mossybank

[mossybank]

One-Way Mirror (Gavin Reed x Reader)

Summary: Both Gavin and Reader suck at feelings Content: NSFW 18+, gn!Reader, smut, angst, hurt/no comfort, fingerfucking, dirty talk, friends with benefits, unresolved feelings, unrequited love, basically just angsty smut Word Count: 1.6k read on ao3

You love him.

Or at least you think you do.

Sure, Gavin Reed is the resident asshole of the Detroit Police Department and he can be hard to swallow—both figuratively and literally—but he's something more to you. He's an enigma that you want to—need to—figure out.

You glance up at him from your kneeling position, one hand wrapped around his cock and the other between your legs. His head is thrown back and his bottom lip is between his teeth. You think he’s pretty like this, with his eyes shut and that screwed-up look of pleasure on his face.

When he’s like this, he doesn’t notice you staring—doesn’t make some dickish comment like “take a picture, it’ll last longer.” It’s one of the few times he’s actually quiet—besides the soft muffled sounds coming from his mouth. 

You don’t think he loves you back. You really just think that he’s incapable of love, incapable of being more than this.

He lets you see him like this because you understand him—because you get him. He can call you as many names as he likes and you always shoot them back— dickwad, douchebag, asshole. He likes that about you, you think—that you can match his energy.

Your lips wrap around the head, tongue swirling around like you have to taste every inch of him. He lets out a groan—if he could sink right through the mattress, you think he would. He’s melting and you know that you’re the heat that molds him.

“Fuck… ” he mutters, one of his hands running through his hair and the other gripping your head. He doesn’t push you—he knows better—but he knows you like when he grips your hair. You hum around him before taking him deeper into your mouth.

He’s like water in your hands, slipping through despite how much you try to cup them and keep him there. He’s always two steps away even when he’s right here.

He pulls you off of him, his eyes open and he looks down at you. He’s panting and the wrinkle between his brows deepens. “I don’t wanna finish like this,” he says, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. “Come on, get up here.”

It’s not a demand or an order like he usually gives you, it’s something more blurred—his voice is gentle, not full of spite and a lack of sleep. He’s asking you, letting you deny him even though he needs this. You need this.

You push yourself off the ground and join him on the bed. He’s on top of you in seconds, yanking your pants down your legs–your belt makes a clinking sound when they hit the floor.

There’s this glint in his eyes that you only see when he’s hovering over you. You know it’s probably nothing– just a trick your mind is playing on you–but you swear it means something, that this is what he can give you. It’s not quite love, but it’s enough. It has to be enough.

One of his fingers fills you, drawing a sharp exhale from your lungs. He adds another and your hand clasps over your mouth, drowning the sounds into your palm. He grins that cocky grin that would usually piss you off in any other circumstance—but he’s proud of himself and you're okay with letting him have this. You’d let him tear you apart if he asked.

“Yeah? You like that?” He questions, his own type of pillow talk. “I don’t even have to do this—you’re always ready for me like the good whore you are.”

You should feel insulted—you don’t. Instead, you respond with a muffled moan and a slight head nod. He seems to like that answer as he adds a third finger. 

Your free hand grips the sheets and you feel like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground. If heaven was real, you were sure this was it.

“Nobody else makes you feel this good, do they?”

No, they don’t. Nobody else makes you feel like they’re holding your head underwater and that you trust them enough to pull you up for air when you need it. Like sleep to the freezing. Something so good but so wrong.

He pulls out his fingers and you whine, eyes snapping open to narrow in frustration at him. He just laughs that god-awful laugh that you love despite how much it grates your ears.

“What? Is something wrong?” You can hear the smirk in his voice—he’s so smug and you want to fucking throttle him.

You open your mouth to fire back but you’re swiftly shut up by his cock filling you. He’s never gentle when he’s fucking you—it’s hard and it’s fast and it pulls you apart. You’re not sure you ever want him to fuck you any differently.

Your eyes find his face as his hips piston into you, grunts escaping his throat. He’s not looking at you— he never does. You’re always watching him and he’s never seeing you. 

