#bait takes the cube he's been working undercover

[raayllum]

"the only person callum talks regarding the cube is rayla or bait" chet is about bait actually

case closed, it's solved - bait is going to doom the world all over again

[reiderwriter]

Hi there! It's me :"> again I read that you're closing your request soon and I just want to put another in before the deadline haha But by no mean you should put more pressure on yourself please take all the time you need, I'm always here happily waiting while enjoy reading all of the fabulous writing you had for other requests <3 Much love to your work <3

I have a request for s smut fic when the BAU was called in for a case: the victims were workers at the local bars/restaurants, the bau!reader recognised one of the bars the unsub frequently target is the one she used to work at as bartender/mixologist while putting herself through school and asked to be the undercover while other agents supervise. After successfully closing the case, the BAU decided to celebrate at said bar and the owner was happy to let the reader personally make your friends any cocktails outside of the menu.

The reader then learned about all the mildly irritations and possessive feelings softdom!Spencer had while watching people hitting on you behind the bar, but all of that can be solved with a (almost criminally) 3-sugar-cube level of sweet of a cocktail the reader personally made for him hiding an ungodly amount of alcohol which made the night a lot more interesting ;)

I'm sorry if all of my requests are soo long I know you want to have as much details as possible but please lemme know if you feel like it's too much haha Happy writing!! :">

A/N: Thank you for your request! I was partly inspired by this post to help me out with some of the drinks orders, so go check it out for more character headcannoms!

Warnings: NSFW, soft dom! Spencer, spanking, semi-public sex, jealousy, slight breeding kink/ creampie, thigh fucking etc. 18+ Minors DNI

It had been a good few years since you quit the bartending job that put you through college, so you didn't realise just how much you'd missed it.

You thought it was the universe intervening when a case popped up in your college town, and the bar you'd spent every weekend in for nearly three years straight from the end of your undergrad to the first years of your masters degree was at the dead centre of Spencer Reid's geographical profile.

You knew the unsub had been hunting from bars, and it took only a few nights of surveillance to catch his scent, and one more of a simple cover to get the guy.

You'd taken up your spot once again, slipping easily back into making cocktails and pouring pints of beer on tap - a skill you were regretfully slow to learn but happy to see stayed with you even in your brief retirement.

You busted the bar while your coworkers tried to look inconspicuous sitting around as customers. Diligently, you served them mocktails and alcohol free beer ad regulars clapped you on the back, greeting you like an old friend as you worked to catch a killer.

JJ was the bait, and you were glad, for once, that it wasn't you, even if that thought made you feel guilty. She slipped out with a crash, and all eyed were on the man that followed her quietly to the alleyway out back.

He practically arrested himself. All in all, it had taken maybe three days to catch the guy, and you'd never been so happy to have had to work a double shift to do it.

“Y/N, if this FBI thing doesn't work for you, I'd be glad to have you back behind the bar. These college students just aren't what they used to be.” Your ex-boss grinned at you, indulging in his own glass of whiskey now that the case was closed.

He'd graciously invited your entire team to spend the rest of the evening at the bar celebrating (for at least a drink or two before his wife came to collect him). You were shocked when Hotch took him up on the offer, but happily stayed behind the bar mixing up the drinks.

“Okay, now that we've found out you're this magic mixologist, you have got to make us personal cocktails. I want to see how drunk you can get me, Y/L/N.” Emily laughed from the corner, finishing the last dregs of her virgin piña colada.

“My dear Emily, it is not the mixologist job to get you drunk, it's the mixologist job to keep you sober for as long as possible so you keep buying drinks.”

“No, come on kid, I'm intrigued as well. I'm not a cocktail guy but you've been pouring like a woman possessed tonight. Help.me out here, Spencer, hasn't she been on fire?”

Spencer's eye caught yours and your heart skipped a beat when he gave you a small smile. He'd been quiet all night, and you felt a little regretful that you'd made him stay so long in a place he wasn't entirely comfortable with. But he was still here, and surprisingly, still drinking, nursing the beer that your old boss had served them all when they'd returned from the crime scene.

“Mixology is an interesting field of study. When you think about it, it's practically chemistry.”

“I like to think of it as alchemy,” you grinned at him, enjoying the way he could turn anything into something more complicated and mathematical than it is. “Because one sip of one of my cocktails will have you thinking you've unlocked the secret of immortality.”

“Okay, if that's how drunk we're getting tonight then I'm calling home now,” JJ laughed standing from her chair and already dialling the numbers.

