#I’m going insane cause I don’t have any painkillers and my period was early

[officialesmilgram-reblog]

🙏bless🙏

[flwrguk]

tongue (spencer reid x reader)

summary: you couldn’t help but stare at spencer whenever he licked his lips. whether it was while he was thinking, listening carefully, or merely reading, it was hard not to stop thinking about what he could do with that tongue of his. while the team had a meeting in the round table room, spencer listened as hotch explained how changes are going to be made and you couldn’t help but fantasize about him when he licked his lips.

warnings: slight cursing, smut

key: (y/n) - your name; (y/l/n) - your last name

word count: 1,573

note: please read at your own risk, this contains slightly-detailed smut. gif credits to the owner. lowercase intended.

it was hard not to wonder if there would be something bad happening to the team. when hotch came into the bullpen as serious as can be, he called for an emergency meeting at the round table room. you walked in last and took the open seat between emily and derek, right across from spencer. when the door was shut, hotch began his little spiel.

“as you all know, there have been talks about things changing around here,” hotch starts. “we’re getting our budget cut and i want you all to watch what you do and be careful. we cannot damage anymore government-issued suv’s, weapons, and so forth.”

spencer raised his hand, patiently waiting to get called on. you smiled softly, thinking how cute he is. “does this mean we can’t use the jet as often as we do now?”

“yes,” hotch says, nodding. “we can only use the jet if the location is out of state or more than an hour drive from here. we cannot use the jet for personal reasons. no using the jet for vacations, early departures, or anything else you’d want to use it for.”

you watched as spencer nodded along, licking his lips as he nods. blushing slightly, you cross your legs under the table. keeping your eyes fixated on spencer’s lips, you couldn’t help but think about what he could do with his tongue, and how skilled he could be. you fidget in your seat, causing emily to glance for a quick second before going back to listen to hotch. 

god, that tongue of his. it can explore your mouth and body, sending you to euphoria with the simple gesture. you watch as he licks his lips again, making you bite your lip a bit. you watched him roll up his sleeves up to his elbow, increasing his level of sexiness. you catch yourself trailing your eyes over his arms down to his hands, zooming in on his fingers. the thoughts began to come, and they would not stop.

his hands explored your body while his tongue explored your mouth. the way he kissed you to the way he held you drove you insane. you run a hand through his hair, tugging slightly to make him moan. being successful in your goal, he pulls from your lips and attacks your neck. leaning your head back, you allow him to suckle, leaving behind purple bruises that will definitely be a pain in the ass to cover up the next morning.

his hand slides down to your panties, feeling you through the fabric. you let out a moan in pleasure, smiling. he rubs a bit faster, causing a wave of pleasure to wash over you. you were already soaked, right from the moment he pinned you against the wall and crashed his lips onto yours.

he pulls from your neck, trailing kisses down your naked torso to the hem of your panties. he stops rubbing you and you whimper from the loss of touch. he takes your panties off, kissing your inner thighs. he smirks, looking at how wet you already were.

“so wet for me,” he says, smirking.

putting his mouth on your heat, he watches you throw your head back in pleasure. he swirls his tongue around your clit, pushing two fingers in and out of you. he moaned against you, sending vibrations ripple through your body. you grab a handful of his hair, tugging to make him moan against you again. moaning his name, he pumps his fingers faster, sending you close to the edge. when you warned him you were close, he pulled away from you. you gasp at the loss of contact, your head shooting up.

feeling extremely horny, you get up from the bed and push him down, telling him you’re not here to play any games. you straddle him, sliding his length into you. throwing your head back in complete and utter pleasure, you begin to ride him. your hands went to his abdomen as you steady yourself. his hands went up and down your body, throwing his head back as he moans. you reach up and move the sweaty hair from your back as his hands slide up your body and meet your pair of assets.

he slid his hands back down to your hips, guiding you when you slowed down. your loud moans mixed with his. he watched as your tits bounced as you rode him. he bit his lip and let you know when he was close. teasing him, you got off, making him raise a questioning brow. he grabbed your hips and guided you up to his face.

