#spencer reid x original character

[esote-rika]

Once Upon a Dream | Spencer Reid

v. you who put roots in my dreamland | prev chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

The cafe was closed. Weighed down by her suitcase and the single minded desire to find her sister, Jet felt frustration settling deep in her chest. She tried not to panic, she really did, but when no one was answering her calls, and the unmistakable Sorry, we’re closed sign was the only thing to greet her arrival back home, it was difficult to maintain her wits.

Where are you? I just got back. She sent two texts to Leni and Melissa for the fourth time, trying to keep her fingers from shaking. There’s no scent of honey now, but she wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. Did this mean Leni was safe? 

Jet hoped, with all the magic she could muster, that this was the case. She didn’t care about anything else, just that Leni was safe and healthy. Once that was confirmed, then she would worry about how to help them fix this mess.

“Bridget?” 

Jet whipped her head to the source of the sound so fast she heard her neck crack. She winced, and she’s unsure if it’s because of the crack, or because Ashley Rockwell’s face came into view, smiling in such a condescending way that Jet could feel hives go up and down her arms.

“Ashley,” Jet forced a smile, “Hi.”

“Oh, wow, it really is you! Long time no see,” the brunette stepped closer, an arm raising as if to reach for Jet, before the weight of their past seemed to drag it back down, reminding her she’s not allowed to do that anymore. It dropped back to her side awkwardly. 

The silence stretched on. 

Jet let it.

“You look good,” Ashley tried again.

Unshowered and disheveled from almost seven hours of traveling without her own car, Jet knew she was far from looking good. She snorted, “You’re still a bad liar, Ash.” It seemed like some things never changed, not in this town.

“Yes, well…” Ashley trailed off, glancing at the cafe. She perked up, finding another thing to latch onto, “You’ve heard the news, huh? Is that why you’re here?”

Jet wasn’t in the mood to discuss the news with people, especially not with Ashley Rockwell who looked a little too pleased about Blue Moon Cafe being closed. She didn’t owe anyone an explanation. Still, this might be her one chance to actually learn something, and maybe find out where Leni and Melissa went. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re thriving because of all this scandal.” Jet replied, turning pointedly at the newer building right across the street, where Ashley’s own cafe stood, proud and shiny. “People dying from your business rival’s coffee.”

Jet knew that was morbid and, judging by the disturbed expression that settled upon Ashley’s face, perhaps even below the belt. 

“That’s inappropriate,” Ashley said, crossing her arms, “You shouldn’t speak that way when people— well, you know.” 

Defensive, Jet thought, but warranted. Her statement was quite aggressive, Jet can admit to that.

“I’m sorry,” Jet backtracked, “I’m just frustrated; I haven’t really slept, and neither Leni nor Melissa are replying to my messages, and then I find their cafe closed for the day.” 

There’s also the fact that I’ve been dreaming of this man, who may or may not be my hallucination, but that’s beside the point. Jet knew she already had a reputation for being abrasive and solitary in her hometown, she didn’t need weird to be added to that unflattering list.

Ashley frowned, and Jet could feel the appraising look burning against her skin. Finally, Ashley sighed.

“Last I heard, they were asked to come into the police station.”

Jet almost wished the woman hadn’t spoken. Almost.

“The police station?” Jet repeated, her mind whirring with possibilities. It should be all right, this is just part of the procedure. Both Mel and Leni were persons of interest, after all. She went through everything she knew about the murders, enumerating the facts in her head in an attempt to calm herself. 

There had been three deaths, from what Jet had read from the news articles she had found. All of them with a different cause—one had been strangled, two with their throats slit. The bodies had been found in their houses, and Jet had recognized one of them. A man, a couple of years older than her—they had gone to the same high school, and he had been on the football team.

There had been a couple of weeks in between each death, which, paired with the different causes of death, made the police conclude that they needed outside help. There was no discernable pattern to the deaths, but the one thing that the victims had in common was the fact that they were all regulars to Blue Moon Cafe.

The cafe Leni worked at, the cafe she wanted to co-own.

The cafe which was currently closed, because, apparently, both Leni and Melissa were at the station, being questioned.

It’s just part of the procedure, she repeated over and over. They’re persons of interest, of course they’re being questioned. Still, she couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease that kept squeezing at her chest, cutting off her airflow. 

“Yeah, a bunch of guys flew in this morning. Apparently, the FBI’s getting involved.” Ashley replied.

She wasn’t sure if she heard that right. The FBI?

Jet closed her eyes, trying to take deeper breaths. She bit her lip as the scent of honey invaded her nose again, saccharine and unpleasant. Why on earth was the FBI involved? What was happening? And why did the cafe have to be in the middle of it?

She must have turned pale, because she could feel Ashley’s hand closing around her arm.

“Hey, Bridget, easy.” 

“I’m fine,” Jet stepped away, gently shrugging off the other woman’s hand, “I’m fine, I just—I need to get to the station.” 

“You should probably sit—”

“I’m fine,” Jet cut off, holding up her hand, “I promise. Thank you for letting me know where they are.”

And then she’s speed walking to the police station, hauling her heavy suitcase with her. She’s grateful for all of her time in New York, walking through the streets and weaving in and out of crowds, because it allowed her to retreat into her body and refocus her energy. Jet just had to get to the station, and find Leni. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

Spencer Reid rubbed at his eyes until black spots danced across his vision. This new case was difficult—not particularly gruesome, but it was one of those cases that seemed so random. He blinked until the spots cleared up, and stared at the board before him, trying to decipher the geographic profile.

Victimology had been all over the place. Two men in their 30s, and one woman in her late 20s, all of varying ethnicities and backgrounds. He hoped that the map, something visual and solid, could help reveal something about this unsub. He looked at the victims’ houses, all spread out across the small town, measuring and calculating distances between each house and the Blue Moon Cafe, which was located right in the heart of downtown. 

He came up empty. He sighed as his hand came up to his eyes again, rubbing them in an attempt to ground himself. 

It didn’t help that his mind was preoccupied. 

With memories of her. Sharp and vivid, she had appeared in his dreams when he had fallen asleep on the jet ride here. It had been so surprising that he’d woken with a start, earning surprised looks from Luke and JJ, to which he had responded with a sheepish smile.

She was beautiful, he knew that. Not that he was vain. Not that he privileged appearances over values and personality, but oh she was so beautiful. He woke up, and wondered why she suddenly became so clear.

He wanted to know her name, wanted to find her. It was like an itch that refused to leave, until he scratched his skin raw. 

He needed to find her.

But no, he had a job to do and he had to focus. 

“Tara and Rossi are coming back from the coroner’s office,” Emily’s voice drifted through the space, cutting through his thoughts, “The lacerations were uneven and jagged. The unsub is inexperienced, as we initially suggested.”

Spencer inclined his head to show he was listening.

“JJ and Luke are just about done with the cafe owners’ interviews.” Emily continued, “They both seem to be planning to go on a vacation to Paris because they actually did kill their customers and this is all one elaborate ruse.”

At that, Spencer looked up. He was met with Emily’s sharp gaze, eyebrows raised in concern.

“Ah, good, so you are listening.” she deadpanned.

“Of course I was.”

“Reid.”

“The geographic profile is done, but it’s not really telling us anything helpful at the moment.”

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” Emily’s voice had taken that softer, almost pleading tone that immediately made him pause.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Even he was unconvinced by his own words.

Emily pressed her lips in a tight line, and Spencer fought the urge to wince. He knew she could see right through him.

“You know you can take a break, right?” Emily started, her voice gentle and barely audible, “That injury was no joke.”

He almost sighed with relief. She didn’t suspect anything, although her line of thought was alarmingly close. The dreams did seem to be an effect of that bomb going off, the sustained trauma manifesting into something quite surreal and unexplainable. 

But he also wasn’t sure if he wanted to take a break; a break meant more time to think about her. More time to try and find the mysterious woman from his dreams, the woman he thought existed in real life based on what—a feeling?

No, he didn’t want the break. 

Emily must have taken his silence as confirmation, because she walked closer to him. “Spencer,”

Oh no, not that.

“I’m all right, Em. Really. You don’t—”

The words died on his lips as Luke stepped into the conference room, running his hands through his hair.

“Melissa Santos has a solid alibis,” he said, nodding at both Emily and Spencer, “She even closed the coffee shop today out of respect for the victims.”

Spencer nodded in return, grateful for the distraction. He ignored the suspicious look that Emily gave him, before she turned to Luke.

“And Lenore Clarke?” Emily prompted.

“JJ’s still working on her,” Luke said, walking to the glass windows. He hooks two fingers through the blinds that keep them secluded from the rest of the police station and tugs them down, “Apparently, her sister just came in.”

Emily followed him, looking through the window, “Her sister? The one Garcia said was in New York?”

“Yeah. Came all the way from the city just now, according to some of the officers.”

Spencer wandered over to them, hands fiddling with a pen, “How’s any of that relevant?”

Luke paused, stepping away from the window. “Not necessarily relevant, but apparently, they have some sort of reputation around here. The older one, more than Lenore.” 

“Well, it’s a pretty small town. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.” Emily shrugged, still peeking through the window, “Is that the sister?”

At that, Spencer’s curiosity became too much to ignore. He leaned down, peering over Emily’s shoulder. From here, he could see Lenore Clarke following JJ and one of the officers across the station. He followed the way Emily was angled, turning his head to the left to catch a glimpse of the sister in question, just as Luke spoke the confirmation.

“Yeah, the blonde one. Her name’s Bridget.”

Bridget. 

Spencer swore his heart stopped beating.

Everything felt cold. The world was a hazy blur, as his vision zeroed in on the woman decked in a pastel pink sweater. Just like she said in his dreams. Luke and Emily’s conversation became a muffled sort of noise in the background as memories of her voice took over his brain. 

Her.

Right there, with her honey colored hair held back by a dainty pink bow at the nape of her neck, running to meet Lenore Clarke halfway. He knew it. He knew she was real. Even though every ounce of logic in his body told him he was being delusional, some deep, primal, inexplicable part of him just knew. 

The woman from his dreams. She was right there.

And now he had a name to put to her face. Bridget. 

Bridget Clarke.

Double update for u @prettylittlewrites muah. One more chapter and then Act One is complete!!! comment if you'd like to be part of the taglist for this fic, and I hope u enjoyed!!!

[heartofmortis]

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. *. ⋆ hope ! 🪐 she/her. 20. english. bi ace.

fandoms i write for: star wars, asoiaf, criminal minds, 9-1-1. some of my fics contain mature content and are 16+, some fics will contain more explicit content and will be marked as 18+. send me an ask or rq & i'll try my best!

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EVENSTAR (anakin skywalker x oc), 18 chapters posted. on AO3 & WP.

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THE NIGHT WE MET (anakin skywalker x reader), one shot

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WAITING ROOM (emily prentiss x oc), draft

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WHERE TO FIND ME !

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[oceanmusings]

Treacherous

Pairing | Spencer Reid x Arwen Valentine

CW | Fluffy, tooth-rotting fluff, love confession, getting back together, death

Word Count | 1.6K

Arwen thought she would die alone. That was until she met Spencer. And now all she wants to do is tell him she loves him. But she's scared.

Early in Arwen’s life she accepted the fact she’ll forever be alone. With the trail of unsuccessful relationships following her, her parents' terrible marriage she grew up watching, and the chance of divorce being too high for her comfort. There was no way she’d have someone on her side her whole life that only a romantic partner could fill. Arwen has come to accept that and find comfort in the thought, like a pressure had lifted from her shoulders.

She had her brother, her niece and nephew, even some of the team members she considers as family. She was set and satisfied.

But Arwen has felt like she could never find that love for herself. Her heart was guarding itself so heavily from the possibility of heartbreak. Opening itself to be able to feel those things was a paralyzing thought.

