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lis-likes-fics · 30 days ago

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Not Fair

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Reader Word Count: 6.1k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, Mommy kink, overstimulation, oral (f!receiving), strap-on, multiple orgasms, swearing... A/N: Writing a fic with a mommy kink was personally difficult bc I don't have one... So I tried my best, and I hope you like it. Emily Prentiss could do things to me that would make Aaron Hotchner blush. Happy Halloween!

When Emily's phone pings again, she clenches her fists. It's been going off practically all day. She's been busy with all this work on her desk, case files on case files, and she hasn't been able to focus because you keep texting her.

She received the first text as soon as she got to the BAU. She was talking to JJ when her phone went off and all she saw on her screen was “Miss you already”. When she opened her texts, she almost had a stroke.

It was a picture of you, your arms behind your head and your hip jutted out to the side. You've got your face cut off by the frame to give full attention to your body. Normally that wouldn't be so bad. She'd call you beautiful and promise to kiss you when she got home.

But it was hard to think such wholesome thoughts when you were naked on the screen.

“Everything okay?” JJ had asked.

Emily looked up, pulling herself harshly from her thoughts. She blinked blankly, nodding. “Uh, yeah. All good.”

JJ poorly pretends to believe her and lets her scramble to her desk. Hunched over her phone, Emily replied. “Not fair.” You just sent back a wink.

You sent her more and more throughout the day, each riskier than the last. One laying flat on your bed, the curve of your bare ass intoxicating. One of you straddling your pillow, cut off just beneath the eyes, enough to see your mouth fallen in bliss. One grasping your breasts and flicking the nipple. One spreading your legs for the camera to show how wet you are. One with your hand on the inside of your thigh, far too close for her liking.

It’s been driving her nuts, and she’s surrounded by profilers. It’s not a very good mix. She was counting down the minutes until she could get back to you and adjust your behavior.

As she looks hesitantly at her screen, she braces herself for what she’ll find. “New message: When will you come home to me, Mommy?” She runs a hand down her face, and then pales when she sees, “Video received”.

Emily stands from her desk, escaping quickly to find an empty room to lock herself in. As she opens her phone and goes through her messages, she grasps it tight while she presses play.

Her blood rushes when she sees you, your spread wide open with your fingers shoved inside of you. Your moans are high and breathless, the schlep! schlep! schlep! sounds of your pussy are making it hard to contain herself. “I couldn’t help myself, Mommy,” you whimper, staring at the camera with your face screwed up in pleasure. “I miss you so much. I need you so bad, Mommy. Please come home.”

Yeah… Safe to say, you're in trouble when she gets home.

When Emily steps through the front door, she makes sure to slam it a little as she closes it behind her.

“Em?” Your voice carries down the hall, followed by the soft padding of your feet. When she spots you, you're in an oversized T-shirt that you'd stolen from Derek one day. “You're home! I made dinner.”

You go in to hug her, pulling her in close with a sigh. Emily does not hug you back.

“You okay, baby?” you ask when you don't feel her arms wrap around you. You place your hand on her cheek, cupping her face with a smile.

Emily just looks at you, her face hard with frustration. “You know what you did.”

“I don't know what you mean.” You tilt your head. You're so good, she almost believes you.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

You sigh, brushing your hands down her chest. “Well, did it work?”

She stares at you. Emily has always had a very firm, very strong stare. You begin to squirm the longer she stares, and you know that you're in trouble…

“Go to bed…”

You lick your bottom lip, suppressing a grin as you dip your head. You turn on your heel, shuffling back to the room slow enough to make sure she can see your ass sticking out beneath the shirt.

Emily kicks her shoes off by the door, locking it behind her. She shrugs her jacket off on the way down the hall after you. She stops as she peers into the kitchen. You made beef stew—with it being October already, it's started to get cold outside. The smell alone is making her hungry.

When she makes it to the bedroom, you're sitting on the bed with your legs crossed. The shirt is draping off your shoulder, exposing skin to her that she wants to sink her teeth into.

Emily smiles. “You've been so alone all day, haven't you?”

You look up at her through your lashes, nodding a bit. “I missed you.”

“I could tell,” she lilts. She comes up to you, standing in front of your knees. She uses her own to knock them apart so she can stand between your thighs. You look up at her, admiring her smile and completely untrusting of it. “Missed me so much, you broke the rules.”

You knew that would get her going. You bite down on your bottom lip. “Sorry. I couldn't help it, waiting was hard.”

“No, I understand,” she nods. Her brows furrow, and she cups your cheek gently. “Waiting is hard. But I'm here, and we don't have to wait anymore. Right?”

You nod gently. “Mhm.”

Was she really not upset? She's being so sweet, and you'd expected a very different response to the pictures you sent…the video. But here she is, stroking your skin and kissing you pretty. Maybe she missed you just as much.

She bends down to your lips, and you breathe in happily when she kisses you. You keen into her touch, wrapping your arms around her waist to pull her in close. She's warm, very warm against you.

Emily doesn't break away from you as she leans in, pushing you back so you're laying against the bed. She pulls you against her, pushing you up the bed until your head is resting against the pillows. You wrap your legs around her waist, especially as she takes your wrists in her hands above your head.

“What are you doing?” you giggle, pulling you down against you.

She just shushes you, a smile on her lips as she does. You're happy to listen.

Until you hear clicking and feel the cold bite of metal against your skin. You pull away from her lips, looking up to find she's cuffed your wrist to one of the wooden poles of the bedpost.

“Em?” You reach for the cuff, tugging to no avail. “Emily, what's going on?”

She hums, standing and walking away from you. You watch as she goes to the bedside table, opening the top drawer and pulling out more cuffs. She keeps an extra pair in case of emergency (and apparently for moments like this).

She roughly grabs your other hand, still smiling, and cuffs you to the other pole. “Emily, baby, we can talk about this,” you try. She's not listening.

Emily stands, looks at you, and then leaves the room. “Emily!”

You hear her walk down the hall. When she returns, you flush at the sight of some rope in her hands. When she roughly grabs your ankle, you pull, but she's stronger than you (especially when you're in such a vulnerable position). She wraps a rope securely around your ankle, and then to another bed post. She does the same with the second rope.

Okay, yes, she's upset. You think that's safe to say by now.

Your legs are spread wide, your arms are unavailable at the moment. She's got you in the most vulnerable position you could be in. You try to close your legs, just get your thighs to touch, but there's nothing you can do. You're trapped.

Emily feasts on the sight of you. Her fingertips brush your skin as she slowly drags your shirt up just to reveal the softness of your belly to her. She presses her hand there, adoring the way the slightest gasp lifts from your chest.

She loves seeing you like this: your bare pussy glistening with arousal, your peaked nipples showing through the fabric of your shirt, the smooth skin of your thighs and belly and arms and neck and cheeks exposed to her and her only.

She gently scraped her nails beneath your chin, patting your cheek lightly. Then she turns and ventures toward the opposite end of the room.

“Okay, Emily, I'm sorry.” You're not new to being tied up, but it's not a frequent habit of Emily's to tie you up. And all the other times you've done it, she just cuffed your wrists together and bent you over with her strap. This is relatively new territory.

She doesn't respond. Emily crosses her arms over her chest, one leg over the other, and leans against the wall, looking over you with an unreadable expression.

“Why did you do it?”

You lick your bottom lip. “I missed you, and-and I was horny. I just wanted attention. I'm sorry about the pictures.”

She scoffs. “I don't care about the pictures.” She tilts her head. “You know the rules. You're only allowed to touch your little pussy with my permission. Did you ask my permission?”

“No,” you whisper. “No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched myself without you. I didn't cum! I swear, I didn't cum. I couldn't, not without you.” You pull at the restraints again. It's making you hot and it's making you wet, but the feeling of not being able to move is unnerving. “Please, I'm sorry, Emily. I won't do it again, I promise. Just please let me go, and I'll fix it.”

She doesn't say anything for a moment, though you can see the tiny smirk playing on her lips. You're rambling. She's only tied you up, and you're already letting apologies pour like wine.

“Please, I'm sorry.”

She hums. “That's very nice, that you're sorry…but you've been a bad girl. Do you know what happens to bad girls, princess?”

You don't respond this time, nervous about what she has planned.

She raises a brow, inquiring further. “Hm?”

“They get punished,” you whisper, so soft that you know she can't quite hear you.

“What was that?” she questions.

You speak a little louder this time. “They get punished.”

“That’s right,” she smiles, uncrossing her arms and standing straight again. She comes near the bed, stopping at the edge. “They get punished. How should you be punished, hm?”

You don't know how to answer that. You don't want to answer that. Your throat is dry, and you tug at your wrists.

“Make me wait,” you mutter. It seems like a decent option, the best out of the available ones that you can think of. Maybe she'll keep you laying there, tied down, for a little while and then let you go. You hadn't waited, so she'll make you wait for her to touch you even longer in response. It's a good option. A safe option.

“Make you wait?” she asks, the answer seemingly absurd to her. “After all the attention you wanted, the attention you obviously needed if you were touching yourself with me. No, no, no, I don't think you should wait. You've waited enough.”

She sighs. You watch her brush some hair behind her ear before she turns to the closet. “No, I think you deserve to cum,” she announces from inside. When she comes back, she's holding two black boxes. You've seen one before, long and slender, but the other is foreign to you. Has she bought a new toy?

“In fact,” she sends you a big smile, one that disarms you in both a beautiful and frightening way, “I think you should get to cum as much as you want.”

She opens the first box, taking the pink wand in her hand. You want to rub your thighs together, but for obvious reasons…

“Emily, please…”

“Hush, princess.” She comes back to the bed, setting the wand down in the space between your legs and placing the second box on the bed. She pulls it open, but you can't really see what's inside until she pulls it out.

They're straps. Three ordinary straps. Your brows furrow as you look at them and try to figure out what is so special about them.

And then you realize it when she unbuckles the clasp and begins to wrap them around your inner thigh.

You start saying her name again, repeating it over and over again as you try to squirm away from her. You rant and ramble more apologies, more reasons why she shouldn't do this, how you can make it up to her.

Emily looks firmly at you when you squirm too much.

“If you keep moving, I'll only make it worse.”

You stop, shutting your mouth and keeping still. Her smile returns, and she continues to buckle the straps to your leg. When they're tight and in place, you whine. She picks up the wand, the one that plugs in and goes on for however long she wants it to.

Emily plugs it into the extension cord she's pulled out, slipping the vibrator into the slots in the straps, right against your clit.

“You're going to lay there, and you're going to behave. If it turns out that you're not going to be a good girl, then I've got other ways to ensure that you do. Do you understand me?” Her tone is firm. She leaves no room for debate.

“Yes,” you squeak out.

“Yes, what?”

Her voice sends shivers down your spine. “Yes, Mommy.”

She smiles once more, rounding to your side. She sets a hand on the top of your head, then bends down to kiss your forehead gently. “Good girl,” she smiles. “I knew you could be a good girl for me.” You sigh. “Now let's get this going, shall we?”

