Virtualgiverbear - Untitled

Off the Map - S. Reid x Reader

In a lovingly competitive game of showing you just how mean your teasing really is, Spencer and reader find out some of Spencer's weaknesses as he's explaining yours.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Smut (18+ pls pls) tags: attemped soft!dom Spencer, he's easily overwhelmed. Munch!Spencer, teasing, you're both a bit sassy, loads of dirty talk, "talking you through it" of sorts, pinv sex, and some early load busting, screw it! wc: 3.3k a/n: I headcanon season 2 Spencer as someone who likes how it feels to be cocky but gets turned on super easily and struggles to deal with that combo. This is an extension of my thought here!

The spring equinox has finally arrived to salve your freezing limbs like an oil to a rusty hinge. The winter was brutal, you almost froze over completely. Somehow you made it, Spencer’s window is wide open as sun dances over his bed while you two lay on completely opposite sides, legs intertwined and slowly moving together.

Spencer is against his headboard, reading through a case file as your head slightly dangles off the end of his bed. Craning your neck a bit to look up through your bent knees you find his eyebrows slightly pinched, the wheels in his head spinning at the unfathomable speed they always do. 

“Are you almost done?”

“Mm.”

“The case? Are you almost done… would you say we can see it from here?” You laugh softly as your blood continues to rush to your head where you lay.

“No. You’re distracting me.”

His words aren’t sharp, he speaks them in an apologetic way, like it's his fault he’s so easily distracted by you. You guess it sort of is.

“How much longerrrr?”

“Hard to tell with these things. Kidnappings but I can’t find a comprehensible link between the different locations they were taken, it’s almost-”

“I’m gonna shower.”

Spencer hums high in his throat as if to say, “good idea!”, and squeezes your knees tightly between his one more time before moving so you can slip off the bed easily.

Padding to his bathroom, you get a thrill of excitement. You really have only ever showered in his bathroom with Spencer. Showering alone for the first time entices you, it really feels like the space is yours to own alongside him.

You want to read the ingredients to every product he owns and look at his shower wall and trace hearts into the steam.

Waiting for the water to heat with your chin in your hand you can’t help the small grin formed on your lips. You just know how particular and neat he is about his space, it's silly but it feels like an honor to be trusted with his shower. 

Once submerged, you get to look around. You love how Spencer smells so having free reign to look over his products has you giddy. 

Though… he has absolutely nothing to write home about. Soap bar, incredibly uninteresting scentless shampoo and conditioner, and an equally unscented body wash that appears to be bought from a farmers market.

Of course, this is exactly what you should’ve expected but makes you groan when you can’t blast Spencer’s smell all over you like a plug-in Febreze air freshener. 

Shower ending quicker than anticipated, you dry off and put on a spare old t-shirt and boxers you stole from Spencer’s dresser before heading to his room. 

“You know,” you begin while walking back into Spencer’s bedroom, “I was excited to smell like you. Use up all your soap. Whole lotta nothing.” You laugh and sit beside him on the bed. Spencer’s eyes still trained on the case file before he sets it down to look at you.

“Hah. You’d be shocked with how many damaging chemicals there are in body washes, hair wash. Especially for women. The sulfates in all that can irritate your skin, make your hair fall out, and even lead to cancer. Actually, did you know that even lung issues can get worse with sulfates by how they can decrease lung function with fragrance and can make asthma conditions worse. So, you should really use cleaner products.” Spencer rambles on while rubbing one of his hands on your hip.

“Hm. I guess. I usually get sulfate free stuff anyway. You have no faith in me.”

“Good. This way you still smell like you after you shower.” 

“Yeah? What do I smell like?”

Spencer lets out a drawn out sigh. Picks up his case file.

“You’re distracting me.” He sing-songs. 

“Wh- hey! No fair, you banished me to shower and said you’d be done after!”

“I did not.”

“You insinuated…”

“Who has the eidetic memory?”

You huff and rest your head against his shoulder. If he doesn’t want to spend his free time with his lovely, beautiful, and perfect partner (his own words) then he should just let you be close to him in silence.

Silence never was either of your specialties.

After probably two minutes, you start getting antsy. You’re watching his fingers trail across the lines on a little map beside him, close enough to smell the nape of his neck. The glasses on the bridge of his nose slide down slightly.

You trail one of your hands “innocently” to his stomach. Rubbing slowly back and forth, one of your pinkies slips underneath the band of his trousers and Spencer stiffens immediately.

“So is this… how is this less distracting?” Spencer grabbed your wrist loosely, not moving you, but applying a pressure that surely tells himself that he is indeed still in control. He’s still trying his best to work.

You giggle and place a kiss on his temple, move your hand away. Spencer sighs out a laugh and bends down to kiss your shoulder in return.

If rubbing his stomach was too teasing, you have to get your hands on him another way. Knowing this was not going to be any less distracting, if not more than rubbing his stomach, you place your hand down to run slowly up and down the expanse of his thigh.

Spencer doesn’t say anything for a moment before looking over at you with his big pleading eyes, the ones you know so well.

“I’m…too…” Spencer trails off before looking down and chuckling.

Everything about him is contagious, you laugh too. 

“What? What? Thigh petting is off limits too?”

“It. Yeah, it turns me on too much.” His cheeks tint pink.

“Ahh. Right. So how can I touch you in a way that doesn’t pull your focus from work?”

“Umm,” Spencer scoots down a bit from where he was leaning against his headrest and puts the file down, “Uh.”

Giggling you trace a fingernail lighting on the sensitive inside of his arm. 

“Here?”

Goosebumps rise on his skin, his head reels.

“Oh, I get it. Here?” 

You lift that same finger to trail lightly at the skin on his throat, to his collarbone.