Arwen broke the last heart that attempted at breaking through those walls. Despite how much she cared for Spencer and knew how he threw himself head first into anything back then, she took his heart and crushed it. It felt terrible. And she didn’t want to go through that again. Not to mention, it took so long for her to gain his trust and friendship again. She was afraid to lose it. But here she is. On the other side now, her heart longing for his own. And she’s pretty sure he wasn’t.

It was terrifying when Arwen realized she loved Spencer. Her heart ached so painfully from fear, it felt suffocating. Part of her wanted to back out of ever telling him and sit with these feelings for the rest of her life. Save herself from a potential heartbreak.

Penelope had a good point that the heartache from living with this would hurt more than a rejection. And had other pointers that Arwen struggled to believe in her fully about. “He’s been in love with you since the moment he laid eyes on you. I doubt he’ll reject you.”

Arwen was twisting a candy wrapper in her hands as she sat with Penelope in her bat cave. The room was comforting, but the conversation was not. “I highly doubt that.”

“Oh my God, he definitely has! You should’ve seen the way he has looked at you.”

“But would he really take another chance with me? After everything that happened.”

“Of course I do,” Penelope says, a more serious look on her face. “but the longer you wait, you will lose that chance, honey.”

Arwen thought she needed to make this a large grand gesture to Spencer. She hasn’t done this before - other than when she was a teenager and when she was in college. - She wanted to make the moment perfect for him.

But Spencer didn’t like attention and was a private person. This had to be quiet and intimate. And the longer she tried to think how to do this, the more time went by and she knew the chance of telling him was going to slip through her fingers. And it didn’t help anytime Penelope, or anyone else who knew, would send her a look.

She got it, she’s running out of time.

Anytime Arwen thought she might be able to do it, her whole body would freeze up and all words would disappear from her mind. Then she would beat herself up and scream into her pillow at home at the fact she didn’t say anything.

She needed to get over whatever was stopping her. Become determined that whatever was stopping her would not get in the way the next time she saw an opportunity.

That opportunity would show when it was pouring outside. Arwen knew Spencer took public transport, and she took this moment before he would leave to offer him a ride. “Yeah, thanks.” He had said, giving her that awkward smile Arwen loved, but she was making a plan in her head.

She walked with him towards her car in the garage, the only sound between them being the sound of their shoes meeting the pavement. Like all the other attempts before, Arwen's mind had become blank. No words were in her reach for her to grasp.

She didn’t realize she had stopped walking until she heard her name and she looked up to see Spencer a few steps in front of her, turned towards her with a confused expression. “Are you okay?” He asked her.

“Yeah,” Arwen rasped quietly. Nervousness was buzzing in Arwen’s veins as he waited for her to speak, but the words were dying in her throat. At this point it was painful. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” She had taken a much needed breath and began to twist the ring on her finger, not feeling prepared at all for the consequences that are in front of her.

“I thought I was going to die alone.” Spencer’s eyes widened at her choice of words, but she continued. Just going off any words that she could graze her fingertips with. “I was okay with this. In fact, I was comforted by this thought. Maybe ‘cause of how I grew up and saw just… terrible relationships around me. I told myself I wouldn’t be like that. I wouldn’t allow myself to have that. But then I got this job and joined this team, and you came into my life. Became this wonderful friend that I should’ve cherished more when I broke my rule on not dating coworkers - I’ll forever beat myself up for what I did to you. - but that’s beside the point!” Arwen tried to refocus what she was saying, thankful he wasn’t stopping her or walking away. Letting her ramble as much as she needed to say what she needed.

“I felt like I could only love myself and that would be enough. I thought it was safer to not connect to another person like that ever in my life. But I was so wrong. We have no control who our hearts feel drawn to and we deserve to feel that love in our lives. And that was so scary at the time I didn’t want to face it. But I’ve come to realize I do want it. I don’t want to die alone, I want to be with you.”

Arwen felt like she had run a mile when she finished. She tried to watch Spencer for any reaction to her confession, but all she could find was various emotions mixing together, - nervousness, anxiety, and confusion.

“I’m sorry- are you dying?”

“No, no.” Yeah, she wasn’t being direct enough. “I’m not.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

Arwen swears her heart wanted to burst out of her chest and wrap itself around his own. It was pounding against her ribcage so violently she actually worried it might happen. “Spencer Reid, what I’m trying to say is… I-... love you.”

For once in Arwen Valentine’s life, Spencer Reid had become speechless. She was pretty sure he was rebooting from the look of disbelief on his face. Slowly fear started to creep up the back of her neck, the silence from him was unbearable. “Spencer?” He gave a hum in reply. 

Okay, he can still hear me. Arwen thought. “Can you… please say something?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“You… love me.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Some part of Arwen was offended he needed to ask. But when she thought about it, it made sense he needed assurance this was real. He was afraid. Whatever fear Arwen was feeling, Spencer was feeling his own. Especially after what happened to Maeve. He needed confirmation.

Arwen stopped twisting her ring and dropped her hands, stepping closer to him. She moved her hand close to his, but waited for him to show permission first. She didn’t wait for long as he made the final move of holding her hand. “Can I show you?”

He seemed to be trying to calculate what she was thinking before he gave a nod and a small verbal “yes” of consent. Arwen stood on her toes just so she could reach and pressed her lips against his. She waited for a heartbeat for him to pull away, but her heart bloomed excitedly when he kissed her back. Squeezing her hand, she returned the action.

Kissing Spencer felt like she was coming home. A wave of comfort and warmth enveloping around her, she felt light on her feet and weak to her knees. She felt his free hand hold her waist and pull her body closer to his own, she was pretty sure he was the one keeping her upright. her heart pressed against his, she wondered if he could feel it. It was so excited and happy she could feel the walls beginning to crack around it. It wasn’t gone all the way. But this time Arwen would work with Spencer on cracking the rest of it away.

Arwen was disappointed she needed to pull away, but if her lungs didn’t exist she would kiss him forever. She rest her forehead against his, keeping her eyes closed and focused on the feeling of his breath fanning across her face. It smelled like sugary coffee and mint.

She opened her eyes to see his own staring into her soul. It was so intense it sent a shiver down her spine.

“I love you, too.”

Arwen closed her eyes for a moment to bask in the moment at getting to hear those words. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” She murmured.

Spencer let go of her hand and waist to raise both of his hands to caress her cheeks, brushing his thumbs lovingly against her skin. “It’s okay,” he pressed another kiss on her lips. Her skin buzzed at it. She almost felt high. “I’m happy you could say it now.”

[deunmiu-dessie]

he misses you. he misses you like a flower misses the sun. like the desert misses the rain. like you are the entirety of his being. as if you hold the key to his fierce, thumping bloody heart within the palm of your hands, like he is nothing without you— and perhaps he isn't. he doesn't feel like himself, no, in fact, he feels empty. like a shell of the man he used to be before you. he feels as though the world has lost its color, its meaning, and it makes him feel bare— it makes him feel.

he misses you. he misses the warmth of your perfume, a sweet and spicy blended aroma of saffron and sugared lavender. he misses your smile, all wide and pretty— genuine and charming, and always all for him. he misses the sound of your laughter, raw and boisterous, but sometimes soft and breathy, intimate. he misses your kisses, shy and cloying— yet fierce and angry at times as well. he misses the small things, like the scatter of moles across the expanse of your body that he finds himself counting when he can't fall asleep. or the way you fuss over him, mumbling curses and your love for him all in the same sentence.

he is nothing without you, and he knows it all too well.

the soft jangle of your keys in the lock makes him look up from his journal, the door swinging open. and despite himself, he finds that he's softened underneath your warm, loving gaze. ah, he also misses the sound of your voice, euphonious and soft, a tone you use for him specifically.

❝why are you looking at me like that?❞

he can feel his heart dance within his chest, pounding fiercely as you slant your hip to the side, the very same hips he adores holding onto when swaying with you to music. your eyes, which always seem to sweep him under with their intensity with no fail, are glittering with mirth, it knocks the breath from his chest. ❝ i adore you,❞ he utters— he sounds like a fool in love, and he doesn't particularly mind it. your cheeks flush with color and you playfully roll your eyes. that's alright, you don't need to say it back, he knows.

❝help me with the groceries?❞

he? ⸺ SIMON, gojo satoru, DAMON SALVATORE, soap, older!TANJIRO, scott mccall, GAZ, clark kent, EMMETT CULLEN, leon kennedy, STEVE HARRINGTON, giyu tomioka, JOHN PRICE, loran, ULYSSES, rick grimes, KÖNIG, dick grayson, SPENCER REID.

honestly it can be anyone you envision.

[courtneyraeblogs1221]

Criminal Minds Recommendations

Main master list

* = Smut

Spencer Reid

Who Needs Time Management When I Have You?

The Waters Fine

Birthday Girl*

Obsessed

Okay?*

Crashing

Need You*

Library

Cuddles

The Final Draft*

Oblivious

Making A Move

Slow Hands*

Slip Up

You Again*

Sweater

Distraction*

Music Moods

And They Were Roommates

Home For Christmas*

Only Hands*

Sweet Talk

After Hours*

I Love You More*

Faint

Car Clean Up*

Happy Valentines Day, My Love

Teach Me?*

Not So Happy Hotch*

Boudoir

Fixation*

Hits Different Cause It’s You

His Picture In A Golden Locket

Lit By Love*

Hard On Top*

Here’s The Way I Feel

Friction*

Married

Cold Coffee*

Heatwave*

Coffee At Midnight

Stress Relief*

Page Turner*

Apple Slices

No Fun*

Christmas Feelings* (Part 2)

Attention

You Think I’m Delicious?

Hands On Learner*

Rough

If You Love Her

No It’s Not*

Cracked

Study Break*

Just 10 Minutes

Warmth*

Safe

Just Friends*

Good Little Helper*

Rumoured Nights*

In The Pouring Rain*

Everyone Looks Better In A Sun Dress* (Pt. 2*)

Nude Beach*

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (3)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation. She also never thought she’d encounter her one-night-stand again—the awkward stranger who isn’t exactly that good in bed… Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong. But the more he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, the more he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: she gets involved in a murder case she least expected as a familiar face greets her. wc: 3,7k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, blood, graphic details of murder

A/n: this part is kind of slow but it’s very important for the plot

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

Y/N WAS GOING TO QUIT. She was sure of it. Her mind was constantly trying to plan how she would execute the idea without making a scene because she considered slamming her resignation letter on Jamison's desk, dramatically claiming him as a disgusting, chauvinistic bitter old man who only got laid because his wife took pity on him.

She was walking back to her desk after bearing another one of his, "I don't think you can do the job, L/n. Let the men go out to the field and cover the story."

She was also a journalist, for god's sake. And a good one at that. What made that old man think she wasn't as capable as any other male peers around her? Was she too much of a woman to go out on the field and cover stories that were judged as too dangerous for her?

She let out a scoff. The Jamison Lynch worried about her safety? That sounded even more absurd.

"He did it again, didn't he?" Y/n found Sandy, the closest friend she had in this male-dominated agency, peering over her cubicle. She was from the finance department and would often come to entertain her whenever she needed an ear to cry out her frustration. "What is it this time?"

She cleared her throat and made an attempt of lowering her voice into a deeper pitch. "L/n, I don't think you understand how dangerous it is for you to be out there. Let the men do the job."

Sandy laughed. "That's actually a good impression. What work was he talking about?"

"Kevin Marshall's case." Y/n sat back in her chair and frowned. "The ironic thing is, I was the one who found out about this case. I told him about doing a story of it before he snitched this opportunity and gave it to Eric."

"So Eric's covering the story now?"

"Yeah." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "They're still talking about it in his office."

Sandy blew a low whistle. "That sucks."

She felt beyond frustrated. It seemed so unfair how she always got the bad end of the stick just because she wasn't born with a penis. She told Sandy exactly that which she cackled in return.

"On a serious note," Sandy muttered after her fits of laughter died down and leaned closer. "What happened to Mr. Marshall was terrible."

"You didn't hear this from me, but the police found him stabbed to death and..." she looked around their surroundings, motioning her friend to inch closer. "...there was some writing carved on his body."

