[PS idk how to make this gif repeating sorry but u get the idea]
also here is how i picture the baby spice costume to look!!! ALSO i didn't know what to have Spencer be so use your imagination on that one lmao
warnings: angst, LOTS OF SMUT/DEGRADATION
PPS i know exactly where this story is going. there will be 2 more chapters and then an epilogue. BUT IVE READ THE COMMENTS AND I PROMISE I WONT DISAPPOINT YALL<3333 just bear with me for the next two chapters bc this is kinda another cliffhanger. ily all xoxox
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You wake up the next morning equally as sick to your stomach, but luckily manage to keep the contents of your breakfast down successfully. By mid-afternoon, your nausea is fully gone, a relief and spring in your step as you scurry around Spencer's kitchen, roaring laughter as he chases you with a spoon covered in frosting.
"Stop it!" you shriek with laughter when he finally gets you, gripping you from behind and plopping the rich dessert onto your nose, all with a shit-eating grin on his face. The two of you are deliriously happy, attempting to bake a Halloween dessert for Rossi's party, but as you taste the sugary cream on your lips, you know you're clearly failing. "Spence, this frosting sucks ass!"
"I followed the recipe exactly!" he defends, stepping forward as you wipe the glob of frosting off of your nose and bring your finger to his lips. He sucks on the digit with eagerness, a puzzled look on his face. "It tastes fine!"
"It's too sweet," you scrunch your nose, the all too familiar churning of your stomach causing you to reach for a glass of water, sipping delicately. Your drastic shift in demeanor is noticeable, and Spencer looks at you curiously. "I think I need a nap before tonight."
"Go lay down," his words are hesitant, laced with skepticism and concern. He places a kiss on your forehead, patting your arm softly. "I'm gonna clean up here and join you in a few minutes, alright?"
You nod, heading toward the bedroom and sitting on the edge of Spencer's bed, frantically google searching on your phone about everything from IUD failures to nearby Planned Parenthoods to prenatal vitamins. You consider grabbing one of the tests from your bag, that you had grabbed from the car last night in the midst of a 3 am panic attack, but continue googling aimlessly. You're so lost in your research that you hardly hear him sneak into the bed, looking at you concernedly as you place your phone down and gaze into space**.
"Whatever it is, you can tell me," is all he says. He has to know. He's a genius. Right? "You know I'm here for you."
You nod, laying back and nestling against his shoulder, the two of you fluttering your eyes closed without continuing to push the topic. He falls asleep almost instantly, soft snores leaving his lips peppered with the occasional twitch of his arm clueing you in on the fact he's dreaming soundly. Trying to fall asleep and forget about the chaos, you lay there for a good 45 minutes,
Sneaking out of bed, you bring your bag into the bathroom, locking the door and pulling out the blue box you've been avoiding for a couple days now. It's going to be negative, you tell yourself as you pee on the stick, tapping your feet anxiously as you wait for the result.
The three minutes feels like an entire lifetime as you try and steady your breathing, praying to anything and everything that you're not pregnant. But as you pick up the plastic stick, the sight of two lines takes every ounce of air from your lungs.
Panicking, you rifle through your bag and get two more of the tests you had thankfully stocked up on. Nearly 20 minutes and a full-blown panic attack later, you stare at the 3 results: 2 positive and 1 negative. Fuck.
You can hear Spencer starting to wake up in the other room, the rustling of sheets and bare feet on the hardwood floor sending you into a tailspin. You can't tell him, at least not tonight. Not before the Halloween party that he was so excited for.
Frantically wrapping up and throwing the tests into your bag, you collect yourself, splashing your face with cold water and opening the door. Spencer greets you with a smile, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his face into your neck.
"I was wondering where you went," he murmurs against the skin, sending shivers down your spine. "What time do you think we should leave here?"
"I promised Emily I'd go to her place to get ready," you sigh, cupping his cheek when he shoots his head up with a disappointed pout. "But I'll see you there, alright?"
His grip on your waist tightens, fingertips kneading into your side, one hand slipping down to cup your ass. His mouth suctions itself on the junction of your shoulder, mouthing sloppy kisses on the sensitive skin. You let out a shaky inhale in response to his touch, suddenly all of your stress anxiety melting away.