You swallow thickly, even worse when she reaches for the wand. You brace for when she turns it on, your leg jerking and doing nothing to stop the strong vibrations shooting through your body. It starts out intense already, and it's obviously worse when she still raises it a couple notches.

You gasp lightly, closing your eyes as a shudder rushes down your spine. She pets you gently, admiring the way you look when you're desperate like this. She hikes your shirt up, brushing her fingers over your peaked nipples and teasing it with the pad of her thumb.

You turn your face toward her to take in her smell. She smells like expensive perfume. It's not a strong smell, but it's a nice one that makes your head pleasantly fuzzy.

“Does that feel good?” she asks gently.

Reluctantly, you nod. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good,” she hums. “You can come whenever you want, as many times as you want. And I'll be back to check on you.”

You pause, your brain clouded with the buzzing at your clit, but ultimately taken aback by her words. “Huh?”

“Well, I'm not going to let dinner go to waste. It smells delicious, and I'm starving.” She's already walking to the door. You squirm, but the wand never lets up. She's secured it so well that there's no way for you to twist and make it let up. “Maybe I'll have a glass of wine, read a chapter or two.”

Your brows knit together, and you beg. “No, please. I'll be so good, I promise. Please don't leave me. Mommy, please.”

She just smiles. “Make sure to count for me, or I'll have to add more time.”

She closes the door as she leaves the room. “Emily!”

Emily hears a loud whimper down the hall as she's portioning your helping and washing the dishes. You haven't eaten yet—you were waiting on her. She smirks, putting the food away and placing your bowl in the microwave for later.

Pouring herself a glass of wine, she makes her way back to the bedroom. She pushes the door opening.

“Hey, baby. How’re you doing?”

Your eyes are squeezed shut. There are tears running down the side of your face as your chest heaves uncontrollably. Your legs are trembling, and you squirm as the wand continues to vibrate against your sensitive clit.

“P-please,” you mutter, opening your dazed eyes. “Please, ‘m sorry. I'll be g-good, I swear.”

Emily hums. She walks further into the room, sipping her wine as she does. “What number are you at?”

It takes you a moment to respond. She watches your face scrunch, the searing overstimulation shifting back into a sensitive pleasure. Your mouth goes to form the word, but it's hard to get out as you finally mutter, “Five.”

She’d been gone a half hour, had taken her sweet time in eating. “Five,” she echoes, her brows raised. “Very good.”

She places a hand on your cheek, brushing her thumb over your skin with a smile. “Dinner was amazing, princess. Thank you for cooking.”

You'd respond if you weren't struggling to focus. She watches your back arch off the bed as you tug at your restraints—not even to get out at this point, but to move. “Please, Mommy.” Your words are sticky, like forming them is a chore on its own.

“Shh,” she pets your head gently. “I'm gonna go read. You'll be good for me, won't you?”

Another tear slips down your face, and you reluctantly nod your response. “Yes, Mommy.”

She smiles. “Good girl.”

Emily picks her book from the nightstand, taking it in her hand as she begins to leave. “Oh, almost forgot,” she pauses. She comes back to you, kissing your forehead before she's turning the intensity up even more. “There we go. I'll be back.”

You curse, turning your head into your shoulder. “Please don't l-leave me here again.” Emily pets you once more and does just that.

It's exceedingly difficult to focus on words on a page when all Emily can hear is the sound of your heavy breaths and whining moans down the hall. Every time you cum, it's with her name on your tongue.

She imagines sweaty skin, glazed eyes, your back arched up with the rise of pleasure. She imagines her tongue flicking over the soft skin of your neck, her teeth nipping your throat. She imagines her fingers shoving into the delicate, velvety warmth between your folds. She imagines bending you over her knee and smacking your ass in rough, punishing claps of her palm. She imagines slipping her glistening fingers into her mouth, lapping her tongue over the slick she'd gathered from you and relishing her fluttering lashes at the sweetness.

Then she remembers that that isn't the plot of the book, and she's supposed to be focused on other things. She checks her watch for maybe the eleventh time in the past ten minutes and wonders if it's been enough time for her to return. When she decides it hasn't, she takes a gulp of wine and restarts the page she's been staring at for the past twenty-five minutes. She's surprised she's lasted this long…

Enough is enough when she eventually hears you being literally reduced to tears. She decides she wants to see that for herself as she listens to the hefty sobs passing your lips, heaving in your chest. When she pushes the bedroom door open, she isn't disappointed at what she finds.

She doesn't think you've noticed her yet. You lay across the bed, your limbs trembling, your mouth agape like you've got something stuck in it. Her back arches as you fight the oversensitivity of a fresh orgasm. You've tugged so hard on your restraints, your wrists and ankles are rubbed raw.

Emily's eyes are hooded as she watches you. “Oh, baby,” she coos, coming up to you and placing a gentle hand on your thigh. “Look at how beautiful you are.”

You look at her, then up at the ceiling, then back over to her. You look entirely dazed, like you're not even in the room. You huff and whimper as you try to catch your breath. Your face is painted in tears, and more squeeze out every time you blink.

“How do you feel, princess?” she purrs as she sits at the edge of the bed. Her hand strokes your skin when she reaches across your belly, letting her thumb stroke over your belly button and then rubbing gently over the soft plush of your tummy.

Your words are slow and choppy as you struggle to speak, the pleasure too much not to drag you down and force you to stumble. “‘m sorry about…ah-bout s-sending you p-pictures at work and—mmph!—’nd f’r touching myself without p—aah, permission.” A sob erupting from your throat brings a new haste to your apology. “I sh-should’ve been your good girl while you were g-gone, but I wasn't. Fuck, Mommy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. I–”

She cuts you off with her lips on yours, silencing your apology and letting you whimper into her mouth. Her palm cups your cheek, her thumb brushes over your bottom lip. You lean into the kiss like you've been starved of her—because you have—drinking her down as soil drinks water.

“Shh,” she smiles. “Good girl. That's a good girl. It's okay.” She shushes you gently once more as she strokes her knuckles against your cheek. “I know that was hard. Was that hard? Staying in here and cumming without me? Hm? Was it hard cumming without my hands on your skin, princess?”

You nod, still not quite focused with the way the wand ravaged you. “Yes, was hard, Mommy. I missed you.”

“Yeah?” she sighs. “It was hard for me, too… Not being in here while you came over and over again. I wanted to be here so I could watch you fall apart, so I could know that it was me who did it. You're mine, baby, and I deserve to be there when my things feel good. Right?”

You nod quickly. “Yes, yes. Yes, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.” She shushes. “All I want you to do is promise me something.”

“Anything,” you gasp. “Anything, please.”

“Promise me you'll never touch your pretty pussy without my permission ever again.”

You nod. “I promise.”

“Say it.” Her voice is so low, it's nearly a growl in your ear. “Say it, baby.”

“I'll never t-touch my p-pretty pussy without your permission—mm—ever again. I promise!”

She strokes inside our cheeks some more, and you turn your face into her arms as she does. “Good girl. Good girl,” she smiles. “Just cum one more time for me, and I'll let you go, okay?”

The look you give her is devastating. More tears make their way down your cheeks, and she thinks briefly that you're in pain.

“Please,” you whisper, shaking your head. “Please, I can't.”

She nods gently. “Sure you can. What are you at right now?”

You look like you're trying to remember. Your brain is fogged up with pleasure and overstimulation and the feeling of Emily's nails lightly scratching the back of your neck. You speak in the middle of a moan. “Nine.” Your hips are bucking like you're already nearing another.

She applauds your efforts in not passing out. “Nine,” she repeats with a chuckle. “Make it ten, babygirl, and I'll let you go. Can you do that for me? Can you make it ten?”

Your head whirls as you give a slanted nod. “Yes, Mommy.”

She smiles. “Good girl. Such a good girl you are.” She bends down to kiss you. “Just keep lookin’ at me, princess. Look at me and scream my name when you cum, okay? Can you do that?”

Again you nod. “Yes, Mommy.”

She hums, slipping her hand beneath your shirt. Her fingers graze your skin before swiping over your nipple. You're a goner from the start, forcing your eyes to stay open as you watch her, relishing the feeling of the pad of her thumb rubbing feather-light circles over it. “My perfect girl, look at you,” she coos. “God, you're so beautiful. So pretty when you cry and pretty when you cum.”

Her praise is spurring you on, encouraging the desperate buck of your hips as you feel the—now very—familiar spark of an orgasm creeping up on you. It tingles in your thighs and in your belly. It curls your fingers and makes it impossible to stay still.

“You wanna cum for me, babygirl? Hm?” she purrs, kissing your forehead. You nod, and she excuses your lack of words this one time because she knows you're too distracted. “Then cum for me, princess. Cum for Mommy, and tell her how good it feels. C’mon, baby, you can do it.”

You swear you go blind for a moment. You lose your vision staring at Emily, arching your back off the bed as your stomach tenses, and then your legs, and then everything else in your body. Your brain is fuzzy, and you don't even realize it when her name flies off your tongue.

Emily makes you ride out the orgasm, petting you and shushing you and praising you as you struggle to keep up. Your brain feels numb, and you're confident that you'll start drooling if you turn your head.

Emily switches off the wand, unwrapping it from your leg and earning a tiny gasp. She unties the rope, she uncuffs your wrists. She frees you bit by bit until you're laying limply on the bed because it's all you can do.

Emily rubs her hands along your thighs, speaking gently as she comes to the side of the bed. “Such a good girl for me. You did so well, princess,” she coos. “My perfect little girl.”

You don't respond. She'd expected a hum, a moan, any kind of acknowledgment. “Baby?”

She brushes her fingertips along your hairline and finds that you've fallen asleep. Your eyes are closed, your body is entirely limp, and the only reason she knows you're not dead is because your chest is gently rising and falling with each breath that passes through you.

Emily thinks you're the most beautiful woman she's ever seen. And she loves you.

Emily nudges her nose against yours and kisses your lips gently. She stands to her feet and rounds to the foot of the bed. The bed dips under the weight of her knee, then again as she leans on her elbows, taking your thighs in her grasp.

You stir when she kisses your inner thigh, then again when her lips find the softness of your aching clit.

“Mm,” you mumble. “Emily?”

She smiles against your folds, pressing forward to kiss your pussy, tasting the arousal that has gathered there in plentiful amounts. “You're soaking, baby.”

She hears you mutter “Jesus fucking Christ” under your breath, but your attention to the holy spirit is squandered when she licks you, lapping her tongue through your folds and suckling on your abused clit.

“Please, I can't take anymore,” you whine, twitching away from her as your limbs ache. Though she can feel the way you buck weakly into her when she finds the right spot.

“Relax,” she chuckles. “I'm just getting a taste of you.” She grips you roughly when you whimper. “You taste fucking amazing, princess.”

When she kisses your thigh, your leg jerks a little. “God, you're so sensitive.”

You let out a deep breath. “I just came ten times in a row, baby. Of course, I'm sensitive.”

She lightly smacks your side. She sits up, placing herself between your legs. “I'm about to make it a whole lot worse by making you feel a whole lot better.”