“let me eat you, (y/n).” he guides you to sit on his face. 

the way his tongue moved on you, making your legs shake and your eyes roll back. he began to tongue-fuck you, definitely sending you to the edge so quickly. as you reached down to touch yourself, he grabbed your wrists and prevented you from doing so. he moved his tongue back to your clit, sending pleasure in waves. 

“fuck, spencer, don’t stop,” you moan, causing him to-

“(y/n)?” hotch asks. you didn’t respond, making him raise a brow. “agent (y/l/n),” he says in a stern voice. you snap from your sinful thoughts, causing you to come back to reality and blush in embarrassment.

“s-sorry, sir,” you apologize.

“you know, you zoned out through basically the entire thing,” emily whispered. “what were you thinking about?”

“you’re all dismissed. don’t forget what we talked about.” hotch leaves first. 

“(y/n), what were you thinking of?” emily asks when you stand.

“n-nothing,” you say, quickly leaving. 

your panties were soaked from your thoughts, meaning you had to quickly change them. grabbing the go-bag from under your desk, you look for the familiar pouch that contained your feminine products and panties. standing back up, you make a run for it out the bullpen. curious, spencer follows you out and watches you disappear behind a wall. when he caught up, he found you leaning on the wall and bending over to catch your breath.

“(y/n), what were you really thinking of? your face was flushed and you were completely out of it. you even had a dazed smile. i’m curious of what your thoughts were during the meeting.” spencer leans beside you. you blush again, making him chuckle.

“i-i can’t tell you,” you say, biting your lip.

“why not?” he furrows his brows.

“i-i just can’t.” you shake your head. his eyes trail to your hands to find you holding the familiar pouch. you once asked him to give it to you from the bathroom when you shared a hotel room and you started your period.

“why are you holding onto your lady pouch? did your period start?” he asks.

“n-no, no, it’s not that. i-i don’t need pads.” you shake your head again.

“the only things you have in there are pads, tampons, painkillers, and panties. you don’t need the pads, tampons, and painkillers if your period started already.” he puts his thinking face on. “panties? you need to change your panties?” he asks with a small smirk. “(y/n), what were you really thinking about during the meeting to cause you to have to change your panties?” he takes a step closer.

“s-spencer, i can’t tell you because it’s embarrassing.” you try your best not to tell him how you thought sinfully of him and his glorious tongue.

“i’ve known about the crush you have on me for a while now. emily and derek gave me the heads up. that leaves the conclusion that you were thinking of dirty things. were you thinking dirty things, (y/n)?” he smirks.

“i-” he cuts you off.

“you were,” he smirks, “and i’m gonna take a wild guess and say it was of me?” he tilts his head.

you were silent for a moment, completely taken aback from how he guessed your thoughts. he took your silence as a yes, making him chuckle. he takes another step closer and you feel your heart race, hoping he doesn’t try anything in the public space you’re in.

“tell me what you were thinking, (y/n).” he whispers into your ear.

you bite your lip before mustering the courage to tell him. “you-you had your mouth…” you trail.

“where?”

“on-on-” you bite your lip, stopping you from saying it.

“-your pussy, i believe.” he smirks. you nod, keeping your head down and legs squeezed together. “don’t change your panties.”

“why?” you look at him.

“let’s get out of here.” he takes your hand.

“spencer, they’re gonna wonder why we’re both missing.” you hiss.

“don’t worry about it.” he pulls you closer to him.

“where are we going?” you ask, entering the elevator.

“my place.” he pins you against the wall as soon as the door closes.

“for why?” you ask, heart racing.

“might as well turn your fantasy into reality.” he smirks, pressing his lips onto yours. “give it a trial run and tell me if you don’t want to keep doing it. if not, you’ve enjoyed your free trial. if you do like it, then i’m afraid you’ll need a subscription.” 

“what’s the subscription?” you ask cluelessly.

“you have to subscribe to me, be my girlfriend and we can explore these fantasies together.” he pulls away once the elevators open.

“i think i’m going to like this free trial.” you smirk.

“then let’s hurry into the bedroom, shall we?”

[morrisbrokaw]

Surviving Addiction—and Coming Through Stronger

By the time Dan Maurer hit rock bottom, he was pastoring his third different congregation as an ordained Lutheran minister, he’d already done two stints in treatment, and he was pretty sure he had things under control. That was before he was arrested for breaking into homes in the rural North Dakota countryside he called home.

