#we can draw side profiles…. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jamminvroomvroom · 1 year ago

Text

second time around.

ln x fem!reader

in which he’s quite desperate to have a second kid.

staying in my active era! there is honestly no excuse for this one, i just simply couldn’t help myself. it’s porn, yes, there is plot, but it’s just. porn.

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! where do i even begin? smut, more smut, breeding kink (kinda the whole point), choking, overstimulation, general sex acts, public sex, car sex, shower sex, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of the kid they already have, lando being a little shit, sex somewhere unhinged in the mtc, a brief moment of angst, dom!lando, rough sex? yeah.

3.9k words

take: 1

the season is coming to an end.

somewhere between italy and singapore lando decides he wants another kid.

it’s a warm day in the middle of september when he proposes the idea to you. you’re watching your daughter toddle around the garden, soaking up the last remnants of sunlight before the darkness of autumn encapsulates the warm beams until march.

she giggles, pushing her toys around in the grass. you let her play, lost in her own little world of wonder. lando turns to you, scanning your side profile, watching you watch the little girl. he’s awestruck, enamoured totally by the family he’s created, by the woman he loves. he doesn’t think, he just opens his mouth and let’s loose his big idea.

“want another one?” he cooes, sliding closer across the bench, until he’s nosing at your cheek. kisses are pressed to your puffy face. it’s still early.

at first you think he’s offering you another coffee, so you hold out your almost empty mug to him. you’d been nursing the drink, letting it go cold in the naturally cooler air. he laughs at you, and that’s when you clock what he’s actually asking.

you turn to him, facing each other now. lando looks excited. you wonder if you can find a way to mirror his expression.

“lando…” you start. his face drops at your tone, letting him down easy. “it’s not that i don’t want to, it’s just-“

“i’ll be home more. i’ve worked it all out. if we get to work now, baby will be here around the summer break.”

you mull over his words.

your first baby was a shock to you both, and you didn’t fancy doing that again. you loved lando with every fibre of your being, just as you did your daughter, but being away from him so much in the lead up to her arrival shot every one of your nerves to pieces.

but another baby would be on the agenda eventually - you both desperately wanted to add to your beautiful family - and you supposed that if he’d done the math…

“by get to work now, you mean…?” you cock an eyebrow at him. he lights up like the christmas tree you’d be putting up in a few months.

“she’s going down for her nap soon.” lando smirks, voice edged with that excitement once again.

his head is between your legs mere moments after he shuts your bedroom door.

you’d been waiting for him, stripped bare in anticipation. your baby girl would be down for a good few hours, more than enough time for him to draw out everything you had to offer and fill you back up.

his tongue runs over your flesh; he’s messy with it. you’re choking out whimpers as he licks and laps and tugs with his teeth. your pussy clenches around nothing and he notices, sliding his fingers all over where you ache. they’re quickly wet enough to slide inside of you, and he grinds them deep, luring traces of an orgasm into the pit of your belly. it’s familiar, the way he winds you up, and you want him like this every minute of the day.

“getting you ready, honey. gonna get you so fucking ready.” lando is slurring words into your cunt, letting them get lost to your sodden folds. you hear every word perfectly. they make you shake and shake until you’re undone.

when he looks up at you, his mouth is glistening. his fingers are, too. he hates wasting a drop of you, so he laps up the mess you’ve made while he shuffles up the bed. when he’s finally hovering over you, he’s desperate, but you’re worse. you could cry from the urge.

something carnal is taking place; he’s staring into your soul, finishing up the remnants of your taste, and you’re begging with your eyes, hands slinking all over your own body. you must be dripping by now. your body is restless and you raise your hips, inviting him close, deep.

when he thrusts into you, he’s pinning you down into your shared mattress. you’re completely at his mercy and he fucking loves it. you love it more. you go slack underneath him, and he starts a slow grind. he’s not thrusting, not yet, he’s just rolling into you, deeper, deeper, deeper. you feel the first tears threatening to fall. he feels so good, it’s unbearable.

he nudges at your most sensitive spot, over and over and over. you whine carnally and he swallows it, licking into your mouth. his curls tickle your forehead, you’re pressed so close together. he sees the pools in your eyes and then he looses it completely.

hand on your neck for leverage, he starts thrusting, harder and harder, faster than you can ever recall. he knows you can take it, knows how bad you want it, and that thought alone spurs him on. you have the same goals, the same shared instincts. you feel nothing but pure fucking bliss everywhere.

“you want me to fill you up? you want my baby, honey? want me buried nice and deep?” you hear him grunt, but he sounds so far away.

you are lost to the void when you come. you can’t even try and resist, not when you can hear how wet you are, not when you can hear the quiet whimpers he tries to fight at the way your pussy convulses around him. you cannot see anything but the stars in his eyes.

you go limp and he spills, fucking it even further into you. his eyes are trained on where you’re still joined, and where he’s still fucking you. you’d be screaming if not for the hand wrapped around your throat. the most delicious piece of jewellery you own.

lando needs to know he’s gone as deep as he can, that you’ve come as hard as he can make you. he feels unhinged when his fingers find your clit, switching between short spasms of his finger on the nub, and grinding down on it with his palm. you’re both overstimulated, soaked with sweat and other things. you’re gripping his cock so fucking tight that he can’t stop the rush of moans, your name mumbled like a prayer between expletives.

but still, he needs to know it’s deep enough.

an hour later, you can finally move, and you sink deep into the bath.

your head is on his chest, he washes you gently. you wonder if it’ll be a boy or a girl.

date night

almost a month passes. no sign of baby number two.

it’s fine, you tell yourself. you tell lando, too. all the more reason to keep practicing.

every opportunity he gets to bury himself to the hilt inside of you is a win in both of your books. he grabs every single one of those opportunities with both hands.

you’re dressed up nice for dinner, little black dress hugging you well. you watch the scenery flick past you. lando’s in the drivers seat, making small talk, his left hand heavy on your bare thigh. you’ve just dropped your daughter off with her grandparents, your mother hugging lando tight. he’d been gone a while.

fingers skim higher up your thigh. you want to let him carry on but this car is new, untainted by his adventurous personality and your willingness to comply. your legs snap shut and you watch him smirk out the corner of your eye.

“later.” you whisper.

his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.

“i know. don’t you worry, honey.” he doesn’t sound convincing, no, he sounds like a man with a plan and you dread to think of what he has in store.

the restaurant is tiny. a hole in the wall. it’s intimate, exclusive, slightly extortionate, but lando likes to treat you. you order, and he behaves. you sip wine, and he behaves. you drag your heel up his leg, and still, he behaves. you know something is brewing behind those stormy eyes.

he launches his attack during dessert.

vanilla ice cream hits your tongue when he strikes, leaning back in his chair. his thick neck captures your attention, the dim light accentuating him just right.

“would your prefer we take this to the car or the bathroom? it’s pretty spacious back there, you know.”

lando speaks so casually, and slightly too loudly. your cheeks are aflame.

“lando!” you hiss in warning. you’re sputtering over his boldness, catching some ice cream with your tongue. he watches the way it moves over your lips intently.

“actually, as tempting as the bathroom is, we still need to break in the new car.” lando sounds like he’s talking about the weather, or a shopping list, not the location of your next sexcapade. you swear you see the old lady at the next table over wink at you. “your choice, honey.”

you’re staring daggers at him. he leans in closer, elbows resting on the table and a shit eating grin contorting his pretty face.

“i’ve been gone too long, i need to remember what that pussy feels like.” his voice has dropped an octave but it’s still too loud. you inadvertently grind against the chair. the candle on the table flickers from the force of the shaky breath your expel.

“if you shut up now, you can have me anywhere you want me.” you mumble, bringing your napkin to your lips. the ice cream is melting and you have more important things on your mind.

“i’ll have you anyway, honey. because no matter what happens, we’re gonna go back to the car and you’re gonna crawl into my lap, aren’t you? you’re not gonna be able to help it.” he keeps going and you want the ground to swallow you up. maybe you want to crawl over the table and jump on his lap right here. you fight every natural instinct.

“lando.” you try to scold him again but it comes out breathier, a feeble attempt at shutting him up. it’s hard to be convincing when you want nothing more than for him to bend you over in the middle of this restaurant.

“and after i’ve had you shaking on my lap, i’m gonna fill you up, yeah? you’ve been waiting for weeks, poor thing.”

you usher over the waiter, and ask for the bill.

he’s got you home in one piece and all the way up to the shower.

you’re still delirious from the car. he’s still dripping out of you.

he pushes you against the shower screen, your cheek resting on the fogged up plastic. the combination of yours and his first orgasm is enough to slick him up and he slides right back inside of you, as if he’d never left.

your head is spinning, car lights and nail prints in leather seats flashing through your mind.

he’d been right in the restaurant. you’d crawled straight into his lap and he’d been waiting, seat pushed back, cock slapping up against his tanned belly. he’d swiped his fingers through your folds, determining that you were wet enough already, and then you’d sunk straight down on him.

at first he’d just watched you lose control, bouncing and grinding and whining on his lap. you were growing tired when he stepped in, pushing you back against the steering wheel, the angle change making your eyes roll back. you came twice with his fingers on your clit and his other hand holding you down so he could grind up into you. he’d released deep into you, all you could do was shudder, collapsing into his chest.

now, he’s taking you again, the hot water cascading over you both. you’re almost limp, caught between the cold screen and his hot, restless body. this it was three weeks apart does to him, and the urge to claim every part of you is at the forefront of his mind.

you’re writhing. there’s no room to move; he’s pressed so tight against you, breathy moans sounding straight into your ear and you want him impossibly closer. you always missed him so much it hurt, but that pain had increased tenfold lately.

you try to roll your hips back into him, needing him deeper, somehow. you’re so wet and tight around him, and your attempt at moving on him has you clamping down on him.

lando whimpers when he lets go, marking you as his.

he washes your hair and you fall asleep together naked.

the fear

lando is due back from qatar.

any minute now, he’ll be walking through the door.

he’s taken a podium, so you are expecting somewhat high spirits, despite the slight issue that had been the sprint race.

a podium is a podium, you’d tried to tell him on the phone late on saturday night. you knew that a podium was never just a podium.

you’re cleaning the kitchen up, your sweet daughter tucked up tight in her bed upstairs. a random playlist is sounding from the speakers and you flit around in just his hoodie. it hits mid thigh and it’s keeping you shielded from the biting october air.

you hear keys in the lock somewhere in the distance. you grin stupidly. god, you always fucking miss him. you turn to face the doorway, eagerly anticipating his face, longing for one of his speciality hugs.

instead, a storm enters your kitchen in the form of your boyfriend.

you raise and eyebrow.

“lando?” you question.

your hips are in his hands before he can answer. he’s walking you backwards until the granite of the counter is digging into your lower back.

“turn around.” his voice is gravelly, commanding. you do as you’re told.

the hoodie is bunched around your waist, your panties are tugged to the side. you can hear the rustle of fabric, assuming he’s getting himself ready. two fingers gloss through your folds while he pushes you down, bending you over for him. he’s rubbing circles into your clit and you’re keening into his touch.

“you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” you manage to choke out. he grunts in response.

“just need to get inside you.” is all he replies. well, okay then.

lando rearranges you, hiking one of your knees up so that’s it’s resting on the countertop. your other foot barely touches the floor when he fucks into you, ruthless. you cry out, reaching blindly behind you for him. you graze his hip and he shivers, pushing into you even harder.

he’s frantic, messy with it, thumbing at your clit. there’s hardly any room to move his hand, so he’s grinding the pad of his thumb as best he can. the pressure builds in your belly embarrassingly fast. you love when he gets like this, but you will pry what’s wrong out of him later when he curls up into his chest.

“gonna give you another one. s’all i can think about. fucking you full.” he mutters. your back arches into him.

“please.” you whimper, slurred. it’s all you can think about too.

your plea ushers along his orgasm, and he drops his head against your back. you’re shaking when you finish; he stays buried deep for a moment, silence washing over you.

when he helps you stand up, he kisses you deep. he brushes the hair from your face, says hello properly.

“wanna go see her.” he mumbles.

when you finally manage to climb the stairs, you see straight into your daughters room.

lando is stood over her crib, watching her sleep in the lamp lit room. he’s cooing something to her that you can’t make out. your knees are weak at the sight. you want to fill this house with children that look like him and laugh the way he does.

he catches you watching, sending you a wink, a promise that he’ll meet you in bed. when he finally does, drawing back the sheets and dropping into bed beside you, he wraps himself around you instantly.

“talk to me.” you command, toying with his hair in a way that you know turns him into mush in your hands.

“can’t win a race, can’t give you another baby. just- fuck.” he sighs, voice so small. you tear up but you push that aside for now.

“stop, lando. don’t do this to yourself.” you try to sound firm, attentive.

“just- am i good to you? am i good to her?” he needs to hear you say it, that’s the only thing that will talk him down from this spiral. he’s exhausted, and this is often a consequence.

“sometimes i think you hung the stars in the sky.” you hum, kissing his forehead.

gentle snores lull you to sleep.

quickie

you go with him to austin.

it seemed logical, after the events of qatar. your daughter has been stolen away by lando’s dad, who is showing her the paddock and introducing her to mechanics. you watch on, momentarily, because then lando is stealing you away.

“haven’t you got fp3 in a minute?” you ask, coy smile on your face. he’s pulling your jeans down and kicking them away.

“this won’t take long.” he smirks.

you crave the upper hand for a change. his race suit is already undone, so you make your move. you tug down his fireproofs, taking his cock in your hands. he’s hard already, glistening for you. he groans, but doesn’t make you stop.

you’re watching him through your eyelashes, his head tipping back in pleasure. you work your hand around him, up and down, applying pressure at the base and around the tip. it’s flushed red, wet in your hand and he looks too pretty to stop. he can have you later, in your hotel room, you think. right now, you’re having him.

lando is panting, thrusting into your hand when he comes for you. you’re soaked through, and he can probably see the damp patch on the panties. his release hits your stomach, painting your flushed skin white. your eyes scan the room for something to clean yourself with, but he beats you to it.

thick fingers swipe through the mess he’s made. your panties are tugged to the side and then he’s fucking you with said fingers. you cannot produce a thought, mouth gaping open in the shape of an ‘o’. the sight before you has you gushing, and he uses that leverage to speed up.

“you think i’m gonna let it go go waste, honey? silly girl. pretty, pretty girl.” he mutters.

your hips are bucking into his hand when he pulls out of you, collecting more of him from your belly, and then he’s thrusting them in again. you tear up from the pleasure coursing through you, white hot. he’s crazy, you think, but he’s so fucking beautiful, teasing glint in his eye as he curls his fingers deeper.

“want it so bad, don’t you? gotta keep you full for me, don’t i?”

you’re sure you can be heard from the garage when your orgasm hits.

office party

a burnt orange dress clings to your hips and a curly haired man clings to your hand.

the mtc is lit up for another gala that you and lando have to attend. the season is over and they’ve had a great run, so a toast must be made to celebrate that.

you watch him get passed around the room between sponsors and other important people, proud of what he’s achieved. you hate sharing him, but it’s a necessary evil, so you drink champagne with oscar’s girlfriend, lily, and natalie pinkham.

when lando comes back to you, his PR smile is dropped and that genuine, boyish grin returns that you have so missed in his momentary absence. he introduces you to some people, proudly showing you off, sinking drinks as he does.

it’s nearing 10pm when his actions become questionable. his hand stays on your ass, his words whispered in your ear are filthy and his sly kisses on your neck stop being quite so sly.

you remove him from the main event, just for a moment, just to try and get him to compose himself before you jump him against one of the vintage racing cars. he sees this as an invitation, however, and then everything goes awry.

he’s dragging you into the lift, kissing you against the closed doors. when you stumble out a floor up, you can still hear the function in full swing. he’s pulling you down a hallway and into what you assume is an office. when he has you sat on a desk, you realise where you are.

