i forgive it all...

WHAT HE KNOWS.

summary: Spencer wouldn’t go as far as saying he was inexperienced. He’d had sex before. But to say he knew what he liked? To say he was confident in bed? That would be a lie. What he knew, though, was that he liked when you rode him.

pairing: spencer reid x afab!girlfriend.

cw: +18. mdni. 2.8k words. submissive Spencer. soft teasing. nipple play (reader receiving). soft dirty-talk. cowgirl position. overstimulation. multiple orgasms. gentle sex. praise.

taglist: @blastzachilles, @lvve-talks, @jordiemeow, @222col, @soulxinxthexsky, @diyasgarden, @jinxedbambi, @lexiiscorect, @religionlost, @bluestrd, @jclolz22, @museboos, @imperishablereverie, @lovefaist, @shahabaqsa0310, @prismozo, @jesuistrestriste, @grimsonandclover, @nozhdyved, @yardofbrunettes, @hangels, @sweetheartfaist, @lacelottie

Spencer wouldn’t go as far as saying he was inexperienced. He’d had sex before. Technically. There’d been a handful of times scattered across his twenties—some sweet, some awkward, none particularly bad. But to say he knew what he liked? To say he was confident in bed?

her and lee, maybe lee trying to expose her to more of the eater life style since she so sheltered and has never met another eater, and she just has immense guilt for being an eater and she feels like she’s leaving her dad behind, maybe 🧐

fawn!reader x lee (bones and all)

summary: your first meeting with another eater

cw .ᐟ murder, cannibalism, blood, gore

꒰ notes ꒱ lexi ur brain <33 not completely accurate to the req, but i present, lee & fawn!reader's first meeting <3

he was different. you could sense that. you never should have followed him, you know that now. you almost couldn't help yourself, couldn't stop your feet from moving. the bottom of your dress grew muddy, trudging through the forest behind church.

that's when you first saw him, blood and guts dripping down his bare chest. his chest heaving, watching the bob of his throat as he swallowed. he didn't slow when he caught sight of you, simply locked eyes as he continued his meal.

the mud on your dress was a long ago memory, the blood dripping onto the frills your new concern. he barely paid mind to you, he simply let you take what you wanted. it was barely a drop compared to himself. lee had near enough worked the body down to its bones, the arm you busied yourself with still dripping down your chin.

he stilled as he finished, eyes casting across the bare bones of the body before him. the man's forearm the only part resembling a person, not a skeleton.

"you haven't done this much, have you?" he murmured, the white tank once on his body becoming his cloth as he wiped up his chest. your eyes still blown, watching the blood upon his chin flicker in the sun. shaking your head no, licking the red liquid from your lips as you do.

he half laughs, your eyes widen as he does. the meal threatening to come up your throat with how guilty you were, and he's laughing. you didn't even know there were others, and he's laughing over the body between you.

"i'll show ya the ropes," he mumbles, taking a cigarette from the pack in his jeans pockets and placing it between his lips. "if you want." the end of the cigarette stained red from the blood lingering on his mouth, as he lights it.

you didn't even know you'd agreed, before he's up and leading you to his truck. you didn't even have time to leave wildflowers on the corpse, as you usually do. you didn't even know his name, and he's disrupting your rituals.

your eyes glued to the blood on your dress, breathing heavy as you acknowledge not only your own acts, but his too. how much meat he'd eaten, how bare the body looked when he was finished. the only skeleton you'd ever seen was the deer heads your father had shot in his youth, the bones displayed in his study. and the remains of your childhood cat in the backyard.

you're snapped out of your daze as you drive past the welcome to town sign, watching it disappear through the back window of the truck as he continues driving. you'd never left town before, let alone with a stranger.

"what's your name?" you mumble, bringing your knees up to your chest in the passenger seat, eyes looking over the boy to your right. "lee," he mumbles, his voice gruff, accent different to yours. you wonder how far he's travelled, what his life was like at home, how long he'd been feeding for. you daren't ask, though.

"didn't know there were others like me." you all but whisper, chin resting upon your knees. the metallic smell still strong in your nose, eyes on the long road ahead. "we don't usually interact much." lee responds, arm resting through the open drivers seat window.