His eyes are closed and you wonder if he’s imagining someone else. Someone more pliable to what he wants. You’re made of stone—he can chip away but he never can mold you into something easier to hold. You’ll always have sharp edges—he grabs you like he doesn’t care if he slices his hand.

You close your own eyes, trying to think of someone else. An old hookup. Your last Tinder date. That new android detective, Connor—you know Gavin would hate the thought and you can’t do that to him, not even subconsciously.

Gavin’s presence in your head is overbearing. Every choice you make somehow leads back to him, from your choice of clothing to the life-or-death decisions you’re forced to make each day.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Gavin grabs one of your hands and interlaces your fingers. It’s so… intimate —you don’t know what to think. His hand in yours makes this real—at least to you. It tells you that he’s aware of you for once, that he’s not just fucking a hole— he’s fucking you and he’s conscious of it.

He slams into you again, his head coming down to the crook of your neck. You can feel his breath against your skin, soft pants as he thrusts in and out. “Fuckin’ hell,” he groans, the fingers of his other hand digging into your hip. “You’re so good for me.”

You want it to mean more than it does to him. You could be good for him, you think, you keep him grounded yet you share the same misery—the same reliance on caffeine and these exchanges of endorphins. Maybe you could make him happy, outside of the serotonin he receives when he’s filled you. You’d dote on him; dress up for him, make him a lunch for work, and have coffee ready for him in the morning. It’s a pipe dream and you know it.

“You’re so fucking… fuck… you’re so tight,” the words stumble from his lips as they usually do—he’s close. 

Your free hand reaches down to play with yourself, to bring yourself right to the edge with him. If he asked you to jump, you’d ask how high.

His mouth presses against your neck, his teeth hovering over your carotid. He holds your life in his mouth and you trust him with it despite all the signs warning against it. He’s fire and you’re gasoline.

“I’m gonna–” his hips start to stutter. “Fuck.”

You tumble over the edge with him, legs quaking where they wrap around his waist. He collapses onto you, knocking the air from your lungs—it’s suffocating and you love it.

He lets go of your hand and pushes himself up, sliding out of you with ease. He sits back on his knees, hands on his thighs as he catches his breath. He raises a hand to drag over his face, wiping away the sweat. There’s a faraway look in his eyes, like he’s not really here with you. You wish he was.

His eyes shift to the wall to his right. He never looks at you straight when he’s done—you wonder if he regrets it.

You wish he’d just lay down beside you and pull you close. That he’d kiss your head and promise you things he’s not sure he should. He won’t and you’ve accepted that. This is what he can give you and you’re fine with that. You can savor him better like this—if he gave into you, you’re sure you’d eat him whole.

He slides his legs out from underneath himself, one of them resting on its side on the bed and the other pulled to his chest. His arm rests on his knee, his knuckles pressed against the side of his face. You’d paint him like this if you knew how.

“Well,” his eyes flicking in your direction but focusing on anything that isn’t you. “I’m gonna shower.”

He gets up and heads towards his connected bathroom. You wanna reach out and stop him. You wanna ask why he won’t look at you–why he can’t look at you. He acts like you’re the sun—he orbits around you without ever staring at you too long. You might burn him if he does.

“Gav,” you croak out, the first word you’ve said since you've entered his apartment. 

He looks at you like you’re the weight on his shoulders—familiar but unwelcome. Or maybe he’s the weight on yours. You aren’t sure.

“‘The fuck you want?” he asks. You know he doesn’t mean for it to come out so rotten—that’s just the way he talks and he knows you understand. But it hurts you this once.

You love him. 

You want to tell him—it’s on the tip of your tongue like a word you can’t quite find.

“Don’t slip, dumbass,” you answer with a cheshire grin—it’s forced and you know that he knows.

 It’s better that you don’t .