“is this zak’s office?” your eyes pop out of your head, bewildered.

“maybe.” he shrugs. he’s smirking like a bastard.

“you’re insane.” you shake your head, standing from the desk, but his lips ghost your ear and you’re putty in his hands.

“you’re driving me insane. coming here in this tight fucking dress. can’t stop looking at you, thinking about this.” his hand rubs over your lower belly as he speaks, and then you’re back on the desk.

lando’s on his knees, peeling the silky material over your thighs until your barely there panties are in his face. he mouths over them briefly, and then they’re gone and his tongue is buried to the hilt in your cunt.

it doesn’t take him long to get you off, the alcohol and the thrill of being in the one place you should never have sex pushing you quickly towards your orgasm.

the glass wall of windows is too inviting for lando to pass up, so on shaky legs, you’re pressed up against them, looking out over the pond and the fairy lights when he pushes into you.

he’s kissing over your shoulder, your neck, holding your down on him while he thrusts up into you. you turn your head to kiss him, to let him swallow up your noises that could give you away.

“you’re so fucking good for me, honey. letting me have you here like this just so i can give you a baby.” he slurs against your lips, pussy drunk and ravenous.

he finds your clit, fast fingers making small swipes against it and you want to cry.

“gonna make this time count, yeah, honey? gonna keep it all inside of you until we get home?”

you try to nod, try to say something but you’re choking on air and dripping all over him. a couple more thrusts and you’re the perfect vessel for him to release into, throbbing and hot around his cock.

“beg for it, honey, come on. tell me how much you want it.” lando mumbles right in your ear.

“lando, please. please, please, please.” you whimper. “come for me, baby, need it inside of me.”

you leave the office a lot more composed than when you entered it. well, aside from the remnants of him that are running down your inner thighs.

a month later, lando’s laughing. he’s actually laughing, while you cringe, burying your blushing face in his chest.

you’re holding a pregnancy test in your hands, finally a positive one.

when you do the maths, you realise where baby norris was conceived, and you try and make him promise never to tell anyone that it was in his boss’s office.

“it’s a funny story.” he tells you. there are tears in his eyes.

“you’re so lucky i love you.” you roll your eyes. you are also dangerously close to crying.

but truthfully, you’re the lucky one. he carries you to bed that night, claiming that now you had a baby on board, you had to be careful!

you dream of him, that night. the man that hung the stars in the sky.

once again, idk what came over me i’m sorry lmfao

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239

removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

6K notes · View notes

ashleysturn · 4 months ago

Text

tease - matt sturniolo

overview: you are best friends with matt and his brothers. you go on a road trip with them, you are sitting in the passenger seat. you need matt’s touch, you’re desperate.

nsfw slow burn

<———————————————➰———————————————>

i’ve been best friends with matt and his brothers for a while now. i’ve never had any romantic or sexual feelings for any of them until recently.. i’ve been having some thoughts about matt. i can’t help it. his hands, his tattoos, his rings, his hair and eyes.. i feel like i need him but he’s my best friend.. and so are his brothers. so i just push those feelings down.

*4:49 am*

“y/n are you coming?” i hear matt’s voice impatiently calling me from downstairs.

i frustratedly crawl out of nick’s bed- him, chris and matt were already ready to leave. i knew we had to get up early for this road trip but not this early.

“i’m comingg” i draw out my words. i throw on a pair of comfy shorts and a baggy tshirt. i don’t bother putting on a bra, i mean i’m about to be in the car for nine hours.

i clumsily walk down the stairs holding my suitcase.

“so, we going?” i follow the boys out to the van. “i call shotgun. i need leg room” i get into the passenger seat. nick sits behind me, and chris behind matt who is driving.

*7:21 am*

“do you want anything?” matt softly says, rubbing my arm to wake me.

“huh? what time is it?” i start to sit up.

“no, no you don’t have to get up we’ve only been driving for a couple hours. chris had to piss, we’re stopped at a gas station”

I nod my head, my half awake self not fully comprehending what he’s saying. i yawn and stretch my arms.

“i want to stretch my legs”

matt nods in agreement and gets out of the car, opening the door for me. i step out of the car and stretch my legs. i shake out my body and get back in the car. matt walks a few laps around the gas pump as he waits for chris.

i watch matt attentively. he pushes his hair out of his face as he stretches. his shirt lifts up a bit, revealing his v-line. my eyes widen and i bite my bottom lip.

fuck snap out of it

i look down at my phone and scroll for a few minutes before chris returns back to the car.

“you know we’re about to drive through the mountains” matt says as he starts the engine of the van.

i look over at him and smile. “i’m going to stay awake i want to see.”

“i’m going back the fuck to sleep” nick says. chris agrees.

i shrug “your loss”

*8:43 am*

“look! aren’t they pretty” matt points as we start to drive up the side of a huge mountain. in the distance i can see gorgeous snow-tipped mountains.

“wow they really are” i look over at matt. his profile is perfect. i’d much rather look at him than the mountains.

he looks over at me and i quickly look away. i try not to smile.

“hey can you hand me my charger? i need my phone for the gps” matt points to the compartment in the door.

“oh, yeah sure” i reach into the compartment and pull out his phone charger. i reach my hand out.

matt’s hand lingers on mine for a brief moment as he grabs the charger from me. butterflies shoot through my stomach.

why is just a small touch affecting me so much

i sigh.

“hey y/n you alright?” matt looks at me with a concerned tone to his face.

“hm? yeah i’m fine” i say, barely a whisper.

“you sure? i can pull over”

i shake my head. “just tired”

“alright.” matt looks over at me and smiles. i look into his eyes for a brief moment, i feel my cheeks glow red.

i look out the window of the car, taking in all of the scenery as matt drives. i steal quick glances at his pretty face once in a while. there’s something oddly attractive about him driving.

“matt?” i look over at him with a smile

“mhm” his voice is sleepy

his sleepy voice sends a shock of electricity through my body. i can’t help but squeeze my thighs together as i watch him.

“what y/n?”

“nevermind” i look down at my lap.

“no, say it” matt looks over at me with almost a demanding look. we lock eyes.

“i- uh.” fuck think of something “i kinda need to pee”

“we just stopped an hour ago y/n.” he sighs

“no actually i can hold it”

“you sure?”

i nod my head.

i definitely feel something down there but i don’t have to pee.

*10:59*

chris and nick are still asleep in the back seat. me and matt have been pretty silent besides a few random little conversations.

as matt watches the road, i watch him. the way his hands grip the steering wheel, the way he subtly bites his lip as he concentrates. i swallow hard and readjust in my seat.

“matt i’m bored” i blurt out.

matt laughs. “are you five? you really need entertained?” he teases.

my cheeks flush pink. “maybe” i laugh, playfully slapping his arm

he laughs and nudges me back.

“can i see your hand?”

matt’s happy expression turns to a confused one.

“what? i mean sure but why?” he holds out his hand

“i want to look at your rings” i grab his hand and trace my pointer finger over his rings, turning them around and looking at the intricate engravings.

after a few minutes matt goes to take his hand away but i hold it in my lap. he holds my hand back.

i trace circles on the back of his hand. i take in the details of his long fingers that are intertwined with mine.

i can’t get comfortable in my seat- the mixture of being crammed in a car for hours and feeling a bit turned on just makes me feel restless. i decide to lay my back against the door and stretch my feet out across matt’s lap as he drives.

“what’re you doing?” matt looks over at me, but then back to the road.

“i need to stretch my legs”

“whatever i just don’t know if that’s safe”

i shake my head. “it’s fine”

matt shrugs. he reaches over to click on the radio.

i move my feet up higher on matt’s lap.

i see matt’s jaw clench but he doesn’t stop looking away from the road.

i decide to see how far i can take this until he says something

i move my feet up even higher on matt’s lap- practically inches away from his crotch.

“you getting comfortable?” matt clears his throat and looks over at me.

“mhm” i look over at him with needy eyes

“fuck” matt whispers under his breath. i pretend not to hear him

i eventually fall asleep with my legs stretched over matt’s lap.

the car goes over a bump that stirs me awake. i jolt up.

“sorry there was a pothole” matt looks over at me and smiles

“oh alright” i readjust my body to sit up normal in the seat.

“how long was i asleep?”

matt looks at the time. “about 45 minutes”

i nod my head.

“hey uh, do you maybe wanna stay up for a bit?”

i nod my head “yeah sure”

“im just getting tired i need to stay alert, i need someone to talk to.”

“oh yeah of course, sorry.” i feel bad that everyone has been able to sleep but him.

“no don’t be sorry i just want to talk to you” matt reaches over and gently places his hand on my leg, a few inches above my knee.

my breath hitches. i look down at his hand

matt traces shapes on my skin with his fingers, slowly moving up my thigh.

am i dreaming right now?

i have goosebumps all over my body. butterflies fill my stomach.

matt squeezes my thigh and runs his hand up further. i part my legs slightly.

“is this okay?” his voice quiet and sleepy

“mhm” i bite my bottom lip

matt’s pinky slips under the hem of my shorts, slowly the rest of his hand follows.

i can’t help but let out a small breathy moan- his hand being so close to where i want it the most.

matt looks over at me, his mouth slightly open. he looks down at where his hand is placed and bites his bottom lip.

he shifts around in his seat “i’m gonna make a quick stop. you still have to pee?”

“uh yeah i guess”

matt parks the car at the gas station and quickly unbuckles.

“should we wake up nick and chris?” i look into the back seat

matt grabs my jaw and turns my head to look at him “no, come on”

what is happening right now

matt gets out of the car and walks over to the passengers side. he opens the door for me and takes my hand.

i squeeze his hand and let him lead me.

“what’s going on?” i shyly ask

matt stops walking but doesn’t let go of my hand. “you know what you’re doing”

my brow furrows. “what?”

“come on don’t play dumb now”

“no say it what do you mean?” i face him

“don’t make me say it”

i start to walk back towards the car “okay i won’t”

“no wait-“ matt grabs ahold of my arm. i smile.

“i’m waiting” i cross my arms

i love teasing him.

“you’ve been teasing me” he says, embarrassed

i play dumb, “what?!”

i start to slowly walk away, a secret smile on my face

“no wait please” matt grabs my arm again

“maybe i read this wrong.” he says

i shake my head “you didn’t” i look up at him, his eyes widen.

he grabs my hand and guides me to the bathroom. i bite my lip as i follow him

matt closes the door behind us. he steps back “i uh-“

“you don’t need to say anything” i awkwardly smile

he stays silent for some time

is he going to make a move or do i have to?

“when you put your feet up on me-“

i shake my head and step forward.

“you know when you do those things they.. affect me”

i wait for him to continue

“i don’t know if you do it on purpose but-“

i smile and let him ramble

“you’re my best friend so i never wanted to say anything-“

he sighs

“but sometimes you really fucking mess with me”

he pauses

“and sometimes you do it on purpose i can tell. but other times just looking at you-“

he looks me up and down

“like right now fuck” he rubs his eyes “those little shorts and-“

“matt” i chime in

“i just can’t help it fuck”

“matt.”

“i think about you a lot. and i never want to make you uncomfortable but-“

“MATT”

“but sometimes i think about you when i-“

“MATT” i practically yell

“fuck. shit” he covers his face with his hands

“i want you to fuck me matt”

“y/n. i-“ he uncovers his face, his breath heavy. “i’m serious don’t be messing with me”

“i am serious” i grab his hands and i come closer to him

“please” i guide his hands down toward my waist.

his hands grip my waist and he pulls me close so our bodies are against each other

i feel his bulge rest against my thigh. i bite my bottom lip

matt cups my face with his hands and presses a deep kiss on my lips

“mmm” i moan into the kiss, wrapping my hands around the back of his neck.

matt breaks the kiss to look at me “you’re re so pretty” he kisses my forehead

i smile, my cheeks red.

i press my thigh into his crotch. matt lets out a whimper which sends electricity throughout my body.

“fuck i need you now” he groans and pushes me against the wall, kissing me.

he reaches down and unbuckles his belt and drops it to the floor. he deepens the kiss.

i moan into the kiss as he deepens it. i reach down and tug up at his shirt, which he then swiftly removes.

he pins my body against the wall again. he reaches up my shirt to massage my tits.

“oh fuck” he groans. “you’re so fucking sexy”

i tip my head back as matt grips onto my chest and teases my nipples with his fingers.

he lifts my shirt off of my body and presses me back against the wall- goosebumps raise on my skin when my back makes contact with the cold wall.

matt kisses down my jaw to my neck, leaving marks. i reach down and cup my hand over his bulge through his pants.

matt’s hips buck forward for more contact. i gently rub his clothed crotch

he breathes onto my neck as i tease him. he kisses and sucks on my neck, his body pressed against mine.

i reach down with my other hand to unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper. matt bites down on my neck as a sudden reaction, causing a mix of pain and pleasure.

i let out a loud moan of his name. he covers my mouth. “shh. shh”

shit i totally forgot where we are. but i don’t care.

“you gotta be quiet pretty girl” instead of matt removing his hand from my mouth he forces his fingers into my mouth.

i look up into his eyes and suck his fingers

“mm good girl”

he reaches down with his other hand and pulls down his pants and boxers in one swift motion.

i look down at his hard cock

fuck it’s huge

my heart races.

matt removes his fingers from my mouth and traces them down my curves. he places his fingers gently on my clit through my panties. i let out a desperate moan

“please” i beg

“please what pretty girl? what do you want?” matt has a hungry look in his eyes.

“i want you to touch me. please” i beg

he looks me in me eyes as he applies more pressure to my sensitive clit

“oh fuck” i moan, my head tipping back

“no look at me” he grabs my face with his other hand.

i look back into his eyes as he touches me. i let out moans with every circle he rubs on my clit, i’m so sensitive- i’ve been wanting this. needing this.

“pretty girl can i take these off?” he tugs at the waistband of my panties

i nod my head “mhm, please”

matt wastes no time in sliding them down off of my body.

he takes all of our clothes and piles them up on the floor. he picks me up and lays me on top of them

i giggle at the makeshift ‘bed’ as he lays me down.

matt spreads my legs and hovers above me, looking down at me hungrily

i can’t believe this is happening. me completely exposed infront of my best friend in a random gas station in the middle of nowhere.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“are you sure?” matt looks at me with a sincere look

“yeah.. yes.” i nod my head.

he smiles and lines himself up with my entrance.

he slowly strokes himself for a moment before rubbing his tip over my folds.

“fuck you’re so wet” he whimpers

he continues rubbing his tip over my pussy for a minute before pressing it into me with a grunt

“oh fuck” i practically scream.

“you okay? i can go slow” he rubs my thighs to soothe me

“yeah you’re just really big” i laugh

matt shakes his head and rolls his eyes jokingly

“can i push in a bit more?”

i nod my head, spreading my legs further

“ah fuckk” matt groans as he pushes his length another inch into me

i feel his dick fill me up as he slowly pushes it in. i grip my nails onto his back.

