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cometkenji · 13 days

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ghost in the machine

Pairing: Unsub!Spencer Reid x Agent!Fem!reader CW: Fluff, longing, mild angst, one paragraph with heavy implications of sex, cursing, mentions of reader being in a car accident, mentions of suicide and death, suggestive Ig? idk Spencer kind of taunts reader, if I miss anything please tell me! Summary: An unsub targeting local political powers starts calling you. With virtually no memories of your life before 15, you're tasked with finding out why his voice feels like home. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby. She's not physically described in this but reader is literally always a bigger person. Anyone can read but I wanna clarify <3 WC: 7.8k I lokey feel like I fumbled this one but this idea has been in my head since I saw a post about it like last month so i'm sorry in advance if it sucks 💀 I'm not saying looping ghost in the machine by SZA while reading this will elevate the experience but just know it's strongly advised and im even giving you a link to the song for easy access.

The fourth case this month. This was the fourth battered politician you’d forced into handcuffs while ducking away from the recoil of blood spewing from his mouth. The men you’d arrested had all protested strongly - and wetly - while being walked to the back of your cruiser, demanding to know why you were arresting them even though they were the victims. They were always the victims. They’d been burgled and beaten - yes- oftentimes you were restraining them while they sat in bathrobes or pajama pants, but this unsub always jumped the gun. Somehow they managed all this damage while simultaneously kicking the dirt that had been sedentary for years out from under the rug. The men would call the police themselves - I’ve been robbed, I’ve been beaten - always astounded when you’d taken their statement then turned them around and recited their Miranda rights. This unsub was meticulous, planned down to the second. Somehow, the media always broke the story hours after the arrest with full fledged details on the crime - ones the BAU didn’t even have yet.

The first time this happened, you’d questioned every media worker from Quantico to DC. His target zone never seemed to reach beyond that, giving you an offender right in your backyard. Those were always the hardest to stomach. Journalists, Newscasters, even cameramen had been turned inside out as the team scoured for any connection. He was just too good.

“How can it be just one man?” Derek spoke first, but that was the question all of you were about to ask.

“Wife and kids were outta town. It was a sleeping 50 year old man against the element of surprise.” Prentiss was right, it wasn’t a difficult job when viewed like that. “Description is consistent with all the victims. All black attire, mask over the face.” She flopped the folder down in front of her for emphasis.

“Either he has another guy or he’s incredibly tech savvy. Some of this information was encrypted, it would take weeks to compile all of this. If he’s hitting a new vic every week that’s not nearly enough planning time for something this orchestrated.” Hotch checked the time on his watch. “We’re not finding him tonight. The local PD are investigating. We don’t have clearance until tomorrow. Everybody go home and get some rest, we need to crack down on this.”

As much as you loved your job, the departure was a welcome relief. The day had drained you, you had to basically drag yourself back to the BAU for the regroup after the case. It was routine, and incredibly necessary as this unsub continued his streak, but your brain was mush, and you didn’t know if you were capable of any breakthroughs in your current state. You were grateful, currently, that at least you weren’t dealing with a serial killer. He had an agenda, that much was obvious, but chasing a serial killer for a month bred a different kind of stress than chasing an anarchist.

The AC blast that hit you upon entering your home seemed to steal the tension from your shoulders. It was summer, so on top of hunting an unsub who was essentially a ghost, you were also bearing through the violently humid nights. You locked the door, pulling up your sleeves as you walked deeper into your house. The lights were on, you never left them off for long, and your eyes locked on the pile of notes sitting on your counter. Three small papers, torn at every edge, were draped over each other. Evidence, you thought. You’d kept them for evidence. Once you told the team the unsub had been reaching out, you would show them the notes. It was that simple, you were planning to tell them. You didn’t know why the information hadn’t entered their radar yet. This unsub was clearly infatuated. You could be a valuable part of solving this case, the notes could be the reason you solved it at all. Those were words straight from the source, they would tell you more about the unsub than any crime scene analysis would. Something about them just stilled your tongue, though. You never particularly liked the feds, the cops, the higher ups. You became one of them begrudgingly, you’d been good at reading people your whole life. You wanted to solve things, see justice. It was never primarily about helping people for you, and you feared the reputational repercussions if your team members ever found out about that. You weren't ignorant, you had morals. You simply lacked the place of purity they came from, the virtue your team members carried was one you were void of. Half of the time you walked away from a case, you disagreed with the verdict, and you were ashamed.

