To Me It’s An Inherent Truth That Ghost Is Socially “ugly”

"shift to another reality is a lie! that's schizophrenia, hallucination—"

okay, and? i really wouldn't mind hallucinating ur favorite character fucking me. is this meant to get to me? hmmmm... i'm sorry, but u failed .

sweeter

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: in which, you and spencer try out foodplay, through use of whipped cream.

tags: MDNI smut!, established relationship, fem!reader, foodplay (whipped cream), oral (f receiving, munch!spencer i love you), nipple play, kinda temperature play, one use of pussy pronouns (gasp).

a/n: fun fun fun, my first time getting experimental with smut! happy reading!!

wc: 1.7k

you instantly regret it when the foam hits you. it's that unpleasant cold sensation. similar to a too-frigid shower early in the morning when the water doesn't heat up fast enough, spreading a shiver down your spine as you recoil inward.

spencer's fingers rub soothingly into your hip as he hovers the nozzle of the can over your other nipple. your stomach clenches, your bodily response telling you to get away. you were warm; spencer made you feel warm. 

but no. you had to bring this up; you had to insist despite his protests and concerns for you.

“it'll be fun, spence,” you had goaded. “and it'll taste good.”

“you already taste good,” he responded, dipping down to lick your pulse point as if to prove his point.

“can we at least try?” you whined, tone overly sweet. 

he conceded with a huff, but you weren't blind to the excited little glint in his eyes.

so now you're perched on your kitchen counter, clad only in your underwear, on top of an old t-shirt that spencer had so courteously laid out for you, ensuring the marble wouldn't be ice to your thighs. the kitchen, apparently, was the most ideal location for this. easy and convenient to clean up, and food is meant to be here, after all. 

he's eyeing you with amusement, eyebrows raised. “are you sure about this, honey?” he struggles to suppress a laugh, barely managing it. you’d imagine he’d be more sympathetic, but all he's sporting is a smug little smile as he sprays more whipped cream on you, chuckling when you flinch.

“you’re a sadist,” you grumble before turning firm, your resolve clear. “i’m sure.”

you inadvertently puff out your chest, a show of strength, but it doesn't appear that way to spencer. his eyes dart down, something hungry blooming in the dark pits of his pupils. 

maybe this will be fun. 

your tits only just covered by clouds of white foam, the sight is ghastly, and it makes him swallow hard. he stands there, a little confounded, as you reach for a bottle of sprinkles beside you, lightly dusting some over you. he hates you for being so normal about this and he hates you for the teasing grin that plays at the corner of your mouth when you look at him again. the counter has offered you some leverage, putting you at eye level with him.

but, oh. he loves you for the way your head tilts so endearingly. the way your lip gets pulled sheepishly between your teeth as you note the intensity with which he regards you. you lean forward, pressing a fluttering kiss to his cheek. you pause by his ear, “go ahead.”

he hooks an arm behind you, pulling you forward as well as offering you something to lean on. he starts with a kiss on your shoulder, lingering in what you assume is an effort to prolong it, to tease you. you feel the curve of his smile against your skin, the way his teeth peek out as he does so. his lips brush over your collarbone, up to your neck. they attach themselves just under your jaw, sucking lightly.

you don't realise that he has brought that can back to your body until you feel foam pool at the hollow of your throat. you hiss at the sudden cold contact but he quickly soothes that with the warmth of his tongue, scooping it up.

“fuck,” you curse lowly when he runs his tongue up your neck, nipping at your pulse point. 

“you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, bringing his lips back up to yours. he kisses you multiple times in quick succession, trying to make you laugh. he succeeds when you bite his bottom lip in mock reprimand. “i’m so lucky.”

it's dizzying the way he dips down so quickly, pressing a kiss to your sternum. you almost don’t realise when his mouth inches dangerously close to your whipped cream covered nipple, wrapping his lips around it and licking up the melting remnants off along with the sprinkles. the sensation makes you keen, high pitched and a little needy. he laps at the peaked bud, pinching and rolling it between his teeth. 

his arm is firm against your back, holding you to him with unmitigated strength as he sprays more cream onto your nipple and flattens his tongue on top of it. he spends a while there before moving to your opposite one and repeating with carefully paid attention. he hums appreciatively, pulling off with a pop. his pleased smile is accompanied by a contented lick of his lips.

“you want more?” he asks eagerly, relishing the way you look at him with a mildly shocked expression. 

you agree with a dazed nod. reaching for his neck, you pull him in for a kiss, breath hitching when you taste the whipped cream on his lips. “what the fuck?” you stifle a laugh in disbelief.

he just shrugs like it's nothing. like what he just did didn’t get you embarrassingly wet. you squeeze your thighs together, a way to conceal the growing damp patch on your underwear. spencer, ever the observer, notices this. he nudges your knees apart, stepping between your legs. his fingers skim over your skin as he takes you in, smiling somewhat deviously. 