“Okay - here we go.” You grabbed the bottle of vodka from the counter and started, keeping your eyes focused on Reid as much as you could.

–X–

After two hours and about 5 rounds of cocktails, you'd nearly defeated the entire team. Your ex-boss had thrown you the keys half an hour earlier and called himself a cab, leaving you behind to close up just like old times.

Hotchner and Rossi had given in after two drinks each, apparently old and wise enough to know just how much alcohol was in an Old Fashioned and a Negroni each.

“Oh how the mighty have fallen,” Emily had mocked them on the way out, but two drinks later and she was asleep in the back of a cab having been carried out by both JJ and Morgan.

You'd used the good gin in her Aviation cocktail, and it was only a matter of time before she ended up peacefully sleeping the week away.

The only member of the team left standing was, surprisingly again, Spencer.

You'd gone simple with his Espresso Martini, though you'd made a big show and dance about adding twice as much brown sugar syrup than the recipe required.

“A sweet cocktail for the man who drinks the sweetest coffee known to man.” He'd brushed his hand across your fingers every time you'd passed him a refill, and you'd felt the familiar jolts of anticipation pass through you with each shared glance.

Your old boss had even noticed that you were ‘sweet on that little coworker of yours,’ and you'd had to do your best to stop yourself from openly flirting with him whilst he was sat there at the bar.

You'd done it for tips every single shift, not caring about the consequences, buy with Spencer, you so desperately wanted there to be consequences that you never so much as tried.

“We should pack up and head home, Spence.” You said, cleaning up the final glass of Mai Tai Derek had left behind, but when you turned around to see him, he was gone.

More accurately, he'd moved to your side of the bar and was sliding his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you in.

You gasped his name like a prayer, not expecting his cold fingers to curl under your shirt as he buried his head in your shoulder.

“Spencer! What's… what are…”

“Let me hold you.” He didn't say much more than that, but he didn't need to say more. You'd already.relaxed into his touch, eyes shutting so you could focus on the feel of his skin against yours.

“You're good at this,” he mumbled, words slightly slurred. “Everyone was watching you, they all wanted you to pour their drinks.”

You listened to each word of his voice fighting off confusion. Who was everybody? There hadn't been another customer in the bar since you'd made the arrest.

“The old men in the corner, they looked down your top when you picked something up for them. I heard them talking about it, how they thought about stuffing a couple of one's right here,” his hand trailed up to your breasts and you gasped, “like you were some stripper.”

His hands were slowly caressing you as he stood, chest pressed against your back, and you felt desire flood between your legs.

“Spencer, you're drunk, we should get you back to the motel.”

“My blood alcohol level should be around 0.11, so yes, legally I am drunk. If you want me back at the motel, be my guest, but I don't think I can keep my hands off of you tonight, Y/N.”

His words were blunt, delivered the same way he usually talked about case details, or books he'd read. There was nothing in it to indicate he'd meant to turn your world upside down just like that.

His hand had moved under your bra now, and you snapped back to reality, grabbing his hand and halting his movements momentarily as you craned your neck to look at him.

“Spencer, you're not in your right mind, you're going to regret this-” you didn't get to finish the sentence as he cut you off, pushing his lips into yours softly. With each second, his passion grew, until the two of you were caught in a battle of tongues, saliva dripping down your chin as you cared about nothing else but the pleasure you found in each other's mouths.

“The only thing,” he whispered between kisses. “That I'm going to regret, is if I let you walk me out of that door without showing you how much I want to possess every inch of you.”

His words were insistent but there was a question hidden in his movements. He'd withdrawn slightly, giving you enough space to turn him down should you want to.

You didn't.

Instead, you let a hand run up the back of his neck to his hair until you were pulling him down into you, stepping back into the warmth of his broad chest as you opened up to him.

Your other hand relinquished his, letting him explore your chest further and doing much of the same as you tried your very best to twist in your spot to get a better hold of him.

He was holding firm though, despite everything he'd drank, and had pushed you once again against the counter, hand moving between exploring your ass cheeks, and placing your hand firmly underneath you on the table so you could stabilise your position.

He worked his lips down your neck, prying your other hand out of his hair and placing it parallel to the first, before pulling your hips back slightly and encouraging you to arch your back.

You only realised you'd assumed a position for spanking when the first blow landed on your ass.

It was soft, all things considered, and he was still busy bruising your neck that you almost thought you'd imagined it.