"I wanted to see your costume before," he mumbles against your neck, the vibrations on your throat making you whimper. Bringing his hand from your ass to the front of your leggings, he slides it beneath both layers of fabric, circling your clit with two fingers. "You know I don't like surprises."
"But what fun is that?" you tease, throwing your arms around his neck, toying with his overgrown hair. He wastes no time sliding two fingers inside of you, pumping deliberately as he pulls back to see your face, cheeks flushed and mouth slightly parted at the feeling of his fingertips drumming against your g-spot.
"When we get home tonight," he peppers each word with a frantic kiss to your mouth, a giggle leaving your lips when his nose bumps yours. "You're mine. Okay? I'm gonna take care of you, sweet girl. I know you've been stressed lately."
Since reconnecting, Spencer had been cautious in the bedroom. His movements were laced with love and compassion, each hesitant thrust accentuated with a tender kiss and breathy "i love you"'s. Each time you tried to wordlessly signal you wanted it rougher by bringing his hand to your neck, he'd simply cup your cheek, pressing his forehead against yours.
Just the other day he was fucking you deep and slow, visibly holding back the pent up frustration bubbling inside of him from work and life in general. You came first, admittedly dramatizing your post-orgasm sensitivity a little bit just to get him worked up, in the hopes he would hold your hips down and tell you to take it like a good girl, the way he used to.
Instead, he pulled out immediately, bringing your hand around his cock and making out with you sweetly as you finished him off with your hand. It wasn't that you were unsatisfied, that's certainly not even a thought as he's making your knees weak with his expert fingering, but there was something noticeably absent from your sex life since getting back together.
Testing the waters once again, you grab the hand that isn't two fingers deep inside of you, bringing it to your neck. He looks at you, the familiar flash of dominance that you crave appearing in his eyes but disappearing before he can act on the urge. You bite your lip, holding back a moan.
"Choke me," you beg softly, eyes pleading. He shakes his head, chuckling uncomfortably as he thumbs at your clit. "Spence, please, I'm close."
"Then cum for me, beautiful," he whispers, hand moving from your neck to your waist, holding you steady as your eyes squeeze shut from the wave of pleasure immersing you. It wasn't explosive, that's not even what he was going for, but it was enough to make your breath catch in your throat and fall from your lips in whiny pleas. Once you come down, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to your lips gently, not even pushing past your teeth.
God, you just want him to force them down your throat, watching you with a clenched jaw as tears spill out of your eyes and spit dribbles out of the sides of your mouth. You want him to condescendingly muse about what a desperate little whore you are, how it's like every ounce of independence you have suddenly vanishes when he so much as looks at you. You want him to claim you as his own, allowing you to hand over your thoughts and just be fucked mindless.
But he's wary. After all that happened, understandably so. But it doesn't make you want it any less.
"I love you," he whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips. You nod with a smile, just looking up at him.
"I love you too," you respond, sensing his uneasiness. Glancing at the clock, you see it's already well past 3 pm, meaning you were scheduled to be at Emily's in less than an hour. Grabbing your bag from the bathroom, you kiss Spencer goodbye, a sudden wave of confidence prompting you to whisper in his ear with a smirk. "My costume is going to be cute, and all, but I have something special underneath it just for you."
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Pregnant. The word replays in your head over and over as you walk up the stairs to Emily's apartment. Out of breath more than an FBI agent should be, you curse yourself for opting to take the stairs just to avoid a mother and her 2 small children. You were afraid one would be too cute and change your mind.
It's not even that you have your mind made up, yet. In fact, you haven't seen a doctor so nothing is even confirmed. But despite getting a C- in high school statistics, you knew that 2 out of 3 tests being positive wasn't a great sign. And as much as it killed you, you knew that you had to suck it up and tell Spencer so you can talk about it like mature, responsible adults.
But first, you're going to this damn party. You need to laugh and dance and chat with your friends. Ideally, you'd be able to pound shots like a monster and get your mind off of everything. But after a few google searches and some serious ethical self-examination, you came up with the plan to bring your own bottle of "wine", which is really just white grape juice.