Sandy's eyes went wide. "No way."

She nodded. "A friend of a friend of a friend of mine heard it from the forensic team."

"What were the words?"

"Well, if I were to be the one assigned to this case, we would've found out." She shook her head and let out another frustrated cry. "I'm going to quit this job."

"You said that last month," Sandy reminded her. "And the month before that, also, the month before that. Oh, did I mention you also said that several months ago—"

She held out her hand. "Alright, I got it." She glanced over the closed door at the end of the hallway, her mind drifting towards the two men discussing her supposedly case behind it. "I really mean it this time."

"Sure," Sandy absentmindedly agreed. "Wait, didn't you know Mr. Marshall?"

"Not really. I only met him once for work." She winced as her thought traveled to the time she encountered the man who was brutally murdered two days ago. "Let's just say he wasn’t exactly the greatest person to interview."

"No kidding."

She dismissed the topic by waving her hand. "It happened a long time ago, let's not bring that up. I'd feel terrible bad-mouthing him after what happened." She then let out a sigh. "It would be quite a story to cover though."

"Yeah, well, screw Jamison for taking it away for you." Sandy's eyes suddenly gleamed as they narrowed towards the automatic door at the corner of the room. "At least your boyfriend is here."

Y/n spotted the young man walking their way and laughed. "He's not my boyfriend."

"I don't think he got the memo," Sandy whispered before straightening herself, giving the man a huge grin as he stopped at her desk. "Hey, Oliver."

"Hi, Sandy." He greeted slowly. "How are you?"

"Better now that I've seen your pretty face."

Oliver Walsh was indeed an absolutely stunning man. He was tall and lean with broad shoulders and a very defined face. He was a little mysterious and reserved, but underneath that veneer was someone who was kind and caring.

He might not be the most outgoing person, but he had a genuine sweetness that made him attractive and likable. He also happened to have the hugest crush on Y/n the moment he first stepped foot inside this building.

Oliver gave Sandy a smile. "You look beautiful yourself."

Sandy rolled her eyes playfully. "We know I'm not the one you should be sweeping off her feet." She then gave Y/n a pointed look. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"What? You're going home already?"

"Got a hot date tonight!" Sandy overly shared before sauntering out of their sight. Y/n shook her head at her friend's antics before glancing up to see Oliver staring at her with the same look he had been giving her ever since the moment he had introduced himself.

His clear affection didn't go unnoticed. It somehow managed to be a public assumption that he was head over heels for her, something that was often discussed between their peers. As much as she wanted to reciprocate his feelings because she understood how difficult it was to be on the other side of unrequited love, she merely saw him as a guy she often worked with.

"Can I help you, Oliver?" She asked, already weary of the grin plastered on his face.

"No, I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Her face fell at his words. "How I'm doing?"

"I heard Jamison snatched a very important job from you."

"Wow," she gasped, not understanding how he knew this information already. But then again, people had the tendency to share things they overheard. "News really does travel fast around here."

"There's no such thing as secrets in this place. But seriously, how are you holding up?"

She simply shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Angry? Frustrated? Like I want to strangle Jamison myself?"

"Y/n, there's no such thing as a bad bone in your body."

"What? You don't think I'm capable of hurting him?"

"Nope. You're the sweetest person I know."

She snorted. "That's because you keep seeing me through rose-tinted glass."

"Maybe." Oliver crossed his arms and leaned his hips over her desk. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She shook her head. He raised his brows. "Really? You can't think of anything?" She shook her head again. "Perhaps something to appease your frustration? Chocolate? You do love chocolate."

"I do, but I don't think anything sweet can even calm me down."

"Then how about a drink? Coffee? Beer? You and me? Together? Tonight?"

She let out a disbelief laugh as she stood up, making an attempt to gather her things. "Don't be so sly, Oliver."

He merely gave her a bashful smile. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

"It's never going to work between us." She paused dramatically. "Do you want to know why?"

He slowly nodded, eying her with earnest interest.

"Because you see, Oliver," she drawled as she closed the distance between them. She peered up at him through her lashes and threw him a grin. "I never mix business with pleasure."

She gave him a playful wink before turning around, leaving him dumbfounded and speechless as he stood there where she had left him. He let out an amused laugh before calling out, "I'm going to make you change your mind!”

She lifted her hand and waved at him without looking back. "Goodnight, Walsh."

His laughter was the last thing she heard before she turned around the corner, heading towards the parking area.

Turning him down was the right thing to do. She was not in the right place to be emotionally involved with other people right now. After going through so many heartbreaks and disappointments in the past, she couldn't take any more of the dating scene. It was just a bunch of awkward interactions and unmet expectations while feeling worn down by the whole process. She couldn't even remember the last time she was involved with a man.

A sudden mock laughter rang at the back of her head. You were involved with a complete stranger two nights ago!

Romantically, she corrected. She couldn't remember the last time she was involved with a man romantically.

Oh, great. Now she was fighting with herself upon what had happened that night. That... overwhelming and embarrassing night which she did not want to speak of. Overwhelming because of how much she wanted to see him again, embarrassing because she knew he did not feel the same.

She groaned as her mind somehow drifted to memory, her mind reminiscing that intoxicating feeling of his tongue inside her mouth for the first time. Or that moment before he settled above her, sinking between her legs as the tip of his hard, throbbing length squeezed into her warm entrance—

No! Don't even go there!

She stopped her pace and stood by the entryway of the parking lot, trying to calm her erratic heartbeat. She needed a moment to breathe. Between her frustration toward her boss, the constant interest from her fellow colleague, and the rush of sexual heat at that core memory, her head was starting to spin.

It wasn't until a sudden weight shoved her from the back that she woke from her trance. She jolted forward from the impact before her bag fell onto the ground, the remnants of her things spilling out, and scattered along her feet. "What the hell?"

She looked up to see the back side of a man moving forward in a hurry, not even sparing her a glance.

"Hey!" She shouted, clearly annoyed by the fact an unidentified man wearing a dark hoodie covering his face didn't have the decency to apologize. When he turned around the corner and escaped her line of vision, she realized she wasn't going to get the apology she desired.

She picked up her belongings while muttering curses under her breath. Her phone which lay a few inches away from her feet suddenly vibrated, the loud sound of an incoming call echoing throughout the open space of the lot. She peered over towards the screen and groaned.

She shoved the phone inside her bag and went on her way as she spotted her car. "Now's not the time, Jamison," she mumbled to herself, already irritated by how the night had turned out.

Her phone went silent again. It wasn't until she was a few feet away from her car that it began its chime a second time. The sound felt heavy in her ears and she finally got to her car, leaned against it, and reluctantly dug into her bag to retrieve the device.

She clutched onto it with disdain because Jamison was known to be persistent while also being inconsiderate and thoughtless. If she ignored him he would find another way to get under her skin. She slumped against the cool material of her car and slowly took a deep, aggravating breath before receiving the call. "Yes, Jamison—"

There was heavy breathing at the end of the line. A static sound greeted her before a loud crash echoed in the background. She looked over her phone screen before pressing it back against her ear. "Jamison?"

"...help..."

His croaked voice shot shivers down her spine. She straightened herself as panic washed over her body. Her boss was known for being very loud as he loved being the center of attention. But his voice sounded so quiet now. It didn't have that hint of self-centered confidence he liked to portray. It even sounded as if he were... in pain?

"Jamison?" She gulped and without thinking of her actions, her feet somehow moved on their own, navigating her back to where she had left. "Jamison, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Can you hear me?"

"...Y/n..." Crash. Cough. Gasp. "...help—"

The line went dead.

Y/n wasn't exactly a fit person. Her only form of physical activity would be the number of stairs she climbed up and down in her apartment building. But her feet were moving very fast on its own right now. She didn't care how running in a pair of flats wasn't the best idea, the mortification of something awful happening to someone asking for her assistance was gnawing into her consciousness.

The moment she was on her office floor, she took notice of how nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. The place was exactly how she had left minus all the people hanging by their respective desks. Because it was very, very quiet and the silence felt oddly eerie to her. Half of the lights were off and her steps halted for a moment as she entered her cubicle space, suddenly self-aware of the possibility of how something dangerous might occur.

Then she heard a scream. A deep, dreadful scream followed by a train of curses came from what she assumed was Jamison's office. Her feet moved again and her frightened demeanor was replaced by concern as she increased her pace, turning to the hallway towards his office.

Her movement faltered when she realized she wasn't alone. A very frightened-looking Eric Adler stood by Jamison's door before he turned around at the sound of her footsteps.

"Eric?"

His voice was etched with panic and horror as he rushed forward and held her by the arms. "No, Y/n."

"...what?" Her eyes shot behind him, noticing Jamison's door jarred open. She tried to escape his grip. "You don't understand. He called me—"

"No. Please. You don't want to see him in there—"

"Let go of me! He called—"

"Y/n." His grip tightened. "He's—he's... gone."

She looked up to see her coworker, the same man who simply stood in silence this evening as he took the job she had wanted. The confused look in his eyes from the sudden responsibility he had to take on that particular moment was now replaced by terror; a look of sheer horror, one which conveyed utter fear and panic. It was a look of complete devastation and utter helplessness, a look that made his soul seem to have been just sucked out of his body. It was the kind of look that conveyed the deepest despair one could possibly feel.

He's gone.

Gone could mean a lot of things. It could mean disappearance. It could mean an emotional state of feeling disconnected from the world. But this gone... she understood what it meant. She understood the weight of the word the moment her eyes spotted the surge of blood coming from Jamison's office.

There was so much blood that she should've felt disgusted by the amount of it, but her mind was too busy trying to convince herself that it was real. It wasn't until her eyes spotted a hand sprawled lifelessly across the floor that her stomach started to churn. The stone rings circling around the fingers were the exact rings she often saw on her boss.

The realization on her face had Eric pulling her away. But before he could drag her, she saw a glimpse of the lifeless body, and what she caught had her completely stunned. More than feeling mortified by the scene, a sense of bewilderment settled in. The disbelief of such a coincidence happening etched her mind as she peered over the body one last time.

Because something was carved along his arm.

There was a lot of waiting. Feeling impatient was one of the most frustrating things to ever exist, it made her feel anxious and restless about the lack of progress after Eric had called the authorities. He had guided her to the front area of the receptionist, given her a blanket he had found somewhere in the office—which she wasn't sure who it even belonged to—and given her a cup of warm tea as he made some calls.

She sat there, watching her coworker pace back and forth along the marble floor. She could tell Eric's mind was secretly all over the place with his disheveled hair and dark circles underneath his eyes, but somehow he managed to keep his calm.

He was steady, still a little fazed with the whole ordeal, but managed to keep checking up on her every five minutes. He even had the time to apologize for taking her job before she merely shook it off. It wasn't his decision to snatch away the opportunity. Though it felt inappropriate to point fingers at the person who actually did decide on the matter when he was lying in the other room covered in his own blood.

She shuddered again. There were so many questions running through her mind. What kind of person would do a terrible, gruesome thing to another human being? It was always the same question she had whenever she encountered such devastating news. She once read in an article that there were roughly 300,000 people who were killed by murder each year worldwide, and to think that one of them happened to somebody she knew felt so surreal.

The authorities finally came an hour later followed by a group of people wearing protective suits. The waiting for their arrival was very long, but everything happened so fast the moment they introduced themselves. A detective in an oversized suit talked to her and Eric separately, asking what happened prior to finding the body.

She suddenly felt nauseous as she recalled Jamison's phone call, how pained and desperate his voice sounded. It wasn't until she heard herself say it out loud that she realized the possibility of the killer being in the same room on that phone call. Or even in the same room as her as she entered the vicinity of their office.

"Ms. L/n?" Y/n looked up to see the detective watching her with worry. "Are you alright?"

No, she wasn't. But she merely nodded and gave him a smile. "I will be."

He returned the smile with a genuine one of his own and glanced at his watch. "You should get some sleep, Ms. L/n. If you have any more information please don't hesitate to contact us."