#im going to go insane GUYS

[mossybank]

if you just saw me change my layout three times in less than fifteen minutes no you didn't

#ugh i miss tumblr so much i wish i still spoke to my moots but a lot of them have gone inactive too 😭😭 and I'm in different fandoms now #guess that means i need to gain more 💪 #mossy mumbles

[mossybank]

i wanna start writing for bg3 but have literally no ideas 🥲🥲

#so if anyone has any requests.... 🤲🤲 please #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #male reader and gender neutral reader especially

[mossybank]

this account died because I went to uni but rn writing toe curling smut is so much more appealing than my essay 💀

#ive been violently gripped by that one eatings trans Peter parker fic wip i have oh my god #im like barely in any of the fandoms i wrote for now though 🥲 #mossy mumbles

[mossybank]

i love you vampire themed media i love you metaphor for queerness i love you blood aesthetic i love you gothic architecture i love you coffin beds i love you cross necklaces i love you canine teeth i love you intimacy hidden in violence i love you vampires

[mossybank]

“Women in academia” “women in leadership positions” “women in stem” blah blah blah. What about women in Me

[mossybank]

We can't jerk off or ibuprofen out way out of this one fellas

[mossybank]

Get jumpscared by this everytime I open my drafts

#remember danonation 🧍 #i disnt find him attractive but i was trynna jump on a bandwagon lmaooo #anyway gotham riddler solos 🏃🏃

[mossybank]

may or may not have forgotten how to write ummmm 🧍

#it's the anniversary of the first fic (well headcanons) i posted here tomorrow so i wanna get something out for it 😭😭 #if anyone has any simple headcannon ideas plsss send them my way

[mossybank]

[mossybank]

Thnx for 1.7k 🤭🤭💖

#love the continued support even after i regularly disapear into the void 🫶🫶 #anyway how would you guys feel if i started writing some cringey anime shit UM I gotta put that crunchyroll subscription to use a lil 🏃🏃

[mossybank]

Of course of course , how could I have ever doubted otherwise ... Now to choose which one to finish 😭🤭

is Andrew Garfield Peter Parker content still popular because I still have a few fics for him I never finished calling my name 🏃🏃

#first ones lowkey calling to me the most but 🏃🏃🏃 public vote lmaooo #ive got free time this weekend so ill try get one out 😈

[mossybank]

is Andrew Garfield Peter Parker content still popular because I still have a few fics for him I never finished calling my name 🏃🏃

#theyre mostly smutty ngl 😭

[mossybank]

Like Sub Matt being choked by his bf after being a tad cocky 😩

Pulse

gif credit

Matt Murdock x Male!Reader

combined with another request: If you’re still looking for marvel requests, might I bring to your attention a Matt Murdock x Male Reader? They could be out doing vigilante shit together and the adrenaline gets to them if yk what I mean — @sporadicallyactive

Masterlist — Join my Taglist — Send a Request

Warnings: nsfw but not full out smut, first time writing for Matt.. might be slightly out of character?, choking, Matt's a masochist, getting interrupted/abrupt ending?

Like the fic? Let me know! Comments, reblogs and asks are always appreciated! It helps keeps writers like me and many others motivated to keep creating content <3

Heavy breathing fills the atomsphere as you jerk to a stop, pressing your back against the cool brick of an alleyway wall, red and blue illuminating the face of you and your partner as sirens passed.

"Shit..!" You let out airly, almost a chuckle on your tone but it was more nervous than it was amused, and put a hand over your heart as you calmed. Admittedly, you hadn't been doing this whole vigilante thing for long and this was the closest you'd had to a run in with the cops.

Matt chuckled too, though his seemed to be the opposite of yours as he teased, "Don't tell me that scared you, Y/N."

You rolled your eyes, hitting him lightly on the chest, cringing as he let out a small hiss in pain and immediately apologising, forgetting how he'd been winded from a kick to the chest about ten minutes ago. The red and blue lights fading, sirens muting as they turned a corner, you relaxed and pulled away from the wall, letting out a sigh you hadn't realised you were holding.

"...That was close."

"Would've been less close if you'd followed the plan," Matt commented, following you in relaxing and pulling away from the wall, but moving to stand in front of you, "but you always were a bit of a bad boy." A smirk tugs at his lips and he puffs his chest out slightly before shifting to match your height, his forehead pressing against yours.