As you get ready with the ladies, laughing and singing and dancing and twirling around in your outfits, you're able to get the heaviness off of your mind. It's nice.
"Uber is 10 minutes away," Emily shouts from her bedroom, placing the finishing touches on her sophisticated Posh outfit. You join her, examining your costume in the mirror and adjusting the pink choker you had purchased for the occasion. God, you can't wait for Spencer to see the outfit you're wearing - a baby blue slip dress that falls mid-thigh, complimented by cheap yet realistic looking jewelry and over the knee socks. You stand next to Emily in her sleek black dress and stiletto heels, posing as she takes a mirror selfie on her phone. "I'm sending that to Reid."
"Why would you do that?" you ask, eyeing around the room to see if the other ladies came in without you hearing. Luckily, they were still in the kitchen. Emily looks at you with her classic I'm not an idiot face and you blush, shaking your head. "I don't know what you're referring to."
"Sure, Y/N," she chuckles as you grab your wine bottle off of her dresser, making sure you have everything you need to go. "By the way, next time you're going to fake drink alcohol, pick something other than white grape juice. This shit is disgusting."
With that, she walks out of the bedroom, leaving you with a pit in your stomach that only dissipates when she returns a moment later, pulling you into a hug.
"Your secret is safe with me," she assures you with a smile. You nod thankfully as she scans your face. "He doesn't even know yet, does he?"
"I don't even know for sure yet" you shrug. "I'm pretty sure. Which is why I'm being careful, just in case. But I want to wait to tell him."
"My lips are sealed," she holds out her pinky, and you accept the vow with a smile. You trust Emily, given her past she's perhaps the most equipped to keep such a secret for you. "And by the way, I give you props for not drinking. I'd probably have chugged a whole thing of Jameson."
"Uber's here!" JJ's excited voice interrupts your response, and you decide to leave your worries at the door. It's time to enjoy Rossi's much-anticipated Halloween party.
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As the Monster Mash plays through the speaker for what has to be the third time in the last hour, you excuse yourself from a wildly bland conversation with Will, the lack of alcohol in your system making you more aware of how difficult he is to understand.
Wow, your hormones are making you mean, you think to yourself.
Scanning the darkened room for the one face you want to see, you wander to the massive spread of food Krystall had lovingly arranged. Spencer had arrived a few minutes before you had, and while you were able to give him an inconspicuous hug hello and have a few brief chats in groups, the two of you hadn't seen much of each other tonight. Of course, you've given subtle lip bites and hair flips from across the room, but that's not exactly socializing.
"There you are," Spencer's voice makes you jump a little bit as you pick at the veggie platter, swaying your hips mindlessly to the music. Speak of the devil. You turn to him with a grin, watching his eyes as he takes in your costume for the first time. Eyeing the room, relieved everyone else is in their own side conversations, he leans into you, breath hot against your ear. "I hope that slutty little dress wasn't too expensive, because I'm going to rip it off of you tonight."
"This was all it would've taken for you to finally fuck me properly again?" you ask defiantly, wanting to push him even further. With the overwhelming emotion and exhaustion you've felt this week, the idea of being pinned down and smacked around by the man you love so dearly was certainly appealing. "If I had known, I would've worn this a lot sooner."
"Watch it," he growls, stepping toward you and speaking sternly, face remaining light and chipper just in case any wandering eyes spot the two of you. "Stop being a fucking brat or I'll edge you until the sun comes up, do you understand me?"
You say nothing, just nodding with your mouth parted as you feel the familiar excitement building beneath your silky lace panties you had gotten just for Spencer. He chuckles, grabbing a piece of celery out of your hand and biting it like a cocky asshole as he walks down the hall toward the bathroom. Fuck.
Looking around, you follow him, practically running to keep up with his long legs as he reaches the door, pulling you in and instantly slamming you against the cherry wood door that Rossi no doubt imported from Italy.
"Haven't even been here an hour and you've already been such a fucking tease," he chides, tutting darkly as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, pushing his thigh between your legs. You grind against him reactively, a defiant grin creeping over your face when he grips your jaw with a force you haven't felt for far too long. "I didn't say you could get yourself off, did I?"
You shake your head, pouting and looking up at him with wide eyes. His thumb toys with your pillowy lower lip, other hand gripping your hip tight enough to bruise.