“Baby…” He scoots his body impossibly closer to you, his side pressed neatly up against yours.

“Or… should I stop?”

“Ugh. No.” He groans at openly admitting you’ve won him over.

Laughing, you lean in to finally kiss him properly. Now more eager than you were, Spencer kisses you back with an unspoken thanks for being able to pry him away from the inevitable eyestrain he would’ve gotten. He recalls a time where he mentioned to you how sometimes after looking at a map for too long he will blink and look away but it’s burnt into the back of his eyelids.

Spencers hard on pokes the side of your hip as he shifts to lay halfway on top of you. Lifting one of his hands to cup the hinge of your jaw, his fingers slightly squeeze, opening your mouth a bit wider for him to move his tongue against yours. Spencer always feels more confident when your mouth is busy not teasing him till the tips of his ears go red.

A moan at the bottom of your throat comes out and you take that as a sign to deepen the kiss, pushing the back of his head till your lips start to feel numb around the edges.

He pulls away briefly, talking against your lips in rushed out breaths.

“You have signs too. You’re not the only one who remembers erogenous zones. I could distract you pretty easily too.” 

Apparently, nobody has ever introduced Spencer to the phrase “it’s not a competition”, but the underlying proposition has a chill going down your spine.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” Spencer mumbles against your lips, biting your bottom lip softy as a parting gift before he pulls away. “Here. Let's try something.”

With an equally lazy and cocky smile stretched on his pretty lips, Spencer rises and scoots himself across the bed to find where the map he has folded in his case file rests. Pulling it out he hands the map over to where you still lay.

“Spence- huh?” You chuckle, not sure what his motive is.

Spencer starts moving towards you again, “You go look where I circled Milford, Ohio and you read to me where some of those connected lines are going to. Try it.” Spencer laughs softly at your skeptical gaze as you lay flat against his pillow and slowly raise the map over your gaze.

“Um. The red line looks like it’s connecting to… well, Kentucky… Covington?” You hadn’t picked up a physical map since you were a kid probably, you rely too heavily on your gps to continue this game.

While you’re slowly looking at all the drawings Spencer has made over this map in the past, his circles and dots all work together to display the intricate makings of his mind, how his ever impressive thought process manifests itself, it’s beautiful in a way. 

It’s… he’s kissing your inner thigh now?

“Spence!” You giggle, “what?”

“Go on, tell me what else you see.”

You get it now. He’s pressing soft slow kisses on each of your bare thighs now. The initial giggles you had slowly dissipate as realization sets in that you’re getting a taste of your own poison. 

“Uh-um,” you stutter, clearing your throat, “you have a really, pre-precise hand drawn circle-” you gasp at a nip at your thigh at your attempt at humor.

“I know you can do better than that.”

Spencer's tongue laving on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs has gotten you more frazzled than you expected. It feels mean, you only used your hands on him earlier, you wouldn’t be so rude to blatantly-

“Hips up?” Spencer whispers against your skin. His wet kisses are left cooling against your flesh as a warm swipe of wind enters his window and caresses you alongside him.

Wordless, your hips raise, you don’t really care the ways in which you have his mouth against you as long as you get there eventually. Despite popular belief you can be patient.

With Spencers boxers off, and your pussy on display now he takes his fingers and traces the outside of one thigh up and down, each time he trails up he gets closer to where your upper thigh and hip meet.

You remember his snide, you can do better, and refocus your eyes to the map again.

“Shiit… um. Here! Here, you have a red line drawn from Milford up to… C-canada? It’s um, it’s off the map. What does that mean?”

You can feel Spencer's lips smile against the skin of your lower belly while he’s feeling the soft skin of your clit with such a feather light touch it almost feels more intense than direct contact.

“That, my dear, is off the map because earlier you wanted to put your hand under my pants and I was so shocked my pen trailed off. That's what that means.”

Gulping, you let go of the map, it softly flutters to the ground beside you without a sound. With the barricade gone, you and Spencer are making direct eye contact again.

“Oh.”

Your thighs involuntarily tense, wanting to squeeze and hold Spencer in place between where you want him most. Spencer’s fingers spread you open for him to break eye contact with you for a more glimmering wet location on your body.

“Are you sorry?” He mumbles out a prompt so you can end this incredibly taught tension that is about to snap any second.

“I think…it’s harder than I thought, yes I am-”

You could’ve said I think you’ll survive, or not really, but there’s something so perfectly sweet about that funny grin he gets that reads “I actually did it!” All over his face, you have no shame in letting him win.

Before you can even verbalize a punctuation for your apology, Spencer is whimpering and licking a stripe up your pussy, your head falls harshly back against his pillow as you adjust to the swing from light touching to full sensation.

Spencer's too distracted now by his mouthy task so you take it on yourself to reach down and take the glasses off his face for him, he hums against you, still quite mannered even when taking you apart.

With his whole face at your exposal now you are able to grind yourself up and down on his face more eagerly. You and Spencer alike go crazy when he’s eating you out so intensely that his nose is buried into and there’s suspicious glimmering up to his brow bone when he’s done with you.

Totally involved in whatever dynamic today's events created, you want to feed into his clear begging for apologetic sympathy. 

“Don’t, ah, don’t know how you do it. Seeing all those connections- crazy, baby. So smart.”

You’re rewarded with a mix between a whine and grunt against your clit, no doubt that his hidden cheeks are pinking.

Once Spencer begins to take big suctions of your lips and alternates that between smaller suctions against just your clit, any drive to talk in long, legible, sentences flies out the window. You’re so close to coming you can taste it, you’re sure Spencer can too.

You can’t even warn him, not that you need permission, you just reach out to capture his hand in yours so you can squeeze it through the orgasm that is currently sending flashes of light behind your eyelids.