"Here, Matt?" You asked, glancing down both sides of the alleyway, it was pretty closed, not to mention it was extremely likely anyone would walk down at this time, but it was still in public. His smirk widening was enough for you to know his answer was a 'yes', as his lips closened to yours, chapped skin grazing against your softer skin; you'd been trying to get Matt to use lip balm for months but it always seemed to be you who finished the tubes off.

As his lips pressed fully against yours you couldn't help but soften your posture, relaxing against the man and allow his hands to travel your body. Slowly but surely you found his left hand land where it always did, your neck.

You'd asked him about it before, it was something he always did, but his explanation was often brief — "it makes it feel more real... Your pulse, it grounds me" — and you couldn't pretend you didn't find it a little bit cheesy... Sweet, yes, but cheesy non the less. You pulled away from him, a soft smile gracing your features as your hands trailed to his face, fingers hooking under the black mask he wore over his face and tugging it off to allow your hands to brush through his hair. Sometimes you had wondered if you'd feel any different kissing him in the way he kissed you, if it'd make any difference in your experience... Did it really make everything feel that more 'real'?

You allowed your left hand to fall, it hesitated as it passed his neck but you shook your head to yourself, allowing it to instead rest on his shoulder. Truly, if Matt was anything, he was at your mercy, the playing ground with him was always even, control switching at the flick of a wrist; he'd never assume foul play in you copying his movements and that's what made it all the more tempting to copy him, allow yourself to feel his pulse... But Matt was addictive and you wouldn't be able to stop there, curiosity would kill you otherwise and honestly, between two lovers how much harm could an innocent touch turning to choking do? It's not that he wouldn't be into it, you'd seen the way he'd speed up his thrusts or writhe beneath you when you'd accidentally press down too hard on a bruise, Matt was a masochist and he was lousy at hiding it.

"God— Y/N.."

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Matt's voice, it wavered unlike his usual smooth tone and it caused you to quirk a brow in confusion until you realised his predicament; with all the time you'd spend thinking about the possibility of choking him, you'd really been doing it. For a second you almost pulled away, let go completely and hurried to apologise, though before you could you'd felt a certain something pressed against your leg... Matt was enjoying this.

You chuckled, loosening your grip slightly to alleviate him momentarily, "My, my... Using the lord's name in vain? Maybe you're the bad boy, Matty."

The hand you'd had resting on his face so tenderly, move elsewhere with your words, right towards Matt's... Problem. Those trouser he wore as daredevil, god you could talk about those all day, did absolute wonders for his ass and it's safe to say they had a similar effect on his bulge too.

A gasp left his lips at you groped him, the control he'd had earlier now belonging to you. It never took much to have Matt surrender to you, but then again it didn't take much for you to surrender to Matt, either. You allowed your grip on his throat to tighten once again, watching his face very carefully for reactions. God, if you'd been asked what your Saturday night plans were, there's no way you would've predicted choking your boyfriend in an empty alleyway.

"Please.." he forced out, your hand making steady work of sneaking into his pants, gripping the base of his cock confidently.

"Please what?" You mused, tilting your head, your hand slowly sliding along his length in his pants, stopping as you reached the shaft, your other hand loosening to allow Matt to talk easier, "For someone who calls himself daredevil, you manage to look so.. angelic."

If it wasn't for his current desperation, you were sure Matt would've rolled his eyes at that comment.

"Please let m—" You thumb stroked over the tip of his cock, teasing circles being drawn over his slit causing him to stop and grunt, holding back a moan that you desperately wanted to get out of him, "You're teasing me.."

"Something doesn't seem to mind.." you joke, feeling his cock twitch in your hand, and lean forward to kiss him again, lips brushing ever so slightly against eachother before a harsh hum of static pulls you out it.

Fuck.

The police radio.

You'd nicked it a while back and it was truthfully really helpful for fighting crime, but god was this a bad time... Was it really ethical to ignore a criminal in favour of getting your boyfriend off?

.... You'd guessed not.

Slowly, you let go off Matt, leaving him stood their flustered, catching his breath and confused.

"Looks like we'll have to finish that later, eh? That crime won't fight itself!"