You had only realized you zoned out when the phone rang, effectively breaking your gaze away from the notes and onto the ‘Unknown caller’ screen glaring at you from your cell. Morgan just got a new phone, you remembered. He’s probably checking in. You picked it up, stating just your last name in greeting as a reflex from almost exclusively talking to other agents.

It was quiet for a moment, reaching the period of time where your stomach knotted up and almost forced you off the phone. “Hey, Y/n.” The voice was a new one, it pulled at certain strings within you. You knew him, but you didn’t recognize him.

“Who’s this?” The spark of familiarity filled you with guilt. A car accident when you were 15 had stolen most of the memories from your childhood and left a bountiful amount of scars in their place. You barely remembered your own parents, if this man was an old relative, you definitely didn’t know who he was. As much as your family tried to be empathetic, you could tell it hurt them when you were none the wiser.

“God, it’s good to hear your voice.” The man was smiling as he spoke, you could hear it in his tone. “Your number was shockingly hard to find. Feds really don’t mess around, huh?” Your shoulders tensed, you looked around. Blinds were closed, your house was the same as when you left it. You're sure it wouldn’t be hard to find your address if he’d found your number. “I’ve been trying, believe me. I left those notes while I was looking, although it’s really not the same, is it? Phones are so revolutionary, I mean writing you a letter is one thing but it’s so underwhelming in comparison. A piece of paper doesn’t let me listen to you, doesn’t let me hear those little breaths you take when you get scared.” You didn’t even realize your breathing had changed until he called you out.

“Do I scare you?” He sounded so domestic, the contrast between the genuinity laced in his words and the actual words themselves just about knocked you over. “I hope I don’t. I’m not trying to.”

“What are you trying to do?” Your mouth felt sealed shut, just barely managing to grate out the words.

“If you’re asking about my agenda, I’m afraid that’s a private affair for now.” He was so casual about this, sarcastically sucking air in through his teeth like he was telling you he couldn’t meet for coffee next week.

“What do you need with me, then? You don’t want to share and you aren’t calling to gloat. What’s the point?”

You heard him click his tongue at the question. “Everything is so technical with you agents.” You could basically sense his lips quirk up, gaining some type of sick intuition for the man’s tendencies. “Maybe I just wanted a word with the pretty detective working my case.”

Your knees were trembling, your grip getting looser on the phone as you struggled to keep your hold through the tremors of your hands. You had to focus, you could take advantage of this. “Why politicians? What happened to you?”

“Personal grudge.”

“How do you get their data so fast?”

“I know a guy” He knew a guy?

“So you have a partner?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s no one of importance.” Sibling, maybe?

“It’s important to me.”

He chuckled at that. You needed to hang up.

“Y/n-” Could he sense your fucking muscles tensing? “Don’t tell your friends.” He could hear your heartbeat from where he was, you were sure of it.

“Why?” You were instantaneous, barely letting him finish before responding. “You gonna hurt me?”

“No.” He scoffed. “If you tell them, I’ll have to stop reaching out.” You swore you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. “Is that really something you want?” Cold sweat pierced through the skin on the back of your neck. You yanked the phone down from your ear and hung up.

No, it wasn’t.

–

You dreadfully greeted the sun as it peeked through the slits of your blinds. You’d slept maybe a half hour in total last night, sleeping in five minute increments while bearing through a paranoid haze only comparable to the first time you’d smoked weed. The world felt unreachable. You could see it like a screen but your true consciousness sat captive in his hands. He’d known you. That was the fact stuck in your throat, that’s why you couldn’t sleep. Does that mean you knew him?

“Jesus.” If you had to guess, the sight of your sunken eyes and hunched shoulders was the trigger for Morgan’s reaction to the sight of you. Walking into work wasn’t going to be fun, you knew that, but you hadn’t expected such an immediate acknowledgement. “Someone have a rough night?”

You wished you could banter with him. Morgan always made working here feel lighter, he was fun to be around, but you were guilty. If you were tired from a one-night, insomnia, even if you were drunk and puking your guts up all night, you would have joked back with him. Now, you had to force yourself to make eye contact. A childish part of your brain was scared he'd smell it on you. At this point, you were fraternizing with the enemy, and it’s repercussions were draped over you like a curtain. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Clearly.” He handed you a mug of coffee. “Is it the case? If it’s bugging you that much, one of us can stay with you for a couple nights. It’s no trouble.”

“No, Morgan, that’s not necessary.” He was so kind it was nearly suffocating. If someone stayed, he either wouldn’t call or you’d have to decline it. Both of those options making an uncomfortable amount of unease stir inside you. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.”