Then he left her standing there alone, watching people bustling around her with different equipment. She could hear the faint sound of the ambulance from the distance, smell the intoxicating scent of chemicals coming from the medics, and sense her fatigue creeping along her body as her eyes noted the time showed on the massive clock plastered on the wall.

"Ms. L/n?"

Y/n turned to see a man standing close, his dark eyes watching her cautiously. There was a sense of confidence in his posture that she couldn't help but notice. "Yes?"

"Mr. Adler told me where to find you." She frowned at the mention of Eric before her confusion deepened at the badge presented in front of her. "I'm SSA Derek Morgan from the FBI."

"FBI?"

"Yes," he confirmed, shoving his badge back into his pocket. "I'd like to ask you a few questions regarding this past event."

She crossed her arms. "I don't think my boss being brutally killed should be called an event." She steadied her gaze on him. "And I've already talked to the detective."

"My apologies, and I'm terribly sorry for your loss." He gave her an apologetic smile. "Although I would appreciate it if you can spare a few minutes of your time."

She observed him, watching him hesitantly before letting out a heavy sigh. "I guess so."

"Is there anywhere private we can talk?"

His attempt at keeping their conversation confidential from all the people swarming by had her quirking an eyebrow. She nodded and guided him toward the closest space that could provide them some privacy. "Sure... We can use the conference room down here."

"Thank you. My partner will also be present with us if you don't mind."

She looked him up and down. "There's two of you?"

"There's two of us," Agent Morgan confirmed, slightly smiling at the condescending tone of her voice. "Dr. Reid will shortly join us."

The silence after that statement was very, very palpable. The sudden stillness was one that typically left her feeling completely baffled, a state of total shock and disbelief over a familiar name unexpectedly mentioned. The uncertainty of her ability to hear left her frozen in her tracks, waiting for her brain to catch up with the sudden information. "Doctor... Reid?"

"Dr. Spencer Reid. He was talking to Mr. Adler a while ago—wait, there he is." Agent Morgan's voice grew louder as his eyes focused on the man behind them. "Reid! Over here!"

He surely couldn't be...?

She shook her head. The world wasn't that small, was it? Even though she was very bad at remembering names, how could she forget the exact same one she wrongly called as a result of her pettiness? And besides, there must be a lot of people possessing the same name, surely it was a different person.

Though the deafening lack of sound was jarring as if every other sound had been sucked out of the room. It almost felt like everything was frozen in time as her eyes settled on the man standing a few feet away from her. Because there he was, the same man who awkwardly flirted with her two days ago.

The same man who grabbed her by the waist the moment she looked up at him with need. The same man who leaned in closer, the tension charged with anticipation and desire before it lead to an explosion of passion that couldn't be quelled.

But the desperate longing in his eyes from that night was changed into mortification, and when she thought her night couldn’t go more terrible than it already was, it had gotten even worse.

>> NEXT PART

[thatgirlstrawberry]

Older Spencer and choking kink please im

begging you🙏

Stress Relief

In which… well… you know 😉

Warnings: smut!!! Choking kink, penetrative sex, oral (m rec), semi-public, slight degradation (slut is used twice), slight praise, hand kink??, age gap, dom!spencer, bratty!sub!reader, kinda like a no strings attached relationship??, He’s kinda mean in this, weed is mentioned… lmk if I missed anything!!

Professor!Spencer Reid x student!fem!reader

College was hard.

Sometimes all she needed was a helping hand to relieve her stress. She couldn’t find anyone who could actually satisfy her needs.

That was until she sat in professor Reid’s class. She saw him pacing around the stage, hands fidgeting with each other. She didn’t see a ring. She smiled and kissed her teeth.

They made eye contact every few minutes. It was safe to say that Professor Reid was distracted by her, entranced almost.

He asked her to stay after class, she did. He came on strong. She liked it. Then, she sucked his dick underneath his desk.

Long story short, she belonged to Professor Reid now. He made sure that she knew that. Every single time they had their little after class meet ups, he made sure that she knew she was his and no one else’s.

It was a peaceful Wednesday afternoon, Y/N had no plans of staying after class, she had too much work to get finished.

She listened to his lecture, took notes. He looked at her, she looked at him, the same thing as always.

He dismissed class and she almost got out but he called to her. He usually didn’t have to, she knew to come straight to him.

“Y/N,” She heard her name and sighed a bit. She turned around and made her way towards him.

"Good afternoon, Professor." She smiled, looking up at his tall figure.

He smiled at her. "Where were you going just now?" He asked, eyebrows furrowing.

She swallowed nervously and bit her lip, knowing it would drive him crazy on the inside. "I was going back to my dorm. I h-have a lot of stressful work so..."

Professor Reid tilted his head to the side and stuck his hands in his pockets, nodding a bit. "Have you been stressed for a while, Y/N?" He moved closer to her.

Her breath hitched and she blinked. "F-for a couple of weeks, yeah." She nodded, tongue grazing her lips.

He nodded, feigning sympathy. “Well, you know what we talked about, right?” He asked. “When you have too much to do and you just want… a break.” He moved closer, one hand coming out of his pocket to grab her hip harshly.

She bit her lip leaning into him. “Y-yeah.”

“Do you want a break, Y/N?” He asked, glancing at her parted lip. She started to not but he reached forward and grabbed her chin, thumb on her bottom lip. “Words.”

“Y-yes, please.”

His other hand came out of his pocket and he pulled her into him all the way, chest to chest. “All the little college boys would love to have a girl like you in their bed.” He said, tapping her lips.

She looked up at him, attitude in her eyes. “Yet, I’ve never been in yours.” She shrugged, looking to the side. “I could easily spend the night in someone else’s.” She teased.

He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, but you won’t.” He whispered almost sounding angry.

She was on fire in the places his hands were. One on her hip and one on the side of her face, moving down dangerously. “Yeah, why’s that?”

Professor Reid just smirked and raised his brows. “Are you gonna get on your knees or do I have to make you?” His words made her weak, wet. She loved it when he talked to her this way.

She smirked and bit her lip, her knees bending. She got down on them, the hard wood stinging at first and then becoming familiar. She looked up at his face and then eyed the tent that poked up through his pants.

“You’re such a brat.” He shook his head. He reached for his belt but she stopped him and did it herself.

She smiled innocently, pulling his belt through the loops. “Oh, but Professor, last week you said I was an Angel.” She looked up at him through her lashes.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, you were doing something else when I said that,” he gestured to her on her knees. “So do it and you just might be my angel again.”

She kissed her teeth and pulled his slacks down with his boxers, mouth watering at the sight of him. Yes, she had seen it before but it surprised her every single time.

Opening her mouth, she leaned forward and took the base of his length in her hand. She closed her eyes and licked the tip, shuffling impossibly closer to him.

His hand placed itself on the back of her head but gently; not forcing anything. She opened her eyes and made eye contact, winking at him before opening her mouth wider, taking what she could fit into her mouth. The rest she just pumped with her hand.

She watched his head fall back in pleasure, a low groan leaving his mouth. She hollowed her cheeks, tongue swirling his length. His hand fisted her hair, pulling slightly. “Fuck…”

Y/N moaned around his dick, her pace speeding up. “You look so good like that.” He groaned. “Something to keep you from talking— shit— yeah, I see you talking during my fucking class—“ He stopped speaking, tightening his fist around her hair. “Next time you wanna talk when I’m talking, think about this moment, right here.” He reached down, stopping her head from moving, hand dangerously close to the top of her throat. She nodded, almost gagging when she felt his cock slide deeper down her tongue.

He began to thrust inside her mouth. She looked up at him, tears of fucking joy pricking the corners of her eyes. Never had he ever met a woman who took pleasure in pleasuring him. “Your mouth was made for me.” He grunted. “This filthy little mouth is m-mine— fuck— Understand?” He asked, looking down at her.

She nodded almost immediately, opening her mouth and flattening her tongue, sticking it out as his dick slid back and forth against it. “You’re so sexy,”

Not even a minute later, he was ready to finish. Her mouth was truly magical. “Are you gonna let me fill this pretty mouth?” She nodded again, closing her mouth around him again, gripping his thighs, nails digging in subconsciously.

“Fuck— you do so good…” He said, biting his lip. He paused his movements, breathing heavily, chest heaving.

He came, hot liquid filling her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut tasting the salty liquid on her tongue. She opened her eyes when he was done and swallowed so he could see her. His hand was removed from the back of her head, he grabbed her chin, rubbing the corner of her mouth to get rid of a small spot of his come that spilled from her mouth.

“Stand up.” He ordered, his hand remained on the side of her face. She got off of her knees, eyes never leaving his. “Take off that pretty little skirt and go sit on my desk.”

Her cheeks burned. She couldn’t believe she was letting a man old enough to be her dad fuck her. She walked away from him, towards the door to his office and walked in.

She pulled off her skirt and laid it neatly on the top of his organized desk. She bit her lip and slid onto the cool surface, jolting a bit at the nice feeling of the smooth wood against her ass. Her underwear was beyond wet, she wondered if he still wanted her to wear them.

He walked in a few seconds later, eyes amused. A smirk played at his lips, his hair was wild. She liked it. “Last time we did this, you couldn’t take it.” He shook his head.

It was true. Last time, she was too overstimulated to let him continue.

“I had to get myself off with just your tiny little lace panties,” He leaned forward, arms on either side of her, trapping her almost. “Which I still have by the way.” He reached into the tiny drawer on the side of his desk and there they were. Pink lace underwear sat there all folded up and neat.

“I can take it this time, Professor.” She nodded, looking down at his lips. He raised his brows. “I swear I can.”

He nodded, tongue sweeping out to lick his lips. His hand trailed up her arms, nails scraping against her hot skin gently. “We’ll see.” He shrugged.

It took her by surprise when the hand that was tracing her collar bones reached down between her legs and literally tore her underwear off of her. She gasped and bit her lip, eyes glancing from the pile of fabric on the floor next to his foot to the smirk on his lips.

Her core quivered with anticipation. “Please… I’m ready professor.” She nodded.

He tilted his head. “You know it drives me crazy when you call me that, right?”

She nodded, her own smirk taking over. “I could tell.” She whispered. “I might talk in your class but I do pay attention, you know?”

He chuckled, one hand going between her legs again and rubbing softly. He watched her mouth drop open, mirroring her actions slightly. “So wet and I haven’t even touched you,” he shook his head and tapped her clit with his thumb.

“Please,” She whimpered.

He tilted his head. “Please what?” He asked, thumb circling her clit painfully slowly.

“I— fuck, I want you inside me.” Her face burned at her own words and at how he looked at her.

His finger teased her hole. “What? You want my fingers inside you?” He asked. He knew exactly what she wanted but he was going to make her specifically ask for it. She immediately grabbed his wrist and held it tightly.

“N-no… you know what I want, professor.” She said, narrowing her eyes.

“Say it.”

“No. Please,”

He tilted his head again. “You don’t say it, you leave and go back to your sad little dorm where all of your work is waiting for you.” She rolled her eyes and sharply inhaled when his fingers pressed against her clit again.

“Fine…” she swallowed her pride. “I want your dick inside me, professor.” She said. “Is that too much for me to ask for?” She spread her legs farther than before.

He pulled his pants down again, dropping them all the way to his ankles this time. He grabbed his dick and rubbed it through her folds. She whined quietly. His other hand began creeping up towards her neck again and she furrowed her brows.

“Are you holding back, professor?” She asked, pouty lips present.

He looked up from her dripping core at her face with a confused expression. “What?”

“You’ve place your hand near my neck a total of three times now.” She said. “It looks like you… want to choke me.”

His breath stuttered. “Oh wow, look at that. You actually have been paying attention.” He paused, still teasing her with the head of his cock.

“Please, professor.” He almost stopped breathing. “Choke. Me.”

His eyes popped a little, lit up almost. His hand slowly slid from the top of her collar bone to her throat. His large hand closed around it and she shut her eyes, mouth open.