You knew the consequences of leaving now, Matt wouldn't be so easy to submit when he got his hands on you later, but maybe you wouldn't mind a little bit of punishment after a long night... Matt certainly wouldn't mind dealing it out.

could do a part two of the later... It's definitely on the table if people are interested

taglist — @greenduvet @evanmybeloved @crssjjh @peterskindacool @alexloveskili @copy-of-a-cheeto @michaellangdonscockslut @darlingsalem @depressedvamp @twinkiemaximoff @quickiesgirl @de4ds0up @tubble-wubble @evilcr0ne @mitskibusiness @augustvandyne @uremobf @sambucky8 @aapocalypse @loopy-lupinn @ayannaboddy24 @wickedwitchofwest @horrxr

#forgot i wrote this lol... rewatching daredevil and missing writing... perhaps a part 2 is in order 😈

[mossybank]

Not So Smart Now (S.R.)

Spencer’s intelligence and cocky attitude has always infuriated you. So, when given the chance, you revel in putting him in his place.

Word Count: 2,882

EXPLICIT CONTENT MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: sub!s7!Spencer, dom!reader, smut, unprotected sex, hate sex, dumbification, slapping, degradation, alcohol consumption, language

cocky Spencer is so yummy I wanna rip him apart

This case had been rough. The unsub had slipped through your fingers again and again and each time it seemed like he slipped further away. You forced your eyes to focus as you combed through a plethora of files, trying desperately to find something that could link the unsub to his victims. You sipped your coffee like your life depended on it, but not even the caffeine could help you find what you were missing. Morgan was sitting opposite you and he sighed in frustration. Emily paced back and forth going through the case in her head. You were all stumped.

You looked up at the investigation board, trying to give your eyes a rest from the tiny black letters they’d been staring at. You scanned the photos of the crime scenes. All of the women were found dead in their backyard. Drowned in the clean blue waters of their outdoor pools. You raised a brow, your eyes flicking frantically between the photos. The clean… blue… CLEAN!

“Oh my God, that’s it!” you exclaimed, springing out of your chair in excitement. Emily and Morgan looked at you with expectant expressions.

“What?” Emily asked after you stared in awe at what you’d missed for so long.

“All the pools, they were-,” you began, but just as you were about to explain your theory, Spencer burst through the door, not even aware that you were revealing a crucial part of the case, and began rambling.

“Guys, all the pools were cleaned the day each victim was killed. There wasn’t so much as a leaf or a bug sitting on the surface of the water. So, I checked, and they all hired the same pool cleaner.”

Spencer set a file down on the table that contained a picture of the guy you assumed was the unsub that had been evading you for so long. But you couldn’t even feel relief that you’d finally found him. Because you didn’t find him. Well, you would’ve if Spencer ‘boy genius’ Reid hadn’t of found him first.

The team rifled through photos and records of the unsub for a few minutes before Morgan finally asked you, ���Oh, what was it you figured out?”

You glanced over at Spencer with a look that could kill before answering, “It doesn’t matter now. I think Spencer’s got it all covered.” Your voice was higher pitched than usual as you tried your best to fake a pleasant tone. You plastered a false smile on your face and Morgan shrugged, looking back down at the pages on the table.

You tried to follow suit, picking up a page printed with the guy’s phone records. You knew the only thing on your mind should be figuring out how to find this son of a bitch. But you couldn’t concentrate. You were literally seconds away from saying exactly what Spencer said before he stormed in and stole your thunder. He did it all the time. And you hated him for it.

The case was solved and the unsub was found. As always, the team congratulated Spencer on figuring it all out. And you allowed them to. One thing didn’t want to do was make a fuss and say you solved it too. But if he smiled that stupid, cocky smile one more time, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to contain your anger. And sure enough, you couldn’t.

You had just touched down at Quantico. You walked with Emily and JJ to the bullpen to collect some things before leaving. Then, as always, you ended up standing around your desk chatting about the case.

“I don’t think I’ve ever drunk as much coffee in a 24 hour period than I did on that case,” Emily laughed.