You whine, especially when she grabs your knee and turns you over onto your stomach. She pulls you into the position she wants, on your knees with your face in the pillows. “Did you take a little blue pill or–”

Your question is interrupted when she shoves her fingers inside of you, curling them and loving the way you groan. “Don't be a little brat.” She smacks your ass, smoothing it with her palm after.

You nod into the pillow. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Good,” she smiles. “Stay.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Emily moves off the bed. You hear her slacks drop to the floor, her shirt follows. You look over your shoulder just to watch her strip, her bra and her underwear falling to the floor and revealing her strap. She loves wearing it, you're just surprised she can keep it as well-hidden as she does.

The bed dips once more when she retakes her position behind you. “You ready?”

You nod, and then speak when you know that nodding won't work. “Yes, Mommy.”

She strokes her hand along your back, lining herself up with you before pushing herself between your slick folds. It's easy to do, you're dripping. She laughs when this deep moan slips out of you.

“Fuck, Mommy,” you sigh, gripping the sheets. “Fuck me, please.”

Emily's had a lot of practice in denying you the chance to cum, in making you cum over and over again, in punishing and praising you for every little thing you do right or wrong.

But she's never been able to deny you when you ask so sweetly, begging for her the way you do like you're just desperate for her to use you.

She grabs your hips tight, pulling out of you slowly before shoving back into you so roughly that your body is pushed back into the bed. You moan out loud, gasping as you bury your face in the pillows. She does it again, and again, and again. The head of her cock punches against a deep part inside of you that makes you shout.

Emily takes a lot of pleasure in fucking you. It feels nice to feel you fall apart beneath her, mumbling and gasping and moaning whenever she thrusts into you, crying out when her hand smacks down on your ass just because she wants it to.

“You're so perfect for me, princess,” she coos, a rough groan coming out of her when she pulls you roughly back onto her. “You like when I fuck you like this?”

You nod. “Yes. Yes, Mommy, I love it so much.”

“I know you do,” she hums. “My little girl loves it when I fuck her nice and rough. She loves being used by Mommy.”

Her thrusts bring waves of pleasure that make it impossible to stay quiet. You squeeze your eyes shut, clench around her with each drag of her cock. Her pace is quick and rough, and your head is swirling with all the feelings rushing through you. You didn't think you'd crave it so much, but you feel the need to cum, the desire to to gush and cry as you let go for her.

The sound of skin on skin, hips to ass, slick against slick, it drives you mad. Your mind whirls, and you revel in it.

“Please, Mommy, can I cum? I needa cum so bad,” you babble, gripping the sheets in a tight fist. “Needa cum for you.”

“You want to cum?” she smiles, mild shock on her face. “I make you feel so good that you want to cum again? All for me?”

You nod. “Yes, fuck. Please, can I? I've been good. I apologized, I did what you asked. Please.”

Her hips snap into you as she considers. “I don't know…”

A slight sob falls from your mouth. “I promise I'll be so good for you, Mommy. I'll do whatever you want. Please, just let me cum for you.”

God, where would she be without you? Maybe getting work done.

“Okay, baby,” she says. “You can cum. I'll make you cum.”

You hear the sound of the wand coming to life again, and your hips buck. “Ah, ah, ah. You said you wanted to cum. You're gonna cum how I want you to cum.”

You don't know what you expected, but you're going to listen because you love Emily and Emily knows best. Also, she holds all the power on whether or not you actually get what you want, so there's also that.

She presses the wand to your clit, and a startled moan erupts from your chest. “F-fuck,” you whine.

“That’s it. Let it out, baby. Cum for me,” she rasps in your ear. You have no choice but to obey as she thrusts into you with all the enthusiasm in the world, holding the wand steady and making you weak with the tremors it sends through your body.

It's like a band snaps in your belly, and it takes you completely by surprise when it happens. “Mommy!” you shout, burying your face in the pillow as you gasp, clenching down around her as she continues to fuck you with all the roughness she has.

Somewhere along the way of sparks and flashes and curling guts, you sob. It feels nice to do it, a release that joins your orgasm and shivers through the whole of your body. “Fuck, Mommy, yes. Thank you s’much.”

Emily's mouth presses to the back of your neck, loving on you with kisses and gentle grazes of her teeth. “Good girl,” she coos. “Such a good girl for me. Always a good girl.”

You preen under her praise, gasping when she pulls the wand away and then out of you. You let your body fall on your side, relaxing into the sheets with the heavy weight of relief.

Emily strokes a hand along your skin, slowly and deeply to massage your muscles. You almost fall asleep again as she does it before she collapses beside you with a huff. She undoes the ties of her strap and sets it aside before she pulls you into her.

“You're amazing,” you slur into her skin.

She snorts. “You're amazing.”

You slide a hand down her side, dipping between her legs to push them apart. “What’re you doing?”

You sit up, spreading her legs as you settle yourself between them. “Making you feel good.”

Again, Emily chuckles. “Well, who am I to refuse that?”

You roll your eyes, dipping down to lick at her folds, now wet with the pleasure of your pleasure. She lays back, relishing in the feeling of you and your tongue and the gentle graze of your teeth on her folds.

But you're enthusiastic, and you don't let her enjoy soft pleasures. You bury your head between her thighs and lap at her pussy like it drips precious honey. You suckle on her clit and wiggle it between your lips.

“Oh, fuck,” she curses, reaching down to grab your hair, to hold it as you attempt to give her the pleasure she'd given you. “Just like that, baby. So good.” You moan, letting the gentle vibration rock through her. You wrap your arms tightly around her thighs, keeping her locked in place and sighing when she bucks against you.

Her hips become more jerky as they move against you. You can feel her clenching around your tongue when you plunge it inside, and you hum into her as you anticipate her coming release. Her breath swells as it builds and builds.

She pulls you roughly in, caging you in with her thighs around your head when she cums. You whine into her, sucking on her clit and lapping at her folds as she cums, her moans deep and breathy with the call of your name.

The pleasure floats in her head and makes her feel light. She has to pull you away herself once it sours into overstimulation and becomes too much. The irony curls your lip.

“Fuck, baby,” she huffs, leaning back into the pillows as you find your way up the length of her body. You lick your lips clean, enjoying the taste of her as you bend down to kiss her lips.

“You taste good,” you mutter. She smiles and kisses you again.

“Thanks.” She pulls her arms around you, holding you tight as you lay on her chest, her nose nuzzled into her neck. “How do you feel?”

You sigh heavily, nuzzling closer. “Tired.”

“I bet,” she lilts. She kisses your hairline. “Hey.”

“Mm?”

“I wouldn't mind more of those pictures. But if you touch yourself without me again, we make it twelve.”

“Oh, God,” you whine, pushing off of her to bury your face in the pillow. She laughs, lugging your body back into her arms as she presses her front to your back. She kisses the spot below your ear and closes her eyes to enjoy the feeling of your warmth.

“I'm gonna need about three business days to recover.”

She snorts. “I'll give you one.”

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incognit0slut · 4 months ago

Text

Much Ado About Nothing (Act III, Scene V: The Temporary Bliss)

Your fleeting moment of happiness is quickly overshadowed as old wounds from the past resurface.

Part warning: (18+) fingering, protected sex (because helping him roll down a condom is hot), and, unfortunately, angst Words: 4.8k A/n: so this is the last part of Act III: The Deception, you might want to prepare yourself as we get closer to the truth

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

You were a coward. A fool. A mess. You didn’t know what to label yourself anymore, or if there were even words to describe the way you felt. But you did know one thing—you didn't have the strength to confront Spencer, you couldn't even see his face without feeling sick. So you did what you did best.

You avoided him. Plain and simple.

It was actually easier than you had expected. After that dreadful weekend, there seemed to be enough cases to distract you. You traveled across the state, one week in a new place, and another in a different city. By the end of the month, you hardly thought about him at all. Your friends seemed to be unaware of the underlying tension between you, and even if they did notice, they surprisingly kept their thoughts to themselves—everyone except Derek who teasingly pointed out that you seemed more focused on your work than usual.

You had shrugged off his comment with a forced laugh, brushing it off as if it was just a harmless observation. You told yourself that you were fine, that you had everything under control. But despite your efforts to stay distracted, the reality was different. The moment the plane landed back in Quantico, you knew you would have to face him again, especially when Emily suggested to hit the bar.

Her reason was to blow off steam after a gruesome few weeks, which was followed by a chorus of agreements from the team. Now you were left with no more excuses. Your eyes drifted toward him, his gaze slowly met yours, and that was how you found yourself in the same dingy, low-lit bar the team always gravitated to an hour later.

The familiar murmur of conversation and clinking of glasses greeted you as you entered the place. While the others settled to their usual spot in the corner, you quickly made a bee-line towards the bar. The bartender, a tall man with a slightly overgrown beard and sharp blue eyes, looked up as you approached.

He was cute, in a rugged, rough-around-the-edges kind of way. You would normally find yourself attracted to these types of men—confident, approachable, and with a certain easygoing charm. But apparently, your heart had other ideas, preferring a certain someone with a genius-level IQ with warm brown eyes.

“Hey, you're back," he greeted you, nodding his head. "Haven’t seen you in a while."

You leaned over the bar. "It's been a busy month."

"Where did you go off to this time?"

"Chicago."

He whistled softly. "Chicago, huh? Must have been a big one to send you all the way there." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “What did the bad guy do this time?”

You gave a small, secretive smile. "You know I can't talk about that. That's classified information."

The corner of his lips turned into a wide grin. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He picked up a glass and began wiping it down. “So, what’ll it be tonight? Your usual Margarita?”

You hesitated, shaking your head.

"Sex on the beach?"

Normally, you'd ask for either��you preferred something light and tangy, a drink that was strong enough to take the edge off without overwhelming you. But tonight was different. Tonight, you needed something with more kick.

“Give me a shot of tequila—no, make it two.”

A frown briefly crossed his face. “Are you sure?”

No.

“Yes,” you insisted. “I need something stronger tonight.”

The man studied your face for a moment before he nodded, pouring two generous shots in front of you. He turned to grab lime wedges from the small fridge under the counter but stopped abruptly when he noticed you’d already downed one of the shots.

"Wow, you weren't kidding.”

The strong liquor burned your throat. “That is disgusting.”

“That’s why you need this to chase it,” he said, sliding the lime wedge and a pinch of salt towards you. “Here.”

You purposely ignored him and brought the second glass to your lips, feeling the burn even before you swallowed.

“Here, take it.”

“No, I’m fine.” You pushed the now empty glass toward him, making a face. “Pour me another one.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, come on! I’m here with the gang!” You gestured toward the corner where the team was sitting. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

He hesitated, glancing over your shoulder and then back at you. “Fine, but this is the last one,” he said, reluctantly pouring another shot.

You gave him a quick nod, grabbing the shot and lifting it to your lips, steeling yourself for the burn. Just as you were about to drink, you felt a firm hand on your wrist. Your body tensed, not because of the sudden interruption, but because you felt another hand resting at your back before it slowly slid across, settling just at the soft curve of your waist.