“a little bit more pretty girl, can you take it all?”

i look up at him with a needy look in my eyes “yes please”

matt pushes my legs further apart, further than i thought they could. he bottoms out, his dick completely filling me up, my walls tight around him

“you’re so tight” matt start to slowly pump inside me

i moan with every movement he makes. he covers my mouth

“shh y/n you gotta be quiet for me.”

i nod my head.

matt picks up the pace, thrusting in and out of me quickly. the sound of skin slapping and moans fill the room.

my stomach ties in a knot. i’ve never felt like this before.

“fuck matt” i whine

“you okay?” he slows down

“fuck don’t stop please.” i beg “matt you feel so good inside me”

he quickens the pace once more, making my legs shake

“fuck i think i’m gonna cum” i can barely spit the words out though my moans

“cum for me pretty girl” matt pushes my hair out of my face. he reaches down and places his fingers over my sensitive clit.

all these feelings are so overwhelming. my walls start to tense up around his dick.

“does that feel good?“ matt asks, it’s obvious he can feel me tensing up.

“yes- don’t stop. please” i beg for release.

matt pushes down on my stomach. “feel how deep i am inside you? you like that?”

his words send me over the edge. my whole body tenses up, my legs shaking. the knot in my stomach releases as i cum around him

“oh fuck” matt quickly pulls out and without even stroking himself anymore he lets out hot cum all over my pussy and stomach

“fuck” he pants and lays down next to me on the pile of clothes.

“that was-“ i pant

“amazing” matt completes my sentence.

i nod my head.

matt grabs some paper towels and helps clean me up. he helps me to my feet and gathers my clothes.

“you okay?” he leans in for a hug

“yeah- more than okay” i hug him tightly.

suddenly there’s a knock at the door “matt? y/n?”

“fuck! what do we do!” matt whispers

“having a good time in there freaks?” we hear nicks voice

my eyes widen and i laugh as matt frantically puts his clothes back on.

<———————————————➰———————————————>

comment requests, i got so carried away this is soo long lmao

also sorry if there’s typos or anything lol i’m too lazy to proofread fully

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fluff

2K notes · View notes

g0dlyunsub · 5 months ago

Text

it takes two.

spencer deals with a lot on the field, but nothing can prepare him for when he’s stuck inside a locker with you.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: 18+ due to sexual themes but no smut, slight claustrophobia triggers

word count :: 2.2k

author’s note :: inspired by a scene from s9e23, i'm imagining spencer in a fitted collared shirt and tie, reader wears a skirt

accompanying song :: stuck between by dutch criminal record

“nothing’s showing up on vicap. i’ve cross-checked records against everything you’ve mentioned, sir, but there’s literally nothing. zilch,” you hear garcia let out an exasperated groan as she ferociously taps at her keyboard.

you watch as hotch kneads the skin between his brows with growing impatience while morgan starts to pace around the room. you’re not doing any better yourself, your stressed-out fingers threatening to tug at the strands of hair neatly holding your ponytail together.

it’s too frustrating. the leads are clearly there, but your team is lacking the final puzzle piece to complete the profile, to confirm that it’s someone in the department that’s deliberately injecting themselves into the investigation.

“your answer is probably written down on paper. ugh, i hate when bad guys try to act all smart,” garcia fumes, and sulks as she gives an apologetic wave from her side of the screen. hotch nods, relays a thank you, and cuts the call before rounding the whole team together.

“think about it, those two are the perfect scapegoats. all of these agents have everything to lose, so why not just blame them? they’ve been in and out of cells already, and it makes perfect sense to craft a narrative that’ll point fingers at them,” morgan starts, making small gestures as he speaks with his signature cadence, topped with a honeyed rasp.

“and they’ve got all the authority to influence the public’s opinion,” jj nods in agreement.

“we need to try to get those two to talk again, but we also have to take extra precautions. jj and prentiss, go interview them one more time to see if they’ll spill any names. morgan, i need you to work with garcia to look for other possible leads. reid and l/n, go to the records room to review the files of the agents working with us. dave and i will try to hold down the fort,” hotch instructs, nodding at each of you as he rolls out the orders.

“and try not to draw suspicion. if all else fails, say that you need to run to the bathroom,” rossi adds with a wink. it always amazes you how calm the italian agent is during such high-pressure situations, a trait you’ve grown to immensely appreciate.

“shall we?” you say as you nudge spencer, and he hums back in response. you bid a wish of good luck to emily and jj and traverse the hallway to the records room with the doctor, your heels clacking beside the cushioned steps of his slightly worn converses.

after looking left and right to make sure no one’s around, spencer opens the door. you silence the sounds of your heels as you follow inside, and let the bolt of the lock plunge into the frame by slowly closing the door.

“alright, you take the left, i’ll take the right,” you whisper, and spencer gives you a thumbs up.

the two of you work silently and as fast as possible, sifting through the piles of records that lie on the tables and beside the cabinets. you feel your heart jump into a cartwheel every time a sheet of paper slips out of the manila folders, the sounds of rustling and creasing setting you on edge.

“i found mcgregor and drew, but i don’t think it’s either of them,” spencer declares with a voice that isn’t supposed to sound loud at all, but it feels hundreds of decibels higher than the bare whisper you spoke with earlier.

“okay, i found weaver and lee, but they don’t fit the profile either. let’s continue looking for the other two,” you call back.

spencer walks over to you and kneels beside your left to help you with your search. once you spread the folders on the floor, you spot one of the two remaining files, and spencer soon finds the other. you’re about to turn through the sheets in the folder when the doorknob starts to shake, startling the both of you.

“shit. spence,” you blurt as spencer takes his file in one hand and grabs yours with the other, and shoves them into an open drawer. after he slides the compartment back with his careful and nimble fingers, you grab his arm and squeeze into a spare locker. you barely manage to seal the opening shut in time.

you could say that it was quick thinking that saved your and spencer’s cover, since the door jiggles and thrusts open a mere second later.

you never would’ve imagined that the day would come when you would draw air directly from spencer’s breaths, let alone enclose yourself in the same room as him.

and yet here you are, perched on top of spencer’s knee, the scratchy fabric of his trousers resting under the hollow space of your pencil skirt and between your legs. his other leg presses against your side of the wall with an uncomfortable bend, while his chin sits an atom’s width from your forehead.

it’s a nonnegotiable consequence that comes with his tall figure, the way his clothed knee has to rub against your inner thighs under the draped fabric.

one of your hands lies awkwardly on his chest while the other is on his thigh, right above the knee that’s using you for leverage. your attention immediately shifts to your left when you see the rays of the intruder’s flashlight scope through the room.

you stop mid-exhale when the light pours through the gaps of the locker, casting shadows on spencer’s face and your body. he looks stressed, anxiously wetting his lips with closed eyes, face turned away from you.

and he looks overwhelmed. rapid bursts of inhales and exhales fire from his body, likely due to the collar of his shirt being bound tightly around his neck with the tie. with shaking fingers, you slowly reach for his tie, waiting for approval to loosen it.

you feel his forehead bury into the cave of your shoulder, and he whispers his desperate ask into your ear: “please.”

despite the lack of light around you, you’re able to locate the small end of his satin tie, and you tug lightly. the knot unfurls as you pull, and spencer lets out a small sigh of relief before breathing a low thank you in your ear.

as this happens, you hear the intruder surf through the piles of papers, unlocking drawers and lifting boxes left and right. hurry, hurry, hurry, you pray desperately in your head. beads of sweat start to form at your temple and threaten to fall down to your exposed neck, which happens to be situated directly in spencer’s line of sight.

“come on,” you hear the guest in the room complain, angrily flipping through papers and slamming the cabinets. you think it’s finally time for him to leave when you hear the high-pitched ring of his phone.

but your eyes widen when instead of heading to the door, he makes strides towards the locker right across from yours, and leans his back against it before holding the phone up to his ear. holy shit.

“jensen speaking,” he says with a gruff voice, and plays with the button of his flashlight so it turns on and off spontaneously. as the light flickers, it dimly shines the space inside your locker.

spencer turns his head to meet your eyes, a panicked expression covering his face. you’re about to mouth a small sorry for the helpless situation you’ve dragged him into, but just as you’re about to do so, spencer’s trousers slide against your legs, creating friction so unbearable that you let out a squeak.

you freeze, looking up to see spencer’s eyes flash warningly. he instantly clasps your mouth with his hands to cover any further sound from escaping your lips, but with no form of support to maintain his position, he starts to slip, and his shirt lightly skids against the locker’s slippery walls. this is somehow even worse for you, because spencer’s knee starts to dig further up your legs and into your cotton underwear, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

luckily for the both of you, jensen seems to be distracted by whatever words are being spewed from the other end of his phone call to pay any mind to your suppressed yelps.

“i think their agents might be on to us,” he scowls, and you watch from the corner of your eye as he tosses the last of his files into a box and opens the adjacent locker to ram it inside.

“yeah, i’ll try to stall them for as long as i can. they don’t know what they’re getting themselves into.”

jensen curses and promptly ends the call, returning his phone into the pocket of his shirt. he finally walks to the door, sighing as he twists the knob and steps out. the two of you lie in wait for an additional three minutes before trying anything.

“i think we’re good,” spencer huffs, finally opening the locker door with a thud as the sounds of steel clashing against steel echo throughout the air.

“yeah,” you nod, taking a breath to collect yourself as you step out. you watch as spencer runs a hand through his hair and moves his fingers down to adjust his tie.

he returns the stare, his adam’s apple bobbing when he eyes your wrinkled shirt and scrunched up pencil skirt – which looks more like a mini-skirt with how it sits right below your hips.

“i um, i need some air. how about you?” spencer asks at last, clearing his throat. you bite your lip when he starts to brush the dust off his thighs and knees, the moments of earlier flooding into the back of your mind like the warmth pooling between your thighs.

“yeah, i could use some fresh air too,” you respond breathily, averting your eyes and focusing instead on smoothing out your shirt and retying your loosened ponytail. when you’re done, you turn around and stagger to the door, not looking twice to see if spencer’s following you. an intense flush spreads across your cheeks, and your only viable path of escape is to the bathroom.

“you, um, missed a spot,” you hear from behind, and you follow spencer’s gaze to see that he’s referring to the back of your skirt.

“oh,” you say as embarrassment swamps you, and you hurriedly pat at the fabric. “does that look better?”

“it’s still folded there. if you want, i can- may i?”

the question tumbles from his pretty lips and messes with your head. his hand hovers right around your waist, the same way yours lingered on his tie as you waited for his consent. and his softening eyes. his slightly smoldering gaze looks so innocent and alluring at the same time, your heart starts to feel heavy with the weight of desire.

note to self: never wear a pencil skirt again.

“please,” you utter like a silent prayer, and mentally prepare yourself to endure the test of his fingers against your skin.

as soon as he receives your word, his hand lightly brushes against your thigh and trails down your skin. he takes the hem of your skirt and pulls down, giving several tugs before releasing the stretched garment.

he clears his throat when you don’t move even after he’s retracted his hand.

“all good now.”

spencer’s words drown out your thoughts and snap you back to reality. he’s already standing by the door, holding it open for you with a patient smile.

“thanks,” you say as you walk out and rub your hands together, nervous for what you’re about to say next. “spencer, um, i’m so sorry about that whole ordeal, it was really unprofessional of me to drag you in there, i wasn’t thinking when i-”

“you did the right thing,” spencer interrupts your ramble with the shake of his head, and his flawless smile pulls at your heartstrings.

“i would’ve pushed you in there if you hadn't. that door’s the only way in and out if you don’t count the windows,” he continues, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walks you to the elevator.

“oh,” you shyly murmur back, your cheeks flushing with a shade of bright pink as his words pour over you like warm water. he would’ve pushed you in there if you hadn’t?

“yeah, but how about we try a bigger locker next time?” spencer almost reads your mind as he half-mindedly jokes, causing you to drop your jaw in shock. he doesn’t acknowledge your reaction, however, because he starts to dial rossi’s number on his cell.

“by the way, the uh, new look suits you. the grey skirt and all,” spencer says with a lopsided smile before he raises a hand to excuse himself and call rossi. you’re saved the embarrassment of responding when rossi accepts the call, but your palms are already profusely sweating at his compliment.

note to self: maybe wear the pencil skirt again.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x you

1K notes · View notes

luveline · 6 months ago

Text

—you meet Spencer again after losing out on the BAU job. he comforts you while you do your best not to flirt. bombshell!reader, 0.9k

You lose out on the BAU job to Elle Greenaway. It drives you crazy.

You work just as hard as Elle does, you’re professional no matter what Jason Gideon has to say about you, and you know you could do it. You have just as many successes as Elle does.

It makes you feel sick. You tried so, so hard.

I’m sorry, Hotch had said, and at least you’d had his support. He was kind enough to tell you in person. I can’t make the decision without Gideon, and if he thinks you aren’t right for it right now, we’ll have to wait.

Wait. As though Jason Gideon was ever going to change his mind about you.

You open your purse and take out the barrel of your sheer lipstick. Your compact is next. You hold the mirror up and angle your face in the sun, popping the lid off of the lipstick, and pressing its flat end to your bottom lip. The line you draw is perfectly precise. Your hand barely trembles.

You drop the mirror down and rub your lips together slowly. No matter what falls out of your control, you can present yourself to your liking. You can be immaculate. You—

“Hi.”

You look up from your rumination, startled. You’d been thinking so hard someone actually got the run up on you.

“Hi,” you say, tilting your head gently toward your shoulder.

Dr. Spencer Reid stands a polite three feet away from you. He’s suddenly changed. The last time you met him he was wearing his long hair in a side part. Now it’s split down the middle, just a touch shorter at the sides, and he’s wearing glasses.

(He’s wearing glasses!)

You’d thought he was pretty before.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” you say, tempted to call him baby, maybe sweetheart. He’s a sweet looking boy. His sweater vest makes you wanna hold his hand. “Thank you for asking. Why are you asking?”

You talk to him with no derision nor malice, just curiosity.

He frowns. It gives his eyes a sad shine. “I know you wanted the open position. You would’ve been great at it.”

“You think so?” you ask, surprised.

“I’ve seen some of your write ups. We’ve used your summaries in one of our profiles, do you… remember that?”

You send Hotch anything he wants to see.

“I don’t know why Gideon doesn’t like you… He’s so rarely wrong about people, but you’re…” He licks his lips nervously. “You’re– you’re smart. You’re inquisitive. I think you would be an asset to the team, and it’s a shame you didn’t get your chance.”

You’re making him nervous and it isn’t your intention. You put your hands in your lap and stop giving him the look, swapping your amicable smile for a proper friendly one. “Thank you. Is it okay if I call you Spencer? Dr. Spencer Reid is a lot to say at once.”

He laughs, still nervous. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Spencer, thank you for caring so much, but I’m okay. I think I might still have a chance one day, but with Elle gone, the sex crimes division is going to need me.” You lift your chin. If he’s sought you out to tell you he’s sorry, your premonitions about him when you met a few weeks ago were correct. He’s as kind as he is pretty. “I love your glasses. Are they for reading?”

“I always wore glasses when I was a kid, and then I started working here, and I thought it might make me seem less… childish, if I wore contacts, but they’re the worst.”