“It was rough,” JJ sighed. “I’m glad we got him. I don’t know how many pools there are in Florida but if we hadn’t of caught him I’m sure he wouldn’t have run out of victims.”

You smiled. Finally this was something that would prove your intelligence to the group.

“Actually there’s one mill-,”

“There are one million, five hundred and ninety thousand pools in Florida.”

You turned around to glare at who’d interrupted you. Your eyes narrowed when you saw Spencer sitting at his desk. He hadn’t even looked up from his computer before he’d stolen your opportunity to be smart.

“Oh my God!” you shouted, your eyes widening in disbelief. Of course he had interrupted you again.

Spencer turned to face you at the sound of your raised voice. A puzzled expression spread across his face. He was clueless. He didn’t even know he was doing it.

You knew you should just let it slide and say, “Yeah, that’s correct,” or “That’s what I was going to say,” but you couldn’t this time. You were done putting up with him constantly undermining you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you said, almost laughing at just how much of an ignorant asshole he was.

“Huh?” Spencer grunted, getting up from his desk and walking towards the three of you.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing, do you?” you asked. You stepped forward so there were only inches between the two of you. Your eyes stared daggers into his.

Spencer shook his head in confusion, his breath wavering slightly. You pretended not to notice the blood rush from his face and down his neck towards… Nope. You weren’t thinking about that.

“You know what, just forget it,” you said, stepping away from him. “You’re not worth my time.” You grabbed your bag, stormed out of the building, got in your car, and sped home.

It had been about thirty minutes since you’d slammed your apartment door, grabbed a bottle of vodka from your cabinet and sat on your couch, scrolling aimlessly through random TV channels. You drank straight from the bottle, your mind reeling with hatred for Spencer. It was like he had some sort of radar that could sense when you were going to say something impressive. And when that radar went off, he had to come in and ruin everything. He was such a know-it-all. And maybe he did know it all, but he didn’t have to rub it in everyone’s faces all the time.

You took another swig from the bottle and sighed. You had no idea how you were going to face him the next day. Being on the team with him was becoming insufferable. You had to do something to stop yourself from wanting to punch him every time you saw him.

It was just past midnight, but you were still wide awake, when you heard a knock on your door. Your brow furrowed as you considered who it could be at this late hour. You set the bottle of vodka on the coffee table and went to unlock the door. When the door swung open your eyes darkened at the figure in front of you. It was Spencer.

“What is your problem with me?” he asked, not even bothering to say hello.

You let out an uncontrollable laugh of sheer anger at his utter obliviousness. The only reason he should be showing up at your door in the middle of the night was to apologise. And yet here he was, not even aware of what he’d done wrong.

“You are unbelievable,” you sighed, turning away from the door and walking back into your apartment. Spencer took that as an invitation to come in, so he stepped forward and shut the door behind him.

“No, seriously, why don’t you like me?” he insisted. “Because I can’t think of anything I’ve done to you that should make you act like this.”

Spencer’s voice raised and his tone became sharp. You couldn’t believe this. He was angry? He had no right to be angry with you.

“Well, Doctor Reid, maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are if you can’t figure out something that’s so painfully obvious,” you snapped.

“Enlighten me, then. Tell me why you hate me so much,” Spencer retorted.

“No,” you said. “If you can’t see what you’re doing wrong then I’m not telling you.”

“Tell me why you hate me and I’ll tell you why I hate you.”

You paused for a moment. You knew your feelings towards him were of hatred, but you had no idea he returned those feelings. Now you were curious

“I hate you because you can’t shut up for one second to let someone else say something smart for once,” you began hastily, desperate to know what he hated about you, but also relieved to get everything off your chest. “Everyone knows you’re a genius, Spencer. You don’t need to prove it all the damn time.”

“What, so you hate me because I’m smart?” Spencer questioned.

“No, I hate you because you don’t let anyone else be smart. I hate you because you get that stupid little grin on your face every time you say something smart.” You began walking towards him, slowly backing him against the wall. “I hate you because every time I see you I have to force myself not to slap that cocky grin right off your face.”