“I was totally dysfunctional at that point,” says Dan. “I don’t remember a lot of it. I had lost all sense of ethics or morality. I was just doing things to survive. I couldn’t see my life without drugs and alcohol.”

IT HADN’T ALWAYS BEEN THAT WAY, OF COURSE.

As a teen growing up in Anoka, Minnesota, he had what many would consider some normal encounters with alcohol—sneaking a few drinks from his parents’ liquor supply, doing some binge drinking in college. (“Not much though,” says Dan.) His home life was good. There were no obvious signs that addiction would derail his life.

Things took off though when he was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis. After a painful attack, his wife Carol drove him to the emergency room in Dubuque, Iowa, where he was a grad student in seminary. The year was 1996.

“I don’t know if the doctor on duty made a mistake or actually thought I needed that much pain control,” says Dan, “but I’ll never forget: He prescribed three refills of 30 Demarol. I maybe needed it for that one day (if at all). But there’s no way I needed it for three months. I think I went through that entire prescription in about three weeks. I was like, ‘This stuff is great!’”

He has likened the sensation to the comforting feeling of being a little boy watching Sesame Street, as his mother tucked a freshly laundered blanket around him.

“I was totally dysfunctional at that point. I don’t remember a lot of it. I had lost all sense of ethics or morality. I was just doing things to survive. I couldn’t see my life without drugs and alcohol.”

AFTER THAT, THINGS CHANGED.

Although alcohol hadn’t interested Dan much before, it now became a steady crutch. “Painkillers were my drug of choice,” says Dan, “but I couldn’t get them all the time—and I wasn’t going on the street or anything—so I started drinking more and more.”

He hid bottles in the basement ceiling. He drank in the morning before sermon prep, or in the afternoon before his wife came home from work. He found ways to hide the smell of alcohol on his breath. (“I’d eat pickles,” Dan laughs.)

One day Dan wondered how many bottles he’d stashed above the ceiling tiles. He shined a flashlight around. Holy sh**, he thought. I’m an alcoholic. His next thought was, Oh, well. I can handle this. Everybody else is a loser who lets this mess up their life. I will make it work.

AND, FOR A WHILE, HE DID.

Dan was a master at hiding things, as most addicts are. Carol had no idea. Dan is articulate. He was a great preacher. He’s friendly and likable. He could carry on without too many things falling through the cracks. And he’s smart—so smart that he could research new ways to get high and self-diagnose the side effects. Those side effects included, at one point, having seven tonic-clonic “grand mal” seizures that he mostly hid from everyone.

Meanwhile, Carol and he were raising two young boys and Dan was pastoring congregations throughout central North Dakota.

Not everything was bad. “Even though our life was a lot of crazy,” says Carol, “there were times that were still functional. Decent. It wasn’t 100% insanity. I sometimes think back to that. What if I would have known how much he was boozing and drugging and not doing what was expected of him?”

“The ironic thing,” says Dan, “is I still cared about being a husband, about being a father—but I didn’t see the disconnect that you can’t really have all these things with addiction because addiction is always on top.”

FROM BAD TO WORSE

As Dan’s addiction progressed, so did his desperation for a high, and his willingness to do anything to get it.

By 2008, a physician prescribed Benzodiazepines for his worsening anxiety. When combined with alcohol, these “benzos” caused blackouts—the kind of blackouts where Dan would be talking and functioning, with no awareness or recollection of it. Dan spent an entire family vacation in Florida, blacked out for most of it.

“I just thought he was really, super, super depressed,” says Carol, who suspected Dan might just be longing for a career change. “I knew something was wrong but I didn’t really know what it was.”

It was during this period, Dan says, that he started getting crazy ideas. “One of the ideas I had is that it would be a good idea to walk into other people’s homes to see if they had painkillers.” So he did. Several times.

Eventually, the sheriff’s department caught on.

When Carol was told that her husband was being arrested for a felony trespass, she was confused. “I said, ‘Oh! Well, I think he’s trying to connect with those people for church.’”, believing what Dan had told her. “In hindsight,” she laughs, “that was so not true. But there’s probably a part of you that wants to believe it.”