You laugh happily. He says it in such a pained voice. “The glasses suit you so much,” you say, shoving your things into your bag and standing. “Did you wanna go for coffee? I need a pick me up before I go back to the office.”

Spencer touches his wrist. “Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” you ask, again, without a drop of malice. You’re not stupid, Spencer has all the nervousness of someone who’s been mistreated before, and heartily, and it’s easy to be soft with him not solely because of it, but because he seems so sweet. You could happily be his friend. “Do you like coffee? We could get those hot donuts from the cafeteria, have you tried those?”

You close the little gap between you both and raise your hand carefully to his face. Gentle, you try to pull a stray hair from the hinge of his glasses leg without snapping it.

“You can tell me all the stuff I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Spencer says.

“Come on, there has to be something.”

His mouth gives him away. “It’s not that you’re doing it wrong, you’re just– you– you’re not looking at things the…” Your fingertip brushes his cheek as you drop your hand. “…Right way, sometimes.”

“I wanted your recommendations.” You bump his elbow with yours. “I’ll buy you a coffee and you can write me a list. Cool?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Cool.”

You’re thinking it’ll be the start of a good friendship. You and Dr. Reid make quite a pair.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

soulofapatrick · 9 months ago

Text

Protect You - Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Summary: You come into work injured and Hotch accidentally outs your relationship

Words: 1.8K

Warnings: None really

Notes: I honestly don't know where this one came from but enjoy hehe

Y/N’s POV

As I step into the familiar confines of the BAU bullpen, a sigh of relief escapes my lips upon noticing it’s only Spencer present as the others always arrive later. Hotch and Rossi must be holed up in their offices, shielding them from witnessing the bruised left side of my face and the split lip that I’m trying to conceal with my hair, keeping my head down. I would try make-up but they’re profilers, we’re profilers, there’s no point hiding any of it as they’ll work it out.

Every moment reminds me of the ache throbbing on my face, a constant reminder of the altercation that occurred early this morning. I try to mask the discomfort with a tight-lipped smile, but I know Spencer sees through it the moment his gaze flickers up from the file he’s absorbed in. His eyes widen in concern, and he’s on his feet so fast his chair clatters to the ground, abandoning his document to rush to my side.

I appreciate his silent understanding, his quick grasp of the situation without needing an explanation. It's moments like these that remind me why the BAU feels like family.

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice is gentle, his concern palpable as he takes in my appearance, eyes flickering over the bruises, assessing whether I need medical or not, “What happened to you?”

I offer a weak shrug, sliding onto my desk so Spencer can slide into my chair like we usually sit, waiting for Emily, JJ and Morgan to arrive, “Oh just a little accident.” I murmur, trying to downplay the severity of it, though the pain pulses with each word. Spencer raises his eyebrows, scoffing lightly, drawing a heavy sigh from me, I relent, knowing I can’t actually keep it from my best friend, “Jessica might have found me in Hotch’s bed this morning after he left to be here early,” I pause, letting that sink in first, the fact I was in our boss’ bed, “She… well, she punched me and I just left her… she’s still grieving and it’s been just over a year now…”

Spencer's hand finds mine, a silent gesture of solidarity amidst the chaos. And in that moment, I'm grateful for his unwavering support, his quiet strength anchoring me to reality when everything feels like it's spiralling out of control, “Are you going to tell Hotch?”

Before I can respond, the authoritative timbre of Hotch’s voice cuts through the air, drawing my gaze towards his office. Instinctively, I turn my head away, a futile attempt to shield him from the truth of what his ex-sister-in-law had down to me. But it’s too late. The damage is already written across my bruised face, a stark reminder of the violence that had erupted in the early hours of the morning.

Hotch strides into the bullpen, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on me, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion. "Tell me what?" His voice is clipped, demanding answers that I'm not ready to give. Spencer gets up from my chair and moves over to where the coffee station is, staying within hearing distance but giving us enough privacy.

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of Hotch's gaze bearing down on me like a heavy burden. "It's nothing, Hotch," I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper as I keep my head bowed, unwilling to meet his gaze. But I can sense his skepticism, his unwavering determination to uncover the truth lurking beneath my hesitant words.

Before I can protest further, Hotch grips my chin with a gentle finger and thumb, forcing me to raise my face and meet his gaze. The shock that flashes across his features sends a shiver down my spine, his expression morphing from concern to horror, then to simmering anger barely contained beneath the surface.

His voice is low, a dangerous undercurrent lacing his words as he practically growls, “Who did this to you?”

I try to shake my head free from his grip but he won’t let me, cognac eyes full of anger as he searches my face. Every part of my wants to submit to him but I can’t ruin the last bit of Haley he has left by telling him and he finally sighs. He takes a risk and presses his forehead to mine, eyes closing and taking a deep breath before he’s letting me go and taking a step back just as the bullpen doors open. With one final lingering look he turns to the others and tells them to meet him in the meeting room in ten.

As Spencer intercepts Hotch on his way back to his office, a sense of foreboding settles over the bullpen, amplifying the tension already thick in the air. I watch, heart sinking, as Spencer murmurs something to Hotch, the words lost in the charged atmosphere. Hotch's head snaps up, his entire demeanour shifting in an instant. Even from behind, I can sense the fury radiating off him, a palpable force that sends a shiver down my spine. Whatever Spencer said has stirred a tempest within Hotch, one that threatens to consume everything in its path.

Before I can comprehend the gravity of the situation, Derek's voice breaks through the tense silence, his concern evident in the way he addresses me. "Oh shittt, what happened to you, baby girl?" he asks, his usually jovial tone replaced by genuine worry.

Spencer slumps back into my chair, his expression somber as Derek rounds the desk to his, drawing Emily and JJ's attention in the process. In moments like these, the boundaries between colleagues blur, replaced by the unspoken bonds of friendship and camaraderie that define us as a team. They crowd around me, their questions a chorus of concern as they inspect the bruises marring my skin. Despite their genuine care, I can feel the weight of their stares, the unspoken questions lingering in the air like a heavy fog.

Just as I'm about to ask them to drop it, a voice cuts through the chaos, echoing from Hotch's office with a force that silences the entire bullpen. "HOW DARE YOU LAY A HAND ON HER?!" Hotch's voice booms, despite his door and blinds being shut, reverberating off the walls with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt.

A stunned silence settles over the bullpen, the air thick with tension as Hotch's voice echoes through the confines of his office, despite the closed door and drawn blinds. His words hang in the air like a heavy pall, commanding attention and demanding justice. The sudden yelling draws Rossi out of his office, his expression a mix of concern and confusion as he surveys the scene unfolding before him. It's rare to witness Hotch lose his composure, and even rarer to hear him raise his voice with such raw intensity.

But, as the seconds tick by, the tension in the air becomes almost palpable, a tangible force that hangs heavy around us. We exchange uncertain glances, the weight of Hotch's anger casting a shadow over the once tranquil atmosphere of the bullpen. And then, just as quickly as it began, Hotch's voice rises again, the sound muffled by the closed door of his office. Despite the distance, his words carry with them a sense of finality, a declaration of his unwavering resolve, “I CAN DATE WHO I WANT, YOU DON’T GET TO DICTATE IF Y/N IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME.”

As Hotch's voice reverberates through the closed door of his office, his words cut through the heavy silence like a knife. The weight of his declaration hangs heavy in the air, leaving us all stunned into silence.

Derek's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his mouth slightly agape as he processes the implications of Hotch's words. Emily's eyes widen, a mixture of shock and admiration reflecting in her gaze as she exchanges a quick glance with JJ. Spencer, ever the observer, remains stoic, his expression unreadable as he absorbs the gravity of Hotch's statement.

The realisation settles over us like a heavy blanket, each of us grappling with the implications of Hotch's unwavering resolve. In that moment, it's clear that he's not just defending my honour; he's asserting his autonomy, refusing to be swayed by the opinions or judgments of others. And as the echoes of his words fade into the background, we're left in a stunned silence, the weight of the moment pressing down upon us like a tangible force. For a brief moment, the chaos of the world outside fades away, replaced by the quiet intensity of the bullpen.

But our reverie is short-lived as Hotch reemerges from his office, his face flushed with anger and frustration. His gaze sweeps over us, a silent command to gather ourselves and move forward. Without a word, he gestures towards the conference room, his authoritative presence brooking no argument.

As the rest of the team practically rushes towards the conference room, driven by the urgency of the moment, I find myself lingering behind. The weight of everything that has transpired settles heavily upon my shoulders, anchoring me to the spot as I struggle to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. I remain perched on the edge of my desk, head bowed, my hands suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. The sound of familiar footsteps draws nearer, the rhythmic cadence echoing through the empty space of the bullpen. And then, like a beacon in the darkness, Hotch's shiny smart shoes appear in my line of sight, his presence casting a warm glow against the backdrop of uncertainty.

He says my name softly, a gentle reminder that I'm not alone in this moment of vulnerability. I lift my gaze to meet his, finding solace in the depths of his unwavering gaze. There's a tenderness in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the tumultuous journey we've embarked upon together.

In that moment, he looks at me like I've hung the stars, like I'm a goddess deserving of reverence and adoration. It's a gaze that speaks volumes, a silent confession of the depth of his feelings. And then, with a gentle touch, his hand reaches out to cup my unbruised cheek, his touch a balm against the ache of the morning's events. In the stillness of the bullpen, he draws me into a soft kiss, a silent promise of solidarity and unwavering support. In that fleeting moment, time stands still, the chaos of the world fading away as we find solace in each other's embrace. And as we pull away, the weight of the world feels a little lighter, buoyed by the strength of the bond that binds us together.

With a silent understanding, we rise from the tumult of the morning, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead. And as we make our way towards the conference room, hand in hand, I know that no matter what the future holds, we'll face it together, united by the unbreakable ties of love and loyalty.

Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@guacam011y @rosaliedepp @kajjaka

2K notes · View notes

incognit0slut · 1 year ago

Text

Lose Control

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Spencer finds himself locked in a room with his rival. Based on:

warning: 18+ explicit content including oral (both), hair-pulling, chocking, and unprotected, semi-public, hate sex

words: 6.8k (I'm a smut-with-a-plot kind of person)

a/n: this is not enemies to lovers. This is, quite frankly, enemies to (fuckable) enemies. Also, we hit 1.2k followers!! Tysm!! I legit made this blog 2 months ago that’s crazyyy😳

MASTERLIST

“…mind games until you lose control…”

CHANGE WAS INEVITABLE WHEN IT CAME TO HIS WORK. Spencer encountered many great people walking through the door of the bureau throughout the years he worked as a profiler. Most of them he genuinely liked, and most of them he considered more than mere colleagues. But from all the people he had to work with, there was one person he really couldn't stand.

"Move out of the way, Reid, you're blocking the way."

He turned to see the last person he wanted to indulge in standing close to him, a hand on her hip and a frown on her face. "There is literally enough space for you to pass through."

"And jeopardize myself by touching you?" She wrinkled her nose. "I think I'll pass."

His gaze, usually warm and welcoming, hardened into a steely resolve. It pierced through her like an icy dagger, radiating an unmistakable contempt. He then backed away, walking further into the room that held rows of shelving units lining up the space. "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, ever since we found the victim's body surrounded by those cryptic signs, it reminded me of the cult massacre which happened in—"

"St. Joseph, 1947," he finished.

"Yeah, although this isn't mass murder, I thought the nature of the death was very similar to that old case." He could practically hear the smugness in her voice as she continued, "I also knew you'd be here and wanted to beat you to it."

His gaze settled on her standing by the door. "I don't think that's going according to plan considering I was here before you arrived."

"Please, you just got here. I bet I can find the files before you do."

His brows furrowed. How could he not feel some kind of disdain when she was acting the way she was? One might say he was acting too immature for his age, for a man who was close to pushing forty he did consider himself too old for petty fights. But it was hard to keep his composure when she was often the one taunting him, ridiculing him with that haughty mouth of hers.

It was better to ignore her presence completely, so he did just that, focusing his attention on the files in front of him as she stepped into the room.

She frowned, feeling her throat clenching before coughing out loud as dust particles greeted her entrance. She was busy trying to swat the specks of dust away from her face when something solid suddenly nudged her feet. Her eyes swept towards the floor.

"Why is this massive book laying here?" She picked up the thick paperback and read its title. "The Anatomy of Motive?"

Spencer's head snapped in an alert. "Wait! Don't—"

But it was too late. The old wooden door hanging loosely on its rusted hinges creaked without any support to keep it ajar, and with a resounding thud, it closed, the sound echoing through the stagnant air. "I put that there for a reason," he grumbled. "And now we're stuck here."

She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around the handle, trying to yank the door open. The panic on her face was evident when it didn't budge. "Shit."

"You can only open it from the other side."

She turned towards him. "Do you have your phone with you?"

"No."

She groaned because her own device was also securely tucked in her bag. Not wanting to be locked in a room with the last person she wanted to be with, she started pounding on the door frantically. "Help! Penelope! Luke!" Bang. Bang. "Anyone!"

"Nobody's going to hear you."

She tuned him out.

"Emily! JJ!" She pressed herself against the door, drawing her mouth close towards the tiny gap between the wooden panel and the wall. "Help! We're locked in!" She suddenly caught his movement from the corner of her eyes and turned to him, noticing the way he was already studying a file.

"What are you doing?"

He slipped back the document into the cabinet and went through the other folders. "Might as well work until they realize we're gone."

She straightened herself and glanced at the watch around her wrist. "But it's late. What if everyone's gone home and we're stuck here for the night?" A thought struck her and she looked up in horror. "Or for days?"

"Then you have yourself to blame."

She glared at him. "You're not helping."

Spencer looked up to see her jaw clenching, accentuating the sharp angles of her face. Her normally composed features, so delicately balanced, now seemed to unravel in a heat of fury. It was the only expression she held every time she had to deal with him.

He glanced away and focused back on his task. "Don't worry, we have a team of competent profilers. If they can find dangerous criminals throughout the country, they can also find their two missing agents."

She considered his words and acknowledged the truth behind them, so she reluctantly moved to the other side of the room, going through the shelves opposite of him. The space went completely still as they both went through the stack of folders shelved between the old cabinets. It wasn't until curiosity got the better of him that he finally looked up, his eyes falling onto her form.

Her back was facing him, giving him a view of her tousled hair falling down over her shoulders. His eyes involuntarily trailed the contours of her body, betraying a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His gaze lingered upon the gentle curve of her shoulder, the graceful line of her spine, and the sway of her hips as she moved onto the next shelf, her steps echoing through the silence and it was then he realized she was wearing heels.

Again.

This wasn't the first time she decided to wear shoes that looked very uncomfortable to wear. Who even wore heels in this line of work? Being an FBI agent meant you had to be quick on your feet because anything could happen unexpectedly. He once voiced out his opinion on this matter, which she only answered with, "My choice of clothing won't reduce the capability of my brain, Reid. You and I are still doctors even if I wear a bathing suit to work."

"It's not about your choice of clothing, it's about being practical."

"That's why I keep a pair of sneakers in my drawers,” she had haughtily replied, then narrowed her eyes at him. "And don't comment on my shoes when I've held myself from judging on your ugly cardigans."

His cardigans were not ugly.

He shook the memory away as eyes roamed over her again, noticing her very exposed legs. She was also wearing a skirt today, something she often did and something he never dared to have an opinion on, knowing she would probably bite his head off if he did.

"Stop staring at me."