You didn’t have to turn your head to know who it was. His smell was unmistakable—clean, with a hint of soap and the faintest trace of coffee.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

You watched as Spencer took the glass from your grip, settling it on the counter. Your brows knit together in confusion. “What are you doing?”

But instead of answering you, his eyes were focused intently on the bartender. “You shouldn’t have given her another glass.”

The bartender’s eyes widened slightly, and he held up his hands. “Hey, she asked for it.”

You nodded along. “To be fair, he did offer me Sex on the Beach.”

That didn’t seem to help. Spencer’s grip tightened on your waist, and you could feel him pulling you slightly closer to him. “That’s not funny. We need to get you some water.”

“Reid, it’s just two shots—”

He cut you off, turning back to the bartender. “Can she get a glass of water?”

The bartender nodded, quickly grabbing a glass and filling it with water. He handed it to Spencer, who then turned his attention back to you. “Drink this, please.”

“Seriously, I’m fine,” you protested.

He placed the glass in your hand. “Drink it.”

“Two shots,” you argued, finally facing him. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve drunk a lot worse than this.”

“I'm aware.”

“Then why does it bother you so much?”

He went quiet for a moment, his eyes drifting between you, the glass of water, then back to you.

“Because I don’t like being the reason you’re drinking something you hate in the first place.”

You quickly downed the cool water. How could you even answer that? Your skin suddenly felt hot, and your palms grew clammy as he kept his hand on your waist. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

“It’s not because of you,” you said, shrugging as you set the glass down.

"Isn't it, though? Why else would you be reacting this way?"

“Maybe I just like tequila now. Did you ever think of that?”

“You hate tequila," he replied as if it was common knowledge.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ve developed a taste for it.”

“So you’ve suddenly decided you like something you’ve been avoiding for years?”

“Maybe I’m trying new things,” you shot back, your tone sharp. “Maybe you should try it too.”

There was a moment of silence as he considered your words. "I am trying new things."

You felt him tug you slightly, letting your body fall against his. Your heart sped up as you stared up at him. Even in the dim light of the bar, his brown eyes seemed to catch the faint glow, looking lighter and more intense than usual. You watched as his gaze drifted slowly to your lips.

"Reid..."

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing?"

His expression softened as he looked back at you, his hand still resting lightly on your waist. "I'm trying to play the perfect boyfriend."

"So this is all an act?"

This was it, the moment of truth, the point where everything could change. He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “No,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing against your hip.

Your hand fell to his chest, fingers pressing lightly to feel the rapid beat of his heart. It was pounding, just as fast as yours.

"Spencer..."

He let out a sigh—a sound that seemed to carry both relief and a touch of disbelief as it left his lips. "I thought I'd never hear you call me that again."

He was right. Ever since you drifted apart, calling him Reid felt safer, like a barrier that kept things distant and professional. Spencer was too personal, too intimate for the walls you had built around yourself. But now, standing so close, it felt like the past and present were colliding, making everything more confusing.

Your finger played with the knot of his tie, absentmindedly tracing the pattern. "You're making this more complicated."

He nodded. "I know."

"We're supposed to break this off."

"I know."

"We're supposed to stick to the plan."

He opened his mouth, then closed it, struggling for a moment before replying, “If that's what you want, then we'll go through it. But...”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "But what?"

"But I need to know if it’s really what you want." His voice faltered slightly. "If you want me to leave, I will."

His question hung in the air like a thick fog, making it hard for you to think clearly. It was a simple choice, wasn't it? Stick to the plan, keep up the fake dating, and finally break it off. No mess, no complications. But why, then, did the thought of him leaving feel like a heavy weight in your chest?

You caught him nervously trailing his bottom lip with his tongue—a habit of his when he was deep in thought. The simple gesture made you feel an unexpected pull, and before you knew it, you found yourself pressing closer to him.

“Spence,” you murmured. “You’re making this really hard.”

“I don’t want to make it hard,” he said quietly. “I-I just I need to know where we stand.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. The words felt heavy on your tongue, but you knew you needed to say them.

"I want you to leave," you started, watching as his expression shifted, a hint of pain flickering in his eyes as he slowly pulled away. But before he could step back, you tugged on his tie, pulling him back towards you. "But I'm leaving with you."

His eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?"

And suddenly, a wave of embarrassment washed over you, and you looked away. "What I'm trying to say is... that—well..."

"Well?"

Your gaze focused somewhere beyond his shoulder, finding it easier to speak without meeting his eyes. "I want to finish what we started that morning."

He blinked, processing your words. "You mean... when we..."

"Yeah."

You noticed his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "Oh." He leaned in slightly, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back. "How drunk are you right now?"

You couldn't help but let a laugh escape your lips, finally looking back at him. "I had two shots!"

His expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You know what this means, right?"

"What?"

"If we…" He trailed off, clearing his throat before continuing, "If we do this, it'll change everything."

You smoothed down his shirt, your fingers lingering on the fabric. "I know."

"And you still want that?"

"I do."

He took a deep breath, searching your eyes for any hesitation. "And you want to leave... right now?"

"Look, if you don't want to—"

He quickly cut you off, shaking his head with a slight, nervous chuckle. “No, I do. I just… I want to make sure you do too.”

"I wouldn't be saying this if I didn't mean it."

His eyes softened. “You’re right,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile that looked almost like a grimace. “Okay. Okay. We’re doing this.”

Seeing him easily flustered was always amusing for you, and this time was no different. "Come on," you urged him, taking his hand in yours. "Let's get out of here."

"Wait, shouldn't we tell them we're leaving?"

You glanced back at your friends. "And tell them what? That we're going to have sex?"

He almost tripped over his own feet. "Well, when you put it that way…"

You squeezed his hand and flashed him a smile over your shoulder as you started toward the exit. With a quick, eager step, he followed behind.

Spencer’s apartment was just as you remembered—deep green walls, warm lighting, bookshelves lining every corner. But you barely had a moment to register your surroundings before he had his face buried in your neck.

His lips found the sensitive spot below your ear. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt as his mouth trailed a wet path down your throat, and you had to push against his chest slightly because he was pressing you too hard against the door. For a man who spent most of his time buried in books, he seemed to have an unexpected strength that took you by surprise.

“Hey, hey,” you murmured, a soft giggle escaping as you tilted your head to look at him. “Slow down.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes before leaning down again, his hands coming up to cup your face as he kissed you.

His lips were hot against yours, moving with an eager, almost desperate need. He sucked gently on your lower lip, pulling it into his mouth before releasing it with a soft, audible pop. The sudden absence of his mouth left your skin tingling, only to be followed by the gentle graze of his teeth, a playful nip that made you gasp and clutch his shirt tighter.

You felt lightheaded, melting under his touch as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, coaxing them open as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, coaxing them open. You let him in willingly, your tongue meeting his eagerly. The sensation left you feeling hot and dizzy, your entire body craving for more of his taste. It was as if his kiss was an intoxicating drug, leaving you utterly addicted. Even when he pulled away slightly to catch his breath, you grabbed him again, pressing your lips firmly against his.

Spencer sighed with pleasure as he held the back of your head, his fingers splaying against your scalp. You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, lost in the way his lips moved against yours, but the instant you felt his growing bulge brush your hip, you gently pushed him away.

A thin, glistening string of saliva followed you, and you reached up to wipe it from his mouth with a quick, almost embarrassed swipe. His breath came in ragged gasps as he looked down at you, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Sorry, I-I got carried away," he mumbled, letting his hand trail down your spine. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. "You thought I pushed you away because I want us to stop?"

"Uh... maybe? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No, Spencer," you said softly, reaching up to loosen the knot of his tie. "I pushed you away because I need you to take me to your bed."

He watched intently as you pulled off his tie, and when you pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders, his hands fell to his sides.

"Are you going to watch me undress you, or are you going to help?"

A slow smile spread across his face as he shrugged off the jacket completely, his hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. "I think I can manage that."

He started to unbutton his shirt, his fingers brushing against yours. The moment the last button was undone, he let the shirt fall to the floor with a soft rustle. Your palm glided over his chest as you took in his bare skin. You expected his body to be lean—he had long limbs, after all—but you didn't expect the subtle, defined muscles beneath your touch.

"Spencer, have you been working out?"

You could tell he was embarrassed by the way he shifted his gaze from you. "Morgan convinced me to stay in shape," he admitted with a shy smile. "He insists it's part of the job."

You plant a kiss right above his heart. "Well, it's definitely working."

The warmth of your lips seemed to ease his embarrassment, and he let out a soft sigh, his hands coming up to caress your back. You glanced up at him again. "Will you take me to your bed now?"

He quickly nodded and guided you towards his bedroom. Once inside, you pushed him down onto the edge of his bed. His hands roamed across your body as you slipped between his legs, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. The front of the fabric fell away and his gaze followed every movement, his hands eagerly helping you slide it off your shoulders.

Your bra came off next, the straps sliding down your arms as you tossed it aside. His eyes swept over you with admiration as he licked his lips, his gaze lingering on the exposed curve of your body. He pulled you closer, his hands gripping your waist as he pressed a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.

When he wrapped his lips around your nipple, a sharp, electrifying pleasure shot through you. His tongue flicked and teased, alternating between gentle suckles and soft nibbles that made you gasp and arch into his touch. You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him to you as he continued his ministrations, moving from one breast to the other.

The hand on your back slid lower, his fingers finding the waistband of your pants. You felt him unbutton them, the fabric loosening around your hips. With a firm but gentle tug, he slipped your pants down your legs, followed closely by your panties, until both garments pooled around your feet.

His hand began running up your leg, fingers slipping between your thighs. He let go of your nipple and looked up at you with those brown eyes that seemed to gleam under the light. “Can I touch you?”

You brushed his hair back gently from his forehead. “You’ve touched me before.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

You felt his fingertips brush so lightly over your clit and you nodded. “Yes,” you breathed out, “You can touch me.”

All you could do was sigh as his fingers moved again. He was so gentle, so careful, sliding his fingers up and down your folds, spreading your arousal with each teasing stroke. His eyes never left your face, watching every flicker of pleasure that crossed your features, drinking in the way your lips parted and your breath hitched with each touch.

"Th—That feels good," you cooed, your eyes fluttering low but not completely shut, wanting to see him as he worked over you. He followed your gaze where his fingers continued their exploration, gently pulling back the soft flesh to expose your clit. He traced light, feathery strokes over the sensitive skin and the motion left your legs shaking, nearly losing balance if he weren't holding you against him.

He grabbed the back of your thigh. “Put your leg up here.”

You complied and rested your feet on the bed, giving more access. The new position allowed him to press his fingers more deeply against your clit, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm. You were trembling, mind numb from the way he was touching you, and you almost couldn’t take it when he dipped his middle finger inside your cunt.

"God, Spencer,” you gasped, dropping a hand to the wrist that was nestled between your legs, nails digging into his skin. He slipped another finger inside you, and your eyes screwed shut this time. You could feel his fingers curling inside you, seeking, then finding, the tender spot that made you cry out in pleasure.