ROCK BOTTOM

“At that point, I had lost all hope,” says Dan.

He checked into Hazelden (now the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation). This time, after he completed the 30-day program, the staff recommended he stay for their long-term in-patient program. He did. After 60 days in that program, they recommended he move to a sober house. He did. “I was willing to do whatever it took to save my marriage,” he says. “To save my life.”

And so, after twelve years of addiction and his third stint in treatment, Dan got sober. It was 2011, and he has been sober since.

FINDING HOPE

One thing you notice right away when you hear Dan and Carol tell their story is how cheerful and lighthearted they are. They laugh with each other about the ridiculousness of Dan’s lies and the extent of Carol’s obliviousness. They banter over the details. (“Wait, we had ceiling tiles in that house?” says Carol.) They talk passionately about the recovery process that has kept them together.

It’s clear that there has been so much healing that this story no longer evokes pain. Instead, it is a testament to hope. They both say their relationship is stronger than it’s ever been (although not perfect), and there are a few key things they say helped their marriage survive the destruction of addiction.

“Any difficult spot that you’re in now… You don’t wish it on anyone but it can only make you a stronger person for that.”

Everyone’s story is different. Here is theirs:

1. They both got help.

Carol is a big piece of why they’re still together. She didn’t leave Dan during the worst of it. (“My dad really wanted me to,” she says.) But she also didn’t leave all the recovery work in Dan’s court. If she had, Carol is the first to say she’s not sure they would be together.

“I think one of the main reasons our marriage survived,” says Carol, “is because we both got into some kind of recovery program. If Dan would have done recovery and I just would have sort of kept being my bullsh*t self, I don’t know… Maybe we’d still be together but we wouldn’t be healthy. I mean I can’t imagine what it would look like.”

She didn’t always feel that way.

Carol initially recoiled at the suggestion she might need help. “The first time I went to Al-Anon and found out we were working on the Twelve Steps, I was like, f*ck this. I’m not doing this sh*t. I am not the one with the problem,” says Carol. But, at the urging of others in the group, she gave it a chance. After six sessions, she was hooked.

Carol, herself the adult child of a now-recovered alcoholic, says “I realized how much crap I had brought with from my own childhood. As a child of an alcoholic, you just don’t know how to deal with life. I came to realize how much my father’s addiction had shaped a lot of my attitudes, how I responded to things, the expectations I had about myself, about my life…”

On top of that, says Carol, “There’s no way you can draw a line and say this is the addict’s problem and it hasn’t affected me.” Eventually, Carol says she found serenity for herself—regardless of what Dan was going to end up doing.

“That’s the epitome of what recovery is,” Dan says. “You have to start with yourself—that’s all that you have control of. You have your own behaviors and your own actions to look at. And, as you become healthier with yourself, the bonus is that you’re healthier with the other person. So if it’s working on both sides, you’re going to end up healthier together.”

2. They persisted.

For Dan, treatment required more than one round. Although this can be (and was) discouraging, it’s common. Many professionals compare addiction relapse rates to those of other chronic conditions such as diabetes, hypertension, and asthma, all of which involve both physical and behavioral aspects. The good news is – relapse does not mean failure. It just means more—or different—treatment is needed.

Returning to treatment can be humbling, but, for Dan, his persistence paid off.

Carol, too, needed to find the right support. For her, it ended up being Al-Anon, a Twelve Step program—but even that took some trial and error. One of her early Twelve Step experiences was handled very differently from others she had seen before, or since. That particular experience was “very shaming,” she says. Fortunately, she knew something was off, and she looked for better options.

Now she says, “I’m so thankful I’ve discovered and worked through Twelve Step recovery because I think it’s just good living. It’s good for anybody. It doesn’t matter if it’s related to addiction or not. We all have things in our life that that kind of rigor helps us work through.”

Still, recovery wasn’t a quick fix for either one of them.

“One thing people don’t always understand,” says Carol, “is how long working on yourself takes. It takes a really long time…to get to a place where you feel changed. It takes a long time.”

“I’m so thankful I’ve discovered and worked through Twelve Step recovery because I think it’s just good living. It’s good for anybody. It doesn’t matter if it’s related to addiction or not. We all have things in our life that that kind of rigor helps us work through.”