Spencer cleared his throat at being caught. "I wasn't."

"I could practically feel your eyes on me." She looked over her shoulder. "I have great spidey senses."

There was a sudden pause. "Spidey senses?"

"Yeah, like Spiderman." When he didn't respond, she turned around and faced him. "Please tell me you know who Spiderman is?"

When he returned her gaze with a frown, she couldn't help but laugh, turning her back towards him again. "You know this is why people like me better than you. We both may be smart, but you got to admit, my knowledge doesn't simply stop on academics."

He should've been offended by her words, he should've countered back a vile reply, but her voice became white noise to him as he watched her body leaning down, picking up a document that slipped from her grasp. His eyes caught the way the tight skirt clung to her form like a second skin. The fabric, stretched taut against her curves, highlighted the alluring lines of her figure. The skirt's snug fit caressed her thighs, tracing their slender form and hinting at the softness beneath.

This wasn't the first time he noticed her beauty in this type of way, beneath all that glare she often carried whenever he was around her, he knew she was an attractive woman. It was her personality that often stopped him from marveling this insight. But being in this closed, tight space, Spencer was forced to study her, and with the way his body was reacting, he knew his lingering stare was more than simple admiration.

He could feel his blood pulsing down south, tightening underneath the confinement of his pants.

As she straightened herself, she felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. She turned her head and noticed his eyes training on her body.

"You're still staring." She then caught a glimpse of something unguarded in his gaze, something that was definitely far from hatred. Her mind whirled with questions, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. "Stop looking at me like that."

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "Like what?"

"Like you either want to strangle me or—"

"Or?" He prompted.

Like you want to eat me alive.

It was the only way she could describe it. She was aware of how his eyes usually pierced her, how every movement she made or word she uttered could trigger this immense disdain radiating from him. But now the weight of his gaze bore down upon her, casting a palpable heat that danced across her skin. Something had changed, and she felt it in the intensity of his eyes, so different from the usual hostility she had come to expect.

They held a predatory gleam as if he could pounce on her at any moment.

“If I hadn't known you better," she carefully spoke, watching as he took a step towards her, and she took one back, bumping into the wall. "I'd say you're trying to flirt with me with those eyes."

"Me? Flirt with you?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't flatter yourself."

She scoffed, squaring her shoulders as he closed the distance between them. "You're right. What was I thinking? You can't even flirt to live."

"You don't even know how I flirt."

"Reid, I've seen you flirt," she said between fits of laughter. "Remember you tried getting that cop's number? You were stuttering and suddenly giving her facts about oil paintings. Paintings."

"She had an interest in fine art," he stated. "And if you must know, after giving those informative facts, I told that no amount of art could ever compare to her beauty as a compliment.”

She snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "And that actually worked? She gave you her number?"

"No." Then a smirk curled on his lips. "But she did come home with me."

She frowned. That was new information. She never really thought about what went on in his love life, but hearing him implying his active sex life had her feeling strange. "She did?"

He took another step forward. "If I hadn't known you better," he carefully spoke, mimicking her words before. "I'd say you're jealous."

She tilted her head up and scowled at him. "Even if you were the last person on this planet I wouldn't consider breathing in the same air with you."

She waited for his response, but he didn't even seem to be bothered by her words. And as they stood there, holding each other's gaze, she became acutely aware of everything; their close proximity, the warmth radiating from his body, and the rise and fall of his chest. His unfamiliar scent lingered in the air, a distinct combination of earthy musk and a hint of something indefinable. She had never allowed herself to notice it before, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Her eyes then traced the lines on his face, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and finally settled on his eyes. At first, she thought her eyes was deceiving her, but she knew exactly what held behind his gaze. It was the same expression she saw in all her past lovers. It wouldn’t have surprised her to see the same intensity on other men, but to see it on him? The guy who had always hated her guts the moment she corrected his statistic rants the first time they met?

Spencer fucking Reid?

It was too much for her to handle. She was used to his piercing gaze, his evident disdain. Not this. It became almost overwhelming that she decided to step away.

Just as she turned to retreat from the intensity of his gaze, her body froze as she felt warm fingers gripping her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through her body and her eyes snapped back at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Ah, there it was, that hatred she was looking for blazing in his eyes again. "You see, I don't like you."

"Good." She held her chin up. "The feeling's mutual."

"You think you're better than everybody else, you think you're better than me."

She was about to retort another response when he suddenly yanked her, a gasp leaving her mouth. "But somehow I can’t help myself from wanting to taste you.”

Then it happened so fast. One moment she was trying to register what was happening, the next thing she knew his lips were on hers, moving frantically in desperate hunger. She couldn't believe he was actually kissing her. It also burned her up inside to find he was good at it. She wanted him to be all teeth and awkward so she could sneer at him and push him away, but he was holding her face in his hands like they hadn't spent months sniping at each other.

A turmoil of thoughts swarmed her mind—What are you doing? Why are you kissing him back? What the hell is wrong with you?—while she gripped onto his arm as a pleased sigh slipped through her mouth before she could catch it.

He slowly pulled away from her, eyes glittering in mischief. "Would you look at that?" he muttered, gripping her jaw and tilting her face like he was appraising her. "All bark and no bite."

She shoved his hands away from her face, ignoring how nice it had felt, wide and warm and firm. "Don't test me."

"Yeah?" His hand settled on her hip, pulling her against him deliberately slow, giving her every opportunity to knock his hand away, to sidestep him, to tell him to stop, but she didn't. He took it as a sign to run his hand behind her. "I think you're bluffing."

Her heart quickened when she felt him gently squeezing her ass. "A-About what?"

"All this bravado of yours," he taunted, his hands now trailing down to her sides. "I bet there's something sweet underneath all this bitterness."

"You don't know me," she hissed breathlessly. It was difficult to keep snapping back at him when his other hand ran up her leg, pushing her skirt up as he went, his grip encompassing the entire width of her thigh.

"Maybe not. But I'm always up for a challenge." His calloused hand brushed at the lacy edge of her underwear and she sucked in a shaky breath. "Let's see how long you can keep up with this attitude."

She opened her mouth to say something snippy, but he ducked down and kissed the words out of her mouth with a low groan. Her brain suddenly froze when his finger curled under the outline of her underwear and tugged it to the side, trailing his slender finger through her bare slit.

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips as pulled away, trailing his mouth along her jawline. His finger brushed along her slickness and it took a lot of self-control for her not to moan. "How are you already so wet?"

Although a small gasp emitted from her as she felt him sliding a finger, and when his thumb pressed against her clit, she closed her eyes, tossing her head to the side at the feeling of him filling her up.

"You're awfully quiet," he murmured against her neck, sucking a bruise against her soft skin as he began to pump his finger. "Who would've thought I had to touch you to keep your mouth shut."

She bit her bottom lip, fighting against the pleasure that surged through her, desperately trying to suppress the enjoyment coursing through her veins. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." His tone was vexingly calm, and all it did was rile her up more. She wished he'd match her frustration because his composure was annoying. Then to make matters worse, he let out an amused laugh. He fucking laughed. "Look at you trying to hold yourself back."

"I'm not—fuck." She gasped as she felt his finger curling inside her.

"Keep telling yourself that." He added another finger and she slumped against the wall, pressing back hard to keep herself upright as he pumped his wrist. "It's okay to admit you're enjoying this."

"I-I'm not," she huffed indignantly.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad liar?"

Her breath mingled with the sound of her arousal echoing in the narrowed space as he drove his fingers into her faster. "Shut up, Reid." She then grabbed onto his arm as the pleasure intensified, nails digging into his skin. "You think you're so smart, so full of yourself—"

"You really like picking up a fight, don't you? That's why you always have an attitude with me." His lips brushed her ear. "It gets you worked up. It gets you wet."

She quickly shook her head. "I just don't like you."

"Hmm." He leaned back and watched the way she tensed beneath his touch, her muscles coiling with delicate restraint. It was as if she fought against the pleasure that threatened to consume her, seeking to maintain control even as her body betrayed her desires. "I wonder if you'll like it as much if I put my head between your thighs."

The thought of having his face buried right where her arousal burned drove her over the edge. Her body betrayed her and she knew he could feel it too. "Oh wow, you're clenching around my fingers," he hummed in satisfaction. "Is that what you want? You want me to eat you out?"

"No," she mumbled but he found her hips bucking against his palm.

"Your body is saying otherwise." He withdrew his fingers but kept rubbing tight circles against her clit. Her blood was hammering under her skin and her legs shook as she tried to roll her hips up against his hand again. "Say you want me between your thighs."

She gritted her teeth, her muscles tightening in a valiant effort to hold back the mounting pleasure that begged to be unleashed. "I'm not saying that."

"Are you sure?" His other hand traveled along the back of her head before fisting her hair in his hand, exposing the column of her throat to him. "Don't you want to come all over my face?"

"Reid..." she mumbled hopelessly, her head spinning as his hot breath brushed against her skin. The thought of admitting that infuriated her because him actually getting her off was something she'd never live down. This was Spencer Reid, the man who had always infuriated her with his know-it-all statistics as if she hadn't already known half of the things he said.

But damn it, she really wanted him between her thighs.

"Say it," he repeated, moving his hand away entirely, and she grabbed his wrist desperately, pulling his fingers back to where she wanted them. "Say I want your mouth on me, Spencer, and I'll happily oblige."

"Reid—"

"Spencer," he corrected. "Say it."

Her body quivered, a taut wire stretched to its limit, yearning to snap under the weight of the pleasure that coursed through her. And then his finger suddenly stopped its movement and she knew he wasn't going to touch her again until she gave in. If that's how he wanted it, fine. She was going to consider this as one of their silly mind games, their usual banter whenever they tried to outwit one another. She could figure out a way to get back at him later. She could swallow her pride for now.

"I want your mouth on me," she reluctantly caved in.

"Did you forget my name?"

Unbelievable.

"I fucking hate you," she sneered. Then she pushed him away from the crook of her neck and leveled her gaze on him. "Just put your fucking mouth on me, Spencer."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You have a very foul mouth."

But true to his words, he eventually dropped to his knees, his hands trailing on either of her sides before he slipped her underwear down her legs. His fingers trailed along her skin as he did it, prickling the depth of her anticipation even when her mind was still trying to comprehend what she was letting herself in.

Because she had never thought of getting eaten out at work, let alone with someone she hated. Sure, hate was a very strong word, but it was what she was used to feeling whenever it came to him. It was easy to engross her hatred every time he treated her differently from the others.

Hate she could do, it came naturally to her. But to desire him, actually wanting him to bury his face between her thighs, was starting to mess her up, and not in a bad way. Not in a way that had her feeling repulsed, but in a way that made her want to grab onto his hair and pull his face right at the center of her heat.

Spencer looked up at her and smiled, as if he knew what she was thinking, and pushed up her skirt around her hips. His eyes bored into her as he hiked one of her legs onto his shoulder. His gaze traveled down her body, taking in her flushed cheeks—out of anger or embarrassment, he didn't know—and continued to sweep over the curve of her breasts before they stopped right in front of him.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushed her damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty thing?"

There was something compelling about having Spencer sinking on his knees before her, but having his mouth wrapped around her clit pulled away her senses and her legs started to buckle that she had to grab onto the nearest cabinet for support. She stifled a moan, not expecting the enthusiastic way he devoured her from below with frantic motions of his wandering tongue.

This was so wrong. However, heat continued washing over, traveling up towards her face and burning at the tips of her ears. The more his mouth sucked onto her, lapping his tongue through her slickness, the more her body coursed with pleasure that she couldn't stop herself from sinking her fingers into his hair, holding him in place as she ground her hips over his face.

"For someone who claims to hate me," he whispered, his voice vibrating against her skin, his tongue pushing into her walls. "You sure are enjoying this."

A moan was thick in her throat until she swallowed it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how true his words were. "You're annoying. So fucking annoying," she hissed.

Spencer hummed. "And you taste so good."

She gasped in surprise when she felt him lick a long stripe along her slit, the rough pad of his tongue catching her clit as she jolted. His fingers dipped into her thighs as he held her steady, lewd sounds leaving his lips as he continued to suck her wetness. His movements were suddenly fast, so feral and animalistic as he shamelessly lapped her skin, swallowing every liquid dripping off her body.

The built-up pleasure inside her continued to grow as she rolled her hips into his mouth, trying to focus on the sensation of him pressing his tongue against the same spot each time. Her chest was heaving as she tried to focus on the pleasure that was slowly taking over her rational thoughts, the coil inside her desperately close to breaking.

"Oh, god," Her voice shook, head tipped back and eyes staring at the ceiling as she felt herself dance on the precipice of release for a few agonizing moments before she finally started to shatter. Then a strangled cry left her lips as she began to buck her hips as he continued to suck her clit through her climax, the pleasure clouding her mind. It wasn't until he finally stood up, looking down at her with a grin that she finally took in what just happened.

"Do you still hate me?"

Yes, yes she did, especially with that smug smile of his taunting her. Yet she found herself hooking her fingers around the belt strap of his pants, pulling him closer as the weight of her resistance began to crumble under the force of his unwavering gaze. "So fucking much." The triumphant smile on his face grew as she started to unbuckle his belt, the sound echoing in the room. "Do you have a condom?"

"Do you really think I'm the type of person to be carrying a condom in my pocket?"

"I think you're the type of person who never gets laid." He threw her an uninterested stare which she decided to ignore. Then she let her hands fall to the side. "I'm not having sex without a condom."

Spencer weighed in her words. If he was smart, he would've stopped himself, pulled away, and accept her admission. But he didn't want to be smart, after depending on his intelligence throughout his life, he didn't want to be rational. It was definitely out of his character, but there was something about her that stirred a dormant part of him, awakening desires and emotions he hadn't known existed within his soul.

He had always prided himself on his restraint and self-discipline, but after finally having a taste of her, he found himself unraveling. He wanted more. So he leaned closer, and pressed a desperate kiss at the hollow of her throat, marveling at the way her body trembled from his touch. "Why not?"

She was going to regret it. She really was. But damn it, how could she restrain herself when he was sucking into her skin like a man starved. She splayed her hands on his chest and pushed him away before giving him the deadliest glare she could muster.

"I swear to god if you finish inside me I will kill you."

Then a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "Was planning to come in your mouth anyway."

She was about to retort a haughty response when he suddenly grabbed her by the elbow and turned her around, pushing her against the wall. She was taken aback by the newfound dominance he exuded in his touch. It was a side of him she had never witnessed before, and it sent a thrill of surprise and intrigue coursing through her veins, something she would never admit out loud.

He dragged his tongue across his lips at the sight before him as his hands reached for his belt, unclasping the strap before unbuttoning his pants, the sound of his zipper being pulled down echoing in the narrowed space. He then slightly pulled down his briefs, slipping out his cock before his knee wedged in between her thighs, parting her legs to open.

He slightly shifted, his jaw twitching as he gathered saliva in his mouth, craning his neck down to spit on her pulsing core before the head of his cock gently nudged her clit. Embarrassingly, she clenched around nothing. Her vision went white and she felt herself tremble as he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing in inch by inch.

"Fuck," he sighed, hips twitching as he finally slid into her fully, feeling her walls clenching hard around him. "I can get used to this."

She could get used to this too. She had never felt so full before, never felt herself being stretched like this so deliciously, but she certainly didn't need to feed his ego by moaning about it. "Well don't, this is the only time I'm letting this happen."