"why you takin' me with you, then?" you ask, softly, turning your eyes back to his again. "look like you could use the help." he shrugs, and you don't know whether that's a compliment or an insult.

your eyes drift back behind you, watching your small town get smaller and smaller in view. mind already thinking of how scared your daddy will be, but you stay still. with him. with lee.

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.

mmffhfhfhdgdghfah YEAHHHHH that

like he’s fully self-aware of the fact that as soon as he sinks into your tight cunt, he’s not going to last long, so he prolongs it as long as he can. but he could easily cum from just rutting against you.

he’s a gentleman—or, rather, a pleaser. he eats you out first so you’re real sensitive by the time he gets to it. taps his cock against your cunt a few times (he’s seen it in porn before), still half-dazed from experiencing you release all over his face. he’s barely coherent enough to get out a “your pussy is so pretty, babe.” and then an even more dazed “god, you’re just so pretty.”

Frank watches you sink to your knees like it’s the most obscene thing he’s ever seen. His jaw’s tight, his chest rising with shallow breaths, hands already flexing at his sides like he’s trying not to grab you and ruin the moment by being greedy.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “You really gonna do this? Right here?”

You hum as you unbuckle his belt, mouth brushing the bulge in his slacks, and he swears again—richer this time, like he’s in awe.

You free his cock and he’s already hard, heavy in your hand. You stroke him once, slow, just to watch his head tip back. Then you lick up the underside and take him in, warm and wet and willing.

His hand’s in your hair within seconds, not pushing—just anchoring. You look up at him as you suck him deep, lips wrapped tight, tongue dragging along the vein under his shaft. His eyes darken.

“Jesus Christ, baby,” he groans. “That mouth… fuck.”

You bob your head slowly, using your spit, your hands, your throat when he twitches against your tongue. He’s panting now, hips jerking despite himself, voice gone ragged.

“God, you feel perfect. Always so fuckin’ sweet for me, aren’t you?” His hand tightens in your hair, just enough to make you whimper, and it nearly undoes him. “You like makin’ me fall apart like this? That what you want?”

You moan around him in answer and he nearly buckles. His cock hits the back of your throat and you take it, gagging just enough to make him grunt and curse under his breath.

“Shit, look at you—fuck, you’re takin’ me so good. So deep—my good girl.”

When he comes, it’s sudden and hot and filthy, spilling down your throat as he groans your name, fucking into your mouth in tiny, desperate thrusts.

He doesn’t move right away. Just breathes heavy, staring down at you like you’ve completely wrecked him.

THE PITT BOTS .ᐟ

★ CASSIE MCKAY. first impressions.

you’re the new intern at PTMC and Cassie doesn’t know what to tell you except nothing will get easier. It’s emergency medecine, not a walk in the park.

★ DENNIS WHITAKER. clumsy intern.

you’re just two interns at PTMC, everything should be alright. yeah, well, why is Dennis so clumsy whenever you are around? does he crushes on you?

★ DENNIS WHITAKER. psychiatrist ; req.

you’re the psychiatrist of PTMC sent to handle situations with combative patient—but what happens when you are hurt by said patient and Dennis is the one doing stitches on you? when he thinks you’re still so beautiful even with blood running down your forehead.

★ FRANK LANGDON. superficial cuts.

there’s at least one nurse being injured by a patient per day. it’s just how it is. but when it happens to you and Frank has to do stitches on your face? he’s not so happy of his day anymore. he has to make sure you are alright.

★ JACK ABBOT. breakfast break ; req.

morning comes and Jack gets home—exhausted from his day, just to see you already in the kitchen, making breakfast. now all he wants is to forget about emergency medecine and blood, and relax with you.

★ JACK ABBOT. soft spot.

new intern at the PTMC, and Jack wasn’t supposed to get this day shift (how could he say no to Robby?) and meet you yet. but now he finds himself having a type of soft spot for you.

★ JOHN SHEN. so into you ; req.

John’s affection for you — a new and exhausted medical student — is so obvious. he’s flirty, protective, and unashamed about it. but he also knows how to show his care for you by driving you home when you need it the most. he’s kinda your mentor, after all.

★ MELISSA KING. her breaking point.

you can recognize the signs like no one else. too much noises, too much touches, too much blood. Melissa needs a moment to herself, because it’s all too much and she’s overwhelmed. perhaps you could just be there for her during this?

★ MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH. after-work beer.

being a second year resident at the PTMC, you knew about the whole “beer in the park” that the team participated in after their shift. it wasn’t unusual for you to follow them either. but when you arrive late tonight, there’s only Robby here and he wants you to stay.

★ MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH. out of uniform ; req.

you’re just one of the paramedic working for PTMC, not even that close to Robby—but you see him. and that’s even more awkward when meeting off-work at the supermarket in the cereal aisle. but at least Robby tries his best to start a conversation with you.

SAY THAT AGAIN.

summary: Spencer is known to talk a lot, always spluttering facts and analysis to people. Everyone always gets annoyed at him for that, except you, who thinks it’s so hot of him. So what happens when you start to flirt shamelessly with Spencer and tell him to use that mouth between your legs?

pairing: spencer reid x afab coworker.

cw: +18. mdni. 1.4k words. praise. submissive spencer. soft dom reader. oral sex (reader receiving). workplace setting. semi-public. light hair pulling. soft mocking & teasing. dirty-talking.

taglist: @blastzachilles @lvve-talks @jordiemeow @strfallz @222col @soulxinxthexsky @diyasgarden @jinxedbambi @lexiiscorect @religionlost @bluestrd @jclolz22 @magicalmiserybore @destinedtobegigi @fwaist @talsorchard @lovefaist @shahabaqsa0310 @prismozo @jesuistrestriste

The bullpen was always a little too loud on Fridays. Even with the weight of the week dragging on everyone’s shoulders, the team still found ways to stir up banter between case files. You were on your third coffee and second round of edits to your victimology when Spencer started talking again.

"Actually, there’s a statistically significant link between victims who are last seen leaving bars alone and offenders who grew up in households with substance abuse. It’s often a subconscious association—they target vulnerability they recognize from childhood experiences."

You didn’t even look up from your computer screen. You didn’t have to. You could see him in your periphery, perched on the corner of your desk like he always did when he felt like talking but didn’t want to be annoying.

Everyone else groaned.

"Reid," Morgan said without looking up. "No one's trying to psychoanalyze the bar scene, man."

JJ gave him a tired smile. "Maybe just let us finish the file first?"

But you? You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning. Because while everyone else rolled their eyes at Spencer’s endless supply of facts, you were quietly, wildly obsessed.

You liked the way he talked. Not just the cadence, fast and breathless, but the certainty in it. The pure, unfiltered excitement he had about things most people barely noticed. It made your brain light up.

It also didn’t hurt that he was cute as hell, with his tie always slightly crooked and his curls getting messier as the week went on. You’d had a crush on him since your third day at the BAU. That was eight months ago, and somehow you were still holding it together.

Sort of.

"Keep going, Reid," you said casually, eyes still on the screen. "You were saying something about behavioral mimicry?" Spencer froze, blinking like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

Then he leaned in, voice lower now, almost conspiratorial. "Right—uh, yes. Behavioral mimicry. So there’s this phenomenon where serial offenders, especially disorganized ones, subconsciously recreate aspects of their own trauma. So if, say, they were abandoned at a train station, they might pick their victims from transit centers or leave the bodies there as a symbol of—"

You looked up slowly, smiling as your eyes locked on his. "God, that mouth of yours."

His lips parted. "What?"

You tilted your head. "Nothing. I just like hearing you talk."

His brows pulled together, confused. You watched the blush crawl up his neck and knew exactly what you were doing. "Actually, most people find it annoying," he said, a little too fast.

You stood up, brushing against his knee as you moved to grab another file. "I’m not most people." He swallowed hard.

By the end of the day, he was visibly short-circuiting.

You weren’t mean about it. Just a little flirty. Soft touches on his arm when you passed by. Compliments about his tie, his lecture from the week before, the way he’d handled the victim’s family. Spencer, being Spencer, didn’t know what to do with it.

It wasn’t until the two of you ended up alone in the briefing room, long after the others had left, that he finally broke. You were leaning against the table, flipping through photos, when he hovered near the door.

"You, uh… you keep complimenting me today," he said quietly. You looked up with an amused smile. "Is that so weird?"

He ran a hand through his curls. "Kind of? Yes? I mean, not—uh—not in a bad way. I just—"

You dropped the photos and stepped closer. He stopped talking immediately. You looked up at him—he was taller—and reached to tug lightly at the knot of his tie. "You want me to stop?" you asked.

His eyes flicked to your mouth, then back up. "No."

"Good." You pulled him in by the tie and kissed him.

He made the softest, most surprised sound, mouth moving eagerly under yours. Your hands slid into his hair, tugging gently. He melted into it. You pulled back slightly, grinning at how he was acting. Almost like a puppy.

"You ever kissed someone who wanted to shut you up and hear you talk at the same time?" you murmured. He looked wrecked already. "I… I don’t know."

"Well," you whispered, brushing your lips over his again. "I’ve thought about that mouth between my legs more times than I can count. So maybe it’s time you give me a little demonstration, Dr. Reid."

He blinked, stunned. "Y-You want me to—"

"Use that brain and that mouth," you said. "Be a good boy for me, yeah?"

You didn’t even make it out of Quantico.

You pulled him into one of the unused consult rooms, the door locked behind you. There was a couch along the back wall, and it was just big enough. The room smelled like dry-erase markers and stale coffee, but all you could focus on was Spencer kneeling in front of you, hands shaking slightly as you guided him.

You sat back, thighs spread, skirt pushed up.

"Take your time," you said softly. "But I want you to look at me the whole time, okay?" He nodded, so eager it almost broke your heart.

And then he leaned in.

His hands rested on your thighs like he didn’t know what to do with them, until you grabbed one and laced your fingers through it. "Start with kissing," you said. "Everywhere. Take it slow."

And he did. Lips brushing your inner thigh, trailing higher, then back down again. He paused at the waistband of your underwear, kissing right through it, a little tremble running through him.

"You're doing so good," you murmured, stroking his curls. "Don’t be shy."

He licked his lips, eyes wide as he hooked his fingers into the fabric and tugged gently. You lifted your hips to help him, watching as he pushed them down and stared like he’d never seen anything so perfect.

"You smell so good," he whispered, blushing immediately after he said it.

You laughed softly, brushing his hair back. "Do I, now? Why don’t you show me how much you like the smell?"

Spencer lowered his head.

The first drag of his tongue was cautious—gentle, exploratory. He moaned, actually moaned, into you, like the taste had short-circuited his brain. He licked again, slower this time, then circled your clit with delicate, deliberate pressure with the pad of his tongue. Taking his time with you were his last meal on Earth.

"Just like that," you breathed. "Yes, Spencer—just like that. God, you’re so good at this."

The praise made him whimper.

You kept a hand in his hair, guiding him when he needed it. He settled into a rhythm quickly, a little desperate, his tongue working you open like he was memorizing every reaction. When you gasped, he did it again. When your thighs tensed, he moaned against you.

"Such a quick learner," you said, voice breathy. "No wonder you finished multiple PhDs before thirty."

His groan vibrated against your clit. You tugged his hair gently. He looked up at you, mouth glistening, pupils blown wide. "You like when I talk about how smart you are while you eat me out?" He nodded, dizzy.

"I knew it. God, Spencer, you’re a mess down there. So eager. You could lecture me on criminal psychology while making me cum, couldn’t you?"

"I-I could try," he mumbled, voice muffled against your thigh. You smiled, pulling him back in.

He sucked your clit this time, tentative at first, then harder when you moaned. You let your head fall back against the wall, hips grinding against his mouth, hands gripping his curls with just enough pressure to let him know you were in charge.

"Don’t stop," you whispered. "I’m close. Be a good boy and keep going—make me cum, boy genius."

He moaned like it was his name.

You came hard, thighs clenching around his face, his tongue working you through it with unrelenting devotion. He didn’t stop until you pulled him back by the hair, gently, catching your breath. His mouth was red and shiny, chin soaked.

"You okay?" you asked, brushing his hair from his face.

He nodded quickly. "Yes. Very okay." You pulled him up onto the couch with you and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips. He melted into it again, arms winding around you like he never wanted to leave. "Spencer," you said between kisses, "if you want to do that again sometime… just start talking."

He grinned shyly, breathless. "I usually can’t stop."