Huffing out a groan, you take a fistful of Spencer’s hair to pull his mouth off of you. 

“Shit that felt good, come here.”

Spencer laughs and crawls up your body to kiss you, his boner kissing your stomach through layers as he does so.

“That felt good?”

“Mm. Want you now.’

He does his usual subconscious small squeak in excitement that you don’t even think he notices and pushes his shirt that you’re wearing up to expose your breasts.

One hand fisting the white fabric, the other rests on one boob as he sucks small marks on your collar and cleavage, never able to fully satisfy his wandering mouth.

“You’re so gorgeous,” a kiss on your neck, “I’m so happy.”

His giddyness is replicated as you pepper his cheeks with kisses, hands finding their way down to his pants again as you pull down the zipper and tug once.

Spencer takes off his pants and underwear with little urgency as you fling your top off to his floor and move to take his button up off as well with trembling fingers.

He snorts lightly, “what’s the rush?”

“D-don’t you want me?” It’s not meant to seem insecure, you kind of wanted it to be bossy and sarcastic, but want has threaded itself so deep into your vocal chords that it just sounds whiny.

“Mhm,” he takes his shirt off and kisses your forehead, you both maneuver down again so he can rest on top of you. Spencer pushes his chin out lightly to tap your forehead, signaling you to lean back against his pillow. “You know that, silly.”

While you begin kissing again, he takes the spare pillow not underneath your head to place it under your hips.

“I’m not lying about before. I also know all the things that make you tick, you like to feel the pressure against your lower back while I’m in you because it releases the tension you store there, makes the pressure of me inside you more intense.”

Spencer giggles at your dazed expression as he reaches for a condom from his bedside table, 

“You just revert that stress you keep there to your thighs when you squeeze them around me.”

He’s starting to get breathless, his teasing works just as well against himself, the most delicious double ended sword.

A few tantalizing swipes against your clit and entrance and Spencer is pushing his head into you, pulling his lips in to keep his moans from drowning out yours. Which inevitably will happen, and he always gets embarrassed, but right now he has the strength to hold them back.

Your toes curl where they’re pressed against his sides, he’s taking his sweet time stretching you out around him. Which, he knows you die for as well.

“Ah. Always feel so good. Can’t- ahem,” he presses his chest flat against yours, changes topic, “you love when I take you slow because you like when I hold back for us both, b-because you can’t.”

Fuck?

“Spence-” You whimper in shock, he’s exceptionally talkative today. Hellbent on proving to you that he is indeed obsessed over what your biology has learned to want the most.

You can see the way his lips tremble as he’s talking and fucking you slowly, though. His talking you through it has bitten him in the ass, he’s forgotten how much he loves dirty talk that even his own words are breaking him apart.

Voicing the stuff that turns you on is arousing him incredibly. Not something he really accounted for as he feels that familiar sensation in his stomach. 

That’s surely nothing?

Spencer has picked up his speed now, driven by how your whines are building off of each other and curses are falling from your lips.

“If- If I let you be in control all the time-, Jesus… you’d uh.” He pauses his sentence with a loud whine, the thought of what he’s saying making the heat inside him pulsate in a painful way. His tummy is turning at such speeds that it can barely keep up with his words. 

“You’d be like a…bunny- uh jack rabbit. Jesus, I can’t.” His whines crescendo, sealing off this throat to hinder his own sweet talking.

You’re not even sure what’s happening, what’s going on inside his head that has him smashing his face into your neck to cum as he trembles on top of you.

He dirty talked you so hard he couldn’t even take it.

“M’ so sorry.” He’s whimpering against the skin of your neck, hips still moving against you slowly, pulling out everything he has to give you.

Head spinning at how fucking hot this is, you reach one hand down to rub your clit in fast circles as the other one pets the back of Spencers head soothingly. 

Unabashedly moaning loud now, you throb around his sensitive dick while you touch yourself.

“Spence, you’re a piece of work-”

You can’t help but notice your legs digging into his sides, the merit behind his observations remaining strong. 

“Baby- touch me, wanna cum.” You plead to him, Spencer pulls his head from your neck, whipping himself into action.

Still inside, he quickly pushes your hand away to take its place, he’s murmuring god god god as his humiliation and striving to make you cum hard meld in his brain.

When you cum for the second time, Spencer sucks in air sharply between his teeth as your twitching against him pushes him into complete overstimulation. He stays put though, watching the bliss in your face through half-lidded eyes is the biggest reason to take a bit of pain. 

Eventually he pulls out, once you’re dragging him in for a long kiss.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” He laughs in between kisses at himself.

“Spencer, you’re so sexy. Such a sweet thing.”

He groans, tugs you on top of him while he’s flat on his back. You push his messied hair off his forehead in tender passes, you’re sure he can feel all your love in the way your nails caress his scalp.

“Mr. talk the talk-”

“Stop!” He laughs anyway. “I’ve never finished so fast.”

“And you’re calling me the jack rabbit!”

THE LAST OF US Season 2, Episode 6: The Price

“We have to control this world, or it will control you. And if you don’t protect yourself, it makes a mess and breaks you.” // Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo in Narcos Mexico.

↳ smoking miguel ángel requested by @foreveradreamlover 🌸

Boys will be boys

every year after you turn 17 you get further away from being the age of the dancing queen and that’s my least favorite thing about growing up

BARBIE (2023) — dir. Greta Gerwig

Kisses for Clarity

Johnny ‘Coco’ Cruz x Reader

Sep 3 Prompt: foggy morning

Summary: Coco is the best at helping you through a foggy morning, though his methods may not always be conventional.