"I asked you a question," he says sternly, sucking harshly on a sensitive spot on your collarbone. You hope the dimly lit party hides the inevitable soft purple mark he's leaving. You look up at him attentively, batting your fake eyelashes and giving your best doe eyes. "Now tell me something, sweet baby. Are you trying to piss me off so I'll give it to you rough? Or are you just so goddamn mindless that all you can think about is getting fucked?"
"I-I don't know, Dr. Reid," you whimper, happily swallowing with a hum as he spits in your mouth. Yeah. This was what you wanted. It's what you needed, actually. And the night has only just begun. "I wanna go home."
"Too fucking bad," he shakes his head with a dark chuckle, releasing your face and stepping back. You walk over to the mirror, the two of you examining yourselves before he turns to you again, tracing your choker with two long fingers. "You don't make the rules, pretty girl. We're staying for a while longer. Believe it or not, I have better things to do than fuck your slutty little pussy."
His words almost make you collapse into a puddle of hormones, the casual way he's degrading you like nothing he's done before. As he reaches for the door handle, he glances at you, eyes speaking so that his mouth doesn't need to. You smile up at him softly, adjusting your socks.
"Don't hold back," you whisper. He nods, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he exits to go back to the party.
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The rest of the evening goes by quickly, with uproars of laughter and long-winded stories. You find yourself leaning into Spencer's tall frame, the two of you giggling like children as Hotch and Morgan compete in the bobbing for apples championship round.
As the party winds down, you smile and look around at the remaining guests - exclusively made up of the team and their partners. You sit on the countertop, with Spencer settled between your legs, his back pressed against your chest. You rest your chin on his shoulder, one arm holding onto him tightly.
Hotch doesn't mind, the smile and nod he gives you both reassures you of that. Besides, being in close proximity doesn't necessarily mean you're in love. Though it feels naive to assume a trained profiler wouldn't be able to sense the chemistry.
"You two absolutely kill me," Penelope's voice interrupts your train of thought, a smile on her face. Spencer leans further into you, craning his neck to flash you a smile. You say nothing, simply ruffling his hair and turning back to your conversation with Luke about the upcoming Thanksgiving football game he wants to plan.
"I should get going," Hotch announces finally, making a show out of pulling the name tag off his shirt that he had tried to pass as a costume. You have to admit, it was a clever and self-aware get up he chose. "I told Jack we could go exchange his candy bucket tomorrow morning for a bigger one. He's bouncing off the walls waiting for Monday."
"Oh boy," JJ laughs. "We still need to get Michael his costume. He's insisting on being a dinosaur."
"Probably because that's one of the five words he knows," Will adds, putting on his coat. "Works out, though. Henry's costume is a Jurassic Park tour guide."
"Kid costumes are so freaking cute," Penelope whines, stomping her feet dramatically. "God, I want one so bad. Just to dress it up. Emily, let's adopt a child together."
"Oh hell no," Emily laughs, shaking her head. "No way. I'll love all of your children with my entire heart, but toddlers are tiny terrorists."
You glance at the floor as Spencer chuckles, shaking his head. You have to tell him tomorrow. You have to tell him. But not tonight. Not when he's enjoying his party and there's the promise in the air that he's going to ruin you as soon as you get home. Emily looks over at you, her face suddenly apologetic.
"I just know that for me personally, I'm not cut out for motherhood," she stumbles over her explanation, words slurring slightly from the alcohol. "But everyone else here is. Even you, Alvez. With those toned pecks you could definitely breastfeed or something."
"Alright Emily," Garcia cuts in, everyone laughing hysterically. You shift as you get a mild cramp in your abdomen, hope rushing through your veins that it's your period coming late. "It's time to get you home. Y/N are you coming with us?"
"Spencer's bringing me home," you smile, not needing to explain further. His apartment wasn't too far from yours. After thanking Rossi and Krystall and saying goodbye to the few stragglers, you made your way to Spencer's car, turning to him with a cheeky grin. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting you to fuck me senseless."
"Yeah?" he asks with a chuckle as he backs out of the driveway, the simple act of throwing his arm over your seat making your body temperature spike. "Well why didn't you say something sooner?"