He pulled back his hips, leaving only the tip as he watched her slickness coated around him. "We'll see about that."

And then all hell broke loose.

He slammed into her with so much force that she let out a muffled scream as her eyes shot wide open. He relentlessly bucked his hips, his cock filling her over and over without self-control, the tip of him hitting her deepest parts relentlessly. She could barely even think as his hips fell into a rhythm, sending her higher and higher with each thrust.

Her legs tensed up even more at the pressure, his hands gripping her hips so hard his fingers dig into her flesh that she knew she would leave bruises. Behind her, he was grunting and growling through gritted teeth as he repeatedly buried himself into her without remorse. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had her eyes rolling back behind closed lids, her mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

One of his hands released her hip before she felt him grabbing a fistful of her hair, just at the base of her skull, and sharply pulling. A high-pitched, breathy noise tore out of her at the feel of it. "Poor baby," he cooed. "Look at you so desperate for my cock."

She couldn't help but be stunned by his words. Who would've thought Spencer Reid was good at dirty talk? Definitely not her. It was as though he had unveiled a secret facet of his personality that had remained hidden until now, and she found herself captivated by this revelation.

Not that she was going to admit this, of course, so instead, she solely focused on the way he addressed her. "I am not your baby."

"You want me to call you something else?" He asked between bated breaths, hips thrusting into her. "How about Angel? Darling? Sweetheart?"

She let out a frustrated groan at his teasing but it was probably impossible to discern it from the rest of the noises she was trying to hold. "Are you always this chatty during sex?"

"No," he hummed as he picked up his pace, sending a helpless spasm through her.

"R-Really?" She mused breathlessly. "I must be special then."

He then tugged on her hair even rougher, causing her to curse loudly in response, her hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as his hips jutted into her relentlessly like a man possessed. "Don't get too cocky."

"Just admit it," she whispered, pleasure racing down her body in waves. "You like me."

With another sharp tug on her hair, he abruptly plunged his cock so deep inside of her that she couldn't stop herself from arching her back. He held himself there as he used the grip on her hair to haul her backward to him, a surprised yelp falling out of her. "I don't like you."

Her back fell onto his chest and she felt his body vibrating behind her. "Then why is your heart beating so fast?"

"Well, sex is physically exerting so..."

How was it possible to be this aroused and annoyed at the same time? Wasn't sex supposed to be enjoyable? Well, she was clearly enjoying this, but it was hard to fully sink into the pleasure when he was driving her insane. Unless...

It dawned on her, that was her move. That was how she could play his game. Maybe she should be enjoying this to the fullest, maybe she should stroke his ego, get into his head, and have him feel as desperate as she was. A fierce determination ignited within her, fueling a newfound resolve to turn the tables on him. This was how she was going to get him back.

"Harder," she asked, pushing her hips into him.

His pace suddenly slowed down, uncertain whether he was hearing her right. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Please?" she added before he could prompt her.

A satisfied sound escaped his lips—it was a sound she had never heard coming from him, loud and crude emitting between a growl and something coming close to a whimper, which had her smiling triumphantly. "L-Look at you begging now."

This was easier than she expected. She rolled her head back against his shoulder and let out a moan she had kept so hard on controlling. "I want you to fuck me harder, Spencer."

His sharp intake of breath at that moment was worth it. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing, baby?" she asked sweetly, dripping in forced affection that sounded nothing like her at all.

He instantly released the hold on her hair, his hand snaking around to grip her throat as his other hand slid around the front of her. "You're messing with me."

She let out a strained sound as she felt his other hand traveling down where they were connected. "I-I thought you wanted me to admit how good you make me feel? Is that not enough? You want me to cry out how amazing your cock feels inside me?"

Then she couldn't help her next words.

"Should I call you daddy?"

Oh, that got him. He hissed as the hand on her throat tightened. "You're a menace."

"A menace you enjoy fucking?"

His lips curled into a snarl. "I'm going to wipe that smug look off your face."

Only then he began to thrust back into her roughly. A series of breathy, needy gasps fell out of her as she held tight onto his forearm that was holding her by her throat. His other hand on her clit circled around roughly, touching her just right that she entirely lost it, her hips quaked against him as he groaned out in response, her walls clenching his cock.

Then his hand left her clit a few moments later, instead landing hard on her ass with a sharp smack that sounded throughout the room. His fingers dug into the flesh there as his hips began clumsily ramming into her, his cock twitching inside of her. The stimulation was too much for her that she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep quiet as he stretched her harshly, the delicious burn only adding to the pleasure.

"You're still holding back?" He taunted, bringing back his hand before another loud smack rang in her ears, her ass burning from the pain. "Let that voice out, no one's going to hear you."

It was amazing how long she could hold in her pleasure because now her walls were starting to crumble when a particularly deep and brutal thrust had his cock hitting her just right. And then, it happened—the dam of restraint finally burst. A low moan escaped her lips, a primal cry of pleasure that echoed through the room like a song of surrender

"That's it," he grunted. "You sound so pretty."

As the sensations intensified, her breaths came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. Once she let herself go, she couldn't stop herself from moaning out his name, to which he responded with his own moan, especially when she clenched around him even tighter.

"You gonna come for me now?" She helplessly nodded, not trusting herself to form any coherent words, squirming her hips against him for more. "Go on then," he demanded, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Come for me."

She finally snapped as she gave in to the sensation that had been gradually crawling its way up her spine. Pleasure was soon coating every inch of her and as her eyes closed. She didn't bother to muffle her cries this time as she fell apart around his cock, her body convulsing as he continued to thrust inside her, forcing the pleasure to keep growing stronger and stronger until small black spots started to appear in her vision.

When her climax had washed over, she was left dizzy and breathless, still leaning against him. His loud panting breaths quickly filled her ears, his chest heaving beneath her head and she could tell by the way his hips were fluctuating in their pace, the feel of his throbbing cock inside of her, that he was very close to his release.

Panic suddenly crept into her daze state and she craned her neck to look back. "Don't you dare finish inside me, I swear to god—"

Very abruptly he slipped his cock out from inside of her, his arms releasing their hold on her just as fast before turning her to face him.

"Get on your knees."

The ground scraped her skin as she quickly sank onto her knees, and just because he looked so damn good tethering in his pleasure as she stared up at him, she gripped his cock in her hands and took him fully in her mouth.

"Fuck," the gravel in his voice was prominent, her lips gliding effortlessly down his shaft until her nose hits his stomach. His hand finds its way into her hair as she kneeled there before him, fisting a bunch of it at the scalp, desperately needing something to tie him down to reality.

She slid back off his cock to take just his head inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before flattening it against his tip, licking a fat stripe while looking up at him through her lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, tightening the grip on her hair.

Maintaining his gaze, she took him completely down her throat again, essentially swallowing him, holding herself there until she gagged around him. She could taste him on her tongue as she continued to repeat the motion, tears welling at her lids and saliva building at her lips, seeping down her chin.

He groaned at the sight.

"I-I'm gonna come—"

And he did. She felt lightheaded as the first shot of liquid filled her mouth, and then he jutted his hips a few more times before another surge of his release spilled down her throat. She swallowed him whole, swallowed every drop of him into her mouth as he continued to look down in wonder. She never thought of ever being in this position, but now she decided there was nothing else more satisfying than to watch her rival come undone from her touch.

Although she couldn't dwell in her contentment for long because as she released him from her mouth, the sound of the door rattling waked her senses. Panic flashed in her eyes as they met his gaze, and they instinctively stepped apart before sprinting into action, Spencer tucking himself back in his pants, while she quickly got to her feet and pulled down her skirt, scurrying to the other side of the room.

It wasn't until she spotted her underwear laying by his feet that she realized she was still naked underneath. Spencer followed her line of sight and just as the door creaked, he bent down and quickly grabbed the fabric, shoving it in his pocket at the same time their friend entered the room.

"There you are," Luke sighed in relief, casting them both a look. "We've been searching everywhere for you guys. Are you both alright? I thought I heard screaming."

In that fleeting moment, they both exchanged a glance laden with unspoken messages, each silently urging the other to maintain composure.

"Yes. I-uh." She cleared her throat, struggling to suppress the heat rising to her cheeks, willing herself not to betray the blush that threatened to expose what went on before this. "I was screaming for help."

Luke watched them with keen eyes, skepticism etched upon his face. A subtle tension crackled in the air, barely noticeable to most but not escaping the scrutiny of his gaze. He watched as Spencer hid his face behind a file he was holding, and she was studying her nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything, before stepping back towards the door again. "Well, come on, there's a new lead on the case. Everyone's waiting."

When he finally left them alone again, she let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding and quickly held out her hand. Spencer raised his eyebrows at her. "What?"

"My underwear?"

He stared at her empty hand, then at her face, and shrugged nonchalantly, leaving her dumbfounded as he started to leave the room before the door closed on them again.

"Reid," she hissed, following behind him. "Give it back."

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a smile, or something close to it because even after what happened a few minutes ago his smile was far from looking genuine. "Come by my place after work and I might give it to you."

Her steps faltered.

"Might?"

But his back was already facing her as he strode down the hallway. She stood there, feeling extremely exposed wearing nothing but her own skin underneath her skirt, and the only way to get back her missing piece of clothing was to force herself in his presence again.

She closed her eyes and sighed, not sure what she felt right now was either anger or exhaustion. Probably both—no, wait, definitely both.

Because what the fuck did she get herself into?

Quick question, if I make a taglist for my one-shots does anyone want to be added?

5K notes · View notes

rhysdoesstuff · 3 months ago

Text

7 FRAMES LEFT

I CAN DO THIS

I have 9 frames left to draw in 2 days and I keep getting distracted 😭

if y’all want to pester me feel free too, cause I am behind 😭

(I don’t NEED it done in two days, but I have a feeling if I don’t get it done it’s going to not happen-)

#AHHHHHHHH #ONLY 7 #sure two of them involve crossed arms which I can’t draw #But one is a zoomed out perspective #and two are a normal side profile so I can do this #(and of course we have leaning against a railing which I also gotta figure out)#but I’m doing it!#and as soon as it’s gone I can finish putting it all to audio and it will be great!#animatic #newsies #the truth about the moon

13 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 1 year ago

Note

jake with a shy!reader i feel like that man would be so down bad he’d be unrecognizable to his friends

Tailgating by the beach means sand in your hair (and everywhere else), a trash can full of beer bottles, and a whole lot of wipeouts. For most.

For you, it means Jake’s sweatshirt bunched up under your head like a pillow as your back rests against the metal grooves of his pickup’s bed. Your pinky is intertwined with the man’s own as you stargaze, avoiding the cloud of smoke billowing up from the bonfire.

“That one looks like an F-35.” He informs you, pointing at a constellation that is definitely not a fighter plane.

“I think that’s Draco.” You hum, “Not sure, though.”

Jake turns to you with a furrow in his brow, “That little shit from Harry Potter?”

“No!” You shriek, louder than you’re used to speaking. Jake has a way of making you forget your reservations, giving you the courage to speak up around him.

“It’s a constellation.” You quiet yourself, feeling Jake’s pinky tighten around yours. “I read that it was supposed to be in the sky tonight.”

“You read up on the stars?” Jake turns to you, propped on his side in the truck bed. It must be awful on his hips, but he does it anyways to gaze at your side profile.

You give him a front view, turning your head to stare back at him, “I didn’t do it on purpose, I just saw it on Instagram, I think. On someone’s story.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but neglects to return to stargazing. He’s yougazing now, his eyes tracing the curve from your chin to your cheek, then sloping down the bridge of your nose.

“Do you think-”

You’ll never know if you and Jake share thoughts on whatever matter is in his head, because a sudden thud against the mouth of the truck bed makes you startle, and Jake nearly breaks his neck sitting up to see who made the noise. You draw yourself upright but slower, more cautiously.

It’s one of his squadron members, you’ve seen the guy before in passing, but you don’t think he’s ever noticed you. He’s on the shorter side, and he’s quickly flanked by both Coyote and a taller, unknown counterpart.

“Hangman,” The short one snickers, “I was betting you were passed out somewhere with a bottle in your mouth, not schmoozing some poor woman in your truck.”

You’ve met Javy before, albeit briefly when you’d passed in the hallway of his and Jake’s shared apartment, and in the few terrifying seconds of confrontation your eyes stray over the man’s shoulder and meet Javy’s. He sends you a kind, sympathetic smile at the antics of his friend. You feel safe around him.

“What’s your name, honey?” The taller man leans over the side of the truck bed, a smirk on his face, “Last one was Brenda- no, Brianna.”

“Payback, that was months ago.” Javy snaps, and even though you know it’s true, Jake still looks guilty. He’d confessed in you that he wasn’t exactly a saint when it came to past relations, but all that mattered was the present for you; that you were the only one in it, and he’s stuck to that without a problem.

“I’m not schmoozing her, Fanboy.” Jake drawls, a vicious look in his eyes, “We were trying to have a private moment.”

Fanboy elbows Payback incredulously, shit-eating grins already on their faces, “Sex in a pickup! On the beach, in public. Jesus, man, there’s nothin’ you won’t do.”

“I won’t hesitate to break your nose if you don’t shut your mouth,” Jake seethes, and his free hand tenses into a fist even if he’s more bark than bite. Fanboy doesn't flinch, but Payback's smirk dims.

"Lay off, man." Coyote elbows Fanboy, "It's not like that."

"The only reason you've never met'er before is 'cause I knew you'd act like this," Jake scoffs, "Doesn't mean she's some cheap fling."

You desperately want to intervene, but you don't have the words to do it even if you tried. There's a thousand swirling in your brain, but there's a stopper in its drain to your mouth, a thick clog of panic.

"Well what is your name?" Payback repeats his question, more considerate this time. You're glad he seems to have dropped his bravado, even if you're not sure Fanboy has.

"Y/N," You manage to speak, glad that you know your own name well enough to utter it even when your brain doesn't cooperate. You don't say much else, though, and Javy fills in for your silence.

"She's Jake's girl," Javy smiles at you, happy to see his friend settling down, "She's not big on talking. Not to assholes like you, anyways."

"Well that's great," Fanboy's demeanor is much nicer when he's not goading his teammate, "'Cause Jake never shuts up. Sounds like a match made in heaven."

"I'm gonna send you to hell if you don't leave us alone," Jake glares pointedly at Fanboy in particular, but the expression is extended to Payback as well, "I wasn't kidding, we were having a conversation."

"That's our cue," Coyote informs the other two, who knew but weren't willing to give up their teasing leverage. He rings an arm each around their necks, bidding you a kind goodbye as he leads them away.

"Darlin'," Jake turns to you as soon as they're gone, like a guard dog that eases out of attack mode, "I'm so sorry. They don’t mean any harm, just- they seriously don't know when to quit, 'probably comes from bein' so aggressive in the air. I'm sorry they were so pushy."

"It's alright," You nod, "It's not your fault, Jake. I'm not angry, I just- I was a little embarrassed."

"I know," He hums sympathetically, leaning in to peck your lips, "I know baby. Listen, now they've met you, they'll probably back off. And if they don't, if you see 'em around somewhere and they try messin' with you, you let me know and I might accidentally fire on 'em in an exercise."

"I don't think you should murder your friends," You tamp down a smile at Jake's suggestion, because the last thing he needs is encouragement, "But I hope I don't see them when you're not around."

A hundred feet away, down on the smooth, wet sand of the shore, Coyote finally lets Payback and Fanboy go, shoving their heads down with the force of his grip around their necks.

"Ow, dude!" Fanboy gripes, but he deserves it the most, "If I'm gonna break my neck it's gonna be in the air, in some sick-ass stunt maneuver."

"Your sick ass needs to learn to shut up," Coyote scoffs, "He's serious about that girl, man! And I wouldn't be surprised if she was running for the hills now."

"C'mon, Coyote, we were just teasing," Payback pleads his case, but Coyote narrows his eyes.

"You can't tease her, not like that. Hell, the first time she ever came over I made a joke about wearing noise-cancelling headphones for them and she couldn't look me in the eye for weeks."

"The first time she came over," Payback's brow furrows, "He's been bringing her around your guys' place?"

"I told you he was serious," Coyote throws a glance back over to Jake's truck, where his hand is pointed in the air once more, "Know any other reason he'd be stargazing right now?"

Fanboy's face wrinkles in a confused grimace, "Stargazing? He's way too douchey for that."

"He's way too in love not to," Payback marvels, "Holy shit. That's- I can't process that, man, that's weird."

"Get used to it," Coyote takes a swig of his beer, "Y'know he's been lighting candles in our apartment for her? I mean, it's nice, 'cause it gets rid of his nasty laundry smell, but candles. Hangman, candles!"

Fanboy rears his head back, "What scent?"

"Lavender."

"Lavender?"

"I know!"

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader

5K notes · View notes

kamiversee · 8 months ago

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 10 || The Hallway Incident

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & fluff.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.2k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——THE GENTLE SOUND OF YOUR heel tapping against the ground due to the constant bobbing of your leg as your anxiety builds up inside can be heard beneath the sounds of Nanami and Toji engaging in conversation.

You've been waiting for about six minutes now, having watched every second of the nearby clock tick, and your nerves are all bundled up. In the time that they've been talking, you've mentally rehearsed a plan for yourself.

You're going to ask Toji for private lessons.

And no, not in a naughty kind of way. At least, not yet. But for the purpose of one, having an excuse to attend class with Gojo every Monday to really dedicate yourself to the lie you've given and two, to have one-on-one moments with Toji.

Is any of this going to work? Probably not.

The worst case scenario is that this all goes to shit and Toji rejects any advance you make at him, resulting in Gojo posting those videos of you. Great.

You draw your hand up to your face and begin to chew on your thumbnail as you wait, simply watching the two talk for a few more minutes until Nanami finally leaves.

When he does, you watch him walk away almost in a trance. He's got one hell of a back profile. Similar to Toji, the dress shirt that Nanami had did little to nothing to conceal the toned body that lay underneath.

You never used to undress people with your eyes like this before but then again, you never used to see this many attractive people at once.

The little trance you were in is broken when Toji suddenly snaps his fingers in front of your face, causing you to jump and turn your head to him. You hadn't even realized that he sat back down at his desk.

"S-Sorry Mr. Fushiguro." You apologize as you make eye contact with the man.

"You're fine," He says, his expression void of any real reaction to the way he saw you gawking at his student. "Now," Toji leans back in his chair, a slight creak heard as he does so, "Where were we?"

"Uhh..." You awkwardly straighten up in your seat, "I was telling you about the project I had for my sociology class."

"Right." He nods, "Well, I don't mind you coming to my class for a few weeks for this project of yours, just don't be a disruption."

"I won't sir." You hum.

The gentleness in your tone makes the older man shift in his seat a little. "Good. Anything else?" Toji questions, tipping his head to the side.

"W-Well, I was wondering if I could stay after the lecture as well."

"For?"

"Y'know, like, a more..." You look down at your lap. The eye contact was growing overwhelming. "In-depth lesson?"

The older man falls quiet for a second. Then, startling you, he chuckles at how fidgety and nervous you seem to be about your request. "You're not in any of my classes and yet you want a lesson from me? A private one at that?" He emphasizes.

You swallow hard and look back up at him, "Yes sir."

Toji folds his arms, the large muscles in his arms unintentionally bulging against the fabric of his shirt. "What is there for me to teach ya' privately that you wouldn't learn during the lectures?" He asks.

"Well..." Think, think, think, think, think.... "Students aren't the only people I have to study for this project. As a professor, you'd be a great example to use for how topics, such as economics, affect people in education." You manage.

He scoffs lightly, "So, basically, you want to study me after class?"

You wince a little at his words, "Study isn't really the word I'd use for it. Think of it more like an interview."

"An interview?"

You cross one of your legs over the other, "Yes sir."

He takes a long pause, simply staring at you in thought. Once he comes to a decision, Toji agrees with a nod and a shrug of his broad shoulders. "Alright. Every Monday then, I'll expect to see you during and after class. When's this little project of yours due?"

"Six weeks from now." That should be enough time for you to... seduce him, right?

Toji's eyebrows raise slightly, "Six weeks? Damn, must be some project."

"It's my final project, sir." You clarify.

He clicks his tongue and you watch the corner of his lips raise into a little smirk, "So your final grade will be riding on me then?"

Well technically you riding on him is more of the goal here but, there's no need for you to say that aloud.

You smile, "Yup."

"M'kay, cya next week then," Toji says dismissively. You give him a nod and both of you stand at the same time. He walks you over to his door and adds a simple, "I look forward to workin' with ya', kid."

His last word makes you halt. Slowly, you turn only your head back to him with a graceful smile on your face, "With all due respect, sir, I'm a grown woman. Please don't call me kid." You request.

With your head angled back to him, you notice that he's rather close to you. One of his hands was placed on his classroom door and the other was tucked into the pocket of his pants. His closeness causes whatever, obviously cheap, but rather pleasant-smelling cologne to run through your nose.

Toji tilts his head as he looks down at you, "Yes ma'am. My bad, it's a bit of a habit of mine."

The change in the way he addressed you has your heart feeling a little weird. It has to be that deep voice of his, the damn thing is intoxicating.

"You should get rid of it," You blurt out, referring to that habit of his.

An amused smirk spreads across his face. You didn't know it but, he found this one interaction with you slightly attractive. "I'll work on it." Toji hums casually.

You give him an approving nod and then turn away. His eyes follow you as you enter the mildly busy hallway and after you disappear from his sight, he sighs heavily.

You definitely made a decent first impression on him.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

As you rush down the hallway, you're lost in your head thinking about how you're going to pull this off for the next few weeks.

Subtly flirting and throwing small hints at him sound like your best options. Being straight up would be dangerous. You'll have to flirt and pretend like you aren't aware you're flirting-- 'innocently' making your way to what lies beneath his clothes.

You hope it works too. And while you're on that thought, you have to ask Gojo how difficult he thinks this will be for you. God, you hate that man. You don't want to talk to him about anything but you're forced to anyway-

You run right into someone in the hallway.

A phone drops and the binders and books you held make contact with the floor. "Shit," You curse, instantly crouching down to pick up the fallen items.

The person you ran into crouches down too, "Sorry," They apologize, even though you both ran into each other.

You go for the phone and motion the device toward the person, raising your head from the fallen items and meeting a new pair of eyes.

Holy fucking shit. It's another one. Another guy from the list.

And this one is... Well, if not for you picking Geto, this guy would've been your next choice.

Deep sangria-colored irises peer into yours, the shade veering more into the brown spectrum, and oddly attractive eyebags circle the male's eyes. There's a dark black tattoo running across the bridge of his nose and his hair is styled up in two messy ponytails.

You think your heart skipped a beat as you made eye contact with him. Hell, maybe it skipped a few beats-- maybe it stopped working for a second.

His face alone was tantalizing. The man was attractive in a way that made you unable to pry your eyes off him.

You think you flinch when he leans closer to you and tilts his head in concern, "You alright?"

Dazed by his caring voice and mesmerizing eyes, you nod your head. "Y-Yeah." You sigh.

You watch as the man looks down at your lips for a second, then right back up to your eyes as if he didn't mean to glance. The two of you grab all of the fallen items and stand up in sync. You extend your hand out, holding his phone and trying to give it back to him.

"Sorry for running into you," He apologizes again while taking his phone from you.

In return, he hands one of the items of yours he picked up back to you. "You're fine, I should've been watching where I was going."

He shrugs it off and his eyes drop down to the floor for a second before he speaks, "Me too. Also, I like your shoes."

You mimic his motion and look down at your feet, almost as if you'd forgotten what you were wearing. "Thank you," You reply as you look back up to the man.

If there's one thing they all have in common aside from being hot, it's the fact that they're all taller than you. It's something you mentally note as this man stands in front of you.

You smile and make a gesture to his face, "Nice tatt." You compliment simply.

His lips curve into a slight smirk, "Thanks, I did it myself."

"Really?" Your brows raise in surprise.

"Yup."

"Fuck, that's cool. Did it hurt?" You ask curiously, unintentionally leaning forward a little to get a closer look.

He shrugs, "Nah, not really."

You examine it for a second, only growing more and more impressed. "It's like, a perfectly straight line. Are you an art major by any chance?"

"Graphic design." He clarifies, "What about you?"

You shrug casually, "Psycology."

The male's head tilts to the side as he peers down at you, you can tell he's impressed. "Shit, psycology?" His head cocks back a little and he smirks, "That's hot."

"Hot?" You blindly repeat, chuckling at him. "It's just the study of behavior and mind, nothing special honestly."

He scoffs, "I'm pretty sure it's much deeper than that."

"It is but, it's more confusing than hot." You argue.

Your conversation with him is oddly seamless. He's now grinning at you, "The fact that it's confusing and you're still choosing to study it makes it hot."

"So, are you calling me or the major itself hot?" You ask teasingly.

He shamelessly looks you up and down and licks his lips before saying, "Both." He hums.

Your face grows a little warm. "Thanks, you too."

"You think I'm hot?"

"No, I think your major's hot." You utter sarcastically.

He laughs, "Yeah? You think graphic design is hot?"

"Mhm." You hum, "I mean, yeah, you're attractive but when you add on the fact that you're an artist? That multiplies it."

"Really?"

"Yup."

"On that note, you wanna see some of my work?" The man offers surprisingly.

"Yes please." You say with excitement in your voice.

Talking with this man in the middle of the hallway was by far the most refreshing thing you'd experienced within the last six days.

He chuckles and his thumb swipes through his phone for a second. When he finds whatever it is he wants to show you, he motions for you to come closer to him and you do.

Standing by his side and leaning over toward his phone, you see beautiful images of dark-colored designs that are nearly impossible to put into one word.

His art looks like... himself? It's almost as though he put his whole aesthetic onto a piece of paper. You catch shades of black, purple, and red ink swirled together in multiple different designs.

"Holy shit," You breathe out.

He chuckles at your reaction, "I've had a bit of art block recently but uh..."

As he trails off, you turn your head to look at him and notice that your faces are closer than you expected. Neither of you move but the eye contact held is almost intimate.

His voice drops lower and his gaze is unwavering, "I think I just found my new muse."

Heat rushes to your face as you grow flustered. By no means was he referring to you, right?

"R-Really?" You stammer.

His gaze dips lower, focusing on the curve of your lips, "Yeah," He hums.

The two of you lose yourselves in each other's presence for a moment. You nearly forgot about... well, everything for a second.

The male was enamored by you. You were just some random girl he ran into and yet he couldn't take his eyes off you. As for you, well, it's simple to say that you were just as infatuated. His face was so close, so flawless, and yet so mysterious.

You clear your throat and both of you snap out of the little trance you'd been in. Then, the two of you turn away from each other, clearly equally flustered by the closeness and lack of words.

"U-Uhm, your art is b-beautiful by the way." You stutter, physically cringing at the way you're tripping over your words.

You haven't been this nervous in a long time. This is worse than Toji, worse than Geto, and even worse than Gojo. Your heart is a pounding mess and you feel like a high school girl with a crush all over again.

"Th-Thanks," The man beside you chokes out.

A sense of comfort washes over you as you realize you're not the only one whose nerves are bundled up.

He suddenly clears his throat, "Well uh, I should uhm, probably get going."

You turn to look at him, "Right. Sorry for running into you again."

"No, don't apologize. I'm actually glad you did." He says, avoiding looking you in the eyes but smiling a little bit.

"Think I can get your name before you go?" You question shyly.

His gaze meets your face, still looking everywhere except for your eyes. "Choso. Kamo Choso, but you can just call me Choso." He tells you.

You stick a hand out for him to shake and give him your name in return. As his hand meets yours, you notice the slight claminess of his palms-- he was sweating... how cute.

Again, he clears his throat. "Since we're exchanging names, can I get your number too? I doubt we'll run into each other much since we have two entirely different majors..." Choso requests.

You're quick to nod and it's in a matter of seconds that the two of you exchange contact information with one another.

"It was nice meeting you, Choso." You voice out softly.

He nods his head, "Yeah, it was nice meeting you too."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Alright, so today was an absolute rollercoaster.

From that morning being all lovey-dovey with Gojo, to hating him all over again, to meeting his stupidly sexy professor, to catching a glimpse of the stoic blond, and all the way to having an airy almost whimsical conversation with Choso.

What a day.

Seriously, what a day. Talking to Choso was so different. It didn't feel like you were talking to a target, it didn't feel forced or uncomfortable. Talking to Choso was the most pleasant thing ever.

As you made your way off-campus, your head was in the clouds-- filled with thoughts of the mysteriously artistic man you just had a conversation with. He was different, you could feel it.

You find yourself smiling at the little still moment the two of you had, how innocent it was, and how comfortable you felt. There's a sudden thump in your heart that makes your thoughts freeze.

Shit, the one thing you're not supposed to be doing. The one unspoken rule you'd set for yourself. You're breaking it already. You hardly know the man and you're breaking the single stipulation you'd put on yourself.

No feelings.

It's a simple rule. A needed rule. You can't go around sleeping with different men and fall for one at the same time. That'll never work out.

Imagine the look of disgust on their face when they find out they were just a name you needed to cross off. Hell no, the last thing you want to do is fuck with anyone's heartstrings-- including your own.

But...

Choso was so-

No. Stop it. You think to yourself. You nearly thought the same things about Gojo and look where that got you? In no way can you come out of this situation happy with any of the men involved.

This is just a one-and-done situation. No special cases.

Your goal is to seduce not swoon.

That's all your purpose consists of-- being a little whore for Gojo Satoru. As annoying as it is to come to terms with, that's exactly what your job is here. Fuck people, get paid. Nothing more, and nothing less.

No one becomes the exception. Under no circumstances do you allow anyone to fall for you; nor do you fall for anyone.

The smiles, the laughs, the ticklish feeling you get in your chest-- it all needs to be fake. Those special and cherishable feelings need to forever remain fake.

The second any of those emotions transfer into something real, everything will go to shit.

No relationships.

No feelings.

No romance.

Just sex.

You need to lock those words into your brain for the remainder of this list. Relationships would ruin things, feelings complicate people, romance will never work out, and sex is the only thing you need to focus on achieving.

You're not Gojo so you don't have plans on manipulating people. You simply want to be freed of the grasp he has on you and the only way to do that is by completing this stupid list.

As you made your way home, you thought long and hard about who you would go for first based on the three new people you met.

Toji would be a slow process since you gave yourself six weeks to figure him out. Nanami is a walking question mark since you have literally nothing to go on. And Choso seems all too sweet for you to think about seducing him just yet.

