#Bargain Jeans Bargain Jeans Bargain Jeans

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Tipping Point

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: sexual tension, implied smut

Summary: Your aunt signs you up for shooting lessons with Spencer Reid. You get more than you bargained for when you go.

Square Filled: alex blake (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Not having a job is really kicking your ass. All you do is stay at home and flip through magazines and shows you’ve already watched. Since your parents died, your aunt has taken you under her wing. The housing and renting market is a joke right now, so you’re living with her until you can go to school. You want to go into her field since you look up to her so much, but the school year doesn’t start for another three months.

So, you’re just trying to pass the time by reading magazines and watching shit reality shows.

Aunt Alex walks downstairs after getting ready for work, and she goes to the kitchen where the full pot of coffee you brewed is waiting for her.

“So, what do you have planned for today?” she asks.

“Well, at ten, I want to cure diseases, and at two, I plan on writing a thesis on String Theory. Why? Do you have something planned? I can see if I can fit you in,” you say sarcastically.

“You’re so funny,” she rolls her eyes playfully. “There’s actually something I want you to do for me.”

“What’s up?”

“I signed you up for shooting lessons. One of my coworkers is teaching the class, and he knows you’re coming. Your appointment is at two.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. She’s been nagging you to take shooting lessons ever since you moved in with her.

“Aunt Alex…”

“Y/N, listen, your mother wasn’t prepared and look where it got her. I’m not letting the same thing happen to you.”

She’s right. Your father died shortly after you were born so your mom was the protector. There was an invasion one night and she wasn’t able to protect herself against the intruder. She died fighting to save you. Alex sees evil every single day, and it would break her heart if you weren't prepared for the worst.

“Fine, I’ll go,” you sigh.

“Good. It’s at two. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

The morning is filled with reality TV, and the early afternoon is when you prepare to go to this lesson. What should you wear? A dress might be too much so you pick out a nice pair of jeans and a loose shirt. Once ready, you leave the house and head over to the shooting range. You’re not sure who from her team is going to be teaching you. You’ve never met them but you do know them by name. David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, and Spencer Reid. You don’t think Rossi or Hotch will teach you so it has to be either Derek or Spencer.

The shooting range is empty, probably due to Alex’s influence. She wanted whoever is teaching it to focus on you the whole time.

“Hello? Anyone here?”

“In the back!”

You walk to the back and see a tall and slender man putting away supplies. From Penelope’s use of the phrase “Chocolate Thunder” (thanks to Aunt Alex repeating it several times), you know this is Spencer Reid. Spencer turns and you’re immediately floored by how attractive he is. You’ve met your fair share of men and have hooked up with more than one of them, but Spencer is on a whole other level.

This is a man right here. You’re into older men, too. You’re not sure how old he is but he can’t be more than thirty-five.

He walks over to you with a smile. “Hi, I’m Spencer Reid. Alex said you were coming over.” No words are coming out so you just nod instead. “Have you ever shot a gun before?” Again, you can only shake your head. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

He takes you over to the area where you shoot and shows an array of guns on the table next to it. He picks up the smaller one and hands it over to you.

“Wow, this is heavier than I thought it was going to be,” you chuckle when you grab it.

“Yeah, don’t let that scare you. This is a very easy gun to use. First, safety.”

Spencer takes the gun from you and puts it on the table before grabbing a pair of earmuffs and safety glasses. You look up at him as he slides the earmuffs over your ears, and he looks into your eyes. He briefly looks down at your lips but it was so quick that you could have been imagining it.

“Does that fit well?”

Even through the earmuffs, his voice is like honey. You nod and he moves onto the glasses. He slides them on despite you having full capabilities of doing this yourself. You look down and the glasses slide off your face entirely, and you chuckle shyly. Both you and Spencer lean down to pick it up, and your hand bumps against his.

It was just a bump but that sends shockwaves through your body. Based on how Spencer is looking at you, you know he felt the same. This is different than any fling you had. You’ve never felt this type of attraction toward another man.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s okay.” He grabs the glasses. “Let me get another pair.” Spencer leaves and returns with a smaller pair. “Are those okay?”

“Better,” you smile.