Spencer pushed inside of her, eliciting a gasp and then a moan. She grabbed his wrist and opened her eyes for just a moment. “Harder.” Somehow he knew that she meant to choke her harder and tightened his grip on her. “Move, professor, please!”

He began to rock his hips slowly, lip caught between his teeth as he glanced from his hand around her neck to his dick disappearing inside of her over and over. “F-faster.” She stuttered, finding it quite hard to speak with him choking her.

“Do you like this? Huh, slut?” He asked, moving faster.

“Y…yours…” She whispered, tongue sliding over her lips. Her nails dug into his wrist.

Spencer tilted his head back a bit. “You’re my slut?” He asked. She nodded rapidly. “Damn right.”

She closed her eyes, moaning loudly. His other hand was gripping her hip so tight she might have been bruised by the end of it. “Fuck— feels so— g-good.” Her voice was quiet, broken. He found it sexy that she could barely speak.

“Am I squeezing too hard?” He asked, letting up the pressure just a bit.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she clenched around him, shaking her head. “Per-perfect.”

He groaned loudly and leaned forward, capturing her lips with his. His hand stayed on it place around her throat, loving how responsive she was.

She moaned into his mouth when his thrusts became harder and harder. “That feel good?” He asked, pulling away from her lips harshly. She nodded immediately and rapidly.

“S-so good.”

He could tell that she was close by the way her muscles were constricting. “Are you trying to hold back for me?” Her eyes opened slightly. She couldn’t find the words to say so she just nodded slightly. “Don’t fucking hold back, baby. I wanna see how good you can come for me.”

She let out a loud, high pitched moan as his dick moved faster inside of her. “Gonna c—“

“Shhhh.” He shook his head, his other hand came up to press his fingers against her lips. “Don’t talk, you’re gonna run out of air.” He said, giving her throat another squeeze to remind her of the situation she was in.

She sighed against his fingers and closed her eyes. Her legs began to shake, her chest heaved faster. Her muffled moans filled the room, she even bit down on his hand a bit to stop it from being so loud. She came hard, her eyes squeezed closed and her nails dug into his wrists.

She felt his cock pulse inside and spill into her. “Fuck!”

His hand left her mouth and he heard her heavy breaths. She laid back onto his desk, exhausted. He let go of her neck, both hands landing where her hips meet the tops of her thighs, he was still inside of her.

“Do you think you’ve have a good enough break?” He asked once both of their breaths slowed.

“Screw weed, this is the best stress reliever out there.”

——————————————

yuhhhhhh smut!!!!!

I feel like this is one of the best ones I’ve written— feel free to tell me otherwise—

Love whoever requested this!!!

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[hisonlyreid-er]

School Girl Crush Pt 1

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5| A new BAU member appears and Spencer sees her as a little threat to his status of boy genius. Being unable to get comfortable with each other causes some issues within the team. Will they be able to move past it and work together?

Spencer Reid x FemBau!OC

Moving to the US was daunting. Coming from a smaller English town hadn't prepared me for the move. At only 23, I was joining the FBI. It was a dream of mine to catch murderers and profile serial killers so when I was put forward, I couldn't contain my excitement.

I first arrived at the start of the month and now, 2 weeks later, I was entering the FBI office in Quantico, Virginia. This morning, I had a big panic about what to wear. I settled on black trousers and a white button up blouse. My satchel held everything I would need. My hands held the strap tightly as I stood in the lift, making my way up to my dream job. I watched the numbers go up as I got closer and closer to my floor. My nerves were in full force as I chewed my lip out of habit.

The lift dinged, signaling my arrival. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the corridor. People bustled around me as I just stood there. The clack of heels echoed around me as I became conscious of my heavy combat boots, hidden mostly by my long trousers. The glow of florescent lights added to the intimidating feeling. Long, white hallways with many doors and framed photos of Agents killed in action. My British upbringing became very obvious as I became aware of how many guns were around me. Almost every single person had one on them. I had my own gun tucked in the holster as my side. Learning to shoot hadn't been very difficult and I gained my license to carry within a few weeks of accepting the position. It wasn't like I had no experience, I had worked with the NCA for years and knew a lot about chasing down dangerous criminals.

While preparing for the role, I had been in frequent contact with SSA Hotchner. He was my new boss so it was him I was meant to find first. A little intimidated by the agents around me, I kept my head down, letting my hair hide my face. In the center of the floor was a bullpen with a number of desks. Agent Hotchner was in charge so he would most likely have an office, with this in mind I walked towards the small set of stairs. I didn't want to ask for directions, my stubbornness was to blame for that. I felt some eyes on me as I ascended the stairs. Not wanting to be stared at, I quickly scanned the doors and spotted the one labelled SSA Aaron Hotchner. With one hand I knocked against the door and with the other I straightened my blouse. "Come in." Breathe.

I push the door open. Inside the office was larger than I expected. A large wooden desk was the main focus of the room. My eyes found Agent Hotchner sat behind the desk, stacks of paperwork surrounding him. He was a serious man, his hair was dark and his suit was neat. I felt the need to impress him, to make him proud of me. He looked up at me, placing his pen down and turning all his attention to me. "Agent Hotchner?" Why do I ask stupid questions? This man was sat in the office labelled with that name, sat at a desk with a plaque and I was asking if it was him. Sometimes I don't feel as smart as I should. "Yes. Agent Colesta I assume." As I nodded my head he rose from his seat, walking towards me. His hand extended. With as much confidence as I could muster, I shook his hand firmly.

Agent Hotchner wanted to ask me some questions and update me on everything I needed to know. We sat across the desk from each other. My leg bounced as I realised how important this was. He needed to believe in my abilities. "How are you settling in?" He didn't look up at me as he searched through one of his drawers. "Its definitely a change but I'm doing pretty well." A small hum was the only response I got as he lay a folder on the wood. My folder. I could see my name printed on the front. Lyn Colesta. I tensed as he opened it, revealing everything about me compressed onto a mere few pieces of paper.

Over the next hour, Agent Hotchner asked me questions and allowed me to ask some back. In that time, I became less nervous of his stoic demeanor. "That is all of my questions. Do you have anything else you would like to know?" I thought for a moment, running a mental check. "I don't think so. Thank you Agent Hotchner." I gave a small smile to the older man. "Most members of the team call me Hotch. It is up to you but that's the norm here." Nodding, I knew it would take a while for me to get comfortable using a nickname.

Agent Hotchner stood from his desk, leading me to do the same. Without saying a word, we exited his office and walked down the stairs to the bullpen. I became very conscious of the small group of agents at one of the desks, staring at the two of us. Unfortunately for me, Agent Hotchner led us towards them. The members of the BAU. My need for a good impression wiped my nervous fidgeting from my body and replaced it with a confident expression. As we neared the group their conversation slowed to a halt, showing they were probably discussing the strange girl who had been with their boss for some time.

Hotchner made some conversation with a blonde woman. I took this time to examine each of them. Closest to me was a tall, dark skinned man. He was perched on the side of the desk, mug in hand. He was quite muscular and by him demeanor, I could tell he was confident in his physical capabilities. There was an uncertain look in his eye as he looked at me which showed he wasn't easily accepting of new people. I would have to earn his trust. I love a challenge. The desk clearly belonged to the dark haired woman sat on the chair. She held herself with propriety, more than most, which showed she had an important role at some point. I had a feeling I would get along well with her as there was a hint of mischief on her face as she smirked. Then there was the woman talking to Agent Hotchner. It was clear she had a fairly important place around her because of the way Hotchner was listening intently to every word she said. She seemed like a kind hearted woman but also someone that I shouldn't cross. I made a mental note of all my observations.

"This is Agent Colesta. She will be joining the unit." Agent Hotchner gestured to me, bringing all sets of eyes to me. Resisting the urge to shrink under their gazes, I gave a friendly smile and a small wave. Thankfully, each of them returned my smile, settling my nerves a little more. "Its nice to meet you. I'm Lyn." My meek attitude creeping out as I greeted them. "Derek Morgan." The man gave me a sly smirk as he reached out to shake my hand. I gladly shook his hand. I turned to the dark haired woman. "Emily Prentiss." She didn't make a move to shake my hand, opting for a small nod. " Jennifer Jareau. But you can call me JJ." Now, JJ did go for an handshake. Normally I wasn't a huge fan of shaking hands, especially with strangers but I knew I needed to make a good first impression.

Agent Hotchners cell phone began to ring in his pocket, causing a groan to erupt from Agent Prentiss. "Hotchner." He answered instantly, opting to walk away from the small group to take the call in private. I was left with my new colleagues. Suck it up Lyn. Time to schmooze them off their feet. "I was under the impression that there was more of you." I feigned a puzzled expression as I spoke to them. Agent Morgan chuckled slightly. "Yeah, there is. Rossi's somewhere around here and Reid will be here in about 10 minutes." I nodded, remembering those new names for later.

Agents Jareau and Morgan excused themselves, walking over to their respective desks. I was a little unsure what to do. I didn't know where my desk was and hadn't been given any orders so I just stood by Agent Prentiss's desk. "You know, you could go meet Garcia. I'm sure she'd love to meet you and would really appreciate you going to her." Clearly I looked confused at the new person added to the mix. "Derek forgot to mention her before. She's our tech analyst. Her office is up there, right at the end of the hall." My eyes followed where Agent Prentiss had pointed. "Thanks for the advice." I was truly grateful. I needed all the friends I could get. Bidding her goodbye, I walked in the direction she said.

The hallway was fairly long and a little darker than the rest of the floor. I almost gave up when I finally spotted the last door. I had no clue how this Garcia would be. She could be completely horrible. Despite my hesitations, I knocked on the door. Some frantic shuffling could be heard on the other side as I waited patiently. After a few long seconds the door is pulled open. This woman was dressed in a bright pink cardigan, and white pencil skirt. Her blonde hair was in pigtails and on her face was a pair of statement glasses. Her eyes widened as she saw me. "Hello, are you Garcia?" She continued to stare at me before nodding aggressively. Still, she didn't say a word. "I'm Lyn. I just joined the unit." I gave an uncertain smile. Somehow, her eyes widened even more. A wide smile broke out on her face as she pulled the door wider and let me in. The office reflected her perfectly. There were little toys and knickknacks scattered about. Fuzzy topped pencils sat in a bedazzled pencil pot on the desk.

"You're Agent Colesta?" I hadn't told her my last name, but I nodded. Before it can register, Garcia pulls me into a hug which I halfheartedly reciprocate. "I'm Penelope." Penelope. I knew she wasn't an agent, she didn't carry herself like one and was much too positive to be one. "It's good to meet you, Penelope." I had a feeling we could be friends. "And you're British." Her excited squeal seemed strange to me. What's so exciting about being British?

Penelope and I spent sometime chatting. More like her talking and me nodding or giving a short response. She gave me a brief run down of everything going on around her. It was actually very helpful. Apparently her and Agent Morgan were the flirty two in the unit. She only mentioned it to reassure me if I heard any of their conversations which can get quite 'graphic' according to her. Agent Rossi was a famous author. I knew I recognised that name, I'd read his books on serial killers and the psychology behind their actions. Dr Reid was the genius of the team with an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187. That was actually quite impressive. Garcia told me that he didn't like physical contact and loved to spurt random facts at any given time. Dr Reid was only 8 months older than me according to Garcia. Hold on. I never told her my birthday. "How do you know that?" I was getting a little suspicious of this bubbly woman. Her demeanor turned sheepish. "I looked through your file." My mouth fell open as she spoke. "I'm sorry but I just got curious."

This, of course, led to me asking questions about what she can access. I was then shown through Garcia's set up. It was extremely impressive, she could access almost anything from her little office. I think I might have fallen in love with her when she pulled up the cameras from the bullpen and showed me a clip from a few weeks ago. The clip was from a late night in the office and showed Agent Prentiss tripping over a bin and then she just didn't move for a few minutes. It was pretty funny. I was glad Agent Prentiss had advised me to introduce myself to Garcia. Talking with her had relaxed me and I felt prepared to start my new job simply because of her being there.