"I don't know," you bite your lip, happily accepting his hand on your lap as he makes his way down the windy back road leading to the interstate. Goodness, Rossi's house is gorgeous, but it's a pain in the ass to get home from. Especially when you're dripping wet and just want to be thrown down on the bed. You toy with his fingers, moving them underneath your dress, breath catching when he kneads your inner thigh. "I thought you were hesitant."
"I thought you were hesitant," he parrots back your words, the two of you laughing quietly. He slides two fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, snapping the elastic against your skin. You trust him. You want to submit to him again. He speaks, tone demanding. "Take these off."
You oblige, lifting your hips to shimmy out of the garment, tossing them on the floor of his car carelessly. He slides two fingers up your slit, smiling to himself at how wet you are, palm lightly slapping your pussy, a grin creeping over his face when you whimper in response.
"Please," you beg in a meek voice, undoubtedly dripping onto his leather seats. He shakes his head, giving you another soft slap before using his thumb and forefinger to grip onto your clit, moving them in circular motions over the side of the bud. His movements are small, succinct, laced with the intent of riling you up just to watch you squirm in desperation. "Spence, more."
"Don't be greedy," he responds, pinching your clit. You yelp, the sound turning into a squeak as he plunges two fingers inside of you, pumping relentlessly as his eyes focus on the road. You clench around him, the build up from the evening leading to a quicker orgasm than usual, your desperate noises becoming less and less coherent as his fingertips bear down on your inner wall. "Don't you dare cum yet."
You mewl in response, hips wiggling on the seat as you get closer to the edge. He knows your body well enough to realize you're nearing the point of return, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to your lips, nodding in approval as you suck hungrily. He pulls into his apartment building, parking in his usual spot and turning to you, cramming the long digits further down your throat. The imperious look on his face as he tells you what a good girl you are make you whine around his fingers, a pout creeping over your features as he pulls out of your mouth, bringing a string of spit with him and wiping it on your chin and cheek before giving you a sharp slap.
"New safe word is red," he states simply, and you nod excitedly, pulling your dress down and unbuckling your seatbelt. You stand and exit the car before he does, a curious look on your face as he walks next to you toward the elevator, shaking his head. "You soaked my seat, sweet girl. Exactly how desperate are you?"
"Very," you make your voice small, wrapping your arms around his waist and batting your lashes up at him as he presses the button to his floor. He leans down and gives you a sweet kiss, toying with your pink choker. "Just wanna be your little toy tonight."
He says nothing as the elevator dings, the two of you walking down the empty hallway to his apartment, excitement washing over you as the door swings closed behind you. You try to walk toward the bedroom, a squeal leaving your lips as he grabs your wrist tightly and tugs you in his direction.
"You sure you want this? After everything?" he cups your cheeks gently, looking into your eyes with a raw sincerity. You nod, letting out a small yes when he presses you for more. "Say the word and I stop. Got it?"
"Don't be gentle with me," you say, voice barely above a whisper. At the sound of your request, he drags you into the kitchen, hoisting you up onto the cool marble counter. He settles between your legs, hiking up your dress and grinding his clothed pelvis against your bare core, your mouths frantically moving against each other. "Spencer, I want you in me."
"What was that?" he asks condescendingly, tugging at the hair on the nape of your neck, mouthing at your jaw. You whimper as he pulls back, placing another slap on your cheek and biting his lip when you moan in response. Your hands blindly reach for his belt buckle, desperate to feel him inside of you. "You know how to ask like a good girl."
"Dr. Reid, please," you whine desperately, feeling the wetness dripping out of your hole as he undoes his pants. You glance down at his cock, inhaling sharply at how red and leaky it is, clearly hours of arousal in the making. "Fuck, I need it so badly."
"Do you see what you did to me all night?" he taunts, lining up at your entrance and gauging your reaction, only to pull his hips back and run his palm over your slippery heat. "You show up dressed like a slutty little brat, knowing exactly what you're doing."
"I'm s-sorry sir," you lie. You're not sorry. Not even a little bit. You did it for this feeling, the cold marble on your bare ass and the adrenaline that comes with Spencer's looming figure, eyebrows knit together and jaw clenched. This feeling of powerlessness, being completely under his control, not even having to think for yourself or worry about being a functional human for a moment. That's why you crave submission.