“Okay, take the gun and turn the safety off.” You pick up the gun and flip the little switch. Spencer steps closer to you, so close that you can feel his body heat behind you. Butterflies flutter in your stomach but you try to ignore them. “Here, hold it like this.”

He reaches around you and fixes the way you hold the gun. He has to press himself closer to your back, and you silently thank Aunt Alex for setting this up for you.

“Am I holding it right?” you ask.

“Yes.”

His breath is hot against your neck, and you swear you can feel your panties dampening a little bit.

“Now what?”

“Shoot.” You aim at the target in front of you and shoot three times, all of the bullets not hitting the target but on the paper outside of it. “Okay, next time, don’t close one eye. That actually doesn’t help.”

“Okay,” you chuckle. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Try again. This time, try to aim for the heart.”

You aim at the target but freeze when you feel Spencer’s hand sliding up your arms and down to your waist. How can you think about this when all you can think about is his hands on your body? You shoot the target twice, both of the bullets hitting the target. However, one hit his leg and the other hit his hand.

“Better?”

“Yeah, a bit. Are you sure you’ve never shot a gun before?”

“Never.”

“For a first-timer, you’re doing a lot better than other newbies.”

“Thanks,” you smile. “I just have a really great teacher.”

Spencer spends the next thirty minutes teaching you how to shoot multiple different guns. By the time you’re done, the sexual tension is high. Spencer steps back from you and you regret not failing more just so you can feel his body against yours.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today. I do think you might benefit from one more lesson. Are you free next week?”

“Yes,” you say too quickly. “I mean, I can make that work. Just let me know.”

“Great.”

Spencer removes your glasses and then your earmuffs while staring into your eyes the whole time. The tension between you two is like a boiling pot of water. It’s going to overflow any second now, and you can’t wait to see what will happen when he snaps. He looks down at your lips and you lick them slowly, and that seems to be the tipping point.

He grabs your waist and pulls you into him before slamming his lips on yours. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He hooks his hands under your thighs and lifts you up with ease, setting you on the small table so you’re up to his height. Spencer slides his tongue along your bottom lip, but he kisses his way down your jaw to your neck instead of licking inside your mouth.

“Alex is going to kill me,” he mutters between kisses.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” you moan.

Spencer pulls back and kisses you once again. If you knew this was waiting for you, you would have taken lessons a lot sooner.

x

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[rayhalloffame]

TW: one mention of vomiting

Patrick is leaned against the frame of the bathroom door and can’t take his eyes off of you. You’re standing leaned over the bathroom counter to look closer at your makeup in the mirror. You’re very concentrated, jaw slightly hung open with effort as you swipe the mascare wand upwards against your lashes. He pushes himself to stand and approaches you from behind, hooks his thumbs into the front belt loops of your jeans.

You huff when he jostles you, your eyes flicking to meet his in the mirror. He smirks and places a kiss to the back of your head, murmurs an apology there. “If you make me mess up my makeup it’ll just take us longer to go,” you warn, returning to your reflection. You push your hips back into his when you lean forward, feel Patrick’s length press into your ass. Your eyes find his once more and the corner of your mouth tilts upwards, just briefly, before you give your face a final once-over.

Patrick follows you forward, blanketing his long torso over your back. He releases his grip on your jeans to wrap his strong arms around your waist. “Smell good,” he compliments, breathing in deep at the crevice of your neck. “Want help with your necklace?” he asks. When you nod, he peels himself away from you to find the gold necklace he bought you as a birthday gift.

He lets you collect your hair from your shoulders so it doesn’t get in his way. His fingers are cool against your skin as he drapes the necklace at the center of your chest, finding his way to the back of your neck and clasping the chain. His lips leave a chaste kiss there and then you let your hair fall to frame your face once more. Patrick looks you over in the mirror, reaches a hand around your shoulder to straighten the single pendant.

His palm then reaches up to cradle your jaw, swiping his thumb back and forth there, adoringly. “Happy birthday, pretty girl,” he says. Your cheeks grow warm. The second you’ve turned to face him, Patrick is leaning down to give you a slow, sensual kiss that makes you lightheaded from how tender it is.

Despite the urge to wrap himself in you, Patrick is a good boyfriend and is proud of the birthday plans he made for you, so he’s pulling away from you reluctantly and ushering you out the front door within minutes. You’re surprised to see a group of your favorite people inside the bar with cameras ready, shouting birthday wishes on your entry. Patrick looks proud.

You make your rounds of greetings and take a seat at the bar when a cupcake is thrusted into your hands. Someone lights the single candle and you nod along as your friends sing to you. You make a wish for more moments like these, then blow out the candle. Your eyes scan the crowd for Patrick who you find a few feet away, still recording you.

Hopping off the barstool, you make your way towards him, pulling a silly face at the camera that makes Patrick laugh. (He’s going to clip the end of the video to make it his Lock Screen). He slings an arm around you once his phone is pocketed, pulls you into his chest, hums in acknowledgment when you thank him for arranging this.

You spend the night singing and dancing and downing drinks. Every now and then when you’ve wandered too far and Patrick catches some guy laying eyes on you, he reels you back. Takes you by the hips and dances against you, leans his cup towards you so you can sip from his straw. Eyes half lidded, you’ll grab his chin between your fingers and pull his face to yours for a brief but sloppy kiss that he smiles into. He loves to see you so relaxed and happy.

Back at the apartment, you’ve thrown yourself backwards on the bed. Your eyes are closed and you whine when Patrick tries to bargain with you to get ready for bed. He ends up wiping your makeup from your face where you lay, stripping you down and sliding one of his t-shirts over your head.

Once he’s in bed you’ve regained enough energy to climb on his lap and initiate an uncoordinated make out. He holds your face and indulges you, moves the curtain of your hair when it gets in the way. You only last a few minutes before the room is spinning and you’re clambering off of him to find the toilet and hurl. Tired, Patrick follows you. He sits with his back against the tub, legs spread wide. He rubs your back, wipes your mouth with tissue, flushes the toilet every few seconds.

When you’re spent you find your way to him, as you always do. You curl your knees into your chest and sit sideways between his legs, flopping your head against his collarbone. His head rests atop yours. He rubs soothing patterns wherever his fingers can reach. Patrick wishes you a happy birthday once more, calls you his princess, tells you he loves you more than you’ll ever know. He doesn’t complain in the morning about how sore he is from sleeping on the cold tiled floor.

[maxiwaxipads]

some people put charms around their house like the cross to ward away evil spirits… do you think pikero hangs bargain jeans to keep tuxam away but it only works for a little while until tuxam has gathered the courage to clean up

[vampyiricris]

what hyperfixation does to a girl (it’s barely been a week)

[crehador]

risky move for mahoro to be hiding in here tbh. how much king frottage activity has she inadvertently witnessed already

[thepiecesofcait]

Will you be like a papa to me?

[ofcnyx]

I am not a professional arits but I thought I'll give it a go and try to draw Dramione for A Slytherin's Bargain -WIP🐍💚🖤

[words-and-coffee]

outside I find myself // caught in rain // body in ruins // when dawn comes // our eyes are full of confusion & thirst // she leans over // says nothing // I want to scream

Mary Jean Chan, Flèche - the five stages - bargaining

[cuips-not-cute]

was supposed to write the characters having a normal, adult conversation and now somehow there's dry humping. every day we stray further from god

[puppetmastery]

go in the gamercore etc tags and see anime girls everywhere. no you fools it's this:

[obi-wann-cannoli]

This chapter lookin like a Looney Tunes arrest. smh, get it together guys!

[gender-euphowrya]

the nurse who sometimes does like blood draws for my grandma released a book and it's one of them appeal-to-racists ''i'm from a muslim family let me tell you reverse racism is real'' kinda garbage

but the funny thing is the target demographic is Not reading his book because they stopped at ''i'm from a muslim family"

[keyblades-and-kingdoms]

in any other context, a man telling a little girl to “show me where you live” would be cause for a felony but local dumbass jean valjean thought that emerging from the darkness in the woods while singing was the least terrifying course of action

[lunapwrites]

Hey, past LP? Yeah, hi, I'm gonna need you to quit putting this much of yourself in your fictional queer wizards okay? Okay cool, thanks.

[justaholeinmysoul]

Some of yall really don't know what it means to be working class in some countries. Yes maybe we can afford little "luxuries" from time to time but that doesn't make people rich or capable to completely boycott the low costs companies.

[thepiecesofcait]

It's no more than we Christians must do.