Spencer stayed silent for a moment. He was almost right up against the wall. Your face was so close to his you could feel his breath. You could also feel something else starting to grow in his pants.

“Well, don’t force yourself this time,” Spencer breathed.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“Hit me,” he said bluntly, his mouth widening into that familiar, infuriating grin.

“Oh, don’t tempt me,” you said, taking a step back.

“No, do it. Hit me,” he said, genuinely.

You gave him a hesitant look but he continued to smirk like he was the smartest man alive. You made up your mind. He was giving you the opportunity and you weren’t going to turn it down. You raised your hand and slapped him hard on the cheek. Spencer whined and his hand flew to his face. He rubbed the red mark that was appearing on his cheekbone but his eyes never left yours. And that stupid grin remained on his face.

“Just out of curiosity, is there anything you do like about me?”

You seriously considered his question. You tried to think of one thing you liked about him. It was harder than you thought. Until you remembered the way his breath hitched when you got near him.

“I like that when you look at me your dick gets hard,” you said calmy, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. “I like that I have the power over you to make you do that.” You traced your fingers over the red spot where your hand hit his cheek. “You might be a genius but you’re still just a man. You have needs.” With your other hand, you lightly touched the bulge in his pants. He swallowed but still his eyes remained locked on yours. “Your mind might be one of the greatest of our time, but your body is just like every other man’s. You say you hate me but your body’s telling me something very different. It’s pathetic.” You pushed him back again so he hit the wall. “I could lower your IQ one hundred points just by fucking you,” you whispered.

“Wanna bet?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.

Without hesitation you slammed your lips onto his. He whimpered as his head hit the wall behind him, but soon he melted into the kiss. You could feel his lips curl upwards against yours. He was fucking smiling. He was enjoying this. That only enraged you more. You pushed yourself away from him and glared at him.

“Come here,” you said, turning around and walking towards your bedroom. You escorted Spencer inside the dimly lit room and turned to face him again. You looked down at the ever-growing bulge in his pants and began unbuckling his belt in silence. He sighed when you pulled down his underwear.

“You know what? I excepted more from you, Doctor Reid,” you said finally, smirking down at his below average sized cock that was now fully exposed to you.

Spencer said nothing, but, for the first time, his eyes drifted away from yours.

“Oh, don’t worry. That’s not a bad thing,” you smiled, wrapping your hand around it. “That just means I can take it for longer.”

You picked up the pace of your hand and Spencer moaned quietly. His head fell to lean on your shoulder and he sucked a spot on your neck. Eventually, you lifted your hand from his dick and began unbuttoning his shirt. When you pulled his shirt off his arms you turned your mouth to his ear and whispered, “I’m going to fuck you dumb.”

You pushed him down onto the bed. He lay there while you undressed, taking in your figure. You climbed on top of him and his hands immediately travelled to your thighs. He stared up at you with that smart ass glint in his eye. He wouldn’t look like that for long.

You didn’t flinch as you lowered yourself onto his dick. Spencer squirmed slightly beneath you, trying his best to stifle a whimper.

“I- I know a ton of other facts about Florida, you know. Not just how many pools there are” he said, his smugness slowly draining from his body as you rode him.

“You won’t know them for long,” you smiled, alternating your pace between fast and slow. Your inconstant rhythm was torturing Spencer.

“It’s state flower is the orange blossom,” he said confidently. “And it’s the flattest US state.”

“Shut up,” you whispered, anger flaring up in you again. You wished you could tear his brain right out of his head.

“It’s also 65,758 square m-miles, making it the 22nd largest s-state,” he continued, his words slowly starting to slur.

You looked down at the egotistical smile that was still plastered on his face, despite his stuttering. “Shut up!” you said, raising your voice. You lifted your hand and slapped him again. Harder this time. The whimper that Spencer had been holding in since you started finally escaped his lips.

And, at last, he shut up. The only noise he made was the occasional whine every time you quickened your pace.

“You masochistic fuck,” you laughed, grabbing his shoulders as your thighs began to burn. “All I had to do was hit you again and you’re reduced to a whimpering mess.”