The next one was harder though. It was real.

“Spencer!” You gasped as he stroked a hand over your asscheeks.

“Shhhhhhhh s'okay. You have a beautiful ass, I'm just making it prettier.”

His hands fumbled over your pants zipper, and then pulled them down to your knees as he continued stroking your ass and licking your neck.

The material limited your movements, trapping your knees together as he delivered one more blow. The skin to skin contact was too much and you let out a sinful moan, surprised at how loud you were suddenly managing to be.

You'd never been spanked before, never even thought about it, but something about Spencer's hands on you, the lingering scent of alcohol in the air had every hair on your body standing in excitement.

You heard Spencer unzip his own pants and were a little regretful that you didn't get the honour. You wanted to see him hold him in your hand, take him into your mouth and play with him until you knew just how he worked. But your back was still to him, and he wasn't giving you the space you needed to turn around and catch a glimpse.

“Every man in this bar tonight wanted to be where I am right now,” he whispered into your hair as he kissed the crown of your head, and then pushed your panties aside and ran himself along the lips of your cunt.

It was a night of sounds - the zippers, his whispers, your moans - bit you still weren't expecting to be able to hear your arousal.

It was erotic, near pornographic how wet his spanking had made you, and he let out small groans of appreciation as he gathered your juices on his cock.

He didn't try to breech you just yet, but rocked his cock between your thighs and cunt, teasing you just enough to keep you hooked, but nowhere near where you needed him to get you.

“Every man who was in here wanted you, and I got you. Right?” He asked again, practically rutting against your cunt.

“Y-Yes, Spencer.”

“Yes, sir.” He corrected, and you gasped as his hand struck your ass again, dangerously close to where his hips joined yours.

“Yes, sir.”

“Be a good girl for me, baby. I want to take care of you.”

With those words, he lined the tip of his cock up with your entrance and slipped in.

With your knees still locked in place by your pants, it was really up to Spencer to control the pace. You didn't spare a second for the thought that had you been completely naked with a better range of motion that he still wouldn't relinquish this quiet control of you.

With one hand on your hip, and the other curled around to reach your clit as you arched your back against him, it wasn't long before he was setting a vigorous pace.

It wasn't that he was thrusting particularly fast, or that he was doing it ridiculously hard, like some men who knew no better tried. It was the combination of how far he was able to reach with his careful concentration on your pleasure.

You felt him speed up once before quickly drawing himself back to the even tempo, doing his best to not get lost in you.

His fingers traced your cunt in a slow figure eight as first, before experimenting with different movements, shapes, words until he'd been rewarded by your cunt clenching around his cock as you came all over it.

You gasped in shock, and flushed, so shocked it took only that long.

Instead of congratulating himself on getting you off though, he used your orgasm to inform himself of what you liked, what you so desperately needed from his fingers and his cock.

And most importantly, he didn't stop.

Even as your body twitched and spasmed around his cock, he kept up his wrist movements, keeping your body warmed up as he finally took his turn.

“Tell me how much you want this,” he whispered into your ear.

“I want this so badly, Sir, I need your cock pumping in and- ahhh out of me.”

“Tell me how nice my cock feels,” he again ordered and you willingly obeyed.

“Your cock is perfect, it's so big and warm, like it was made just for me.”

“Good girl, now tell me how much you want me to shoot my cum inside of you.”

Your mouth went dry as you choked out a moan, his pace getting rougher and rougher with each thrust. You hadn't heard him correctly, surely, your brain was imagining things.

But he prompted you with a slight tap to your face, a slap that wouldn't leave any mark.

“You don't want my cum all over this bar, do you? It would be a shame for your ex boss to fail his hygiene inspection.”

“Cum in me! God, please cum in me.”

He gripped you tight around your waist as he finally pushed himself over the edge, filling you with his seed and keeping you pinned in his arms until he was sure that none of it would escape.

“I'm glad you agreed, because I wasn't asking,” he said, chest still slightly heaving as he rode out his orgasm, lower body twitching in its sensitivity.

When he finally did pull out, he'd spent so long inside you, cockwarming, that not much of his cum slipped out. He cleaned you up with a clean dishcloth you pointed to on the counter, and pulled your pants back up, quickly manoeuvring his up too.

After a brief moment of silence, you finally turned to look at him, melting into his arms again as you took in his fucked out expression.

He stroked your head quietly for a few minutes, before pulling back from your hug.

“This bar doesn't have CCTV, does it?”