“Just tell me if you need anything.” He nodded at you, you nodded back, then you both headed into the conference room.

“Any leads?” You walked to your seat as you asked, unsure what you were hoping to receive as an answer.

“None.” Everyone else was gathered around the table, Hotch scanning through the file as he replied to you.

“We’ve pretty much ruled out the media workers.” Prentiss spoke up. “This guy’s most likely an anarchist. His previous victims haven’t belonged to a consistent party so he’s not lashing out at the opposing side.” She thought for a moment. “What path leads somebody to anarchy?”

“Maybe he’s been kept out of office.” Morgan started speculating, just trying to sweep together something they could pin to him. “If he’s been running long enough, maybe he gets angry, changes course. He could be jealous of his targets.”

Your brain was half focused on the case, half focused on him. Two sides of you were fighting, one instilling a sort of protectiveness over him, one howling at you to do your fucking job.

“I don’t think he’s an anarchist.” You leaned forward in your chair, revving up to present your theory. “He’s been described in the same outfit for every victim. Long Sleeve, cargo pants, gloves and a ski mask - all black. That’s as minimal as it gets. Some pretty low income areas are well within his safe zone.” You paused, looking around to see if they were understanding what you were getting at.

“He’s poor.” Hotch had a glint in his eyes. Almost.

“So - what?” Morgan prompted. “He’s doing this for money? This is way too elaborate for somebody needing cash.” He shook his head as he spoke. “Hotch, there was evidence of Scopolamine injections. A man who either knows how to make the chemical or already has enough money to buy it wouldn’t be in a position that warrants this. Plus, the kind of tech it would take to get the information he steals? Way more than your typical Best Buy - this is Garcia level stuff. He injects them and probably forces them to help with the robbing, he beats them senseless - he’s getting some kind of kick out of this.”

“He’s not poor” You concluded. “But I’m pretty sure he used to be.” You sat up straighter to elaborate. “A lot of times, kids who grow up homeless or with no money feel wronged by politicians. Here they are going to school hungry while the mayor rolls in cash and lets them bear the consequences of a put-off promise to help the community.”

Prentiss sat back in her chair as she considered your words. “To build this type of anger, though? This is a vendetta.” She glanced down at the crime scene photos as a reminder.

“Exactly. Anger is expected in normal cases. Something extreme clearly had to happen to explain this type of outburst.” Personal grudge, you remembered him saying. You felt like you were airing out his secrets as you spoke. A weak sense of betrayal tugged at your guts. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, going over what type of event could cause something like this and I think I have an idea.” You pulled out your phone while talking to call Garcia, the woman answering immediately.

“Garcia, can you look up children in the Quantico to DC area who died from complications with chronic illness? Probably late 90’s to early 2000’s, I don’t think our guy is old enough to have been running for office.”

“That’s gonna be a large list. Any more parameters you can give me?”

“Look for families making less than 20,000 a year.”

“Got it. There were three families making under 20,000 that reported losing a child of illness. One was of stage 4 cancer with no plausible recovery and the other two said they couldn’t afford the medication needed for treatment. I just sent them over.”

“You’re the best.”

“Don’t I know it.” You hung up the phone, pulling up the files she found.

“What exactly are we looking for here?” Morgan looked to you.

“We can rule out the first family. Dying of cancer wouldn’t create the effect needed for our unsub.” He looked like he was about to reiterate his question. “What we’re looking for is a sibling. If your family is struggling, you already have the seed of anger that this guy has. I think a family member dying from the lack of money might just give him the motive he needs.”

“That’s good thinking, he could be avenging someone.” Praise from Hotch always felt better than others. “The Bryson family was just the mother and the daughter who died. She worked in janitorial for the local middle school.”

“Doesn’t exactly fit the profile.” Morgan was right, all the testimonies had described a man. Plus the assumption of decent financial prosperity didn’t fit someone still working at a middle school.

“Who does that leave?” You were searching for the answer to your question, but Prentiss was quicker.

“Diana Reid and her two sons. Henry had type 1, seems like they could afford the insulin for a little while but something must have happened. He went into DKA and died a week later.”

Two sons. “What about his brother?”

“Uhhhh-” She scrolled down on her tablet. “That would be one Spencer Reid who…” She scrolled just a little bit further to find the whereabouts of the man, the hope in her eyes snuffing out with the information she read. “is dead. Says he committed suicide a couple years after his brother died.” The whole table deflated a bit as she said that.

“It was a good idea.” