thinking about emily prentiss getting caught staring at your chest mid-conversation :: 3.4k
⠀⠀18+ . mdni . emily prentiss is down bad . chest staring . boobs . hard nipples . wet pussy mentions . dirty talk . praise kink . “good girl” . mouth on boobs . nipple sucking . clothed grinding . thigh pressure . soft possessiveness . teasing . sapphic smut . consent included .
navigation :: ko-fi - for my fave @kenna-prentiss
and the thing is, she’s usually so damn good at hiding herself. emily can sit across from murderers, liars, politicians, and grieving families without giving away more than she wants to.
she knows how to keep her face smooth, how to make her voice even, how to make her eyes stay exactly where they’re supposed to. that control follows her home too, wrapped around her like a second skin, elegant and infuriating and almost impossible to crack.
except tonight, she’s standing in your kitchen with a glass of wine in one hand, pretending to listen to you talk, and failing worse with every second that passes. because your shirt is thin, soft, clinging over the full curve of your boobs just enough to make her attention keep slipping lower, and emily prentiss, for once, looks like she’s losing a fight with herself.
you don’t catch it immediately, mostly because she’s still doing all the right things at first. she nods when you pause, hums softly like she’s following every word, even tilts her head in that thoughtful way she does when she wants you to know you have her full attention. but then her gaze drops.
it’s quick the first time, just a flicker, barely anything, the kind of glance she could probably deny if she really wanted to. then it happens again, slower, her eyes lingering near your chest before lifting back to your face like nothing happened.
by the third time, she isn’t as subtle as she thinks she is, and there’s something almost delicious about watching someone so composed get ruined by the shape of your boobs beneath fabric.
your shirt doesn’t hide enough, not really. it stretches softly across your chest, the fabric resting over the swell of your boobs and shifting whenever you breathe. you’re not sure whether it’s the cold kitchen air or emily’s attention that makes your nipples tighten, but either way, the reaction is obvious enough that her eyes catch on it instantly.
she sees the little peaks pressing against your shirt. she sees the way your chest rises a little harder when you notice her looking. she sees the way your body gives you away before you can decide whether you want to tease her for it.
and the longer she stares, the more aware you become of every inch of yourself, your boobs feeling warm and sensitive beneath the thin fabric, your pussy already starting to feel wet between your thighs.
you stop mid-sentence, letting the silence settle between you with purpose, and emily only realizes something is wrong when your voice cuts off completely. her eyes snap back up too fast, sharp and guilty despite the calm expression she tries to arrange over her face.
“what?” she asks, and it would almost be convincing if her voice didn’t come out lower than before, rougher at the edges, like she had been thinking about something entirely different from what you were saying.
you raise an eyebrow, staring at her while she holds your gaze with the stubbornness of a woman who refuses to confess without being cornered. the pause stretches.
her thumb strokes once along the stem of her wine glass, a tiny little tell that makes heat curl low in your stomach. then you ask, “were you even listening to me?”
emily’s mouth curves into that smooth, dangerous smile, the one she uses when she knows she’s been caught but hasn’t decided whether she wants to admit it yet.
“of course i was,” she says, far too easily. you stare at her. she stares back. then, like her body betrays her before her pride can stop it, her gaze drops again, dragging right back to your chest for one brief, shameless second.
when she looks up this time, there’s no saving it, and the faintest flush rises across her cheekbones. you laugh, quiet and disbelieving, and emily exhales through her nose like she’s irritated with herself more than with you.
“don’t start,” she says, but there’s no bite in it, no real warning, just that low velvet tone that makes your thighs press together.
“you’re staring,” you say, and the words come out softer than you meant them to. emily sets her wine glass down with a quiet click, slow and deliberate, like she’s making a choice. “i know,” she says. not defensive. not embarrassed. just honest enough to make your breath catch.
the simple admission changes the air between you completely, taking the conversation from playful to charged so fast it leaves you warm all over. she doesn’t move toward you yet, which somehow makes it worse. she just stands there, eyes darker now, letting herself look at you openly, and the weight of her attention feels almost physical, like her hands are already on your skin.
you step closer because you can’t help yourself, because there’s something addictive about watching emily’s composure fray in real time. her gaze dips again, slower now that the pretense is gone, and her lips part just slightly when your chest rises with your breath.
she notices everything. the way your boobs shift beneath your shirt, soft and full enough to pull her attention down again. the way your nipples are hard now, straining against the fabric like your body is begging for her mouth before you even say a word.
the way your thighs press together because your pussy feels slick already, warm and wet and aching from nothing more than being watched by her.
“you wore that on purpose,” she says quietly, and it sounds less like an accusation than a confession of weakness. you tell her you didn’t, but your voice is already thinner than it should be, already giving too much away. emily’s smile turns knowing, almost cruel in how soft it is.
“maybe not consciously,” she says, and her eyes drop again, taking in the way the shirt clings to the rounded weight of your boobs. her attention makes your skin prickle.
it makes your nipples tighten further, your stomach flutter, your pussy throb with that slow, needy pulse of arousal. the dampness between your thighs is impossible to ignore now, your underwear clinging wetly against you every time you shift.
her hand lifts slowly, giving you every chance to pull away even though both of you know you won’t. she touches your waist first, fingertips light through your shirt, dragging up your side in a patient line that makes your stomach tighten.
she’s watching your face now, because emily likes proof. she likes seeing the way your lips part, the way your breath catches, the way your eyes flutter when her thumb brushes just beneath the curve of your boob.
the contact is barely anything, just the edge of a touch, but it makes your whole body feel too warm. your boobs feel heavy and sensitive under her attention, your nipples aching for more pressure, and your pussy gives another wet little pulse like it knows exactly where this is going.
“emily,” you warn, but it comes out more like a plea. she hums, innocent and unbearable, letting her thumb skim a little higher until she’s brushing over you through the thin fabric.
the pressure makes your breath hitch, especially when her thumb grazes the hardened peak of your nipple. your body reacts instantly, your back arching just enough to press more of your chest into her hand.
emily sees it. of course she sees it. her eyes darken like the sight of you getting needy from one touch is almost enough to ruin her by itself.
“what?” she asks, like she didn’t just spend an entire conversation staring at you. you open your mouth to answer, but she kisses you before you can say a damn thing.
at first, it’s controlled, warm, almost teasing, her lips moving against yours with the kind of patience that makes you ache. then your fingers curl into the front of her blouse, pulling her closer, and something in her restraint gives.
the kiss turns deeper fast, her body pressing yours back against the counter until the edge digs into your lower back. her hands slide to your waist, then up, slow and deliberate, as if she’s giving herself permission inch by inch. when she finally cups your chest over your shirt, her palm warm and firm around your boob, you gasp against her mouth.
the sound does something to her. you feel it in the way she groans softly, in the way her fingers tighten, in the way her kiss gets rougher for one messy second before she reins herself in again. her hand fits over you like she’s been thinking about it for ages, squeezing gently at first, then with more confidence when your body melts into the touch.
your boob feels soft and full in her palm, your nipple hard against the fabric, every slow press of her fingers sending sparks down your stomach. your pussy feels wetter by the second, slick gathering between your folds, warm enough that you can feel it soaking into your underwear.
“i was trying to be respectful,” she says against your lips. you laugh breathlessly, tilting your head back as her mouth drags to your jaw. “you failed.”
“miserably,” she says, and then she kisses down your neck like she wants to prove it. her mouth is hot and slow, lips dragging over your pulse, teeth grazing just enough to make your hips push forward without thinking.
one hand stays on your chest, kneading through the fabric, while the other settles at your lower back and pulls you closer until there’s barely any space left between you.
she’s still composed in pieces, still careful, still attentive, but there’s hunger underneath it now, dark and obvious and impossible to ignore. every touch feels deliberate, like she’s been thinking about your boobs under her hands for longer than she wants to admit.
when her thumb rubs over your nipple through your shirt, your knees nearly weaken, and emily’s mouth curves against your skin.
“that sensitive?” she asks, voice low enough to make you shiver. you try to answer, but she does it again, firmer this time, rolling your nipple beneath her thumb until a soft, broken sound slips out of you.
the pleasure goes straight between your thighs, making your pussy clench around nothing. you can feel how wet you are now, how slick and swollen everything feels, how badly your body wants more pressure.
emily pulls back just enough to look at you, and the expression on her face is devastating. smug, affectionate, starving. like she wants to tease you for falling apart so quickly and kiss you for it at the same time.
“you have no idea how distracting you are,” she says, her eyes dropping again, shameless now. “standing there, talking to me like i’m supposed to focus, wearing this little thing like i’m not only human.” heat rushes through you so fast it leaves you dizzy.
you tell her she should have said something, but the words barely survive the way she’s touching you. emily’s fingers hook under the hem of your shirt, slow enough to make anticipation crawl over your skin.
“i was trying to behave,” she says, and there’s a smile in her voice now. “clearly, that was a mistake.” then she lifts your shirt, waiting just long enough for your nod before pulling it up and off you completely.
the fabric drops somewhere near your feet, forgotten immediately, because emily is staring again. only this time there’s nothing between her eyes and your bare skin, nothing to soften the way her composure cracks wide open.
your boobs are exposed to her completely now, warm and soft, rising with your uneven breaths. your nipples are hard from the cool air and from the way she’s looking at you, tight little peaks that make her eyes go darker the longer she stares.
the silence that follows feels filthy in itself. emily looks at your chest like she’s been handed something sacred and obscene, her eyes moving over the fullness of you slowly, taking in the curve, the softness, the way your body is already reacting for her.
her hands settle on you carefully at first, palms sliding over your ribs before she cups both of your boobs with a reverence that makes your throat tighten. then her thumbs brush over your nipples, and the soft moan that leaves you makes her inhale sharply.
your boobs feel almost too sensitive beneath her hands, heavy and warm and aching as she squeezes them with slow, possessive pressure. she watches the way they fit in her palms, the way your nipples stiffen under her thumbs, the way your whole body arches when she touches you just right.
“pretty,” she says, almost under her breath. then, rougher, like the word isn’t enough, “fuck, you’re so pretty.” and before you can even process the way her voice has changed, she lowers her mouth to you.
the first touch of her lips against your boob is slow enough to be cruel. she kisses around your nipple first, soft open-mouthed presses that leave damp warmth behind, while her hand kneads the other boob with steady, possessive pressure.
you can feel how badly she wants to rush, how much effort it takes for her to take her time, and somehow that makes it worse. when her tongue finally flicks over your nipple, your back arches off the counter, and emily makes a quiet sound like she’s pleased with herself.
she does it again, dragging her tongue over the sensitive peak before closing her lips around it. the suction is gentle at first, teasing, but when your fingers slide into her hair and pull, she groans against you and sucks harder.
your whole body reacts to her mouth. heat pools between your legs, slick and insistent, every slow pull of her lips sending another pulse of want through you.
your pussy feels soaked now, wet enough that your underwear clings uncomfortably to you, every shift making the damp fabric rub against your swollen clit. emily knows exactly what she’s doing, and worse, she’s paying attention to every single reaction. when you gasp,
she repeats the motion. when your hips twitch, her hand tightens at your waist. when your fingers tug at her hair, she looks up at you with your nipple still in her mouth, eyes dark and smug and completely ruinous.
the eye contact makes you throb. it makes you feel exposed in the best way, like she can tell exactly how wet you’re getting without needing to touch you there yet. your boobs rise and fall beneath her mouth, one wet from her tongue, the other held firmly in her hand while she rolls your nipple between her fingers.
you feel warm everywhere, flushed and sensitive, your pussy pulsing with every drag of her mouth. there’s a slick ache between your thighs now, needy and impossible to ignore, and the worst part is that emily can tell.
she can tell from your breathing. from the way your thighs keep squeezing together. from the way your hips keep shifting like your body is trying to find friction all on its own.
“this is why i wasn’t listening,” she says against your skin, lips brushing damply over your boob as she speaks. “you were talking, and all i could think about was this.” her hand slides down your stomach as she says it, fingers spreading over the soft, warm skin there before dipping lower.
she doesn’t rush, because emily is a menace when she knows you want something. she kisses across your chest, giving the other boob the same slow attention, tongue circling before she sucks your nipple into her mouth.
your thighs press together, desperate for friction, and she notices immediately. of course she notices. emily prentiss notices everything.
her hand slips between your thighs over your clothes, pressing just enough to make your breath break. “there it is,” she whispers, like she’s found the answer to a question she already knew. your hips roll into her touch, needy and automatic, and she smiles against your chest before kissing lower, then back up again.
she keeps one hand on your boob while the other rubs slow, firm pressure between your legs, not enough to give you what you need, just enough to make you ache for more. it’s maddening. it’s perfect.
you’re hot everywhere, trembling against the counter while emily takes you apart with her mouth, her hands, and that steady, devastating focus she usually saves for interrogations.
“you’re soaked, aren’t you?” she asks softly, and the way she says it makes your stomach flip. not mocking exactly, but pleased. deeply pleased. your pussy throbs at the words, wet and swollen beneath your underwear, and you hate that she can feel how hard you react through the layers between her hand and your body.
you try to glare at her, but it falls apart the second she presses her palm against you again, firmer this time. “all because i got caught staring?” she continues, her voice warm with amusement. “or because you wanted me to?” you say her name, half warning and half surrender, and emily’s smile turns downright wicked.
she kisses your nipple once more, slow and open-mouthed, then lifts her head to look at you properly. “tell me to stop,” she says, and the softness of it hits just as hard as the hunger.
because beneath all the teasing, beneath the dark eyes and the greedy hands, she’s still emily. still careful with you. still waiting for you to choose her back.
you shake your head, already breathless, already ruined enough that pride feels pointless. “don’t stop.” emily’s expression changes at that, something hot and tender flickering across her face before she kisses you again.
this time, there’s no pretending either of you are going back to the conversation. she kisses you like she’s done being patient, mouth deep and hungry while her hands move over you with more confidence. she palms your chest, thumbs circling your nipples until you’re making soft, helpless noises into her mouth.
every sound seems to pull her further under, making her touch rougher, her breathing heavier, her body press harder against yours. she slips one thigh between yours and lets you grind against her, just once, just enough to make you shudder.
the pressure against your soaked pussy makes you gasp into her mouth, your wet underwear dragging over your clit in a way that sends a sharp pulse of pleasure through you.