Warnings: a little angst, swearing, soft Coco

Words: 1.4k (oops)

A/N: Here we go... I'm of the firm belief that Coco needs all the hugs and would return them with interest. Hopefully I did him justice here. Thank you so much for reading, commenting and reblogging. I am horrible at replying but I see it all and it makes my day. If you’d like to be tagged for something let me know. (That will blow my mind - I still don’t fully accept that you lovely people are reading these fics.)

Coco’s eyes snapped open, pulled from a dream that was already fading from his memory. He frowned, slowly adjusting to the light as he realised that his arm wasn’t pinned underneath you like it was almost every other morning. He had gotten so used to waking up with pins and needles that actually being able to feel his fingers had him on edge.

Kicking the blankets off he stood up, frown deepening when he spotted the time flashing bright on the clock. 6:43 am. Too fucking early for you to be missing from bed.

He pushed his legs into a pair of boxers tossed haphazardly on the dresser hours earlier as he made his way out of the room. You had gotten back from spending time with the guys early the night before. Coco had lost his fight to keep his hands off you, dragging you out of the clubhouse as soon as he could. You had been far too tempting all night and he’d made sure you knew that well into the early hours of the morning.

That was the reason he couldn’t quite understand why you were awake. He could have sworn he’d worn you out.

The house was quiet as padded through it, all the lights off and Letty’s door still closed. Coco squinted to see through the sliver of light coming in through the gap in the curtains, trying to find some sign of you. You hadn’t mentioned needing to leave early for anything and even if you did, you would have said goodbye. He walked towards the kitchen, expecting to find you at the table but that was empty too. He was about to walk back down the hallway when the door caught his attention. It was slightly ajar.

Making his way across the tiles he opened the door and found you sitting on the back steps, hood pulled over your head and a mug of something clutched between your hands.

You had positioned yourself halfway down the steps, sitting in the middle and leaving Coco just enough room to slide in behind you. He knew you wouldn’t be startled, most likely already alerted to his arrival by the creak of the gate.

He lowered his body down onto the top step, legs lining up on either side of you as his chin came to rest on your shoulder.

“What you doin’ out here, Ma? It’s fucking early. And Sunday.”

You laughed softly at the horror in his tone at being up early on Sunday of all days, moving your body back slightly to relax against his chest.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Nodding even though you couldn’t see him Coco leant forward, nudging the edge of your hood away from your neck. His lips found your skin, warm and soft and let them linger there for a while before speaking again.

“How long have you been out here?”

“A while. I never really got to sleep last night.”

Letting his arms fall over your shoulders, he took the mug and put it to one side. Bringing his hand back to hover above one of yours, his fingers starting to lightly trace shapes across the back of it, dancing across your skin.

“Something bothering you?”

You shrugged, not really sure why you hadn’t been able to fall asleep. You just felt… off. You couldn’t really put your finger on why.

“I dunno. I just feel... foggy, you know?  Like I can’t quite see through all the thoughts in my head.” You tried to shrug it off, thinking there wasn’t much Coco could do if you couldn’t understand what you were feeling. “I’m fine. Just having a weird day.”

Coco didn’t say anything for a while, keeping his body wrapped around as you watched the sun rise higher and higher. The sky was clear, the irony of that not lost on you as you continued to try and see through your own clouded thoughts.

“I get it, you know.” His voice right next to your ear made you jump but you settled back against him quickly as he continued to speak. “The feeling that there’s a fog sitting on top of you, fucking with your mind. It wasn’t there the day before and there’s isn’t really a reason for it to be around today but it just makes shit hard. Makes you want to just fucking … just stop until it disappears.”

You moved your free hand to rest on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. Of course he understood, probably better than anyone else in your life. The things he’d seen; the things he’d been through over the years were things you couldn’t even imagine. It was why he was always so good on days like this. If you needed space, he gave it to you. If you needed him to invade your space, he did that too.

“I just… There’s no one thing. Nothing’s really wrong but everything just feels heavier today.”

“I know, Ma. Our fucked up shit doesn’t like to leave us alone, huh?” Coco leant forward, placing a soft kiss to your temple and voicing his next words against your skin. “That foggy shit doesn’t hang around forever, though.”

Threading his fingers through the same hand they had been ghosting over, he gave it a gentle squeeze as you drifted into quiet once again. You listened to the sounds of the town slowly coming to life, not needing to fill the silence.

Coco had never been good at being near you without having his lips touch some part of you, though. After a while you felt him pull on the hood of your sweatshirt, tugging it down further to expose more skin. His mouth pressed lightly against the top of your spine, slowly moving up your neck until he reached that spot behind your ear that he knew made your toes curl.

You shifted your body on the step, moving so your back was angled against the railing instead of his chest, giving him better access and you a much better view. He reached down, his fingers lightly gripping your chin as he turned your face towards him.

“You gonna kiss me to clarity, Johnny?”

“Fuckin’ worth a try, ain’t it?”

He leant forward again as you smiled at his words, tilting your face up to meet his lips. He was slow and soft to start, teasing you until you pushed back, stealing his breath. You let yourself get lost in it, in the feel of Coco and the safety he came with. In the knowledge that you didn’t need to be anyone but yourself with him, whether that was you with a smile on your face or a mind that was spinning in twenty directions. Either way, he’d be there. He’d find you in your chaos and bring your back just like you did for him.

You weren’t sure how long you sat like that, just enjoying each other and letting Coco distract you. You surfaced for air a few times, hands drifting to his chest as your limbs started to ache with the awkward angle you were sitting at but neither of you noticed. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? To get lost and forget.

You were so deep in it that the gate opening did startle you this time, causing Coco to inadvertently bite down on your lip.

“Shit.” You sucked your lip in, wincing as the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth. Coco reached out to gently rub his thumb over it.

“My bad. You okay?” Nodding, you looked up to see Letty shaking her head at the two of you as she made her way outside, her grin not quite matching her biting words.