“lift your hips?” he tugs at the waistband of your panties, pulling them down when you rise off the counter. 

he sneaks his hand down and presses his thumb between your folds. he rubs in small, slow circles, drawing out little moans and gasps from you. he trails down to your entrance, to the pool of wetness there and drags it back up to your clit. 

“holy shit, you really liked that,” he breathes, gaping at the way the pad of his thumb glistens. “or you just like my tongue on you. either way.”

“spence,” you whisper, his name caught between a whine and a plea. 

“what do you want, angel girl?”

“make me come,” you murmur, gaze darting helplessly between his eyes and his mouth. it's clearly not all you want.

he knows this. 

“i’m trying,” he says earnestly, applying a bit more pressure to your clit as he does so. he doesn’t hide the shit-eating grin that blooms across his face.

you make a noise, something dragged out and petulant, not willing to encourage further teasing, which makes him laugh.

“you want my mouth?” he asks, to which you nod meekly. he presses a chaste to your chin, chuckling fondly. he drops to his knees and you don't notice when he snags the can of whipped cream down with him.

he pulls you from behind the knees to scoot closer to his face, leaving you almost hanging off the counter. with a hand on your inner thigh and his shoulders between your legs, he holds you open. 

now, you shouldn't be surprised. spencer has always been partial to eating you out; some might even argue it's his favourite thing to do. so when the opportunity to enhance that experience came along, you shouldn’t have been surprised that he took it. 

still, you can't help the shocked squeal that you let out when he sprays whipped cream over your clit, stupidly rotating his wrist so it settles in a swirl like he's icing a cupcake. he drinks in the sight, the white peak beckoning him. wildly excited, he dips down and licks. it's obscene–you can’t even look at him, the way his tongue sticks out. 

“oh god,” you gasp, moaning when he sprays a line up your vulva, his mouth following close behind, greedily lapping up the mess.

“gotta clean her up,” he mumbles, amusement tugging at him when he sees your expression–thoroughly heated. “can’t have you getting a uti,” he continues, licking a casual but firm stripe between your folds. he definitely means it.

his lips close around your clit, dropping the can with a resounding thump as he circles his arms around both thighs, seemingly done with the cream. he sucks profusely; cheeks hollowed as he pulls your bud into his mouth, tongue flicking over it relentlessly. your soft pants reverberate around the room, blending with the wet sounds coming from between your legs. he moans when your thighs try to close around his head, a broken sound escaping him as his grip tightens. 

“sweet,” he mumbles. “you taste so amazing, angel. so so good.”

his words are muffled against you. he gets like this, you’ve noticed, pussy drunk–as you so affectionately put it. he babbles mindlessly, his tongue working deliberately without pause. it's not like you're doing any better, the unyielding press of his mouth on you rendering you a mess. your hand rakes through his hair desperately, tugging when the coil in your stomach begins to tighten.

“oh fuck. spence, i'm gonna-”

his eyes snap up to yours, softening. the warmth in his gaze is at odds with the desperation in the way he holds you, the way he mouths at you like he’s starved. he hums, the sound vibrating through you, coaxing, pleading as he urges you to let go. 

the wave crashes over you, pulling you under. his mouth follows the spasming motions of your hips, dutiful as he helps you ride out the high. he selfishly licks at you a few more times before pulling back. the lower half of his face is a wreck when he stands up, slick covering his chin. he greets you with a coy but giddy expression. 

“you’re insane,” you giggle, reaching for a kitchen towel that you know is somewhere behind you. you use it to wipe his face, rubbing his lips dry with your thumb, rosy and swollen from overexertion. you cradle his face gently and he leans in, planting a kiss on your palm as he does so. 

“good?” he asks nervously.

“really good, baby.” you smile, inclining forward to press a kiss to his cheek. 

you hop off the counter, a spring in your step as you thrust the can of whipped cream into his hands. you slip your fingers into his belt loops, biting your lip as you walk backwards, pulling him toward the living room–to the couch. 

“trust that i won't make a mess,” you placate his confusion with a playful grin. “but we are not finished here.”

spencer was in for a night. 

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

target practice

me liking every successful shifting story post as if it’s my full-time job.

18+ !! <3 coming to theatres soon...

spencer reid ✧ .・chess, holidays to see historical landmarks, crossword puzzles that are rigged to say 'i love you', peanut allergy, scratchy but warm sweaters, museum dates, night owl, noticing every little thing, sleeping with your head in his lap, taking turns making dinners, mint condition dc comic books, prince charming hair framing pieces, critiquing psychological thrillers accuracy, puppy love.

at last, beyonce

every breath you take, the police

new years day, taylor swift

paper bag, fiona apple

cupid, sam cooke

about you, the 1975

white collar whiskey, emily wolfe

how it feels to shift after doing your hair, showering, shaving, putting on lotion, and changing your sheets

That's all I need fr 💔

yeah some people don’t believe in reality shifting but some people also don’t believe women can orgasm so I stopped trusting other peoples opinions a long time ago

another gaz study ehe