A ping came from Garcia's system and she immediately spun in her chair to see what it was. "We have a case. To the roundtable we go." Her wording amused me. I stood by the door, watching Garcia rush around, grabbing files and other various things from around her office. Deciding she didn't have enough arms, Garcia handed me a few things off her pile and started out of the office and down the hallway. I froze for a second but quickly rushed after her. She walked quickly. The clicking of her kitten heels filled the silence of the empty space. It took a bit of effort to keep walking beside her.

The roundtable, as Garcia called it, was on the same level as Agent Hotchners office. It seemed like most of the unit was already there. From a distance I could count 5 heads and could see Agent Jareau stood at the front of the room. Agent Morgan and Agent Prentiss were easy to recognise. Agent Hotchners dark hair caught my eye as he sat closest to where Agent Jareau stood. The 2 remaining people had to be Agent Rossi and Dr Reid. Smile. Make a good impression.

As we entered the room, Garcia greeted the group, recieving a few greetings in return. "Good morning baby girl." So that's what she meant. Noted. I was directed to the seat between Agent Prentiss and Garcia. "Before we get started, this is Agent Lyn Colesta. She is now a member of the team." My head shot up at the sound of my name. "Agent Colesta, this is Agent David Rossi." I smile to the man Agent Hotchner gestured to. "Nice to meet you." He seemed nice enough. I felt like a fangirl but kept it to myself, figuring he was fed up of people telling him they love his books. "And this, is Dr Spencer Reid." My eyes moved to the last person at the table. He was clearly my age, had longish brown hair and wore a cardigan. He intrigued me. Dr Reid gave me a small wave, which I copied.

Agent Jareau started her presentation about the case. I focused all my attention on the manila folder in front of me. This was the start of my dream. Everything was falling into place for me and I couldn't contain my excitement. Profiling wasn't new to me but the BAU, they were legends in the psychology world and getting to work with them was what I wanted to do with my life. Nothing would get in the way of my work now. My sole focus would now be on this job.

[bau-drabbles]

his apartment was a mess, that was the first thing you noticed. books scattered, glasses all around the table, curtain half closed, it was all very unlike dr spencer reid. he like to organise his things very particularly, but now it had looked as if everything was ran through by car leaving nothing but remains. he had many different lamps on his wall but only one was on. a small golden glow illuminating just how chaotic the room was looking.

but still you enter through, quietly walking across his tiled floors. the air felt thick with tension, as if something wasn't quite right. you knew lately he'd been having a hard time but in typical reid fashion, he had decided to bottle his feelings. and now when it was overflowing, everything around him was going up in flames. he had lashed out on you terribly, and even if you knew he didn't mean it, it still hurt nonetheless.

you walk through the apartment gingerly, your hands delicately skimming the books as you walk by. you heard a shuffle in the other room and your heart drops when you see him. he's in a jumper and some sweats, the nightgown tied loosely around him. he's standing by the window watching the sun set, the sky erupting in different colours of red and orange.

all of it would've been so magical had you not noticed the way his shoulders tense and the way his hands clutching tightly around himself. he fiercely wipes away the fresh tears with the back of his hand, cursing at himself for being so weak. but they still streamed down his reddened face. you hear his erratic breaths, trying to stop himself from having another panic attack and it all but breaks your heart piece by piece.

before you could even say a word, he caught your reflection in the window. with a deep breath he turns around and there you really stand. you set the books on the table and his lip trembles, clamping down his teeth over it so you didn't see how entirely pathetic he was. his locks were displayed all around his forehead. he wasn't sleeping, the bags under his eyes certainly had seen better days.

"you came..." his breath was hitched in his throat, a tear spilling from his eyes and you slowly nodded coming closer. he speaks like he genuinely hadn't expected you, as if you could ever ignore a sad call that came from him no matter what time it was.

seeing him so torn up, it was everything in you not to immediately hug him then and there. but you remain in your place, just looking at the sweet man in front of you. how much sadness and pain he had to carry, burdens that weren't his to hold, fell heavy upon his shoulders. you could see how defeated he had become.

"you called..." your voice is gentle, soothing, as if the answer is the most obvious thing in the world. he looks back down, his reddened cheeks stained with fresh tears. his adam apple bobs in his throat with the words he could sat but nothing comes out. nothing but his voice wavering and breaking down in front of you. his fingers clutches the ends of the desk and his face crumples when he turns back to the window.

"i'm sorry..." he whispers, sniffing as he stares out on the city and its inhabitants. your gaze follows by, walking slowly and softly to him.

"i know, it's okay" you lean against the desk as you occupy the space next to him. you know he'll speak to you when he's ready, you know better than to overwhelm him with what has happened. so your mouth remains closed, you remain simply by his side. not going anywhere unless he said to.

you didn't expect him to come closer, resting his face on your shoulder. his hands cradles a book close to his chest as he takes a deep breath in, his heart slowing down for the first time that night. you can smell his sweet shampoo and his cologne as his hands reaches for yours, holding it within his grasp. your fingers gently smooth over his knuckle tenderly, almost like a mother taking care of her child.

"thank you" his voice is soft, hoarse as he holds your hand tighter. you both just look out of the window, relishing in each others company. knowing words couldn't possibly come close to what you were both feeling. that he was clinging on to your touch just as desperately as you were. that despite what had happened, you'd always be there for him whenever he needed. no matter what.

"you're welcome"

[0and0its0doctor0]

I'll wear out the words I love you

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood, injuries, nothing graphic

Summary: Spencer finally asks the question that’s been on his mind for months…just not when and where you’d expect

Word Count: 305

“You look beautiful.” The words caught you off guard and you paused. Maybe you had a head injury or something, there was no way that Spencer Reid just said you looked beautiful at the present moment. “Babe. I’m covered in blood. Most of which isn’t even mine.” You said looking down at your blood stained shirt. Some of it was from your busted nose but most of it belonged to the unsub you just got done taking down. Spencer was impressed, he just watched you fight the unsub and subdue him all on your own and you came out only moderately scathed. Your vision was starting to swim. “Marry me.” Spencer said seriously while holstering his firearm. You paused. You were seeing two of him. You had to be hearing things too.

“I’m sorry what? I’m seeing two of you.” You muttered pressing a hand to your temple. “Diplopia. It means double vision. Marry me.” He again asked the same thing and you stared at him. “Baby are you okay? Did you get hit in the head?” You asked, looking up at him as he stepped towards you. He had that grin on his face that made your heart beat harder in your chest and your mouth go dry. “Marry. Me.” He enunciated each word, brushing hair out of your face and tilting your chin up with his fingertips. “Yeah. Of course.” You said with a smile. He leaned down and captured your lips not caring about the blood from your nose. When he pulled away he was panting, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He said grabbing your hand and walking you over to a waiting ambulance. You couldn’t believe your boyfriend just asked you to marry him in the middle of a crime scene. You really hoped you didn’t just hallucinate the whole thing.

[eunoiaflow3r]

wanting to do a love island au but who are the boys??

harry potter: (harry, ron, draco, fred, blaise)

celebs: (harry styles, michael b. jordan, tom holland, ?, ?) (aged down and even)

rom com boys: (peter k, noah flynn, drayton lahey, patrick verona, austin ames)

original characters: i create the men and their personalities.

i’m leaning towards harry potter or original characters but please vote and comment as this story will be heavily reliant on votes and comments/messages!!!

if there isn’t a boy on here in a category that you would like to see pls comment or message me!

[esote-rika]

Welcome to all my new followers please give this x OC series a shot lol I just updated so there's 5 chapters now yay

Once Upon A Dream | Spencer Reid | Masterlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!OC

When: Post season 15

Summary: But we've met before! / We have? / Yes! You said so yourself. Once upon a dream. Following his brain injury, Spencer Reid begins having dreams of a mysterious woman. He is desperate to know more about her. She's desperately trying to get him out of her head. Jet Clarke's protective spells seem to be no match for one Dr. Spencer Reid, especially when the BAU handles a case her sister is somehow involved in. Content Warnings: typical criminal minds violence, female character is a witch, inspired by Practical Magic and Sleeping Beauty (very loosely), stalking, murder (will update as I go)

MASTERLIST:

Act 1: I think I made you up inside my head - Sylvia Plath

o. Introduction and Prologue i. parting is such sweet sorrow ii. a remembrance of dreams, or S.R. entries 1-4 iii. seeing visions am i bad, or mad, or wise? iv. i sleep so i can see you, or S.R. entries 5-8 v. you who put roots in my dreamland

[lechemoon]

the one where you're distracted by his hair

spencer reid x reader

wc: ~1.1k

a/n: currently doing my very slow rewatch of criminal minds and he's walking with a cane with his long hair <3 hope you enjoy! no warnings apply

-

for some people, the constant ticking of a clock in a quiet room is enough to distract them from work. the continuous sound of ticking and tocking and ticking and tocking making it just so that every 10 ticks causes a spelling error in a report.

you didn’t understand this much; clocks don’t bother you unless you’re sitting completely still. the ticking makes you want to move, so that’s what you do when you hear the time pass

for others, the click clack of a mechanical keyboard around them can drive them absolutely up the wall. 

you didn’t understand this either. you love the sound of your own mechanical keyboard at home. you have half a mind to actually bring it to the office with you, but the knowledge of people hating tactile switches keeps you from doing so.

you also don’t understand what is up with spencer’s hair lately. the sight of it just barely past his shoulders in slight waves. the look of it so light brown that it makes you crave either caramel or chocolate (or both- you aren’t picky). 

for whatever reason, he has decided to let it grow. and for whatever reason, you have decided that it’s the most mesmerizing and distracting thing in the BAU.

the length looks good on him. you like the shape it takes and the way it naturally falls. truthfully, you thought spencer’s hair was straighter. you never noticed how it curled at the ends til it grew to his shoulders.

it’s especially shiny today, soft-looking. you wonder if yesterday was his wash day. it looks healthy, too. like he uses a specific type of shampoo to get his hair to be just so.

it looks like he’s taking a break. you can tell because he’s skimming a book he’s probably already memorized, fingers gliding down so he doesn’t lose his spot in the event that his attention is called elsewhere. 

as you stare, you take your own hair in your hands and brush it with your fingers. a finger gets caught in a small tangle, making you wince slightly. you wonder if your hair looks soft and shiny, too. if he would think so.

the hand scanning the page takes a break so that it can tuck a piece of fallen hair away from his face and behind his ear instead. for a second you wish it was your hand helping him (you want to run your fingers through it just once), and the idea makes you flush slightly. 

and maybe the flush serves as a giveaway or a siren, because spencer looks up from his book directly at you. not abruptly. it’s like you watch it happen in slow motion.

his eyes stop tracking the page, his brows furrow together slightly, and he just… looks at you.

spencer gives you a confused look, as if to say do i look funny? do i have egg on my face?

then his confused face gives you a shy, questioning smile. why were you staring at me? something catch your eye?

“oh my god,” you whisper to yourself, averting his gaze and hunching over your desk to escape it. you’ve been caught ogling. 

you want to bonk your forehead on your desk, but your hands stop you because you’ve already buried your face in them. as if already disappearing in your own cubicle wasn’t enough to hide from spencer.

ignore me, ignore me, ignore-

you hear wheels from one of the desk chairs rolling your way. you don’t have to look to see who it might be, because you already know.

so, you raise your head up from your desk, and smooth your hair using your hands. the sight of spencer dragging himself towards your desk using his chair as a vehicle and his cane as an oar as if he were rowing greets you. it’s silly, and you think the thought shows on your face because he smiles at you again.

after he decides he is close enough to you (a respectable arms length away) he sets his cane on his lap and wiggles a bit to make himself cozy. “hey, y/n.”

“hey, reid,” your voice cracks a bit. clearing your throat, you try again. “hello, reid.”

he looks at you expectantly, but you honestly don’t know what he’s expecting. was he wanting to know why he caught you staring? that’s so forward.