“Shit,” Spencer breathed. “I- I’m go-.” But he couldn’t even warn you before you felt his cum shoot inside of you.

“Not so smart now, huh Doc?” you said shakily. Your breathing was ragged but that didn’t stop you. It didn’t matter that Spencer was finished. You weren’t.

Spencer didn’t get time to recover from his high as you immediately began to pick up your pace again, grinding harder and harder as his cum seeped out between your legs.

“Why don’t you tell me another fact?” you taunted. He looked as though he couldn’t speak, never mind tell you a fact. “What about an easy one? What’s the population of Florida?” you asked.

“It’s, uh- I don’t-. Fuck, I don’t know,” he stuttered.

“Seems like I won the bet then,” you panted. His hips jerked up and you moaned at the sudden movement. Finally seeing Spencer a pathetic heap below you sent you over the edge. You came without a uttering a word. The sensation caused Spencer to shake beneath you as he came for the second time.

You rolled off him and sighed. Spencer’s chest moved rapidly up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, brushing his hands through his hair.

“What? Are you annoyed that I made you dumb?” you asked, your voice laced with patronization. He rolled his eyes at you and you turned onto your side so your face was close to his.

“You know, you never told me why you hate me,” you said, running your finger down his chest, making his stomach tense.

“It doesn’t matter,” Spencer mumbled, his face flushing slightly.

“Yes it does,” you argued. “I told you, so now you have to tell me.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment before he whispered, barely audibly, “I hate you because… Well, I-.”

“I can’t hear you,” you said, looking at him expectantly.

“I hate you because I’ve wanted you to do that to me since the day I met you,” he blurted out.

You chuckled, grabbing his chin between your finger and thumb. “Well, if you’d told me that when you met me then this could’ve happened a lot sooner.”

“You wanted this to happen?” Spencer asked, a smile forming on the corners of his mouth.

“I wanted to prove you’re not a genius all the time. The sex is just an added bonus,” you explained.

Spencer’s cocky grin appeared back on his face and in an instant you were reminded of how much you detested him.

“Oh, it’s a bonus?” Spencer smirked. “Does that mean you want to do it again?”

You scoffed at his confidence. “I hate you,” you groaned, as you climbed back on top of him, ready to leave him a dumb, pathetic mess once more.

#awooga

[mossybank]

okay but here me out

spencer and bau!reader showing up to work and he has a scratch on his face/somewhere visible (that he got during sex 🤭) and when theyre questioned abt it they lie and say like "we went to look for cats this weekend... it didnt go too well" 😭😭

You're hoping it flies under the radar. Well, maybe that's a silly thing to hope for, you know it won't. You're just dreading the confrontation, and your stomach sinks when Hotch glances up at Spencer when he sits down.

"Reid, were you mauled by a bear?" Hotch's brows furrow, and he stares at the scratch running along Spencer's cheek.

You, the bear, glance down sheepishly at your nails, picking at the jagged one you'd accidentally scraped over Spencer's skin in a fit of orgasmic passion.

"Uh, I was looking for cats this weekend," Spencer fibs, holding his hand to his cheek to cover the mark, "I wasn't well-loved."

"Reid's never been a pussy-pleaser," Derek laughs, and you almost laugh at how inaccurate he is, "Maybe one day you'll find one that doesn't claw you up."

Everyone seems satisfied with the jibe at Spencer, but no one else catches the glance he throws you across the table. If the look in his eyes, smug and satisfied, tells you anything, it's that he likes being clawed up. In the future, though, you think you'll stick to his back.

[mossybank]

hehe CONGRATS !! 🎉

Thank you guys so much for 700 followers! That’s crazy. I am very lucky to have so many folks here to read the one fic I post a year. I’m hoping in the future I’ll be able to keep up the motivation to write more shit for you guys. But till then I’ll just be here being horny on main.

Folks who are special in my heart: @evanpetersluver @divinelyruled @divinerulerluvr @undeadcortez @quicksilverownsmysoul @kitwalker02 @evanspresso @americxn @mossybank @nastyavenuee

I’m sorry if I forgot anyone, I’ll be updating the tag list when I’m home at my computer 😭😭