“You have a bedroom, you know?” She stepped over and around your joined bodies, heading for the table outside. “You should fucking use it.”

“Language, Leticia.” The actual reprimand was missing from Coco’s tone, his voice light and tinged with a laugh.

“Bite me, Coco.”

You laughed as you rested your head against Coco’s chest, your own lungs loosening ever so slightly. Your anxiety wasn’t going to leave you completely - amazing as they were, Coco’s kisses weren’t that powerful but you could already feel the fog starting to lift. It wouldn’t be a perfect day. It didn’t have to be and that was okay as long as you had Letty and your Johnny Coco Cruz to make you smile.

everything's bigger in texas

pairing: joel x reader

tags/cws: size kink, praise kink, p in v, oral f and m receiving, virginity loss

summary: go big or go home on your first time

a/n: reader is a virgin, but is not specified to be a certain age and in my mind is only a bit younger than joel

div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

wc: 2k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @faysslut @leonfucker3000 @withonly-sweetheart

It's embarrassing. It's the reason why you'd hesitated to even talk to Joel in the first place, fearing he might like you back, in which case, he might ask you out, and according to Cosmopolitan and the metaphorical grapevine, you would only get three dates at most before you'd have to end it. And you better not order the fucking lobster. Ever.

You get dolled up on the night you plan to bid him adieu. You'd feel horrible for wasting his time regardless, but the fact that he decides to treat you to dinner at a fancy restaurant for your third date, makes you feel even worse.

The worst part of it all is: you really like him. He makes you feel like you're in high school again despite the fact that he's decades past that point in his life - it's the way your heart flutters in his presence, the way he makes your cheeks heat up when he compliments you. However, this is anything but an innocent crush. You want more than the kiss on the cheek he gives you when he greets you at your doorstep, more than his hand holding yours as he helps you step in and out of the car, more than his arm around your waist as he leads you to the table.

You want him to fuck you.

You try to give yourself a pep talk in the mirror before he arrives, and for an extra confidence boost, you wear the singular pair of underwear in your drawer that matches the one bra that actually fits right, hoping it'll make you feel sexy. But what good is sexy if you’re not going to have sex?

But, at the restaurant, you decide to order a double shot of liquid courage, which is a one-way ticket to going home with Joel.

He drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. He’s so hot that even the smallest things can get you worked up. It’s the first time in a long time that your arousal has been able to override your nerves.

You barely get your coat off before you’re pressed up against the door, and he’s kissing you with a type of hunger you’ve never felt before. You know he'll leave you with a case of stache-rash but you can't bring yourself to care.

You stumble across the room to the couch – you would’ve walked backwards into the coffee table if Joel hadn’t picked you up and carried you. You’re not even that drunk - at least, not on alcohol – just insistent on not breaking the kiss until you’re out of breath and you absolutely have to. 

When his body looms over you, all you're thinking about is the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands playing with your tits, making you gasp when his thumbs brush over your nipples. 

He gets so far as slipping his hand up your dress, but the moment his fingers brush the gusset of your panties, you grab his wrist. 

"Joel—"

"Yeah?" He's quick to sit up and back off completely — not exactly what you intended but you're grateful that he respects boundaries.

"I should just be honest with you. I’ve never done this before, so I’m a little nervous…"

You're more than a little bit nervous, especially when you're so used to guys making up excuses to leave when they notice your hesitance after you reveal the truth, after they find out that they're not guaranteed to have you in bed that night.

Joel doesn't kick you out, not even close, he looks unfazed, and you're at a loss. The script you've planned says: end scene, but the camera is still rolling. You have to ad lib.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to do that. I’m more than satisfied just getting to kiss you. Hell, I’d be happy just to have you sit on the couch with me, not touching or anything.”

You should feel more comfortable - and in a way, it does - but the novelty of the situation still leaves you dumbfounded.

You can see the worry in his eyes gain prominence as you remain silent.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Are you okay? I promise we don't have to do anything like that. We can just hang out, watch a movie or somethin', no touching at all."

"But I want you, Joel. That's the problem. I really want you."

"I want you too, but only when you're ready."

“I am ready, just nervous since this is new to me.”

“Is this your first time doing anything… of that nature?”

"No, I’ve done some things, I just haven’t gone all the way yet."

Handjobs, blowjobs, the whole nine yards - well, really, the first three bases in the sports/sex analogy.

“Would you like to tell me about those things?”

The look in his eyes – sweet and suggestive all at once gives you a spark of confidence. 

"I could tell you, but I’d rather show you," you say with a flirtatious smile. 

"Only if you let me return the favor."

It takes a lot of willpower to keep yourself composed when you're face-to-dick with Joel. You feel a rush of something — lust, nerves, both? All you can think is: there's no way that is ever going to fit inside me.

It doesn't fit down your throat, not even close, but Joel's 50, not 20, so he knows that unlike in pornography, most women cannot deepthroat. He doesn't expect you to even attempt such a feat. Just looking into your eyes while you're on your knees for him is enough to get him there.

Post-orgasm, he's internally beating himself up for not using his good southern manners and pleasing his woman first. The best he can do is double his typical dedication when he goes down on you.

He doesn't need to try that hard. In what feels like mere seconds, Joel's fingers work you open, pulling an orgasm from you when he dips his head between your legs and flicks his tongue over your clit.

When he can tell you're close, he says, "I'm right here, baby. Let go for me." His lips return to your clit and with his reassurance you let yourself fall over the edge.

It's not until your fourth date that you actually make your first attempt to lose your virginity.

He makes you cum twice - once on his fingers, once on his tongue - before he even takes his cock out of his underwear.