“good girl,” she whispers against your mouth, and the praise goes straight through you. she feels the way you react, feels the tiny jerk of your hips, and her smile is slow and knowing. “oh,” she says softly. “you liked that.”
you don’t answer, because answering would mean admitting how badly those two words affected you, and emily already knows anyway. she kisses down your throat again, her mouth returning to your chest like she can’t stay away from it now that she’s allowed to touch. her tongue traces over your nipple before she sucks it back into her mouth, her hand sliding lower to keep pressure between your legs.
the combination makes you dizzy. your boobs feel swollen and sensitive under her mouth and hands, your nipples slick from her tongue, your skin hot everywhere she touches.
your pussy feels even wetter now, slick spreading messily into your underwear, your clit aching from the pressure of her thigh and the teasing rub of her palm. every time you grind down, the damp fabric drags against you, and every time you make a sound, emily’s mouth gets greedier.
your fingers tighten in her hair, your head tipping back, your body trapped between the counter and the warm, relentless weight of her attention. emily looks completely gone now, composed mask finally cracked, replaced by something hungry and intimate and almost reverent.
and the worst part is, she still manages to sound controlled when she leans in close, lips brushing your ear. “next time you want my attention,” she whispers, her hand squeezing your boob again while her thigh presses between yours, “just wear this.”
your laugh breaks into a moan when she moves against you, slow and deliberate. “or don’t,” she adds, voice dipping darker. “i seem to get distracted either way.”
then she kisses you again, messy and deep, stealing the smart response right out of your mouth. and this time, when her eyes drop to your chest, you don’t call her out. you just pull her closer, soaked and trembling, and let her stare.
A/N: I’m back. I had a tough year, oops, so sorry. I graduated from my English study, I started a job, and now lost that job in the same year. Anyways, here is some deranged writing, ending was a little rushed and not Beta read. But there may be opportunity for a part 2 if people want it. Probably OOC, but who really cares? I need post prison!Spencer to rail me in a semi public spot.
WC: 8,6K
Tags: MDNI, post prison spencer reid, enemies to lovers, little angst idk, kissing, a little more than kissing, smut, nsfw, not proofread we die like men, maybe a bit ooc
Warnings: swearing, unprotected p in v, fingering (f receiving), semi public.
Your POV
Joining the BAU had been your dream ever since highschool after two agents had given a lecture about their work on career day. When you had learned about the people catching killers by analysing their minds, their ways, their behaviour, you knew it was the perfect job for you. So when that dream came true, when you were hired fresh out of the academy it felt like you were on cloud nine. The team was close, it took time for you to integrate among your new peers, but you quickly managed to find a friendship with Penelope. The rest soon followed.
There was however a thorn in your side.
One who had been a rude awakening in your first week. Shattering your dream in a thousand little pieces.
Spencer Reid.
For some reason the prodigal son of the BAU had decided you were enemy number one. From the first time you met eyes. The first time you had spoken up to introduce yourself. He was dismissive. Cold. Mean even. Each day you were reminded of this when he made another comment, another snide remark about your abilities, your lack of experience. You were never one to lower yourself to the level of people trying to take you down, always being the kind person, the nice person, but Spencer brought something out in you. Where each rude word deserved a comeback. A retort to show your displeasure at being treated that way. Especially being treated like that by him.
You had heard so many stories about him. How he was the youngest profiler ever, starting even before he turned 24. He had been a guest in one of your first year lectures, a little awkward, lanky, smiling. Talking animatedly about profiling while he stood next to one of his superiors who chimed in when he rambled off topic. Clearly he had been nervous, which was a little odd considering he had dealt with way more nerve wracking situations. He was cute. You remember thinking that. But the man you met now, he was completely different. Something happened in those 5 odd years. Something that turned him into a dick. Maybe it was all he went through, but that was no reason to take it out on you.
So after a month at the BAU there was a certain tension in the air between the two of you. You were in the breakroom, together with JJ, getting a drink. “You have known Spencer for a while, right?” You spoke up as you picked a cup from the cupboard and filled it with coffee, JJ made a move to stand closer. “Yeah, I would say so.” She let out a soft snort of a laugh. She reached for the pot after you. “Has he always been an ass?” You asked, matter of factly. Maybe a bit too frank but you were wondering what made him act like everything you did was done to wrong him personally. You knew he had been through a lot, having gone to prison for a crime he hadn’t committed just months before you arrived. But that didn’t give him the right to lash out at you. JJ sounded like she was choking on air at your frankness, before answering needing to catch her breath. “No, he hasn’t always been like that. And honestly you are one of the few people he seems to act that way towards.” She answered with a shrug. “It’s frustrating! He acts like I’m incompetent, like I’m some child always in the way of things. If I was, does he really think I would have been hired? I graduated fucking top of my class. Yet it seems every little thing I do offends him.” You finished by taking a sip from your coffee with an exasperated sigh. It was bitter, like all office coffee, clearly needing some sugar to help it go down.
You put the cup down on the counter and grabbed a handful of the sugar sachets, tearing them open and downing them into the cup while continuing your ramble. “Just this morning he saw me heading for the elevators. I asked him to hold the door and you know what he did?” You looked up at JJ who had a brow raised in amusement. “What?” She asked. “He hit the shut button just before I reached it! Right in my face! Smug smile and all.” You stirred your coffee, some of the dark liquid spilling over the side and you groaned.“You do know you are drinking out of his cup right?” JJ asked as you grabbed some paper towels to clean up the mess you made. Lifting up the blank cup to swab underneath, hopefully preventing a stain. “I don’t see his name on it.” You shrugged. Feeling a little petty.
“He won’t like it, he’s a germaphobe.” JJ added. You knew it was his, ofcourse, he used it every day. This was your revenge, though a little childish, a little selfish, it felt good. Because he too was childish. “He will have to learn to live with it. Besides, just last week he ate the cookie I was saving. If he can take my things I can take his.” JJ laughed and rolled her eyes, “Well that was after you decided to leave his lunch out of the fridge.” She corrected you. “After he told me I was nothing but an obstacle in the field. Which I wasn’t, he ran into me on purpose I tell you. He hadn’t written his name on his lunch either so it was an honest mistake. I thought it was just left over take-out for people to share.” You countered. “You are both petty, please talk it out before either one of you burns down the building out of pettiness.” She joked as she pushed off the counter.
“It won’t come to that. As soon as he stops I won’t have to retaliate anymore.” You followed her lead and walked out of the break room, shrugging with the coffee cup in hand. As soon as you left the doorway you could feel eyes on you. In the back of your mind you knew it was Spencer, who most likely had noticed the specific cup in your hands. You didn’t pay him any mind though, he was not about to ruin your day again. “I have some paperwork to get to. But we should get lunch together if we can.” You quickly said to JJ, who nodded, before walking to your desk. Your desk, oh so conveniently placed opposite to Spencer’s. Once finally sitting down you made eye contact with him, those big brown eyes filled with annoyance, or anger perhaps. Brows furrowed, and the corners of his lips turned down ever so slightly. It only fueled the fire of pettiness that was starting to grow inside you.
“That’s mine.” Were the first words to leave his mouth as you placed the mug down. “Really? Because I don’t see your name anywhere.” You teased, breaking eye contact and going on to start up the pc, acting unbothered. “You know it’s mine. Don’t act childish.” Spencer grumbled out making you look up, brow arched as you scoffed. “Childish? Really? Says the man who looks like he is about to throw a fit over a cup.” You folded your arms before leaning slightly closer over the desk, popping the p of cup as you finished your sentence. “I’m not throwing a fit.” He countered, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Lifting a brow to mirror your expression, it was daring you to retaliate. “Looks like a fit to me, besides what are you going to do about it?” You punctuated your sentence by taking another sip of the hot, sugary coffee. Now leaning back as well you kept your eyes trained on him for another second.
When you put the mug on the desk again he stood up quickly. Taking 4 long strides to be on your side of the desk. You snatched the mug back up as soon as his ass left that desk chair, a few drops spilling over the side on your desk but you didn’t care. There was electricity that crackled between you as eyes met. His brows furrowed as he loomed over you. “What?” you dared. “Give it back.” He managed to state through gritted teeth, holding out his hand with the palm up. “No way, I just poured the coffee I’m not giving it to you.” You countered, holding on tightly to the cup. “You’re acting like a brat. Give it back.” Spencer stated, his insistence on treating you like a kid was starting to piss you off. His cocky demeanor, like him being older, made him superior. It was infuriating. “Repeating it isn’t going to get me to do it.” You felt petty, but then again he had no right to demand you give him the cup because of some moronic claim he felt he had on it.
“Just. It’s mine.” Spencer grumbled as he reached his hand out, trying to snatch it from your hands. In a desperate attempt to keep the cup away from him you yanked your hands back. Spilling hot liquid over your blouse and lap. The heat of it made you yelp in surprise before jumping up out of your desk chair. Your eyes met his as he looked on in a stunned surprise, mouth slightly parted as it sunk in what happened. There was a fire in your eyes as you felt the anger bubble over. It was inadvertently his fault. If he had let it go this wouldn’t have happened. The eyes of the rest of the team seemed to be turned to the two of you. “Thanks a fucking lot, Reid.” You gritted out before snatching up your go bag and stomping off to the bathrooms.
The bathroom was quiet, the only sound was that of water running bouncing off of the tiled walls.Your white blouse now stained with brown coffee lay under the stream. Muttered curses left your lips. Stupid Spencer and his stupid behaviour. This was about to be the straw that broke the camel's back. You looked up at your reflection, there was a tiredness in your face that you hadn’t seen before. Not even after all nighters of studying or parties in uni. Sighing, your hands rubbed your face. It was pure luck you still had your go bag at your desk. Although having just returned yesterday from an out of state call the only clean items in there were a set of underwear and a pair of form fitting slacks and a tank top you usually wore under blouses. That’s why you were holed up in the bathroom trying to clean the blouse. You didn’t feel like the low cut tank top was necessarily work appropriate. Having texted both JJ and Penelope to ask if they had anything you could borrow but sadly struck out. Another sigh escaped you as the brown stain didn’t seem to let up. Turning the tap off in defeat, the shirt was probably ruined, or at least needed actual detergent to get somewhere near presentable again. There was a knock at the door that made you turn your head, maybe JJ or Penelope did find something for you.
Wiping your wet hands on your pants as you walked over you unlocked the door. Opening it slowly, “Did you find some-” You stopped speaking when you registered who was standing there. If looks could kill, you thought, Spencer should have dropped dead at that moment. He was the last person you wanted to see. As you were about to close the door in his face his hand stopped you. Keeping the door open. “I came to apologize.” He didn’t look sincere, he was avoiding eye contact and sounded like he wanted to be anywhere but there. You thought someone must have sent him to apologize. Forced him into this unwanted situation. “I don’t accept.” You stated blankly as you tried to close the door again. “What do you mean you don’t accept?” He held the door open again, clearly he had some hidden strength beneath that lanky exterior because you were struggling to push the door closed. “Like I said. I don’t accept your apology.” You answered. He gave an annoyed look, a grumble, before he was pushing into the bathroom. You took a few steps back, trying to get away from him. “Why not? I want to apologize and you are acting like even that is offensive.” He grumbled, the way he moved his hands was adding an air of annoyance to his demeanor. “Because, you don’t want to apologize.” You answered, crossing your arms as you looked at him head on. He didn’t seem sincere at all so it meant another coworker had probably interfered in this situation.
Spencer scoffed, “Right, because I am incapable of actually wanting to apologize.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. His eyes landed on your stained shirt in the sink, still soaking wet and the brown stain just wouldn’t let up. Something in his look shifted for a moment but it changed back too quickly to read what it was. “I’m not saying that. Just that you have never apologized to me before. Besides, your behaviour is telling me you don’t want to apologize.” You retorted, because everything he did showed it. You knew it in your heart, could feel it with every nerve in your body. He loathed you. And you loathed him back just as much.
“Please don’t analyse me. You don’t know a single thing about what I feel.” He spoke through gritted teeth. You rolled your eyes at his words. Both of you were behavioural analysts, he should know it was your second nature to analyse what he did. How he reacted. “Yeah, sure, do you know how easy you are to read? You can’t even look me in the eyes to apologize! Either you have the most backwards behaviour ever or you know I’m right and you don’t want to apologize. But, hey, when can I ever be right, right? Because clearly with the way you’re opposing everything I say I can never be.” You rambled on, feeling the annoyance seep out of every pore of your body. Hands gesturing wildly in the air to emphasise your exasperation. “I don’t fucking get why you hate me this much.” You tacked it on, finally expressing your inability to understand his hatred, to understand his loathing of you.
“I don’t hate you.” Spencer’s voice was softer than before, something more akin to a placating tone. Like the one people would use with a feral animal, to get them to trust them. To calm down. You let out a huff, “Funny way of showing it, because to me it seems like you loathe my entire being. Like me being myself is offensive to you.” You countered. Not letting his placating tone calm you down. Spencer sighed before opening his mouth again, his eyes meeting yours for the first time he stepped into the bathroom. “I don’t loathe you either. You… you frustrate me.” His words confuse you even further, because what is that even supposed to mean? Frustrate him? It’s not like you were doing anything peculiar.
He probably could see your confusion because he started speaking again. “Just… Everytime you are around, my focus is on you. Every movement you make, the way you click that pen of yours repeatedly while filling in paperwork. Or how you always seem to have to stir your coffee three times clockwise, and then four times anti-clockwise. Even in the field, the way you walk, or when you blow the hair out of your face after a chase. I tend to lose focus. It is distracting. It is frustrating.” He spoke calmly. But you could hear the slight strain in his voice, like he was forcing the words out of his throat. Like his body was trying to hold back from blurting out what had been stuck in his mind. To you it seemed to be how every little habit you had was making him angry. How your entire personality was an eye sore to him. It made your gut clench with the realization that you had wanted for him to like you, even when all you had been doing was annoying each other.
“Are you saying that just me being me is frustrating? Spencer, I can’t change who I am. I can’t just fucking up and change my entire being because of you! Jesus do you know how mean you are in saying that?” You could feel the tears start to prick in your eyes. Your hands moved up, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes to stop any tears from escaping. Throat closing up ever so slightly with frustration. You couldn’t help it. “You are frustrated? I’ve been trying since day one to be nice to you! You didn’t even shake my hand on my first day, dismissed me at every turn, treated me like a child! You made me feel like the only thing I could do was retaliate. And now, now you tell me it’s because of who I am? I literally can’t change a thing about that.” You rambled on removing your hands from your eyes, not caring if there was a tear escaping. Or if your eyes were brimming with them. “You are an ass, Reid.” you said pushing past him to fish your wet button down from the sink. Whole body vibrating with emotions, anger, sadness, frustration. All finally escaping after having been pushed down for so long.
A silence fell over the bathroom, only hearing your own breathing. Hands found their way to the white cotton and wrung out the excess water. Droplets hitting the ground with soft wet splashes. You didn’t know if it was from your shirt or your eyes. Honestly, it didn’t really matter anyways. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Spencer finally dared to speak up. You looked at him through the mirror, seeing your own eyes and the single wet streak going down your cheek. “Didn’t mean it like what? Like you don’t hate every piece of me?” You snapped back. Jaw tight, you glanced back down to your ruined shirt. The whole thing was laughable really. Stuck in a bathroom with the one person who apparently can't stand the idea of you.
“Would you let me explain myself?” Spencer sounded almost frustrated. The way his hands flexed as he reached them up. Running them through his hair with an exasperated sigh. The way his voice raised made you shut your mouth, keeping your lips pressed in a thin line. Turning back around to look at him straight on. Watching as Spencer took another deep breath, letting his hands fall back down to his side. You watched as his lips parted, then closed again like he wasn’t going to continue what he was going to say. His eyes search your face, darting over your visage to catch any micro expressions. Analysing what you were thinking, trying to figure out your thoughts. You didn’t want to let him. Opening your mouth to say something in return, the words fell short on your lips. Being snatched from your breath as his lips crashed into yours. His hands cradled your head, not forcefully holding you in place, no, it was more to keep you stable. The force of his kiss was disorienting. Nearly knocking you off your feet.
The surprise took you first, uncertain of what was going on, not kissing back but standing nailed in place. When you didn’t respond to his kiss after a few moments Spencer pulled away. A hint of defeat in his eyes. “That’s what I feel. You frustrate me with your personality because you are so nice to everyone, too nice, I feel scared whenever you are in trouble. I’m afraid of hurting you so I keep you at a distance, I’m mean because I don’t want you to get attached. And god you distract me with the way you walk, talk, move, bat those fucking eyelashes. I can't focus which annoys me because then I get behind on work. I am angry at myself because you deserve someone better than some jealous prick with a criminal record. Even more so because I never even said anything nice to you because of that jealousy, that fear.” The words came out of his mouth like a waterfall. All his troubles, his fears, his annoyances. You were stunned, never would you have guessed this was the reason he was combative, rude, dismissive. Never in a million years did you think Spencer Reid was into you. Still, you didn’t believe it. He had a strange way of showing it. Fighting you on every opinion, every idea.
Maybe it was the anger, all the riled up emotions, the confusion of the situation, but you stood up on your toes. Hands reaching out to grab the front of his suit jacket, you pressed your lips against his like he had done to you just moments before. Though now the kiss was returned, his hands still cradling your head. Fingers splayed in your hair as he stepped closer. His body pressed against yours, urging you to take steps backwards until you felt the cold tile of the wall against your back. The soft gasp you made gave him the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue slipping effortlessly into your mouth, pressing, licking, exploring. His hands moved from your head down, ghosting over your chest before settling on your hips. One arm circling around to hold you almost obsessively. Your right hand went from his jacket to the back of his neck, tangling in the curls at his nape.
You moved your head away, breaking the kiss, breathing heavily you looked up at him. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you. Or even that I like you. This is just… loathing.” You said, with lips ghosting against his. “Loathing, loving… Is there even a difference?” Spencer responded with a nip to your lips. Teeth, softly digging into the soft flesh of your bottom lip. His words rang true in your head. Both were extreme, obsessive emotions towards another person. It described perfectly what you felt towards Spencer Reid, an intense emotion that made you think about him day and night. That hot feeling in your stomach that raged whenever he spoke to you. Only now realizing that hatred and lust are close to the same thing. He pulled away, his eyes catching yours before a small smile ticked up the corners of his lips. Amusement is clear in his expression as the corners of his eyes crinkled, “You’re considering it.” He mumbled it, voice low and teasing.
“Shut up.” You responded, wanting to wipe that smirk off of his face. Him gloating was annoying to you. He didn’t deserve to feel the satisfaction of being correct, even if he so often was. So you pulled him down again, your teeth nipping at his lip mimicking what he had done before. You continued, kissing the stupid upturned corner of his lip, over his stubble and along his jaw. Open mouthed, letting your breath ghost across his skin, sometimes your teeth dared to nip more, sinking into skin with a strange gentle touch. Spencer’s hand holding you tightened around your waist, his hips canting forward to meet yours. It seemed his smugness died down rather easily. You used your left hand to slide under his suit jacket, pushing it open and letting your digits wander across the smoothness of the button up he wore. The crisp white hadn’t been marred when the coffee splashed all over you. Another thing to be annoyed about, but maybe later.
Your wandering hand seemed to have encouraged Spencer. His own free hand started to pull on your tank top, dislodging it from its tucked position, fingertips ghosting under its hem on bare skin, softly moving along the top of your trousers. Goosebumps formed on your skin at the gentle touch. It was a hint at something more, a promise that you could continue if you wanted to. It dawned on you that you were in a work bathroom. Anyone could walk past, hear what was going on inside, but stopping felt wrong. Like this opportunity would not come again. You pushed further, sliding his jacket further off of his shoulder. Spencer seemed to take the hint, his hands left your body for a single moment as he shrugged it off. You watched with intent, the sight of him stripping off the outer layer, revealing that well fitted button up was hot. The dark fabric falling to the ground as he let it go, uncharacteristically for the ever clean freak but so was him pushing you against the wall.
When Spencer’s eyes met yours again there was a hunger, somewhere between his gloating and now his pupils had dilated, the brown of his eyes being swallowed by the black. He ran a hand through his hair, a breath escaping his lips as he gave you a slow once over. Stilling on your chest before moving up and staring in your eyes. “Do you want to…” He asked, the words stilling in his mouth. “Continue? Spencer, you rile me up and plan to leave me hanging? You really want me to hate you even more?” You ask. The thought crossed your mind for a moment that this was just another way to annoy you, frustrate you further. “I wouldn’t dare. But we are at work.” He reminded you, like you hadn’t thought of that yourself. He didn’t sound convinced however. The tone in his voice was strained, like he was holding back in case you did want to stop. “Did they see you going to apologize to me?” You asked, wanting to know if anyone knew he was in there with you. When you saw him shake his head no, the way his curls bounced for a few moments at the movement.
“Then don’t stop.”
It was all the go ahead he seemed to need. Because as soon as the words left your mouth he was on you again. His kiss was hungry, lips and teeth clashing for a moment as you fell into a rhythm. His hands were moving quickly to the hem of your tank top. Pulling it up further and further, revealing inches of skin until it bunched up at your bra. You took a moment, leaning your head back, to pull the tank over and off. The piece of clothing pooling at your feet, forgotten next to his jacket, as Spencer went back to kissing you. His hands started to explore, moving up your waist thumbs caressing the underside of your boobs over the fabric of your bra. Even through the fabric it made shivers go down your spine. Tongues mingled as he deepened the kiss. There was something in his kiss that was intoxicating. That made you feel a little light headed. Like he was claiming you through the kiss.
Your hands started to unbutton his shirt a bit clumsily, but you were quick with it too. Tugging it free from his slacks to unbutton the final buttons. It allowed your hands to brush the front of his slacks, feeling the hardness under the fabric as Spencer groaned into the kiss. The light touch seemingly affected him. The vibration of his groan did the same for you though, you could feel the slick starting to form against your panties as a heat settled in the pit of your stomach. The same hands that had been ministrating the edges of your bra moved to pull the cups down. Exposing the hot skin to the slightly cool air of the bathroom. The way Spencer’s hands moved to cup each one of your breasts made you gasp. He wasn’t overly rough, but you wouldn’t say it was tender either. There was a rush behind it, an excitement, maybe it was the thrill of being at work, or the fact you still hated him. Whatever it was was electrifying. The air around you feels hot and heavy.
Hands wandered further, starting to unbutton and then unzipping his slacks. There was the need to be quick, in case you were found out by your colleagues. Spencer must have noticed your haste as he moved his hands down too, mirroring your actions before pushing your own pants down, fabric pooling at your feet you quickly stepped out. Spencer took this moment to lift you ever so slightly, off balance as you stood on your tip toes. “Normally I would take my time.” His lips pressed against your ear as he whispered with a ragged breath. You let out a huff in turn, “We don’t have that luxury right now.” You retorted as your hand moved slowly over his boxers, feeling the hardness in your hand. The weight of it as it strained against the slightly elastic fabric. Spencer’s chuckle sounded mingled with a groan. A mingle of humor and excitement. “Maybe after work you can come to mine.” He spoke and before you could make a witty comment his fingers found the wetness on your panties. Stifling any retort as he pushed them aside, using his thumb to rub gentle circles while he collected some of your wetness on his fingers. A moan left your parted lips at the careful ministrations. “Cat got your tongue? You usually would have called me a name by now.” You could practically feel the smirk on his lips as he pressed your body against the wall with his. His hard on pressing against your hip. “Asshole.” The chided remark didn’t sound too convincing, but you couldn’t let him have the last word in.
Another chuckle, his breathing against your skin, the steady rhythm of his thumb rubbing that bundle of nerves that sent warmth spreading throughout your body. “That’s what I expected.” He moved his lips down your neck, lavishing with his tongue against the sensitive skin, almost mirroring the moves his fingers were making. Spreading your sensitive folds, teasing against your entrance every few seconds. “Don’t be a tease, Reid.” You moaned as your arms tightened around him, urging him to continue. “In a hurry?” Spencer spoke against your skin before he stood up to his full height again. Looking down with those intense eyes, brown swallowed by black pupils. “You’re already so wet. I knew that most people get excited by sneaking around but never expected this big of an effect on you. Especially since you ‘loathe’ me.” He seemed cocky. The fact that he had such an effect on you in turn affecting him. “Like you’re not the one about to cum in his underwear.” Maybe it was mean but you could feel the twitch from his dick at your words. Besides, he started it. You still hated him, hated the way he was able to forget how much you disliked him. How cruel he could be to you.
Spencer didn’t seem to appreciate the comment however. Without warning he plunged two fingers inside of you. Causing you to nearly fold over if he hadn’t been holding you up against the wall. At the same time as he had done so his lips had found yours again. Swallowing the loud moan that had escaped you. Muffling it to not alert anyone that might be walking by. You could feel your insides clamp down on his fingers, they were long reaching deep inside of you as he started to fuck them in and out of you. His mouth greedily swallowed any sound you made. Using each moan to delve further, taste more of you. Your tongues moved against each other, teeth clashing together every so often. Your heart was hammering in your chest. There was something in your mind calling it embarrassing, to be flustered, be pressed against a bathroom wall with your least likeable coworker’s fingers deep inside you. How worked up he had gotten you to get you this far. But the other part of your brain decided against being rational, giving in to this passion, this intensity, might be what you needed to finally blow off that steam.
Spencer started off slow. Moving his fingers, dragging them between the soft walls of your cunt. Gasping and moaning toppling from your lips. His lips left yours, going back down your neck, further over your collar bone and to the top of your chest. His free hand grasping under your ass, lifting you up and holding you against the wall as he sucked your right nipple into his mouth. One of your legs looked for stability, wrapping around his waist to perch. Holding him closer. The combined feeling of the way he curled and moved his fingers inside of you with the laving at your chest was making your hurdle towards the edge faster than you expected. His fingers sped up, thrusting in and out with wet sounds following. Curling faster against the one spot inside you that made you see stars. Delicious ecstasy flowing through your veins. Pleasure building low in your stomach, tightening with each careful stroke and curl against the sensitive walls. Every press of his thumb against your clit, each suck on your soft bud. Your head was hazy with it.
The way his curls fell into his face, his cologne wafted and surrounded you, soft lips clamped around your chest, switching sides every so often. Your hand found its way into his hair. Tugging ever so slightly as your vision began to dot with white. You felt yourself clench around his fingers, tighter, in unison with that pleasure knotting in your body. Every nerve was tense, waiting for release, heat spreading to every inch of your body. The inside of your thighs were wet and sticky with juices flowing down. Spencer lifted his head, looking at you with blown pupils, his lips wet and glossy, hair completely ruined. He looked infuriatingly gorgeous. “Fuck, Spencer, keep going.” You moaned as his fingers stilled for a moment. Something in his eyes changed at your words. He pulled his fingers out, leaving you to clench around nothing. Lowering you down slightly till your toes were on the ground again, still pressed against the tile wall, still with his hand under the swell of your ass to keep you upright. Legs feeling too much like jelly for you to keep standing on your own.
“I said keep going.” You whined, feeling tears prick in the corners of your eyes as frustration hit you. You were so close. Could feel the orgasm coming on. If he had just continued for a moment. This wasn't like you. You weren't one to whine for more. Spencer however, stared for a moment with a look that conveyed something you hadn't seen in him before. “You look so pretty crying for me to make you come.” Spencer said it with sincerity, like he genuinely thought this was the prettiest you had looked. No cruelty behind the words but admiration. He moved his fingers, now slicked with your juices to his mouth, “I will, just give me a moment.” He promised before he licked his fingers clean. Tongue swiping at the sticky, clear liquid coating his fingers. Keeping eye contact as he did so. Something so completely and utterly indecent for him. A germaphobe tasting the most intimate of you. Letting a noise free from the back of his throat that was completely lewd. Like it was the first drop of water he'd tasted after drought. After he seemed satisfied with them being sufficiently clean he moved his hand down his body. Pushing his boxers down to let his erection spring free. It brushed against your stomach, the tip feeling hot against your skin.
You wanted to catch a glimpse. But something in Spencer's gaze kept your eyes locked to his. “You can still say no…” He said it like he didn't want to stop. His voice betraying his true feelings. “You don't seem like you want to stop.” You retorted, tilting your head with a questioning gaze. The pause allowing you back some sense of normality. Some fire and ability to retort. He'd probably offer it because it was the right thing to do. Or maybe he did really take your feelings into account. “We are crossing a boundary. I need you to be sure. Because if we do this and you aren't… I don't know what'll happen.” He seemed relatively serious for a man who'd just had his fingers inside of you mere moments ago. “I'm sure. I'm on birth control, if that's what got you worried. If you're scared I'll tell the team, don't be. It will be just as bad for me. Because this… this is to get the frustration out.” You reasoned. Not wanting to give in to him easily. But you were frustrated and the one thing you wanted right now was for him to make you come.
“Yeah. Getting the frustration out.” He didn't sound too convinced but that was complicated. Too complicated to get into now. Because his feelings were complicated. Maybe so we're yours. But this wasn't the moment to talk it out. His eyes showed he was thinking. Darting around your face as the both of you stayed silent. Maybe analyzing the reaction you were having to his words. His hand tightened slightly, grip firm on your ass. “Spencer. Are you going to keep thinking or will you keep your promise and make me come?” He blinked at your words. As if the video in his mind had been paused and he was pulled back to reality. “Lift your leg again for me.” He said. Using his now free right hand to pull at your thigh. You did as he asked, lifting your left leg and wrapping it back around his waist. It lifted you up slightly again, allowing him to align himself with your cunt. The tip slid between folds almost teasingly as he tried to maneuver into a more comfortable position. With his hands full it seemed to be more of a challenge to get himself in the right place. Simply frustrated, needing more, you slid your hand down to touch him. Holding the length of his cock in your hand you felt the weight of it, the girth, it wasn't intimidating but it was larger than you expected.
Your hold was gentle, causing Spencer to let out a little sound between a huff and a groan. It was a little out of character compared to what you knew. You've heard him huff and groan before, but never in combination, and never with a tone that conveyed desire. Teasingly you gave him a few light strokes. Earning yourself a moan that sent a shiver down your spine. He had been in control before but now you were equals. “You better stop teasing or I won't be nice at all.” Spencer said through partially gritted teeth. “Fine. You better not come first.” You teased with a slight grin. Having felt how hard he was, it betrayed that he had been closer than he'd maybe admit. You moved your hand again to slide his length between your wet folds, making sure he was coated with the slickness that had gathered, this time canting your hips a little more you felt his tip at your entrance. He moved his hips a little further forward, applying a little pressure as he slipped inside.
Finally.
You let go off the base of his length, moving instead to hold on to his shoulder. Steadying yourself. You could feel the stretch, feel how your body responded to finally being filled after his fingers had gotten you so close. Spencer's first thrust was slow, languid, as he breathed almost a sigh of relief. His dick working you open torturously slow. Until his skin touched yours completely, a stray moan escaping your lips at the sensation. Bottomed Out you felt deliciously full, almost like his dick was made for you. “god you're tight, and wet, and warm.” Spencer muttered, more so to himself than you. You tilted your head, looking down at where your panties had been pushed aside, where his cock was now inside you. Moving your hips teasingly, testing, to see if Spencer would react. He let out a soft moan, fingers flexing into your skin. Holding you closer. Your chest pressed against his as he used his body to hold you up against the wall. Hot skin pressed against each other. Feeling the body heat radiating off of him. The thumping of his heartbeat against yours. “Come on, Spencer, going to come already?” You knew it would rile him up. Like your comments had done before. All you needed was for him to fuck you like he meant it.
“So mouthy. Anyone walking by could hear you.” Spencer groaned before starting to move. Pulling his hips back slowly, until only the tip remained inside. "Maybe you want that, though? For people to hear you?" He whispered. Like his voice would carry and reveal whatever it was you were doing to the outside world. You let out a soft huff of protest, opening your mouth to deny his accusation. Though you quickly covered up your mouth with your hand, clamping your jaw shut as he snapped his hips forward. Filling you with one sharp, fluid motion. Loud moan muffled by your attempts to stifle them. Caught in the fleshy pad of your hand. Spencer wasn't as quiet this time around, groaning into the skin of your neck as he buried his face in the crook of it. Vibrations rumbling against your skin. Sending shivers through your body. This time he didn’t stop, he started to set a pace, a steady rhythm that wasn’t too fast but had a force behind it. Fluid motions, tilting his hips back before entering fully again. Your eyes screwed shut in pleasure. Each stroke, each thrust, punctuated by a groan, a gasp, a sound that filled the bathroom walls louder than you would have liked.
It seemed to take up the space entirely, echoing off the smooth walls to enter your ears again. All your senses were being triggered by Spencer. Hearing his gasps, his throaty groans in your ear. Nose filled with a mixture of coffee, sweat, and aftershave. Skin touched by his hands, his lips buried in the crook of your neck each noise only adding to the stimulation. The way his dick drug through your sensitive walls. How each time he fully entered you his pelvis hit your clit in just the right way to stimulate it. Just enough to keep the moans leaving your mouth, urging him on. It could be the hatred fueling you. But everything felt overwhelmingly good.
When Spencer lifted his head you forced your eyes open. Watching as he straightened himself slightly to find a better angle. You watched the slight furrow in his brow, the way his lips were parted to let the huffs and groans pass freely. The sight was a little too much so you tilted your head to the side. Only to see your reflection in the mirror. How your hair was mussed, your skin flushed, how Spencer’s broad shoulders were decorated by your hands. How your legs wrapped around his lithe hips that kept up their relentless pace, the rhythm that was urging you closer and closer. Another surge of pleasure ran through your body at the sight, whiney sounds leaving your lips. The tingling knot low in your abdomen only tightening. Pressure building to the same, dizzying feeling you had before. Something so forbidden in what you were doing, only causing you to be set on edge even further.
One of Spencer’s hands left from under you, causing you to tighten your legs slightly around him. An effort to make sure he wouldn’t leave you hanging again. Instead his fingers brushed against your face, turning it to look at him again. “Never thought you were going to be this loud.” His voice was strained. You had almost tuned out the sound of your own moans, not realizing just what he had been able to do to you. “Kiss me. So they won’t hear.” You spoke between ragged breaths. You didn’t have to say it twice. Spencer’s mouth was back on you, immediately swallowing the sounds you were making. Mixing with his own low groans. Saliva mixing with wet noises, similar to the ones coming from below. He picked up his pace again, this time his rhythm faltering as his hand moved down. Down over your exposed breasts, further until they met the apex of your thighs. Fingers finding your clit he started rubbing in tight circles. Sending shock waves of pleasure through your body. Every sound you made was muffled by his tongue, swallowed greedily to keep anyone passing by from hearing.
With the added stimuli you clenched your legs around his waist. Holding him tightly as you felt the pressure building inside of you. Every stroke of his fingers was lightning. Electricity pulsing under your skin. The tingle down your spine was the moment you unravelled. A wave of pleasure started to course through your body. Cresting and crashing down all your limbs. Your walls clamping down had Spencer groaning loudly. His hips stuttered as he did his best to fuck you through the orgasm. But his pleasure was building too. With a last few jerky thrusts he came inside of you. Hips locked against yours, fully inside and overstimulated you felt everything.. You could feel the warmth flooding inside, the way his dick twitched erratically as the ropes of cum filled you up. The loud groan swallowed up. He dropped his head from the kiss, forehead moving to rest against your shoulder, you could feel his breath tickling your skin with each sigh that left him.