Everything became a blur after that. His fingers continued to thrust into you, and with each movement, you grew wetter, the slick sounds of your arousal echoing throughout his room. You clung to his shoulders for support, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he pressed soft kisses across your chest. His thumb then brushed against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure in gentle circles.

"I'm…” Your eyes fluttered open when his mouth latched onto your hard nipple. “I'm gonna come... if you... keep doing that..."

You weren't even sure why you were warning him, but you couldn’t stop yourself as your hips rolled against his hands. His thumb circled your clit faster in response, and the world around you began to spin. You gasped his name, the sound escaping your lips in a desperate, breathless moan.

When his teeth softly grazed your sensitive nipple, you finally snapped. Wave after wave of orgasm bliss rolled through your body, the pulse of pleasure sending your thighs trembling as he held you through all of it. It's all too much, too intense, and you were left completely spent, shaking, breathless, and needing to lay down immediately.

Spencer caught you as you collapsed on top of him, the force of your weight pushing him onto his back. You stayed like that for a moment, trying to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly against his. But it didn't last long when you felt his bulge press right between your thighs. Without thinking, you found yourself rolling your hips.

He let out a sharp gasp, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you moved against him. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the hardness of his erection pressing against you through the fabric of his pants as your face hovered above his, lips barely touching.

"So when are you going to fuck me?"

He bucked his hips against you. "I-I... I have a condom in my drawer."

His words made you falter. Why does he have a condom?

It was stupid, really, you knew why contraception was necessary. But the thought of him having an active sexual life with someone else after you had drifted apart stung deeply. It wasn’t technically your business, but knowing that he might have been with others hurt, especially when the last man you had been close to was him.

"Spence... why do you have a condom?"

You hated how small your voice sounded.

He gently brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes searching yours as he weighed his words before letting out a sigh. "After… after that night, when we—almost… I just wanted to be prepared. I didn't know if… if we'd ever…"

You slowly relaxed. "So you haven't used any?"

He shook his head. "No, I haven't."

Your heart swelled at his words. You leaned in and kissed him softly, a sudden rush of affection washing over you. "Well, I think it's time we put it to use," you whispered against his lips, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "Where did you put it?"

"Bottom drawer, on the left."

You pulled away to reach over to his drawer, hearing the sound of his belt buckle unlatching behind you. Your eyes briefly flashed towards the book sitting on the nightstand, a glimpse of its cover catching your attention. But you didn’t dwell on it, you were too focused on rummaging through his things until your fingers brushed against the familiar texture of the wrapper.

He was completely naked as you turned to face him again, your eyes catching his cock resting perfectly against his stomach as he leaned back against the pillows. You crawled over to him and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on his bulging tip.

He let out a sharp hiss. "I-I don't think I can last long if you do that."

You smiled and straightened yourself, your fingers delicately tearing open the wrapper. You could feel his eyes on you, half-lidded with desire, his focus narrowing to the way your fingers brushed against his skin. His body tensed, and his breathing grew heavier, as you slowly slid the condom down his length.

The thin latex felt almost invisible under your fingertips, allowing the heat radiating from his body to seep through. He couldn't take his eyes off you, mesmerized by the way your fingers glided over him so effortlessly. Your touch was firm yet gentle, and when you finally reached the base, you gave him a final, possessive squeeze.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, his hands finding your hips as you positioned yourself over him. You hovered above his tip, teasingly brushing it against your entrance before slowly sinking down. You paused halfway, adjusting to his size, feeling lightheaded as he stretched you regardless of how wet you were. It was overwhelming, but the numbness was exactly the kind of rush you were seeking.

And finally, with a deep breath, you let gravity pull you down, taking him all the way in.

You both gasped at the sensation, the intense fullness causing your muscles to clench around him. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he steadied you. Then, slowly, you began to move, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down.

Your breaths synchronized, shallow and quick, as you found a steady rhythm. Spencer’s hands guided you, his palms pressing firmly on your hips before trailing back to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. You held onto his jaw as you leaned in, your lips meeting in a heated, breathless kiss. His tongue slid into your mouth and your brain turned to mush.

He kissed you hungrily while your hips continued to rise and fall, each movement driving him deeper inside you. You felt his hands roam your body, one sliding up your back to pull you closer, while the other remained on your ass, encouraging you. You moaned into his mouth, the sensation of his lips and his cock brushing your tight, inner walls making you tremble with pleasure.

You pulled back slightly, resting your forehead against his. "S-Spence..."

He nipped at your bottom lip, casually biting and pulling it between his teeth. "Mhm?"

You didn’t know why you had called out his name, only that you needed to. It was more of a reflex than anything else, a desperate need to connect as your pace quickened. He let out a low, throaty sound of pleasure as your walls clenched around him. And that was when you heard your name on his lips. It was soft, but it was enough to drive you to the edge. You rolled your hips urgently, trying to chase that familiar, blissful sensation but your thighs started to burn, your movements slowing down a little. He sensed your struggle and tightened his hands on your waist.

His fingers dug harshly into the tender skin of your sides, his hips bucking up to meet yours with force. His thrusts suddenly became more relentless, each powerful push driving him deeper inside you. The slick, wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt filled the air, the squelch of your joined body punctuating with each thrust.

The pleasure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter until it was all-consuming. Finally, with one last, powerful thrust, you were both pushed over the edge. Your body convulsed with the force of your orgasm at the same time he spilled into you. His head fell back against the pillows, his eyes squeezed shut as your fingers dug into his shoulders, riding out every wave of your climax.

It took a few more minutes before you felt his body relax. You did the same, collapsing on top of him as he is hands softened their grip on you, gently caressing your back.

"Are you… okay?" You simply nodded, too tired to find your own voice. His thumb brushed your side. “Are you sure?”

You nodded again, snuggling yourself closer, feeling the weight of your body pressing down on him. He kissed the top of your head.

“I know you’re making yourself comfortable, but I really need to go to the bathroom.”

You lifted your head, meeting his eyes. “Would it bother you if I peed at the same time you clean yourself?”

The smile that spread across his face lit up his features. “Of course not.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his chest before reluctantly rolling off him. Spencer slid off the bed and reached for your hand, helping you up. You both moved to the bathroom, where Spencer headed for the sink to wash up while you made your way to the toilet.

As you sat there, you thought about how surprisingly natural this felt—almost as if you had done this before. The way he naturally kissed your cheek before exiting the bathroom didn’t feel awkward or out of place, it was oddly comforting. When you finally finished, he was already waiting for you in comfortable clothes. He stretched out his hand, and when you took it, he pulled you close. “Are you hungry?”

You found yourself nodding. “I could eat something.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll make us some sandwiches, I think I have enough stuff in the fridge,” he suggested, and then added somewhat sheepishly, “I also, um, put some fresh clothes out for you to use. I hope that’s okay.”

Your heart might burst at how adorable he was. “Thank you, Spence. That’s really sweet.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before heading to the kitchen. You picked up the clothes he had laid out for you—a soft t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, but as you held them, your gaze drifted back to the book sitting on his nightstand. Curiosity got the better of you, and you picked up the book, studying the cover.

The Narrative of John Smith.

You opened it, noticing the handwritten quote on the first page.

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone, we find it with another.” —Thomas Merton—

A sudden feeling of nausea hit you, as if you’d been punched in the gut. You flipped through the pages, trying to steady your breathing. It wasn’t the softness of the paper that greeted you as you slipped onto the next page, but the sharp edges of something hard brushing against your fingertips. You carefully pulled out what seemed to be a photograph, your heart sinking as you realized whose it was… Because right in your hand, Maeve was smiling back at you.

Maeve.

Maeve. Donovan.

Everything suddenly came crashing back, the past shooting straight to your heart. The memories, the pain, the confusion—it all flooded your mind in an instant. You remembered why you and Spencer had drifted apart, why that night had changed everything. The woman staring back at you was the reason you had shut yourself off from him in the first place.

No, it wasn’t all her fault—you’d be a heartless fool to blame a dead woman for something she couldn’t control. But she had consumed his mind. The presence she held in his life was enough to end the friendship you once had. And now, holding the photograph, you felt an overwhelming tightness in your chest that made it hard to breathe. The walls seemed to close in, the room feeling too small.

You needed to get out of here.

You quickly pulled on your clothes, the fabric feeling suffocating as you hurriedly dressed. Your movements were frantic, driven by a need to escape. You dashed out of his room, but Spencer was already standing by the bedroom door.

"I was just about to call you, the food is—hey, what's wrong?"

You walked past him, the pain constricting your chest so tightly that you could barely breathe, let alone speak. “I… I need to go,” you stammered out over your shoulder.

Spencer's face fell as he saw the distress in your eyes, his hands reaching out to stop you as you headed for the front door. He turned you to face him, and the moment he saw the tears threatening to spill, his own expression crumpled in worry.

"What happened?" he asked softly, his hands gently cupping your face. You flinched and shoved him away.

“Don’t touch me.”

You noticed the hurt in his eyes, but you barely looked at him, trying to control your own emotions. Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion. You felt the lingering warmth from the post-orgasmic rush, the serotonin still buzzing in your veins, but at the same time, the gut-wrenching pain was consuming you. The fleeting sensation you’d felt moments ago seemed like a cruel mockery now, as your heart twisted with every beat.

“You’re really leaving?”

You slowly nodded, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Just like that, after tonight?”

You remained silent, your mouth shut tight. Then you heard him mutter something under his breath, barely audible but unmistakable.

“That’s what you always do, isn’t it?”

Your eyes snapped to him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

There was a heavy silence, a beat of rising tension as his eyes narrowed at you. “You run away when things get hard.”

You stared back at him in surprise. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Yes,” he said sharply. “Every time we get to a point where we might actually resolve something, you disappear.”

Was that really how he saw you? Someone who ran away at the first sign of trouble? The thought was a bitter pill, one that left a heavy, sour taste in your mouth.

“That’s not fair,” you protested, shaking your head as you felt the sting of tears at the corner of your eyes.

“Well, you know what’s not fair?” His voice suddenly turned a pitch higher, each word cutting through the air. “Pulling me into this—this whole fake relationship thing and then running away when it starts to mean something real.”

“What?” The accusation stung, a sharp jab to your already fragile heart. “You think this was easy for me? You think I didn’t have doubts?”

"I think you dragged me into this and now you’re scared because it’s not just a game anymore," he pressed, his eyes flashing with frustration as he stepped closer. “Every time l show that l actually care, you run away.”

“I don’t run away.”

“Yes, you do. You always bail on me,” he argued, his tone growing sharper with each word. “Just like that morning, just like now, and just like that night—”

You finally had enough.

"Don’t you dare bring that up!” You snapped. “You don’t get to use that against me. You know exactly why I had to leave!”

Spencer flinched as if he was struck. The impact of your words hit him hard, and you could see the hurt and realization dawning in his eyes. His posture sagged, the tension in his shoulders melting away as the anger drained from his face. “I know, I know,” he whispered, the regret clear in his voice. “I-I’m sorry.”