"Shut up," he snaps, thrusting into you suddenly with unbelievable force, hand splayed across your upper back to pull you closer to him. Your mouths mash together in a chaotic, fervor-laced kiss, incomprehensible moans and mewls coming from your shaky voice. "You're not sorry. You did this on purpose. What did you expect?"
You can't even come up with a response, any semblance of cognitive ability you had suddenly thrown out the window - along with all your fears, stresses, sadness, and anxiety. All you know in this moment is Spencer, and the way his cock is methodically thrusting against your g-spot, two fingers furiously rubbing at your clit. You don't even know if you could speak full sentences right now, the floaty feeling creeping over you as you try your hardest not to pass out from the intense pleasure.
"I asked you a question," a slap to the face snaps you out of your trance for a moment, drool spilling out of the corner of your mouth and dripping down your chin. You look pathetic, tears pricking at your eyes and mascara coming down your face and spit dribbling onto your chest. But you welcome it, temporarily giving up your overactive brain for a few moments of intense, euphoric bliss. Spencer notices it, too, the look of peace behind your eyes as you slip into subspace, the only thing existing to you in this moment being his touch. He chuckles darkly, pressing his stubbled face to your cheek, kissing all around your drooly mouth. "Oh, my mindless baby can't even remember how to speak? Huh?"
"Y-yes," you manage to choke out, legs wrapping around his waist as you try to pull him in deeper, despite knowing it's not possible. He's fully sheathed, each thrust flawlessly meeting the spot where you need him most as he degrades you with nothing but pure love in his eyes.
"It's cute that my cock makes you dumb," he coos mockingly, watching as you get closer to the edge. You can tell by his sloppy thrusts that he's close, too, his hand moving around your neck and squeezing tight enough to make your head spin bringing you even closer. In that moment, you feel nothing but love and trust. You reclaim the feeling, no longer allowing your trauma to control you. You succumb to his touch, cunt throbbing around him as he continues his merciless movements, watching amusedly as you practically babble throughout your orgasm, limbs shaking. "There you go, my sweet girl. Fuck, gonna fill you up, okay?"
You nod frantically as he clenches his eyes shut, hips stilling as he spills inside of you with a groan. After a moment of catching his breath, he pulls out, reaching blindly for a paper towel to wipe the mess off the counter. Helping you down, he chuckles when you practically fall into him, legs unsteady and breath uneven.
"I'm tired," you don't care that it comes out as a whine, and from the laughter you hear in his chest, neither does he. Rubbing your back softly, he kisses the top of your head, helping you pull your dress down to cover your lower half. "And you didn't even take my dress off, I had a special bra for you and everything."
"Trust me, sweet girl," he hums, running his fingers along the spaghetti straps of your dress as you look up at him with your messy, pouty face. "You'll wear this outfit again soon. I'll make sure of it."
"Anything for you," you whisper, squeezing his waist even tighter. He smiles against your forehead and pulls back, walking you toward the bedroom. "Hey Spence?"
"Yeah, baby?" he asks softly. You wonder if you should just tell him everything now, your brain fuzzy with submission still, numbing the emotion ever so slightly. But you quickly decide against it, opting for tomorrow with a more clear headspace and a full day ahead of you to talk about it. Instead, you just pout your lips out for a kiss, smiling against his slightly chapped lips. He grins down at you, whispering. "I'm going to go get you some water and a snack, alright? Then I'll be back and we can go to sleep."
Yawning, you walk to the drawer where you keep your stuff at his apartment, pulling out a pair of his old boxers and a CalTech tee-shirt to use as pajamas for the night. You get ready for bed and crawl underneath his covers, happily shifting toward him when he returns to the room with your bottle of water and apples with peanut butter.
"I love you so much," he whispers, rubbing your back. You return the sentiment, snuggling up against him, content in his arms as he turns on the television, holding you close and whispering soft praises in your ear. He always knew what to do to bring you back down to earth.
You just hope he knows what to do when you sit him down tomorrow and tell him what's been weighing so heavily on you the past couple of days.