Normally you would berate him, call him names, but you were too fucked out to care. chest heaving with heavy breaths, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The only sound left that of the air escaping your lungs before being inhaled again. Throat feeling raw and dry, you swallowed thickly. “Spencer…?” You spoke softly, voice more hoarse than expected. “I need a moment.” Was the reply that came from the mess of curls on your shoulders. His breath had evened out a little, but he was just as hoarse as you were in that moment. “Okay,” You replied, “But if you could put me down when you get the chance I would appreciate that.” you added with a hint of a smile. His hands squeezed the fat of your ass at that. As if he was trying to ground himself, maybe what you had just done was unbelievable to him too.
It took a few seconds but Spencer slowly pulled out. You gasped softly, feeling tender and raw from the way he had just pistoned into you. Seeing his softening dick you caught the glint of wetness on it. Milky white and clear mingled together. Spencer’s hands still held you up, but you unwrapped your legs from his waist. Slowly putting your feet back on the ground. A little unstable as you had just spent minutes with your legs tensed, spread open. As soon as your hips went vertical you could feel the cum run down your thigh. “Shit.” You muttered, desperate hands moving down to catch, not wanting anything to be left behind on the floor. Or on the edge of Spencer’s shoes and discarded jacket for that matter. “I’ll get some paper.” Spencer said, moving quickly to get the paper towels from the dispenser. Which he then moved between your legs to catch the mixed arousal. Weirdly calm for the situation you were in.
Still sensitive you let out another hiss from the friction it caused. “Sorry. Still sensitive?” he asked and you nodded your head in response. “That was… something.” You muttered out, leaning your head against his shoulder in almost a sign of defeat. A chuckle leaving your lips as the realization sets in. You would have to face your colleagues after fucking your number one enemy in the bathrooms. “Yeah, you can say that.” He let out an amused huff. “Never took you for the type to hook up in bathroom stalls, Reid.” You steadied yourself again, finding a little bit of the notorious bite back. “I’m not.” He bit back shortly but with a hint of amusement. At Spencer's reply you moved your hand to meet the ball of paper towels in his hand. Wiping the sticky juices from it before taking over. “I can clean myself now. Maybe you should too.” He let go, eyeing his softened dick Spencer swallowed thickly. “Right. I ehm… Maybe I also have a shirt you can borrow.” He added with a softness in his tone. Stepping away from you and back to the paper towels. Using them to wipe away any signs of your encounter. Though his hair was a mess, his pupils were still blown, and his shirt wrinkled.
“Hmm, I think it will be a bit long on me.” You adjusted your panties, still wet, sticky, uncomfortable, but it would have to do. Putting on your tanktop that now looked worse than it did before. “Maybe, but it should be a little better than just a tank top.” He was right, even with your tanktop now wrinkled, wearing something over it might just be enough to be passable as work attire. Still, it was strange with how he offered. So casual. “Thanks.” You said and nodded, gathering your pants from the floor before looking up at him as you put them back on. He was just zipping up his own pants again. “No problem, just stay here for a moment and I will be right back.” He left the bathroom and you locked the door again behind him.
It gave you a few seconds to gather yourself. Looking in the mirror you saw the mess of hair, the crumbled tank, the wide eyed look you gave yourself. At least he didn’t leave any marks. Though you also felt a certain disappointment at the fact he hadn’t. Always having liked the look of a hickey. But it would get people talking, be too obvious. A few minutes passed when Spencer knocked again. You opened the door, he simply held out the button up shirt with a semi apologetic look. “Thank you.” You said again, never having thanked him this much before. Quickly putting it on it was indeed long, rolling the sleeves to your elbows you were struck by the smell of his cologne. “You’re welcome.” He said with a nod, turning away to go back to the bull pen. “Oh wait.” You said, quickly stopping him in his tracks. Turning his head to look at you almost hopeful. “If you ever speak a word about this to anyone you are dead meat.” There was a flicker in his eyes for a moment, but too quick to decipher. “Meet me after work and we’ll see.” Spencer said before turning away. Leaving you confused and dazed in the bathroom opening.
You had no clue what he was planning. He didn’t seem like the blackmail type. But if it had anything to do with when he said he’d take his time you were more than happy to.
HEARTBREAKING: friends who i should be going to the movies and playing dnd and watching anime and cosplaying and going to the mall and having sleepovers and exploring the woods with live one hundred trillion miles away
THINKING ABOUT : spencer reid is a man of science, but what happens when his girlfriend is a girl of whimsy ?
pairing : spencer reid x whimsy!reader (fluff, established relationship)
notes : a little something based off this lovely request, while i procrastinate on writing my series... please reblog to boost it if you enjoyed, it's the best way to promote a post on tumblr !!
౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ a whimsical person is unusual, playful, and unpredictable, rather than serious and practical. typically, spencer likes to rely on the dictionnary for better understanding of the world around him - but when it comes to the definition of this term that fits you so well, he doesn't quite agree with it.
౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ unusual, you really are. in the best way, constantly pushing out of the comfort zone he'd always hid in before he met you. you're not afraid of drawing attention, highlighting the joyful glint in your eyes with bright, vibrant colours and a laugh so melodic he'd record it just to play it over and over while he's away from you.
౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ opposites attract, to share the purest and most evident form of love he's ever felt. you never fail to impress him (and keep him on his toes) by adding a touch of sprinkles and glitter everywhere you go.
౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ like... literally. he was amused the first time you insisted on preparing his lunchbox, when he opened it in the middle of the neat and boringly pallid bullpen just to be met with heart shaped berries and his favorite cheese toastie cut to form a star.
౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ you taught him that maybe, life is meant for exploring new things and never settling for the simple routine he thought he'd forever endure. some things are repetitive still, and he loves every second of it.
౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ the weekly horoscope you read out loud at breakfast on sunday mornings while he opts for the newpaper, sipping on some new matcha recipe you decided to try, or the yoga sessions you've tried to get him to join, and failed. he'd rather let you flourish in your interests without imposing, and observe from afar with hearts in his eyes.
౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ for a boy who was forced to grow up too quickly, who never got to experience the magic of childhood to the fullest, he could swear you're straight out of a fairytale, and adores how you could turn the most mundane thing into something beautiful, healing his inner child in the process.
౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ the simplicity of things when it's just the two of you contrasts with the professional aspect of his life - one that he doesn't like to share with you, unless you coax him to open up - and he loves how you don't expect anything in return, you just want him to exist in your bubble of magic and optimism.
౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ now, he knows what it's like to have someone patch his physical wounds (with pink bandaids, too) and the ones in his heart with a deep conversation late at night over a cup of herbal tea, in the thrifted mugs you collect routinely.
౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ he knows that life can be beautiful when you take time to observe the smallest details, like the warmth and sweet scent of the woman laying next to him in bed, under floral sheets and a dozen of pillows.
౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ and he wants this, he wants you so badly he never wants to think about the possibility of his life without you in it. when you ballet flats join his worn out converse in the entryway, and your baby pink blouses find their spot next to his cardigans in the closet, he realizes he'd do anything for the girl of his dreams to stay around when he's awake.
౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ you've mentioned a couple of times the idea of a cottage in the countryside, filled with animals and freshly baked goods you'd want to share with him one day. with children, as well, though you didn't need to speak it into existence to know he wants that as much as you do.
౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ and maybe, just maybe, that possibility of pure bliss and lifelong happiness lingered in his brain longer than it should've. for the first time in what feels like forever, spencer reid has hopes of a life and a home outside of the BAU, and it's just a matter of rings and paperwork until that fantasy could turn into reality.