Based on that, you decide that Toji will be your biggest focus for the time being-- unless you spontaneously run into one of the remaining two unidentified people on the list.

With that being the most unlikely thing to happen given how lucky you got today, you end up organizing the list in a journal of yours at home. You'll put them into your own order and check them off as you go.

Yeah, you'll get through this.

...Right?

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☐

KAMO CHOSO ☐

NANAMI KENTO ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

738 notes · View notes

lis-likes-fics · 10 months ago

Text

The Sound of His Voice

Pairings: Spencer Reid x agent!Reader Word Count: 3k words Warnings: Descriptions of crime scenes/vague gore, mentions of death and murder, standard Criminal Minds stuff, fluff otherwise... A/N: I started watching CM a while ago and now I can't stop so enjoy this. There will be more, I dunno when. (Should I be working on my months-in-progress-wips? Yes, I absolutely should. Am I? Mostly. I'm trying my best)

Morgan rubs his temple, digging his fingers into the side of his forehead as he shakes his head. Tapping his pen on the desk, he tosses down his file. “But here's what I don't get,” he says, drawing the attention of the rest of the team. “If the unsub thinks of his victims as prey, even going as far as to torture the victim, why go through all the trouble of tucking them into bed?”

Hotch looks back at the picture in his own hands, where he had been analyzing the scene for the hundredth time in search of something he missed the first hundred. He shrugs, “Tucking them in can usually indicate signs of remorse.”

JJ motions to the pictures. “Yeah, but look at this guy. Does this look remorseful to you?”

You lift a shoulder, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms. “Could be a second unsub.”

You are a relatively new addition to the team. It was your fifth case with them, but they already treated you like part of the team, like family. It was easy to sink into the ebb and flow of everything, especially when they trust your skills and instincts and let you know when you're doing something wrong so you know not to do it again.

But this case was difficult. Your unsub had a strange profile: an organized, white male, with surgical experience and the MO reminiscent of a cat. He kills men and women alike, and the only connection between his victims have been their smaller statures.

The age range itself was too wide, though there was a slight reoccurrence of ages between 25 and 35. But it was still too wide, either way, not enough to work with.

He ties up and tortures them before finally ending their lives with strangulation. He uses his bare hands to get the job done, which makes him a sexual sadist. As if that wasn't enough, he carves out the victim’s heart after death and takes it as a trophy.

He shows plenty of psychopathic characteristics, but he also fits the profile of a sociopath, so it's hard to make anything stick. His MO suggests a lack of empathy and guilt, but the bed-tucking… You always lose him with the bed-tucking…

Morgan shakes his head a little, humming. “But we already ruled out multiple unsubs,” he says. You nod gently. “Besides, if this guy is mimicking the hunting habits of a cat, he would hunt alone, wouldn't he?”

Reid’s head perks up. He points a pen in Morgan's direction as he shakes his head. “Actually, no.” He licks his lips, and he's grabbed your attention like a siren to a sailor. “It's a very common misconception that cats are loners, but it's untrue. Cats prefer the companionship of others just as much as a human being would.”

You lean toward him a bit across the table, watching him as he speaks, his hands moving to illustrate his words as he does. “People often think, because of their aloof nature, that they like to be left alone or actually despise the presence of other people, including their owners or other cats—which is why people believe them to be low maintenance creatures. But they are just as social as, say, a dog. Actually, it's interesting, big cats like lions, or sometimes even cheetahs, hunt in packs to take down larger prey. Domestic cats–”

“Reid,” Morgan interrupts, making a cutting motion with his hand to his neck.

Your eyes turn back to Spencer, who seems to retreat in on himself a bit as he gives an apologetic smile and a small nod. “Sorry,” he says, pulling his lips in a wide smile.

You set a hand on the table, shaking your head. “No, keep going. That was interesting.”

Spencer looks at you with these eyes that seem to shine. Your heart feels fonder, warmer, at the sight of him.

“We really don't have time to go through all of this,” Hotch says, his tone final.

“I mean,” you continue. Since joining the team, you've grown a certain affinity toward Spencer and his genius mind. Every time he's gone on his tangents, you've become enchanted by the words coming out of his mouth like he's put some sort of spell over you. You lift a shoulder, gesturing toward him. “If this guy is basing his MO off the hunting patterns of cats, we should…know everything we need to know about them, right?”

Hotch looks at you, his face hard and unreadable. You're unsure if he's considering your proposal or just trying to intimidate you. But then he sighs, his crossed arms loosening a little as he turns to Spencer.

“Reid?”

Spencer looks between you and Hotch, relenting hesitantly as he starts off slow. “Well…I was going to say domestic cats are solitary hunters but sociable creatures.” He picks up his normal speed once more, “They can be very affectionate, especially toward their owners and other cats within their households. They're also one of the only types of cats who play with their prey before killing them, which could be a reason this unsub tortures his victims so extensively in his murders.”

“Wait…” Prentiss says, catching all of your attentions. “You said ‘affectionate toward their owners’.”

“Yeah,” Spencer nods.

She waves her hands gently, “How do cats show affection for their owners?”

Spencer shrugs, “Um, bunting, purring, some scratch, sometimes they leave offerings, like dead rodents, around the house–”

“Right there!” Prentiss exclaims. “They leave offerings.”

You sit up, “The hearts.”

Hotch’s dark brows furrow. “You're saying this unsub is taking the hearts as an offering to someone else?”

Spencer thinks over that, nodding. “It's possible.”

JJ sighs. “But that still doesn't explain why we wouldn't have identified a second unsub earlier.”

Spencer holds out a hand, pointing with his pen. “Actually, it could. You see, cats also have the tendency to mimic the people they hold affection for. We might not have noticed a second MO because the submissive unsub may be mimicking the dominant one.”

“Or learning from him,” Morgan says.

“Learning?” Hotch asks.

Morgan glances around, “Well, if we're sticking so close to this cat thing, older cats often nurture the young and teach them to hunt.” He shrugs, “We could be looking at…brothers? Older and younger?”

“Or lovers,” JJ suggests. She points to a picture, the image of a chest carefully carved open to reveal a missing heart. “If the hearts are offerings, it could be a Valentine.”

“And the bed-tucking?” you ask.

Hotch picks up the picture of one of the victims, “safely” and securely tucked into bed…put to sleep. “Well, if the hearts are offerings for a lover, this unsub is sentimental. He could feel some type of sympathy or guilt for the victim and want to ‘put them to sleep’ after the torture.” He studies the image, a flash of unease behind his eyes that you know all too well. He sets it down.

“Okay, so how do we find them?” Prentiss asks, clicking her pen before setting it down to begin a definitive course of action.

Spencer points to yet another picture. “Look at these injuries. These incisions are surgical,” he clarifies. “So the dominant is a doctor or a—a veterinarian, which can be implied through his intimate knowledge of cats’ behaviors.”

“And the submissive might work under him as a nurse or an assistant,” you continue, adding on to his clever insight. He glances over at you, smiling almost giddily at your understanding.

Hotch turns to Morgan. “Do you think that's enough to work with?”

Morgan thinks for a moment, his shrug melding into a nod as he turns back to Hotch. “To fit in with the rest of the profile,” he hums, “I'd say so.”

“Okay.” Hotch nods firmly. “We'll present the profile ASAP. Morgan, get Garcia to search for any vets in the area with any records of assault charges.” He says this all while taking long strides toward the door, his red tie bouncing slightly with his movements.

Prentiss follows him with her gaze as he exits. “You think the unsub is aggressive?”

He turns briefly. “Look at the bruising on the neck. The torture alone is an indicator of anger and frustration, but the way the victim was strangled suggests force. Much more than necessary just to crush a windpipe. He's an organized killer with a lot of rage. If he moves more along the lines of a sociopath, our best guess is he's had some kind of trouble with the law at some point in his life,” he concludes. Glancing aside, he speaks again, a little more firmly. “Morgan.”

“On it,” he says, his phone already ready to contact Garcia on speed dial.

“And Reid,” Hotch says, focusing his hard stare on the younger agent.

He stiffens, straightening his back and awaiting his response. “Yes?”

There's a pause as Hotch examines him silently. With a single nod, he says, “Good work.”

He glances at you. A nod.

You nod back.

Hotch leaves in a hurry, and your gaze immediately and instinctively flicks to Spencer. He smiles at you, turning away as though he was shyly hiding that same smile.

There were two unsubs: a surgical veterinarian and his nurse. You caught them just in time, just as that knife was gleaming in the golden light of the lamps swinging above the three bodies down in the basement of the submissive unsub’s house.

And now you soared 40,000 feet above the ground with another killer put away for good.

Everyone's in their own spirit, placing you across the aisle from JJ and Spencer in their own booths, a crochet set in your lap as you continue one of your projects. Emily's eyes linger on JJ, watching the crease of her brow as she studies case files.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, setting her book to the side to shift her attention. Derek darts his eyes up from his own book, lifting his brow as he does it.

JJ looks up, breathing in and lifting her shoulder in a half shrug. “I don't know about you,” she says, “but I know that if I got an actual human heart on Valentine's Day, me and my alleged partner would have some serious issues.”

Snorts and chuckles lift from multiple places among the seats, heads shaking and attentions shifting back to their own activities.

But as soon as you hear the first lilt of Spencer's voice, like clockwork, you're a fish on a hook.

“Actually,” he begins, “if we were set back thousands of years, that would not be a very unusual occurrence.” He licks his lips quickly, “You see, Valentine's Day’s origins actually go back to a festival called Lupercal, or Lupercalia. The festival was in itself a very violent and sexually charged affair that lasted roughly three days—from the 13th to the 15th—set in Rome. Its traditions were carried out in two separate locations, firstly–”

“Alright,” JJ rises to her feet, her eyes wide in annoyance as she closes her case file in a large announcement to Spencer. “I'm getting coffee. Do you want anything?”

Spencer purses his lips, that same wide, apologetic grin covering his face as he leans back in his seat and shakes his head. “Uh, no. All good here.”

She nods, turning to walk away, “Great.”

You watch JJ leave, your eyes fall back upon Spencer, who's pulling his book back into his palms to turn his focus back on the pages. His eyes flit over the words at lightning speed, absorbing the information and moving to the next.

Taking your crochet set in your hands, you stand and plop down in JJ’s old spot. Spencer's eyes darts up to you, glancing between you and his book as you set your stuff down and readjust your yarn.

Beginning again, you nod toward him. “You were saying?”

Spencer, his eyes wide and confused and his lips parted in wonder and his cheeks a little pink, stares at you. After remembering he had to respond, he sputters in an attempt to.

“Uh, it's-it's really not that…interesting,” he mumbles, trailing off at the end as he sets his book down, his fingertips pressing against the edge of the desk between the both of you.

“Well,” you look up at him, setting your elbow on the table and tucking your first underneath your chin, “I was very interested.”

His Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. His lips form the word before it comes out of his mouth. “You were?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

Looking at him for a moment—just looking at him for a moment—you take in the pretty sight of his bewildered expression, fascination and confusion and excitement crossing his face in a flurry of emotion.

You move your elbow from the table and pick up your hook, nodding toward him before training your eyes on your work again as you await his words. “Firstly?” you prompt.

Scrambling to organize his thoughts, Spencer nods. As the words form in his brain, he smiles as he thrusts himself into another rant, speaking a little softer so as not to aggravate the rest of the team.

“Well, firstly, the uh— The-the first location was in a cave called Lupercus—named after the Roman fertility god that the celebration was dedicated to—and the second is a public meeting place called the Comitium.”

You tilt your head toward him, smiling a little. “Like the word ‘committee’.”

“Exactly like the word ‘committee’,” he beams.

Your attention, as hard as you tried to split it, becomes entirely caught up in Spencer as you forget about your project and focus your gaze entirely on him. You set your arms on the table separating you and watch as he speaks, your smile definitely too love-sick to be a hint anymore. He seems to lean in closer.

“So how did Lupercalia become Valentine's Day?” you wonder aloud.

“Well,” he starts, prompting a larger grin from you, “in the late 5th century A.D., Pope Gelasius I eliminated it and declared February 14th a day to celebrate the martyrdom of Saint Valentine instead—although it's highly unlikely he intended the day to commemorate love and passion as it is celebrated now. In fact, some modern biblical scholars warn Christians not to celebrate Valentine's Day at all, due to its Pagan roots and rituals.”

You hum, your eyes taking glances at the stretch of his skin over his fingers and the way they move when he speaks.

“Do you celebrate Valentine's Day?” you ask gently, speaking slowly.

His hands fall back down to his lap, and he shakes his head as he straightens his posture a bit. “Well…I don't usually have anyone to celebrate it with, so… No, not really.”

Feeling the shyness slipping into your veins, you set your hands on the table and let your fingers slowly inch toward him, staring at them inside of his eyes. You don't want to see the rejection if it lives there, in his eyes.

You speak slowly, emphasizing every syllable. “Would you like to have someone to celebrate it with?”

He swallows thickly, letting one hand lift onto the table, still close to him but building up courage to maybe meet you in the middle. “Like…” he clears his throat quietly. “Like you?”

You offer a right smile, finally flicking your eyes up to meet his and feeling giddy at the light blush on his cheeks, the nervous wideness of his gaze. “I promise no actual hearts.”

You watch him, and again…his eyes, his Adam's apple, his cheeks, his lips. “Uh…yeah,” he stutters. “Yeah, sure. I'll be your…your Valentine.”

You smile, a wide smile that splits your face in two. Spencer's own grin follows suit. Looking past you, he catches the eyes of Derek, who smirks and offers a cheesy thumbs up, proud of him for securing you as he did.

His gaze falls back to you when you begin to speak, your voice just as song-ish to him as his is to you. You're both equally as infatuated as the other. “You know,” you trail off slowly, “supposedly, Saint Valentine might be so commonly associated with our day of love because there are rumors that he used to perform secret weddings against the wishes of the authorities in the third century.”

He nods slowly, his brows furrowed slightly. “Yes, that's right…” Licking his bottom lip, he speaks again. “You already knew all that stuff about Lupercalia, didn't you?”

You smile, your face squished a bit as you raise your hands and close your thumb and forefinger close together. “Maybe a little,” you whisper. But then you shrug and just keep looking at him. “But I like listening to you talk.”

Spencer suddenly doesn't think you're real, but he isn't about to question it if you aren't. There's someone who enjoys his tangents. He isn't going to jeopardize that.

“Oh,” is all he says.

With your crocheting long forgotten, you lean forward on the table and give him every ounce of attention in your mind. With a fond smile on your lips and a twinkle in your eye, you rest your chin on your folded hands. “You should tell me about…” you pause, thinking, before you smile curls even more, “bees.”

His brows lift as he nods. “Okay, well,” he starts, “did you know the first civilization to practice widespread, organized beekeeping was the Ancient Egyptians, who began beekeeping around 2,500 BCE?”

Your brows lift in fascination. You shake your head, “No, I didn't.”

His smile grows. “Well…”

For the remainder of the flight, Spencer talks and talks and talks, his voice quiet and meant solely for you as he talks about whatever you want: bees and wine and marbles and Halloween. He keeps smiling at you, as you keep smiling at him. Somewhere along the way, he officially asks you on a date, and you both get off the jet together to get a cup of coffee.

You love the way he talks.

Criminal Minds taglist: ... Tag yourself here...

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #female reader

848 notes · View notes