“so,” he leads. 

you raise a brow. “so…?” you think maybe if you play it off, he’ll let it go.

the feigned confusion doesn’t trick him, so he gets to the point. “were you uh, were you staring at me? you know, our brains are kinda wired to inform us when it feels like we’re being watched and it definitely felt like i was being watched a minute ago.”

“oh, uhm,” you feel your face heat up only slightly, “no?”

he gives you a small laugh. “no?” he repeats back to you.

you’re hoping that your nerves aren’t showing, but it’s hard when a profiler confronts you. damn them and their profession.

“i mean… yes?” you tap your fingers on your desk to let out jitters so that you don't bounce your leg. 

“was there something on my face? did i do something? were you-“

“nothing on your face,” you interrupt. it was your hair you want to say to be truthful. “i just- your book.” you settle on. you look over at his unoccupied desk and nod your head in the direction for extra effect. “what were you reading?”

something akin to relief washes over him. did he really think he had something on his face besides the hair he’s tucked behind his ear? 

“it’s margaret atwood. cat’s eye,” he explains, letting the word eye fall from his voice gradually. “it’s about a woman who’s reflecting on her youth and her childhood.”

you don’t have the guts to tell him that you weren’t actually focusing on the book. you also don’t have the heart to tell him you don’t read much. but hearing him talk about it makes you ask, “can i borrow the book when you’re done?”

he looks between you and the book way over on his desk, his hair making its way from behind his ear back to the side of his face. it looks so much softer up close.

your fingers that were previously tapping your desk twitch, like they want to reach out and twirl the escaped piece of hair and wrap it around your index finger.

“of course!” he says, excitement coating his words. you’ve heard from his team that he loves sharing things with others who want to know more. “remind me to give it to you before the day ends. i’m almost done with it!”

another lock of hair falls slightly out of place, this lock on the other side. it frames his features almost like a picture. he doesn’t fix it, just lets it stay there partially covering the outer corner of his eye. and you can’t help what you ask next.

“spencer?”

“hm?”

“may i touch your hair?”

[seoll3miwrites]

Doing Time | Masterlist

Hana Fedorov is the BAU’s newest agent, she’s sarcastic, intelligent and slightly crazy. She also happens to be the adoptive daughter and protégée of one of the FBI’s most wanted hitmen. After the FBI become aware of a online network of hitmen they hire Hana to help in the investigation. What no one on the team expected was the unlikely relationship formed between Hana and their resident genius. Spencer Reid has a type and it’s women who could kill you. Starts In Season 11. Playlist | Concept Board

Chapter 1. Looking at me

Chapter 2. Night Crawling

Chapter 3. Zitti E Buoni

Chapter 4. Oh My God

Chapter 5. Drunk-Dazed

Chapter 6. Vegas

Chapter 7. Gossip

Chapter 8. Breakfast (WIP)

Can also read on: AO3 and Wattpad

[wrenreid]

Off Limits

contains: oral, handjob, sex…

Part Twenty- Five

Fuck it if she’s off limits.

I get in my car and drive, only one thing on my mind. Her. I just want to be with her. Around her. I don’t care what we do.

I knock on her apartment door lightly, knowing Jack would be asleep and praying she wouldn’t be. To my delight, Jade opens the door wearing nothing but pjs and a smile.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the bar with the team?” She asks, her head tilting to the side as her grin grows.

“I’d rather be here,” I tell her honestly.

Jade pulls me into her apartment before shutting the door. She looks me up and down, not even bothering to conceal her gaze.

“Are you checking me out?” I ask with a chuckle.

Jade bites her lip and nods. “This is a good look for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” she says slowly. “White button ups, so hot.”

I look down to my shirt, the sleeves rolled up to my elbows due to the humidity outside.

“What are you plotting, Spencer?”

“Nothing,” I tell her. “I just wanted to be with you.”

“You’re a beautiful sweet talker,” she smiles, pulling me into her before I can take a step forward.

Her lips press to mine gently, and I return the favor happily, a smile on my lips. My hands hold the sides of her face.

Jade’s the one who takes the kiss a step further, deepening the movements and causing our lips to burn with desire.

I’m not sure which one of us takes the initiative to move to the couch, but it happens in a brief motion. I sit down on the couch and she sits on my lap. The action is mostly innocent, well, as innocent as straddling someone’s lap can be. We’re not in a rush.

My hands find a resting spot on her hips, hers on my shoulders, as we kiss. Our lips suck against each other’s, tongues gliding and intertwining.

“Yeah, definitely would rather be here than at the bar,” I say with a chuckle, rubbing my thumbs against the skin revealed from her top riding up.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jade grins, her face already flushed from the kissing.

After a few more slow, passionate kisses, her lips begin trailing down to my neck. Her fingers undo the top button of my shirt to give herself more skin to cover with her lips. She attaches them to my neck, sucking gently while her fingertip trails from my shoulder down to my stomach. I can feel my skin prickle with chill bumps of pleasure.

Jade sucks on the base of my throat, her tongue making contact with my skin.

“Hmm, Jade,” I noise. “Do you know what you’re doing right now?”

She pulls away with a slightly shy smile. “Making you horny?”

“Yes very much so.”

“Sorry,” she chuckles softly, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“It’s okay, baby,” I assure her.

I lean up into her, pressing my lips to hers again. She rolls her hips against mine, brushing her core to the bulge in my pants.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” I ask her, our lips close.

I see her eyes light up with curiosity and anticipation. “Yes.”

Once the door is closed, our lips are all over each other’s again, hands roaming. Jade sits on her bed, looking up at me with a smile.

“Do you want me to…” my words fall off until I gain the confidence. “I want to taste you. If that’s okay.”

Jade bites her bottom lip gently then nods.

“Words.”

“Yes,” she says then adds a sweet “please.”

“Whatever you want, princess,” I smile.

I lean over her, and she lays down against the mattress. I take her lips into mine, slipping my tongue into her mouth slowly.

“Sit up,” I request. When she follows my directions, I slip her shirt off her body after receiving a nod of permission.

She’s not wearing a bra. I can tell my eyes widen. “God.”

“What?” Jade chuckles.

“You know what,” I say, kissing her briefly before feeling her chest. I take one of her tits in my mouth, swirling my tongue around her nipple before sucking on it.

The little noise of delight she releases makes me feel good. I love hearing how good I can make her feel.

My lips trail down to the waistband of her pj bottoms, leaving a path of kisses on her skin. I look down at her shorts, then up to her eyes.

“Just take them off already,” she says with a slight laugh.

“Yes ma’am,” I remark just before looping my fingers under the band and removing her bottoms.

She’s left completely revealed now, and I can feel my bulge growing at the sight. I dip my head down, spreading her legs with my hands. My tongue licks up her pussy, giving myself just a taste. Eventually, I can’t even tease her any longer because of how desperately I need this.

I dip my tongue inside of her, as deep as it can reach. She’s wet and only getting wetter by the second. It doesn’t take long for me to be absolutely devouring her, taking every drip of her I can get into my mouth.

The moans and whines she makes are like music to my ears. I know she’s trying to be quiet, and it’s absolutely adorable hearing her fail at silencing her noises.

She slaps her hand over her mouth as she finishes, her moans muffled but still pleasing my ears.

Holy fuck. The way Spencer looks up at me from between my legs, my juices dripping from his chin. It’s so fucking hot.

I lean down, holding his face in my hands. “You’re so beautiful.”

He smiles, moving his head to kiss my hand. “Thank you.”

He crawls back up to hover above me. I pull his head down to kiss me, tasting myself on his tongue.

As we kiss, I reach my hand down to grab the tent in his pants. “Can I?”

Usually, this is the part where he stops what we’re doing, but instead he nods. “Yes.”

I’m not entirely sure what to do, but it can’t be that hard. Well, ironically, he’s incredibly hard. I slip my hand into his boxers, grabbing ahold of his erection.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Jade…”

I pull it out of his pants, stroking it gently. My hands are shaking a bit, but I don’t stop. I want to please him. Once I’m a bit more comfortable with jerking him off, I reverse our positions, having him sit down on the bed. He leans against the headboard as I sit on his lap. His pants are now off.

I speed up my motions, my hand pumping him at a pace that draws out more moans from him.

“You’re doing so good,” he practically whimpers out, his breathing heavy.

Oh I like that sound. A lot.

I look down at him with a smug grin. But his hand wrapping around my throat and pulling me toward him wipes the expression away. The butterflies in my stomach flap their wings hard.

“Unfortunately, I’m going to need you to stop before I cum on your hand,” Spencer says, slightly embarrassed.

“Noted,” I chuckle softly, removing my hand from his dick.

“I want you. So fucking bad,” Spencer says in a sort of growl that I’ve never heard from him, or anyone, before.

I lick my lips, staring down at him with need. “I’m all yours.”

Spencer lifts me off of him and lays me down on the bed. He hovers above me again, his hand to the side of me holding up his weight. He dips down, kissing me again, biting my bottom lip.

After a moment, he pulls away. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks, his soft brown gaze still filled with a hint of concern.

I pull him down by the collar of his white button up so that our lips are just barely brushing against each other’s. “Please fuck me.”

My words ignite something in him and his lips attack my neck with sloppy kisses, leaving his mark down to my chest. My hands undo the buttons of his shirt, and I slip it off of him and toss it on the ground.

“Fuck. I don’t have a condom,” he says, a disappointed written look all over his face.

“Uh. It’s okay,” I say. “I’m on the pill. Cramps and stuff.”

“You’re sure it’s okay?”

I nod. “Mhm. I want to feel you.”

“You do not have to tell me twice,” Spencer smiles, kissing my lips again.

He guides me through the process, telling me he’ll go slow. It hurts at first, like he warned me. The pain is quickly replaced with pleasure.

As he pushes himself in and out of me, our moans fill the room. I wrap my legs around his torso.

“Harder. Please.”

He obeys my request, thrusting into me deeply and roughly. I kiss him to quiet myself down, moaning into his mouth. And as I finish, I bite his shoulder.

When Spencer’s done, he goes to my bathroom to get a rag to clean his cum off my stomach and wipe down my core.

He sits down beside me, smiling down at me. “I- uh. Wow.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle, moving my hair out of my face. “Wow.”

“How do I keep missing my change to ask you? Can I be your boyfriend?”

I sit up, my smile growing wider. “Yes. I would love that.”

Spencer leans down to press a gentle kiss to my lips then to my forehead. “As much as I hate to leave after this, your dad is about to be home.”

“I know, don’t worry about it,” I tell him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 @eevee0722 @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @daydreamingqueen1 @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @jazzerbelle14 @kylakins88 @f-me-reid @lovejules888 @marimorena06 @daph-421 @idkusername8787

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (2)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer’s late-night endeavor is teased as a new case arises. wc: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+ content, graphic detail of murder

A/n: thank you for all the love it’s very much appreciated! also i want to remind you that this will be a long series, but if you like a murder mystery with a hint of humor and smut, then by all means please continue :3

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

BEING CALLED IN AT NIGHT WAS SOMETHING SPENCER WAS USED TO. It was part of his job. The moment he accepted to be part of the Behavior Analysis Unit at Quantico, he knew the downside of it all. The long hours and pressure to perform the job while working with some of the most dangerous and violent individuals could potentially affect him physically and mentally.

But above all that, he always looked at the bigger picture. His job was to bring justice by catching all the perpetrators of each crime he was assigned with. It was a very dangerous job yet he couldn't imagine his life without lending in his time and intelligence to catch the 'bad guys on the loose'—as Garcia would often put it. So having his dearest friend call him at two o'clock in the morning was something that occasionally occurred. He really didn't mind it.

Until tonight.

For the first time in his eleven years working as an FBI agent, Spencer wished the bad news could wait at least in the morning. By then he would have more time to spend his night with the most irresistible woman he had ever laid his eyes on.