4. They got honest.

One of the things that’s changed in Dan and Carol’s relationship is they understand each other better. Both understand that Dan’s brain is wired in a certain way and that, for him, recovery means rewiring the pathways addiction created. Both understand that he’s still an addict—an addict in recovery.

“To this day I still have pill-seeking dreams,” says Dan. “Why do I have those? The only thing I can think of—and the language I use—is an ‘induced mental illness’. It’s an illness of the brain, which is a particular organ in the human body, and if you have a genetic component and the capacity to run in this path, when you add chemicals to it, it induces you into this insane state.”

Dan knows he’s still wired to sometimes make poor choices. “I’m still impulsive,” he says. “I still struggle with these things. I still need to work on them in myself.”

“I’m still crazy,” he adds, “that’s part of my problem.”

Carol counters, “I think we’re honest about our craziness now. We used to have a lot of untruths.“ Carol admits she used to sometimes tear people down to help herself feel more confident. Especially her husband. “I was just looking for any dumb little thing to nitpick about. Even if I had that same issue myself I was just… I could just be really mean.”

“I try not to be mean anymore,” she says, smiling, “I try to say what I want rather than be catty or hinty about it—I try to just be direct.”

Dan says, “I think the marriage has changed now because I’m healthier, because she’s healthier, and because we have a commitment to say what’s going on.”

4. They found purpose.

So where has all of that addictive energy gone these days? Dan says, “The most important thing, if you’re trying to get sober, is you need to find purpose and meaning in your life. For me, I have to create. It doesn’t matter if I’m writing or if I’m on a website studying CSS code or if I’m writing a play or any of that. I have to create and I have to continue doing that. I found that for me, it drives me. It’s enough.”

Today, as a four-time published author and freelance writer, Dan is a sought-after speaker and the brainchild behind several businesses, including two that provide creative resources to churches (rclworshipresources.com and funchurchplays.com).

“Life is pretty good,” he says. “I love doing what I’m doing. I’m pretty good at it. And it’s germane to Carol and I being together.”

These days, Carol and Dan take long walks with their dog every day. They cook, they eat out, they parent their boys (now 17 and 13), they visit open houses for inspiration. “We love our walks, we love our talks,” says Dan. “I mean, she really is my best friend.”

Carol adds, “He’s my best friend too—but we’re our own individuals as well.” She turns to Dan. “My life isn’t dependent on your life, and your life isn’t dependent on mine either. We’re able to function individually while at the same time just enjoying each other.”

5. They’re grateful.

Dan knows he’s been lucky. “The number of times I could have died!” he says, with a mix of amazement, horror, and humor.

Dan knows many addicts don’t have access to the kind of insurance that paid for his in-patient treatment three times. He knows many addicts arrested for felony trespass would never get the opportunity to eventually move on with life. He knows many addicts need more than three trips to treatment. And he knows not everyone who loves an addict can (or should) stay in the relationship as long as Carol did.

His gratefulness is palpable.

“The irony,” says Dan, “is that where we are now is because of all the difficult times we went through. I think that’s a word of hope. Any difficult spot that you’re in now… You don’t wish it on anyone but it can only make you a stronger person for that.”

“But only if you do the work,” adds Carol, with a smile.

Dan and Carol Maurer on a recent trip to Alaska

__ Author’s note: Interviewing this exceptional couple left me with a range of emotions and insights. I suspect it may do the same for others. I have known and loved more than one addict. At some points early on, it would have been incredibly helpful for me to know there were others struggling with similar issues, to know where to begin finding help, and—especially—to know recovery was possible, for myself and also for the addict.

I hope this article offers a glimpse of that hope to you. To learn more about Dan Maurer and his journey, visit Transformation is Real. To learn more about addiction, the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation, and Twelve Step resources, follow the links.

  Image sources: 1/ 2

Julie Rybarczyk is a freelance writer, fair-weather blogger, and well-intentioned mom who has almost never remembered to send lunch money to school. She’s perpetually the chilliest person living in Minneapolis—so most of the year you’ll find her under layers of wool, behind steaming cups of tea. Or at shortsandlongs.net.

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