Your heart ached, the pain of old wounds reopening. The memories of that night, the way you felt invisible and helpless—it all came crashing back. You shook your head, taking a step back, needing to put distance between you. “No, I can’t do this right now.”

You turned away, desperate to escape. The walls felt like they were closing in, your chest tightening with every breath.

“Wait,” he called after you. “I’m sorry. Please… I don’t… stay, please.”

You paused slightly, but you couldn’t let yourself give in. Not when every painful memory from that night seemed to claw its way back to the surface. Not when the fear of getting hurt again loomed so large. Not when you knew if you turned back now, you might never find the strength to walk away again.

“We should end this whole thing,” you said quietly, each word feeling like a knife twisting in your heart. “I’ll tell Hotch first thing in the morning.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. The reality of what you had said sank in, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had frozen. His face fell, a look of utter devastation crossed his features as his eyes searched yours, trying to grasp at the fragments of what was left. He opened his mouth to speak, but you couldn’t bear to face him any longer.

You slowly reached for the door, wrenching it open before stepping into the cold night. You left him standing there, watching helplessly as you walked away for what felt like the hundredth time.

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astrophileous · 1 year ago

Note

Also the thought of Derek holding up readers bump once she’s farther along? The Tik Tok couples who do it and the immediate relief on their partners face is so sweet 😭🖤

wait omg this is actually a rlly cute concept. I'd like to imagine that it was JJ who shared this trick with him and he couldn't wait to test it out as soon as he found out about it askkjdsk

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Derek looked up from the plate of chicken in front of him at the sound of your whimper. It was quiet, but it was the fifth one Derek had heard since you sat down for dinner. You were quick to school your expression after that, smiling at him as if nothing was wrong.

As the clock ticked nearer towards your due date, Derek noticed that your stamina was rapidly decreasing as well. He would hear muffled groans and tiny moans slipping past your lips several times throughout the day, but as soon as he went to ask you what's wrong, you'd put on your perfectly crafted smile and wave him off. Derek made sure to soothe your ache and fatigue in any way you allowed him--feet massages before bed were becoming a routine that he was looking forward to do every single night--but Derek kept thinking that there must be something more he could do.

"Are you finished?" Derek asked as he began stacking all of the dirty dishes together.

"I can do the dishes," you offered.

"Nice try, Bug." Derek made a swift work to grab your empty plate, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead in the process. "I got this. You go rest somewhere, 'aight?"

"That's all I seem to be doing these days," you grumbled. "Resting."

"As you should be."

Once the dishwasher was loaded and started, Derek checked to see if the message he had sent promptly before dinner had been answered. He smiled when he saw the respond that the other person had sent. Exiting the kitchen, Derek put himself in an urgent mission to find you.

"Bug? Sweetheart?"

"In here!"

He followed your voice all the way to the laundry room. "I thought I told you to rest."

"You did."

Derek raised an eyebrow at your answer.

You continued to sort through the laundry as you glanced up at his face. "Do you need something?"

"Yes, actually." Derek moved closer until your whole body was caged between him and the washer. "I wanted to try something."

"Try what?"

He kissed your shoulder. "Do you trust me?"

"Should I?"

He chuckled. "You should."

Derek's hands sneaked around you then, from your waist and all the way to the underside of your belly. He told you to take a deep breath, which you obliged, before he slowly and carefully lifted your bump.

"Oh."

You were practically melting in Derek's arms, with the tension gone in your shoulders and the stiffness dissolved from your back. He watched with a fond smile as a relieved sigh fell from your lips.

"Does that feel good?" Derek asked.

"Very."

Derek laughed at the blissful expression that had taken over your face.

"Where did you even learn about this?"

"I consulted an expert." When your curious eyes searched his, Derek simply said, "JJ."

"Hm. That makes sense."

"I'm gonna let go now, okay?"

As careful as he had been when he lifted your bump, Derek slid his hands out from underneath your belly, kissing your temple when they finally secured themselves on your hips.

"That was amazing. Thank you." You turned around in his arms before wrapping your own around his neck. "You do know that you're obligated to do this for me at least once a day from now on, right?"

Derek's responding grin couldn't be any bigger. "Anything for you, sweetheart."

#derek morgan #criminal minds #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fluff #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #shemar moore #love bugs

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reidsbabyhoney · 10 days ago

Text

second chances | s.r.

the one where Spence regrets everything that’s happened in the past six months.

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader category: angst, fluff cw: none wc: 3.3k a/n: this took forever too write because every time i tried writing it i absolutely hated how it came out. i’m hoping i gave them the ending they deserved and that you all love it! also please let me know if there's any warnings I should add.

pt.1 masterlist spencer reid masterlist

The entire car ride home was a blur, and you mean that literally. The tears that coated your eyes never seemed to stop even after you arrived back home. The dull hum of the engine couldn't seem to drown out the noise-deafening pounding in your chest.

You couldn't help but replay every moment from tonight on a loop, the gut wrenching realization that Spencer moved on so quickly, so easily. It felt as if your entire world had been tilted on its axis and you were left to live in a reality that didn't make any sense.

Maya. You hadn't been able to look at her without a sharp pang of jealousy making its way though your chest. The way she spoke to Spencer, so casually, so possessively like you were going to take her from him at any second. But in reality that's what she did to you.

You told yourself that you were fine, that you had enough time to move on and get over that relationship, but its clear you were lying to yourself. Every moment you were in his presence were the few moments of bliss where you could pretend everything with him was normal.

You had loved him. You still did. The harsh truth of that might've hurt worse than tonight's events.

Once you finally arrived home you didn't bother to go inside right away. Turning off the car you sit staring at the dashboard, trying to ground yourself in something, anything but the whirlwind of emotions going on in your mind right now.

As your about to open the door, your phone buzzes in the passenger seat. Picking it up you see it's a message from Penelope.

From: Penny

Are you okay, sweetheart? If you need anything I'm just a phone call away. Please don't let his stupidity ruin your night, we all know how much of an amazing person you are!

A small smile painted its way across your features, though drained and not very genuine.

You quickly texted her back letting her know you were okay and just needed some time to process everything. With that you finally got out of the car making your way inside, preparing for another sleepless night.

You had taken the day off. Well technically you didn't request it, it was given to you by Hotch. The team had just gotten back from a long gruesome case and he decided that everyone needed some time to decompress.

It had been a couple weeks since 'The Incident' as Emily has so kindly labeled it. Since then the unkind thoughts hadn't left your mind.

You spent most of the day curled up on the couch barely able to focus on the movies playing on the TV. Your mind was a storm of thoughts that blossomed from that night, though not into flowers, more so like weeds that didn't want to fully be pulled from the ground.

You replayed every word he said that night. Every glance, subtle expression. There was no warmth in his tone, nothing that suggested the gentle, awkward genius who had found solace in your presence.

You knew it hurt, but what hurt more was the realization that Spencer wasn't the only thing you lost that night. You were mourning the loss of what had been, what could've been.

The next morning, you showed up at the office. The decision half-hearted, debating on requesting for another day out of the crowded space. You're not sure what you were expecting, for something to just change overnight, or if you needed to prove to yourself that you could handle it.

You walked in to see the team gathered around the bullpen. Derek was leaning against the counter, talking animatedly to JJ, while Penelope was chattering away in her usual high-energy manner. They all seemed fine, but you knew they could feel your emotions. You had always worn them on your sleeve, and the team was nothing if not perceptive.

And Spencer? He was nowhere to be found.

Your heart dropped, but you quickly masked the disappointment with a neutral expression. You couldn’t allow yourself to think about him right now, not with everything else going on.

As you slid into your chair, you could feel their eyes on you every now and then, but none of them dared to speak up. It was only when the elevator doors opened that you saw Spencer walking toward the bullpen. His usual awkward stride was missing, replaced by something… hesitant. His eyes briefly met yours, but instead of the usual spark of familiarity, there was something different. Something strained.

He was carrying a large coffee cup in his hand, but it seemed like he was just holding it for the sake of holding it.

“y/n,” he said softly, his voice laced with the same uncertainty that had been present in his eyes. You barely met his gaze, your stomach doing somersaults at the sight of him.

“Spence,” you said, offering a forced smile. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing, but you couldn’t let yourself show it.

“I, uh, can we talk?” he asked, his words tumbling out in that way that was so quintessentially Spencer.

Your gaze flickered around the room, but you didn’t want to make a scene. “Now’s not the best time.”

He nodded, but you could see the disappointment in his face. He hesitated for a moment before turning away and heading to his own desk. You didn’t watch him go, how could you?

Hours passed, and the tension between you and Spencer lingered like a heavy fog. Every now and then, you caught his eyes lingering on you when he thought you weren’t looking, but every time you met his gaze, he looked away.

You were exhausted. Your mind was scattered. And when you finally gathered the courage to step away from your desk to grab a coffee, it was then that Spencer decided to approach you.

“y/n,” he called out gently, his voice softer now, less urgent.

You paused mid-step, not sure how to respond. His presence was overwhelming, and even though you wanted to retreat, you knew you couldn’t keep avoiding him forever.

Turning around slowly, you nodded. “Spencer.”

“Can we talk?” he asked again, this time with more sincerity in his voice.

You studied him carefully, unsure whether you could trust yourself to keep calm. “Do we really need to? I think we’ve said everything we need to say.”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “I don’t think we have. At least not yet.” He paused, looking down at his feet. “Please.”

You could hear the desperation in his voice, and for the first time since that night, you allowed yourself to truly look at him. You didn’t know what had changed, but you knew it was something important. You had loved Spencer for so long, and maybe it was time to let him explain himself.

“Alright,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s talk.”

The conference room door clicked shut behind you, and for a brief moment, you felt like you were trapped. The silence was thick, oppressive. Spencer stood by the window, facing away from you, his shoulders tense, his hands hanging stiffly at his sides. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. The space between you felt impossibly wide, like an ocean stretching between two distant shores.

You wanted to scream. To demand answers. To ask why. But you couldn’t, because the truth was, you were too scared of what might come next. The flood of emotions coursing through you felt like too much to bear. And the pain? The pain was undying.

Finally, Spencer spoke, but his voice was soft, almost trembling. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his words breaking the stillness in the room, but they did little to ease the ache in your chest.

He turned slowly, his eyes dropping to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I’m so sorry. For the way I ended things... for pushing you away.”

His gaze finally met yours, but there was no spark there, no warmth. Just an empty, hollow ache, the same one you felt. The distance between you both was palpable.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was giving you space to breathe… to move on. To get away from the chaos that’s always been a part of my life.”

The words struck you like a punch to the gut. Protecting you? Was that what this was? Did he think he was being noble by choosing to shut you out?

“You pushed me away, Spencer,” you said, your voice trembling with the rawness of everything you were holding in. “I didn’t ask for space. I didn’t ask for you to shut me out. I was here… I've always been here.” The anger, the hurt, it all poured out of you, and you couldn’t stop it even if you tried. “I just needed you to be honest with me. To tell me the truth, not hide behind your fears.”