You're tired by that time, ready to apologize and see yourself out, but then you look at him, naked and hard in front of you, and despite your exhausted body, your pussy drools (maybe your mouth too). It gives you a jolt of energy, a rush of blood down south.

Joel’s body is positioned perfectly above you, ready to give himself to you, but he waits, looks at you with admiration in his eyes but doesn’t touch you. When he does, it's his right hand on your cheek.

"Are you gonna… put it in?" you say, laughing a little – anything to break the tension.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay first," he says with a warm smile.

"I'm more than okay," you assure him.

At your confirmation, his kisses move from your cheek to your jaw, they get rougher at your neck, your collarbone. He sucks on your tits until you whine in impatience.

You feel his breath as he huffs out a laugh into your neck between kisses. But you're more focused on the head of his cock prodding at your entrance. When Joel presses himself inside you — one inch first — you both take in a sharp breath. You're audibly wet, but there's still a stretch, a sting.

Joel sees your eyes squeezed shut and feels you tense up.

"You wanna stop?" he asks.

"No," you tell him. "Just… go slow."

He takes your hand, interlocks your fingers, before giving you another inch. For whatever reason, you hadn't expected him to be this sweet during sex, but you have no complaints.

Gradually, it starts to feel better, a lot better. You start to understand why people like this so much.

But then, you accidentally sabotage yourself when your gaze fixates on his cock going in and out of your pussy. A sense of shame falls over you when you realize he's only halfway inside you.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"It's not all the way in," you sigh.

"And that's okay, baby."

"I wanted to be able to take it all… I wanted to be good for you."

"Trust me, baby, it feels fuckin' amazing. You're squeezin' me so damn tight you're gonna make me embarrass myself."

"I can't help it."

"I know," he says, leaning down to whisper beside your ear, "and that's what makes it feel even better."

You whimper quietly - it's a flustered, needy, good noise, but still, Joel cups your cheek and holds infinite comfort within his touch as he shushes you, saying, "you're doing so good for me."

With slight shift of his hips, a change in angle, he hits that special spot inside you and you can feel the pleasure begin to build.

You moan — louder than you intended to — and it almost startles Joel, briefly takes him out of his trace. He doesn't know your sobs of pleasure well enough to be sure they're not ones of pain.

"You okay? You want me to pull out?"

"No, don't pull out. Do that again," you say, frantically grasping at him, horrified at the thought of him no longer being inside you.

"Do what again?" he says with a subtle smirk that lets you know that he knows exactly what. 

"This?” he asks as he hits the same spot again and you can't tell him 'yes' when your mouth is busy with far more obscene noises, so you nod.

"Right there?" he confirms again, as he steadily thrusts in and out of you, not pushing any deeper, only meeting that special spot over and over.

It's rhetorical, and your 'uh-huh' is more than sufficient as an answer.

Pride mixes with lust and he rattles off praises, knowing he'll get your tight, wet heat to clench around him with every single word.

"You're takin' me so well, baby. You look so pretty like this," he says.

You cry out his name like it's the only word you know, over and over again.

"You're gonna make me cum if you keep sayin' my name like that, baby."

And it's not calculated dirty talk, it's just the goddamn truth.

With begging eyes and a mouthful of moans, you nod and hope your wordless gesture will convey the meaning, which is: please.

Your legs wrap around his hips and there is nothing Joel can do to hold himself back from burying himself to the hilt. There's nothing he can do to stop himself from spilling his load inside you immediately.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, and you can see a bulge in your abdomen, and it would be fascinating if you weren't focused on clutching the sheets for dear life in an effort to save Joel from the wrath of your acrylics as you shudder through your orgasm.

You nearly lose yourself in the bliss of your high, all you know is Joel and the way he feels inside you.

When you come to, you turn to Joel and he says, "I'm proud of you," a phrase that never fails to make you melt.

You want to say "thanks" or "I love you" or any normal response one might give to that statement, but your words are already halfway out of your mouth.

"I swear you're gonna kill me with that thing," you say, gesturing to his cock, which looks not nearly as threatening when it's soft.

When he lies down beside you and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, you think to yourself, "maybe I am dead, and this is heaven."

You don’t realize you’ve said it aloud until Joel says, "I'm pretty sure we're still in Texas, baby.”

"Same thing.”

eyes on the prize

a/n: me writing a fic where rafe is actually wholesome and nice? i didn't see it coming either... this idea just came to me when you were all voting for the kinktober fic a while ago, and i was prepping that it maybe could go in this direction and then ended up falling too much in love with the fantasy, so i simply had to get it out of my system.

summary: “in a week, when we’ve turned in the assignment, and everything is over, I want you to come watch me fight… watch me win…” a cocky smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as he awaited your answer.

warnings: mma!rafe cameron x reader, smut, college au, study buddies to lovers, soft!rafe, autumnal vibes, takes place in the beginning of november, studying, friday the 13th references, scaredy cat!reader, violence, mma fights, kissing, semi-public sex, clothed sex, dirty talk, manhandling, ripping pantyhose, size kink, spit kink, hole inspection, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

word count: 2626

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“So,” you hesitantly broke the silence that had fallen over both you and the partner that had been assigned to you on this current project, “did you get up to anything fun on Halloween?” 

Glancing up from the thick book Rafe’s bored gaze was rushing through, it instead lingered on you for but a moment as his mutter reverberated in the quiet corner of the university’s library, “uhm, yeah. I popped by a party for a bit.” 

“The one at delta neu?” a glint flickered in your eye as soon as he offered you a nod, “me too! Though I went home kinda early, so we might have missed each other… what did you going as?” 

“Jason,” he simply uttered. 

“Jason who?” the soft smile didn’t fade from your lips as his short answer hadn’t landed the way he’d hoped. 

