I had... Existed, back then, would we have been connected like that? Within one another's shadow."

He felt amusement at the perplexing look on Vanitas' face, dumbing their speech down, they follow up with, "Back during the Dawn of Light's Era, all within the Darkness were inherently connected; me, before I made a Heart's Promise to Orichalchemi, and the other homunculi,"

"We could understand each other without words, each an extension of the others. Of course we had self consciousness separately, but we were more like... Trees, if you will."

She shifted in place, "we each controlled weaker Dark beings, the leaves and branches- us being the trunk and roots protected by bark, our physical bodies- and linked between a roots system, the collective... Err... 'mycelium' to communicate a need. Be it sharing resources or warning about danger."

Yoruhua let out a snort as if laughing at their own joke, "a bit odd to explain it like that- it is... Much more complex than that. Just as all things are. But I hope that helps you understand why I do and say the things that I do."

He almost didn't believe in it; the idea that anything would just. Unconsciously understand him and his needs, and to share anything with him at all without asking for anything in return. He refused to believe it would be anything like the how the Light would do it. The Light who make you ask for it, the Light who makes you have to prove yourself worthy enough to have it. The Light who always demanded something in return, be it friendship or good deeds instead of simply providing it because he was a part of it.

Ventus was selfish like that. Keeping his own identity, face, and keyblade- to keep the body that was not constantly plagued with emptiness and pain, away from Vanitas. For keeping that away from him and leaving him with a half existance, and envy in its place.

Yoruhua's eyes briefly glazed over with nostalgia as she looked over Vanitas' smaller form, moving her hand from his shoulder to gently pet his hair again, "I used to hide in my my siblings' shadows when I was little, taking solace in that endless black. However unintentional, you freed me from my prison. To you; my shadow is yours to make even darker, Vanitas."

When he looked back, all he saw was an expression of pride on Yoruhua's face as she reached out a gloved hand for him to push away, but he didn't. Allowing them to gently rest it on his shoulder, firm and grounding, "I don't need a inherit connection to recognize you as one of my own; we are shadows, long since cast in the burning Light. Blending within one another when cool night falls."

"Perhaps this generation of Darkness has forgotten what we once were; an unstoppable, unified force. The Light might have severed that connection when it introduced its potent, and addicting individuality- making us think it is more beneficial to work alone than it is as a whole- but even when I do find my Lighter half- I will never forsake my Darkness for it. That includes your place in it, oscuritó."

#kh #kingdom hearts #kh vanitas #kh oc #kh fanfic #snippet #starry stories #theres uh. a lotta unexplained or even potentially wrong lore here lol bc of Yoruhua's origin. #a lot of it is also based in the final fantasy chrystal chronicles games hfhfhf #so if u know u know! #might actually write a fic about em but it needs build up cause im working on a vanitas fic rn #just know that darkness is a lot more fluid it what it is than what we have in kh rn #but also. they're not squeaky clean darkness just used to be more of like a hive mind that worked toegther to do darkness stuff before #and Yoru is so weirded out by the fact they cant read Vanitas' mind basically lol #also. Yoru and other physical darkness/dark humans are called homunculi for Reasons #not vanitas tho kinda #and theyre both kinda unreliable narrators or what they day doesnt 100% refect the truth and what i think F #Yoru just doesnt care that he did evil things more that he didn't get a choice in being created to work for Xehanort #and for getting split up in two halves without consent since he willingly shares her heart with Ori #anyways she supports whatever he wants to do regardless if its darkness or not lol he can still be a bit evil as a treat #but now with a sister who's proud of his violence fbfnbf #Yoru really said: damn we need to unionize again were getting our asses beat by light since we seperated #Xehanort: *breathes* Yoru: I KNOW MORE THAN U #shes a sweetheart tho #she doesn't hate dark more like just at peace w being a dark creature lol she kinda doesn't care about it at all