He shook his head. Guilt was a complex, powerful emotion and it was what he was feeling right now. A dead body was found and all he could think about was the beautiful stranger who was now more than an enigma than she ever was. Even when he had seen her in her barest form, tucked underneath his warm body. Even when his hands had roamed around every corner of her luscious curves, her desperate moan sounded like the most beautiful melody to his ears.

God, he needed a drink. No, not alcohol, he wasn't one to drink liquor anyway. Well, excluding a few hours ago when sitting all alone waiting for his friends without holding any type of alcoholic drink seemed rather uncommon. He was already feeling out of place the moment he entered the dimly lit bar, his eyes scanning for any familiar faces but being greeted by none.

So ordering a bottle of cold beer seemed ideal as he sat by the bar on his own. He didn't even drink the whole liquid, merely gulping a sip or two before it became a mere prop for blending in with the crowd.

If it wasn’t for Garcia coaxing him into joining her and the girls for a night out in the city, Spencer would still be at the office, his nose buried in the paperwork he needed to finish. But Penelope Garcia was a force not to be underrated. She had a way with words and persuasion, thus Spencer found himself agreeing to spend the night with his peers.

Besides, he enjoyed being around them. He considered the people he worked with as more than mere colleagues. He had spent so much time with them that the bond developed was incredibly special and strong. He considered them as a sort of dysfunctional family in some ways, but it was a family nonetheless. It was a very unique relationship and a special one that he took pride in working with and he was very grateful to be a part of it.

But it didn't stop him from being mad at the fact they had bailed on him at the very last minute.

Fine—a little bit mad. They all seemed to have good excuses for their sudden absence. JJ had to drive back home for her sick son, Prentiss was called back into the office by their unit chief Hotch, and Garcia... well, her answer was pretty vague. All she had said over her frantic call was, "I'm so sorry, boy genius, I need to take a rain check tonight. I'll call you later!"

Then Spencer found himself in a situation he would never imagine being, sitting by himself at the most sociable place he could ever think of.

He needed to leave. The music bouncing over the stereo suddenly sounded too loud, and even though there weren't too many people inside the place, it was still enough to make his demeanor shut down from the several conversations floating in the air.

And don't get him started on the number of pathogens clinging to every nook and corner of this place. He shuddered at that thought as he once again wiped down the bar surface with another pile of napkins he requested from the bartender, who by the looks of it, was starting to eye him with annoyance.

A man suddenly pushed him from behind and went on his way without apologizing. Spencer made a mental note to never agree to another social request without a companion at his arrival. He was feeling more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

His fingers hastily tightened around the strap of his bag, ready to flee the scene when a sudden faint scent of chocolate fluttered through his nose.

Delicious, mouth-watering chocolate.

Spencer had always been conscious of his surroundings. The nerves in his brain would work their way into absorbing all kinds of entities that triggered his senses, and chocolate was a scent he could easily make out.

Chocolate smelled like... well, heaven. It had a sweet, decadent scent that was just divine, triggering all sorts of happy, positive emotions and reactions. He could point out a lot of facts about why roasted cocoa could trigger serotonin throughout one's body, but his brain was too busy trying to pinpoint the source of its scent.

Then he felt movement to his right and the scent lingered around the air like a delicious blanket coating his senses. And there she was—looking divinely gorgeous like heaven on a pair of legs.

Spencer knew there was no singular answer to describe one's beauty, as beauty was subjective and could be defined differently by each person. He also considered himself being very old-school as he perceived beauty through kindness and intelligence. Yet he was still a hot-blooded man and he wasn't going to lie; the woman sitting in front of him was physically attractive and pleasing to the eye.

The way her eyes lit up as they settled on him tightened the knot in his stomach. He might not have much experience with the opposite sex, but he knew when one was interested in his presence, and with that thought in mind he felt rather pleased and flattered.

His eyes roamed around her features; her glazed eyes, her high cheekbones, the delicate shape of her nose, and her plump lips that seemed to look so soft. It wasn't until later in the night he came to the conclusion that they were much softer than they looked. Because tasting her mouth was completely different than simply staring at it.

Spencer didn't know how touch-starved he was until he pressed his lips onto hers, lips that were incredibly soft yet turned every inch of his body very hard. He felt immensely dizzy with need as he nipped her bottom lip, feeling intoxicated each time she squirmed in his arms, her soft body pressing against him, making it more and more difficult to clear his mind with her hands between his legs—

"Late night?"

Spencer looked up. He could feel the blush creeping along his cheeks as if being caught having these inappropriate thoughts. Derek Morgan stood by his side, eying the amount of sugar stashed into the cup of coffee in his hand. To be fair, he really did need something that could wake him up and break him from going down memory lane again.

"Very," he murmured. He proceeded by mixing his caffeine with a spoon, unaware of how Morgan was watching him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"My man," Morgan teased. Spencer sensed the taunting edge in his voice and turned around.

On a normal occasion, he would deny the suggestive tone Morgan would often taunt. His friend had a way of teasing him in what seemed to be simply goodhearted banter. But Spencer wasn't exactly a good liar. He was already quite flustered by the topic of conversation and the moment he opened his mouth, he knew he would only make things worse.

So instead he kept his silence and sipped on his drink, ignoring the grin plastered on Morgan's face as if an epiphany had aroused him in his wake.

"My man," Morgan repeated, wrapping a playful arm around his shoulders. "What has kept the young Dr. Reid awake on this lovely night?"

He shoved his arm away. "I wouldn't consider myself youthful anymore."

Morgan snickered. "You're the baby of the team." Then to annoy him even further, he added, “Kid.”

"I'm thirty-six." Spencer frowned as they climbed their way toward the conference room. "You know, men in their mid-thirties have prefrontal cortexes that are fully developed and they have a lot more experience throughout their lives. Their body is also fully functional so they—I am most definitely a mature, fully grown adult."

"Do you know what else they say about men being in their thirties?" Morgan threw him another one of his grins. "A very high sex drive."

"Actually, studies show that 30% of healthy people aged between 65-74 still enjoy sexual intercourse weekly."

Morgan groaned. "Don't give me that mental image."

"Reid!"

The two men turned to see Garcia scurrying towards them. How she still conjured so much energy at this time of hour would always be a mystery to him. The determined look on her face reminded him of their last conversation on the phone and Spencer quickly turned away, walking into the empty conference room before sitting himself by the round table.

Noticing the weird interaction between his two friends, Morgan threw Garcia a questioning look. "What's going on?"

"Oh, I'll tell you what's going on." She hurriedly entered the room and grabbed the remote control sitting in the middle of the table. She poked Spencer with the device. "This boy right here decided he's too cool to hang out with us."

"Garcia, you're the one who bailed on me."

"So not the point," she deadpanned. "My question is, when are you going to introduce us to your girlfriend? I didn't even know you were dating."

Morgan's brows shot up as he took a seat beside him. "Girlfriend?"

Spencer looked down as she went on, "Imagine my surprise when he answered my call and there was a woman's voice in the background. At this hour."

Morgan laughed at her emphasis on the time because it was common knowledge only certain things happen this late. Especially with an alleged female company. "Really?"

Disliking the way he was thrown into the spotlight, Spencer leaned in his chair and crossed his arms defensively. "She's not my girlfriend."

That statement only raised their interest even further.

"Oh?" That was Morgan.

"You naughty minx." That was Garcia. "Since when have you been seeing her?"

Spencer had two options. He could ignore their curiosity and remain silent, or he could flat-out give them a lie. He looked between the interest on their face and decided he couldn't escape their probing curiosity, so he answered in a very low voice, "Tonight."

"Tonight?" Garcia asked in disbelief. "Wait—didn't you go to the bar earlier?"

"Yes, before everyone ditched me."

"Oh my god," Garcia squealed in surprise. "Dr. Reid, did you spend the night with a stranger?"

There was a long pause as the grip around his mug tightened. Morgan let out a choked laugh. "My man."

"Stop saying that," Spencer muttered, his lips inches away from his steaming cup.

"I can't believe this," Garcia gasped between her giggles, clearly fascinated by this new information. "Our resident boy genius is actually a Casanova in disguise."

"Who's a Casanova?"

The three of them turned to see Emily Prentiss walking into the room followed by a very curious David Rossi. His other colleagues clearly didn't hear the beginning half of their conversation and Spencer wanted to make sure it remained that way.

He casually took a sip of his drink and replied, "Giacomo Casanova. A famous Italian adventurer and author in the 18th century. He became famous for his often complicated and elaborate affairs with women."

Prentiss scoffed as she and Rossi sat down by the table. "I know who Casanova is, I'm asking who is a Casanova."

An awkward silence settled in the room. Spencer shifted in his seat. He really, really didn't want to deal with this. Spending a very intimate night with a stranger wasn't something he would like to discuss in front of his peers. Ever.

He could feel the heavy weight of everyone's eyes and the blush slowly creeping along his cheeks when Derek stepped in, giving the room one of his charming smiles. "We were talking about me."

"You?" Prentiss quirked one of her eyebrows in mocked surprise. "I don't think your girlfriend would be happy with that."

Morgan easily laughed. "We were discussing my old Casanova days."

"Yeah," Garcia interjected. "We were talking about how bad his choices of female friends were."

"Hey!"

"Until now." She gave him a toothy grin. "We love Savannah."

Morgan rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He caught Spencer staring at him with a grateful smile and returned the gesture with an understanding nod. Spencer relaxed as the conversation rolled by and the topic of his secret escapade was long forgotten.

For now.

JJ, another member of the team, entered the room a few minutes later with a huge smile. Then the moment their unit chief, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, followed behind, everyone knew it was back to business.

Spencer placed his mug down on the table and focused his attention on the case at hand.

"Alright, so." Garcia pointed the remote towards the black screen and a moment later, gruesome pictures of a murder scene were presented in different angles. The picture of the male body covered in blood greeted them before a passport shot of a middle-aged man smiling happily at the camera was shown. "Fifty-six-year-old Kevin Marshall, a corporate lawyer, was found dead at his home by his secretary."

"At home?" Derek wondered. "Were there no security?"

"There was a sudden blackout going on in the neighborhood for about seven minutes. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at that time of hour. His wife and kids were visiting her parents and Mr. Marshall was at home finishing some work. It wasn't later on when he didn't answer his calls that his secretary found him lying in his office with several stab wounds."

"Time of death?" JJ questioned.

"A quarter past midnight." Garcia clicked on her device before another detailed picture of the scene was zoomed in on the screen. "And this was found—no, carved on his back."

The picture had a clear shot of the wound on the victim's back, a sloppy carved-out handwriting slashed across his skin. Spencer narrowed his eyes. "Exodus 20:13," he read, his brain already discerning the meaning of the words. "Thou shalt not kill."

"Quite ironic, don't you think? Given the way the Unsub just brutally acted out his assault," Prentiss wondered out loud.

"The verse might actually tie with the murder into this god-given right for someone to bear arms. The Unsub probably feels justified in murdering the victim because he feels that this man is a sinner, thus he must kill him in the name of the Almighty."

"So, what? Are we looking for a religious vigilante?"

"That's what we're trying to find out." Hotch looked over his team and assigned everyone their work. "Since the crime scene is a mere hour away, Morgan can investigate the crime scene with JJ. Reid, go with Rossi to check the autopsy report. Prentiss and I will be here for his family as they're flying straight from Michigan."

"What can I do to help, sir?"

Hotch gave Garcia a pointed look. "Find everything you can on Kevin Marshall. Bank accounts, purchase records, extended family, and also the people he worked with. Report to me when you find something suspicious. Anything."

"Right." She nodded. "Anything."

"And find any possible matches from old cases that have anything to do with carving on body parts. Solved or unsolved."

"Carving on body parts. Got it."

Everyone started scattering around the room, ready to start the investigation. And although his mind somehow drifted back to soft lips and the scent of sweet chocolate, Spencer pushed them away, gulping the last drip of the sweetest coffee he had ever made as if he was draining down all these inappropriate images running through his mind.

It was not the time.

>> NEXT PART