“You know,” his brows furrowed slightly at your cluelessness, repeating once again as if the name alone should be enough for you to understand, “Jason.” 

“…Jason Statham? Jason Momoa?” your eyes squinted as you quietly attempted to hit the bullseye, “uhm… I can’t really think of any other famous Jasons right now…” 

“No, Jason from Friday the 13th. You know, the dude with the hockey mask and the machete.” 

“Ah, him… yeah, I haven’t watched those movies,” you shrugged, “but, cool costume.” 

“Wait, you’ve never seen Friday the 13th?” he tilted closer to where you sat across the table from him, “not even the cheesy remake?” 

“Nope,” you simply returned your gaze to the textbook beneath your fingers.  

“Seriously?” his eyebrows didn’t float back down yet, “well, I don’t know if I should be offended that you’ve never watched that masterpiece before or jealous that you get to experience it for the first time, but either way, that’s a problem we need to fix.” 

At first, you thought you’d entered the wrong building. 

That was until you rounded the corner, and your gaze fluttered up from the map still open on your phone, guiding you to the mysterious address your study partner had texted you, asking you to meet up with him there before the rest of your plans could unfold, that you discovered that you hadn’t stumbled into the wrong place. 

Though that wasn’t the only thing you discovered in that moment as the culmination of that enlightenment was spotting Rafe in the middle of the industrial and cold gym, going through the tail end of some drills with his trainer. 

As he went through the combinations and grunted like a guard dog, sweat dripped down from his brow and rolled so low that it cascaded over his already glistening and bare chest. 

You hadn’t really noticed how your feet had stopped or how your pulse had picked up so fiercely that you could feel it between your thighs before his own eyes located you and he flashed you a smile.

“Hey!” his voice cut through your trance as he patted his coach on the shoulder and began to near the edge of the ring. 

“H-hi,” you blinked, shaking your fuzzy head slightly to clear it, “I didn’t know you were into this sort of stuff,” you briefly waved a hand to the gym around you and tried your best to rip your stare away from his heaving chest. 

“Yeah,” he began to loosen a glove, “sorry I asked you to meet me here, I’m just really busy these days cause I’ve got a fight coming up.” 

“Oh, well we don’t have to have a silly movie night if you don’t have the time,” you averted your gaze, recalling how before you’d been paired with him on the assignment for Callahan’s class, you hadn’t even been sure of what his name was. You’d just known him as the hot guy, three rows behind you. 

“No, no, I want to, unless of course you’ve changed your mind.”

Blinking back up into his eyes, you smiled, “definitely not.”

“Well, great,” a grin spread across his lips, “then just give me a second,” he cast a brief glance over his broad shoulder at the locker room, “and then we can head back to my place,” a notion you hadn’t expected would have ended with you up on the back of his motorcycle, a terrifying concept that you’d somehow been unable to deny as the crush that had blossomed and bloomed within your heart for him had made it near impossible for you to say no to a single one of his suggestions. 

“You never told me what you went as,” Rafe hummed beside you, causing your eyes to tear away from the horror movie buzzing on the TV.

Blinking over at him next to you on the leather couch, your fingers began to fiddle with the blanket you’d slumped over yourself, “oh, well I didn’t wanna buy anything new, so I just went through my closet and ended up going as Britney Spears because I found the skirt of my old school uniform. I don’t even remember why I brought it with me the last time I went home, but–, ah!” a shriek suddenly shuttered through your form as your eyes accidentally fluttered back towards the screen just in time to witness the villain sink a large blade into the head of one of the drunk teenagers, “oh my god!” your frame couldn’t help but jump at the fright, nearly tossing the blanket across the room as you instinctively hid your features in the mass of Rafe’s bicep. 

As your heart raced and thumped in your chest, you felt Rafe’s shoulder begin to move before you heard his laughter. 

“Shut up, it’s not funny!” you smacked him lightly in the chest, though kept your vision darkened by his shirt, “so I’m not desensitised to the horrors of scary movies, big whoop!” a mutter then slipped out of your lungs, “fuck, why did I agree to this? I’m probably gonna have nightmares for weeks…”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just a movie,” you felt his palm find your arm in a soothing rub as his voice hummed directly above the crown of your head, “and the scene is almost over.” 

“I can’t look…” you felt yourself lean more into his touch. 

“…do you want me to describe it to you?” 

“No…” you lingered in the security of his warmth and felt the terror slowly melt from your bones. Cupping a hand on the side of your face to shield your eyes from the horrors on screen, you carefully plucked your face just shy out of his safety before you uttered, “…just tell me when it’s over…” 

The blaring light from the television reflected against the side of Rafe’s face as he gazed down into your eyes and breathed, “okay,” his stare slowly dipping and fluttering down towards your lips. 

It wasn’t till now that you noticed how close you’d accidentally scooted to him as you weren’t far from just sitting in his lap. 

Sharing his breath, your mind went entirely blank and only switched back on when you’d closed the distance betwixt your lips and now found yourself kissing your study buddy. 

Thankfully, your brain didn’t get a chance to begin spiralling as it only took Rafe half a second to reciprocate the sudden move and kiss you back. 

His strong hands found the small of your waist buried beneath the woollen blanket before he began to drag you closer, pulling you so near that you actually did wind up sitting in his lap, your fingers fluttering against his buzzcut as his own scooped down over the curve of your ass. 

When the movie gently humming from behind you was long forgotten and your soul instead had drifted straight to heaven, you felt Rafe tilt his head back to breathlessly utter, “come watch my fight…” his forehead still pressed against your own. 

Scarcely picking up on the words behind his honied hum, you breathed, “what?” 

Reeling back just enough for his eye to catch your own dazed pair, he said, “in a week, when we’ve turned in the assignment, and everything is over, I want you to come watch me fight… watch me win…” a cocky smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as he awaited your answer.