His face faltered at your words, and for a moment, he looked like he might crumble under the weight of your pain. “I was scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking as if he hadn’t even meant to say it. “I was scared that if I kept you close, I would ruin everything. That I’d hurt you more. I thought if I pulled away, you’d be better off without me. But all I’ve done is hurt you even more.”

The truth of his words hit you like a wave, but it didn’t bring relief. Instead, it left you feeling raw, exposed. How could he think that? How could he think leaving was the solution? You had been through so much together. But the thought of him choosing to walk away, of him choosing her, it crushed you.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you, Spencer,” you whispered, the tears you had been holding back threatening to spill over. Your heart was breaking, the weight of everything that had happened too much to carry anymore.

“You didn’t just break my heart… you broke me. I was waiting for you. I thought... I thought we could work through this. But you didn’t give me a chance. And now you’re asking me to just… what? To just forget?”

Spencer’s face crumpled as if your words were a physical blow, but he didn’t look away. He couldn’t. He was broken too, and for the first time, he looked vulnerable, scared even. “I don’t want you to forget,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion.

“I just want a chance. A chance to prove that I’m not that guy anymore. That I’m not the one who left you… that I’m the one who’s ready to fight for us.”

You shook your head, a sob escaping before you could stop it. “I don’t know if I can believe you anymore, Spencer. I don’t know if I can trust you after everything.”

He stepped forward, his hands trembling as they reached out toward you. “Please,” he whispered, desperation creeping into his voice. “I’ve spent every second of the last six months thinking about how much I screwed up, wishing I could go back and do things differently. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, erratic, unsure whether it was breaking or yearning for something—anything that might bring you peace. You knew Spencer had made mistakes, but he wasn’t the only one at fault. You had kept yourself at a distance too, not because you wanted to, but because you were terrified of what this might mean. Of what letting him back in might cost you.

“I’m scared, Spencer,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’m scared that if I let you back in, you’ll leave again. That you’ll hurt me again.”

He closed the distance between you, standing just inches away now. You could see the unshed tears in his eyes, the way his face was etched with guilt and regret. He reached for your hand, but instead of pulling away, you let him. You let him hold you, as fragile as it felt, as broken as you both were in that moment.

“I won’t leave again,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear. I’ll fight for you. For us. I’ll fight for as long as it takes.”

The raw honesty in his voice, his words full of pain, of hope. It made something inside you snap. The walls you had built around your heart were crumbling, piece by piece. You didn’t know if you could ever go back to the way things were, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something new. Something better.

“I’m not asking for things to be perfect,” Spencer continued, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand, the small touch making your pulse race. “I just need you to know that I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You met his gaze then, your eyes brimming with unshed tears, but this time they weren’t just born from hurt. There was something else there. Something like hope. “I’m not ready to forgive you yet, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “But I’m willing to try. I’m willing to see where this goes. If you really mean it.”

His face softened, the tension easing just a fraction. “I do,” he whispered, his hand still gently holding yours. “I mean it. More than anything.”

And as he pulled you into his arms, you let yourself hold on, just for a moment. You weren’t sure where this would lead, or if you could ever truly forget the pain. But for the first time in a long while, you weren’t alone. And maybe that was enough.

It was one of those quiet mornings that felt like a small slice of heaven. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow through the windows, and the only sound in the apartment was the rhythmic hum of the coffee maker.

The air was still cool from the night before, but the warmth of the morning sun slowly crept in, filling the room with a gentle golden light.

You were sitting at the kitchen table, your bare feet tucked under you, a mug of coffee warming your hands. Your hair was messy from sleep, but you didn’t mind.

You had gotten used to waking up next to Spencer every morning, and the sight of him, still half-asleep, a little rumpled, and incredibly endearing, was one of the small things you’d grown to cherish.

Spencer was at the counter, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he flipped through a pile of paperwork. The clutter of his case files and textbooks was a normal part of your life now, but the way he had rearranged things over the past few months, more neatly than ever before, was a quiet testament to how much he had changed. He wasn’t perfect, but he was working on it. He was trying, and that was all that mattered.

“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke the quiet, pulling your attention away from your thoughts.

You looked up from your coffee, meeting his soft brown eyes. He was still wearing his sleep-filled smile, the one that only appeared after a good night’s sleep, when he wasn’t overthinking or buried under a pile of cases.

“I was wondering… would you mind helping me with something later?” His voice was tentative, but there was something else there now, something more confident. He wasn’t afraid to ask for help anymore.

You’d noticed that shift in him over the past few months, the way he wasn’t afraid to lean on you, to let you in when before he would have kept his distance. It had taken time, but now, when he needed you, he knew how to reach for you without hesitation.

“Of course,” you said with a smile, your heart swelling at how far you’d come since that difficult conversation. “What do you need help with?”

Spencer hesitated for just a moment, glancing down at the paperwork. His fingers hovered over the pile, as though unsure how to ask. “I’m working on this case… and I just need to go over the details. I know you’ve got that… special way of seeing things,” he said with a playful grin, using the affectionate nickname you’d earned after countless cases where your instincts had been spot on. “You’re better at spotting the details than I am.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, playfully teasing. “Oh, so now I’m the expert, huh? I thought you were the genius here.”

Spencer’s smile widened, and he shook his head, walking over to the table and taking a seat across from you. He didn’t even try to hide the fondness in his gaze as he looked at you. “You are the expert,” he said softly. “And I’m just the guy who gets to learn from you every day.”

The words lingered between you, warm and comfortable. You reached across the table, brushing your fingers over his hand in a simple, affectionate gesture. A small smile played on your lips as you felt his fingers intertwine with yours, and for the first time, you didn’t feel like you had to hold anything back. There was no fear of losing each other, no worry that the cracks would reopen. Everything—every single piece of you—had found a place next to him, and for once, it felt right.

“I’ll help you,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “Just like I always do.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting a quiet sense of gratitude. You knew, deep down, that he wasn’t just thankful for your help with the case. He was thankful for everything—for your patience, for your trust, for the fact that despite all the mistakes and misunderstandings, you were still here. You had come through the storm together, stronger than before, and you could feel it in every touch, in every glance. There was an unspoken understanding between you now. A promise that no matter what came your way, you would face it as a team.

“You know,” Spencer said, his voice low, “I never thought I’d have something like this. Something so... real. So comfortable.”

You laughed softly, the sound light and free, a stark contrast to the uncertainty that had plagued your earlier months together. “I think we’ve finally figured out how to make it work,” you said, your voice steady and full of warmth. “No more pushing each other away. No more running. Just… us.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze softening as his thumb gently traced the back of your hand. “I’m not running anymore,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice bringing a warmth to your chest. “I’m staying. For good.”

There was no need for more words. You leaned across the table, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was slow and full of meaning. It wasn’t a kiss filled with urgency or desperation, but one of quiet comfort. One of trust and affection. One that said we’re here, and that was enough.

As you pulled away, you saw the same sense of contentment reflected in his eyes, a peacefulness that had taken months to build but was finally here. You didn’t need anything else, because with Spencer, you had everything you’d ever wanted.

The coffee and case files were long forgotten as the two of you sat there, simply enjoying each other’s company. There was no rush to get to the day, no lingering doubt or fear. Just the warmth of his presence beside you, and the certainty that no matter what the future held, you’d face it together.

all notes and reposts are appreciated!! loving you always xx

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#reidsbabyhoney #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #fic recs #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #angst with a happy ending #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #bau team #fluff

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nicstylus · 6 months ago

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Playing with Fire

Side by Side-ish

Completed: April 20th 2024

#skulduggery pleasant #playing with fire #book cover #valkyrie cain #tanith low #the grotesquery #mr bliss #Baron vengeous #derek landy #tom percival #sp pwf #art #skulduggery pleasant art #nic stylus #skulduggery pleasant playing with fire #sp covers

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mandarinmoons · 7 months ago

Text

A/N: Hello! I just recently hit 500 followers and I wanted to thank everyone who has taken the time to read and interact with my works! I never thought that I'd make it this far and it truly means the world. Thank you so much again x

Spencer's face was hidden in your neck, his arms snaked around you and his hold on you grew tighter as you continued to brush your fingers through his hair.

He had just got back from a long case and the sleeping arrangements this time around were not the best. The hotel the team stayed at was near a busy highway and it was known to have a lot of traffic jams. Over the course of the four nights spent in the hotel, Spencer woke up nearly every night to restless drivers honking the horns in their cars, trying to get the people in front of them to move, because maybe that would get them home sooner.

Spencer felt as though he was going to go mad. The second he got on the jet back home his eyes fell shut and slept through the whole flight. He awoke to Derek shaking his shoulder and smiling down at him, not knowing that the whole team had heard him mumbling your name in his sleep. You were his teddy bear and he desperately needed you in his arms for a good night’s sleep.

Now here he was, bliss written all over his face, his nose rubbing against your neck as his thumbs rubbed over your side.

“You didn’t get a whole lot of sleep, huh?”

“Don’t get me started,” Spencer mumbled and pressed his lips against your neck.

The comfort he found in you was evident. As good of a profiler he is, he had no clue that in his sleep when he was away from you, he’d pull a pillow into his chest and rest his lips against it and caressed it with his fingers, the same actions he was doing to you right now.

Soon enough Spencer was lightly snoring in your embrace, but his grip stayed as strong as it was before, if not stronger. Knowing that he was finally at rest, you let your eyes close as well and let yourself be transported into a world of dreams, one which was still filled with you and Spencer.

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus @themarauderseraslut @gayfor-rosadiaz

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 7 months ago

Note

Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

-----

The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter.

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway.

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence.

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan.

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life.

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together.

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you.

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes.

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk.

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop.

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in.

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.”

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.”

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day.

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually.

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid.

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did.

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.”

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner.

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way.

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude.

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.”

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?”

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked.

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“What’d you do this weekend?”

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.”

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?”

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his.

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.”

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of.

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked.

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked.

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.”

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot.

God, you were down bad.

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face.

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed.

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded.

That was all you needed to hear.

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible.

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little.

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting.

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual.

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken.

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.”

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?”

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger.

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision.

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.”

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm.

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed.

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece.

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice.

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!”

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his.

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive.

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless.

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

——

read part 2 here

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avatarmovies · 2 years ago

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Hello people, tune in tonight to ABC at 8EST/7C for #disneyholidaycelebration and catch a sneak peak of #avatarthewayofwater 💙!

Styling @cristinaehrlich @coach

Styling assistant @bridgetblacksten

#Avatar: The Way of Water #social media #video #press #Trinity Bliss #Bailey Bass #Jack Champion #Jamie Flatters #Derek Hough #Julianne Hough #Disney #Walt Disney World

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anniebeemine · 21 days ago

Note

Hey I was wondering if you could do a fic about nerdy season 1-3 Spencer and reader. Like maybe they keep the relationship a secret but maybe Penelope shows up at Readers house (or Derek to Spencer’s) unannounced. Maybe they were having *** and they had to stop to answer the door and then that how they figure it out or they’re like kissing on the couch and they just walk in and see them. Yeah… Thanks!

I'm not going to lie, I giggled so hard at this

warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, slight suggestiveness

Spencer’s lips trail along your jawline, his hand gently tangling in your hair as the two of you sink into the couch, the quiet hum of his voice whispering sweet things in your ear. These moments alone together were rare and fleeting, made all the more thrilling by the fact that no one else knew about the two of you.

“I missed you today,” he murmurs, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, shy smile as his fingers brush along your cheek. The tenderness of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, pulling you further into the bliss of the moment.

"I was four feet away from you."

He pushed a strand of hair from your face. "Too far for my liking."

Just as you lean in to kiss him, a loud voice breaks through the apartment.

“That was an absolute train wreck! I am nev—” Penelope’s voice rings out as she steps through the door, clearly not expecting the lights to be so dim. “Are you here?”

Your eyes widen, and Spencer’s face goes pale as you both freeze, still half tangled in each other.

“Fuck,” you whisper, panic flooding through you as Penelope’s footsteps get closer. With no time to think, you give Spencer a firm shove. He barely has a second to react before he’s tumbling off the couch, landing on the floor with a soft, surprised umph. You quickly sit up, leaning back against the cushions in what you hope is a nonchalant pose, trying to look as if you’d been sitting there casually the entire time.

Penelope rounds the corner, her gaze sweeping over you. “What’s up with you?” She steps further into the room, shrugging off her coat as she grumbles about her date, oblivious to the chaos she just interrupted. You watch, heart pounding, as she turns to hang it up. In that split second, Spencer seizes the opportunity, crawling toward the kitchen on hands and knees, looking up at you with wide eyes as he suppresses a laugh.

You bite back a grin, nodding to him in encouragement as he silently shuffles away. The moment he disappears behind the counter, Penelope turns back around, eyeing you curiously. You quickly adjust your face into what you hope is a look of calm understanding.

“What’s with you?” she asks, eyes narrowing as if she can sense something's off.

You give a nonchalant shrug, clearing your throat. “N-nothing. How’d the date go?”

She sighs, flopping onto the couch beside you. “Oh, don’t even get me started. Disaster doesn’t even cover it,” she mutters, glancing at the clock. “I left early. If I have to hear one more grown man’s TED Talk on crypto… Well, let’s just say there won’t be a second date.”

You nod sympathetically, trying to ignore the faint sounds of Spencer shifting in the kitchen. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” she says, dramatically throwing a hand over her forehead. “Ugh, but forget him. You’re acting weird—what’s really going on here?” She gives you a knowing smirk, scanning you up and down.

You force a laugh, trying to keep your tone light. “Nothing! Just… relaxing.”

She shakes her head, preparing to stand. “Wine? In the kitchen like usu-”

“I’ll get it!” You say, a little too quickly. “I’ve been on the couch for hours. I need to get up.” You stand with a dramatic stretch. “I’ll get it. Bottle or glass?”

“Bottle.” Penelope snorted. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Derek too.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your expression calm, plastering on a smile. “Derek? No problem at all,” you say, already mentally bracing for another close call. You dart into the kitchen, where Spencer is crouched by the fridge, his eyes wide as he realizes what Penelope just said.

“Derek’s coming here?” he mouths, panic evident on his face.

“Yep,” you whisper back, trying to stifle a laugh. You pull open the fridge and grab a bottle of wine, handing it to Spencer, who stands up and straightens his shirt, still looking flustered.

You return to the living room, balancing two big bottles of wine, just in time to hear Penelope launch into a passionate rant about the horrors of modern dating. She waves her hands wildly, recounting her night with dramatic flair, entirely oblivious to anything else around her.

“...and then he actually said, ‘So, what’s your portfolio like?’ Can you believe that?” she exclaims, exasperated. "He really believes that it's the future."

You nod along sympathetically, trying to keep a straight face as you catch sight of Spencer, who is stealthily crawling behind the couch, inching his way toward the hallway. He freezes whenever Penelope’s hand movements get a little too close, but he keeps moving, finally slipping out of sight down the hall.

Just as you open your mouth to respond, there’s a faint click of a door closing, and Penelope’s head whips around. “Did you hear that?”

You shrug, forcing a casual tone. “Oh, yeah. This building has weird echoes sometimes. Probably just the neighbors.”

She narrows her eyes, but the wine bottle in your hand is too enticing a distraction for her to think too hard about it. She grabs it, and you’re about to sit down when the door swings open, and Derek strolls in, greeting you both with a wide grin.

“Hey, troublemakers! I heard we’re in need of some quality company,” he teases, scanning the room with an amused smirk.

Without missing a beat, he plucks the bottle right out of Penelope’s hands, taking a sip as he settles into the chair in the corner. “Alright, babygirl, tell me all about this train wreck of a date,” he says, taking another sip directly from the bottle, completely at home.

Penelope sighs dramatically, launching right back into her story, while you do your best to stifle a smile, stealing a quick glance down the hallway. Somewhere behind a closed door, Spencer is hopefully catching his breath—and probably laughing just as hard as you are.

You start inching back, trying to slip away to check on Spencer, but Derek and Penelope’s conversation pulls you in, and you find yourself sinking into the couch instead. Before you know it, you’re trading dating horror stories with Penelope, her laughter filling the room as you recount the painfully awkward blind date that still haunts you.

“…and then he just… pulls out a slideshow—of his beetle collection. Like, on his phone!” you laugh, barely able to keep a straight face. "I'm all for brainiacs, even one's with hobbies, but that was... well, too much."

Penelope clutches her sides, gasping between laughs. “Please tell me you didn’t stay through all the beetles!”

“Oh, I did,” you groan, shaking your head. “He insisted on showing me every one. Some were actually cute… but I don’t think I’ve eaten jello since.”

Derek snorts from his chair, sharing his own nightmare of an evening involving a woman who only communicated in astrological signs. You’re so caught up in the stories that you don’t notice when he stands up and starts heading down the hall.

You trail off mid-sentence, the realization dawning on you just as Derek disappears around the corner. Your face goes pale as you try to cover, glancing at Penelope, who looks at you in confusion.

“Are you okay?” she asks, tilting her head with a raised eyebrow.

You force a laugh, trying to brush it off. “Yeah! Just… uh… waiting for Derek to get back. He, uh, just wandered off mid-story, you know?”

She shrugs, unfazed. “He probably just needed a break from all the single life horror.”

You nod, but your gaze keeps flickering toward the hallway, your heart pounding. If Derek opens the wrong door, he might stumble right into Spencer’s hiding spot. You hold your breath, nerves on edge as you wait for Derek to return from the hallway. Every possible scenario races through your mind, each one ending with Spencer getting caught. But when Derek finally steps back into the living room, he looks as relaxed as ever, carrying on as if he hadn’t noticed a thing. You let out a silent sigh of relief, shoulders sinking as the tension finally melts away.

The evening drifts on, and the wine flows freely. By the time Derek and Penelope start getting ready to leave, Penelope’s cheeks are flushed, and she’s practically giggling at every word you say. You grab her coat, draping it over your arm as you walk them to the door.

“Alright, let’s get you home,” Derek says, chuckling as he takes Penelope’s heels from her hands and holds them along with his own coat. She’s already slipped into your slippers, wiggling her toes as Derek helps her into her coat and steadies her with a firm grip. His gaze lingers on the coat rack a little too long.

She sways a little, leaning into Derek’s side, and he wraps an arm around her, keeping her upright. “These are surprisingly comfortable,” she mumbles, glancing down at the slippers on her feet with a lopsided grin.

“They’re all yours,” you say, laughing. “One of the perks of drunken nights here, I guess.”

As they reach the door, Derek pulls you in for a quick hug, clapping you on the back. “See you Monday,” he says, stepping back into the hall.

“Goodnight!” you call after them.

Derek holds up a hand in farewell, but just as he’s turning to walk Penelope down the hallway, he calls out, “Goodnight, Reid!”

Your heart skips a beat, and you freeze, gripping the edge of the door. The moment feels like it stretches forever.

“Goodnight, Morgan,” Spencer mumbles, appearing behind you, a shy smile on his face.

Penelope squints at both of you, her expression momentarily confused. “When did he get here?” she asks, reaching for Spencer’s hand but missing and turning around with a little sway. “I’ve gotta stop the wine. I’m imagining things.”

She starts to wander unsteadily toward the elevator, and you watch with amusement as Derek quickly moves to catch up with her, keeping a steadying hand on her back.

“Come on, Garcia. Let’s get you home before you start having conversations with the elevator buttons,” he says with a chuckle. Derek nods at Spencer, then looks at you with a mock-serious expression. “You owe me big time,” he says, crossing his arms. “She’s going to ask about this tomorrow, and I’m going to let you tell her.”

You raise an eyebrow, your heart racing at the thought. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he replies, his smile widening as he glances back at Penelope, who is still rambling about needing to cut back on the wine. “Just remember, this was all your idea.”

“Great,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “I’ll start practicing my ‘it’s not what it looks like’ speech.”

Morgan laughs, the sound warm and light. “Good luck with that. Just know, I’ll be here to support you when she inevitably loses her mind about you and Spencer.”

As Penelope finally stumbles into the elevator with Derek’s help, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. “Thanks for not saying anything,” you tell him quietly.

“Hey, what are friends for?” he replies, giving you a reassuring smile as the elevator doors begin to close. "I wanna be there when you do!"

You watch them leave, a mix of anxiety and excitement swirling in your chest. With a soft sigh, you lean against the door, wondering how you’re going to face Penelope tomorrow—and whether you’ll be able to keep your secret with Spencer under wraps for just a little while longer.

As the elevator doors glide shut, sealing Derek and Penelope away, you turn back into the apartment, a giddy smile tugging at your lips. Just as the door clicks closed, Spencer steps away from the wall, his expression shifting from amusement to something more serious.

“Where were we?” he asks, a playful glint in his eye.

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you feel the tension from earlier finally dissipate. “You mean before we almost got caught?” you tease, crossing your arms as you lean against the back of the couch.

Spencer takes a step closer, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. His hands rest on your hips, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I think we were here. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

You hummed. “I think we were a little further than this.”

Before you can say anything more, Spencer’s expression shifts. In one swift, confident move, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips with his. Your heart races as you melt into the kiss, returning his affection with equal fervor. It feels exhilarating and safe all at once, the world outside completely forgotten.

When you finally pull away, breathless and smiling, you look up at him, eyes sparkling with joy. “Wow,” you whisper, feeling the thrill of the moment. You giggle. "Your glasses are fogged up."

Spencer grins back at you, his cheeks tinged with a hint of color. “Yeah, wow,” he echoes, a glimmer of mischief returning to his eyes.

Without thinking, you take his hand, tugging him gently down the hallway. “Come on,” you say, excitement bubbling within you. “Let’s keep this going.”

He chuckles, letting you pull him along. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here,” you reply, glancing back over your shoulder with a teasing smile. “I think we learned our lesson.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #fanfic

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