You’d never seen a fight in real life before. 

Not boxing, not mixed martial arts as this was, not even a juvenile one in a schoolyard. 

At one point, when you thought all hope seemed lost, when Rafe got pinned by his opponent and blood was trickling down from the cut at his brow so clearly that you could make it out from the second row seat you found yourself planted in, he somehow managed to turn the tides and capture the boulder of a man in a lock so fierce it made them nearly melt into one pretzel-like being. 

As he flexed his arm around the other’s throat with the rest of his limbs restricting him as well and rendering an escape near impossible, Rafe’s eyes then flickered up to catch your wide ones in the crowd. A grin appeared on his features as he held your stare a moment longer, watching as you shyly began to mirror his smile, before he tightened his hold and squeezed till the opponent opted not to bruise his pride and tap out, instead going limp in the grasp. 

Once the trophy was in his gloved hand and he’d leapt out of the ring, on his way back towards the locker room, he zigzagged through the cheering crowd and caught onto your arm, dragging you with him as he exited the buzzing hall. 

“That was insane,” you heard yourself babble as he pulled you through the corridors down towards the backroom he’d been in prior to the fight, “I mean, I know I went into it kinda blind, but I had no idea it would be like that,” adrenaline still rushed through your veins as he tugged you over the threshold and closed the door behind you, swiftly dropping his trophy to one of the long benches, “sure, it was as insane as I probably imagined, but the way that you moved, the way you slipped in and out like you were made of water or something, I mean, that was beautiful–,” the fighter then suddenly cut your rambling short as he yanked you to his sweaty form and pressed his lips to your own. However, as his feet shuffled and your spine collided with the back of the door to the small locker room, your fingers fluttered over countless of the spots where he’d been hit, causing you to jerk back and ask, “wait, shouldn’t you have someone check you out?” your eyes flickered from the cut splitting his brow to the various fresh bruises already beginning to blossom and reveal their true colours, “are you okay?”

“I’ve never felt better in my whole life,” he tried to lean back in to capture your lips once more, though you tilted away just in time for him to miss. 

“You sure? Because–”

But your words were quickly snuffed out as his hands then flew up to grasp the sides of your face to force you to notice the glint in his eye and the desire dripping in his tone, “just shut up and kiss me,” he commanded before he practically devoured you whole. 

As Rafe’s tongue danced against your own and made you feel dizzy in his tight embrace, his fingers then blindly fumbled for the lock and twisted it with a click that harmonised with the throbbing that had appeared between your thighs as soon as the fight had commenced. 

A low growl rumbled deep within his chest and melted into your mouth as he then plucked you off of the ground and lifted you into his arms. Broad palms spreading wide below your bottom, he brought you as close as possible, causing the skirt you wore to ride up and crumble at your hips. The thin barrier of your pantyhose and the underwear beneath nearly incinerated from the heat that sparked as his hips greedily rocked against your covered core, lending you to feel just how hard he was in his shorts. 

“I want you so bad,” he groaned between pecks, his fingers digging into your softness.

“Shouldn’t you be out celebrating your victory or something?” a light giggle bubbled out of you. 

“I thought that was what I was doing,” he smirked before dropping you back down onto the ground, making you gasp at his sharp movements as he suddenly spun you around to face the closed door, “unless you have a better idea of how we could celebrate,” he nipped at your neck, making your eyes flutter. 

“I–…” your teeth briefly captured your bottom lip as his front pressed against your back, and your spine instinctively arched back into him, “no, yeah, this one’s g-good…”

“Good,” he murmured in your ear before his fingers found your pantyhose in a pinch and ripped a big hole in them, nearly splitting them in two as he exposed your underwear, “do you want it?” he gripped your hips and titled them for his hard-on to perfectly nudge against the soaked cotton. 

“Y-yes,” you panted, even just that one word haven been a struggle to utter through the fog he’d cast you into. 

“How bad?” 

“So bad–, Rafe, please,” he made you squeak desperately, “I just–, please…”

Cheek smooshed against the door, you glanced over your shoulder and watched as he then kneeled down behind you. Both hands still firmly planted on your hips, keeping you in place for him, they only strayed for a moment in order to shove your skirt the rest of the way up and letting him see the wet spot decorating your panties. 

“Oh, shit…” he groaned as he tugged the gusset of your underwear all the way to the side, a string of your glossy want clung to the fabric till it snapped back against your aching core. Nearly salivating as he inspected your holes, his fingers dented your ass as he pulled you apart, splitting you open that much further and watching intently at the way your drooling cunt throbbed in anticipation for his touch. 

As if your pussy’s embarrassingly leaky state wasn’t enough, a dollop of his spit then roughly landed upon your folds, the lewdness causing you to let out a moan as he swiftly rose back up to his full height without as much as a tickle to your tingly petals.

The next thing you knew, the adrenaline coursing through you both drove Rafe to free his length from its confines and, without as much as another kiss, slammed inside of your weeping pussy in one fell motion. 

Balls nuzzled tightly against you, the very tip of him nudged against a part so deep inside of you that it made you lose your breath as he took a moment to savour the sensation, freezing up within you and huffing against your cheek as you gasped for air through your whimpers. 

“Oh my god!” one of your hands curled back to crawl at his waist, “Rafe!” 

“Now,” his hips slowly drew back, dragging his fat girth back out of you and letting you feel every little detail of him, “you just gotta be a good girl, stand right here for me,” only the bulbous head of his cock remained, keeping you plugged up as he purred in your ear, “and take it like the perfect little prize you are,” he then buried himself once more with such vigour that his heavy sack tapped sloppily against your puffy clit, “can you do that for me? Will you be my reward?” 

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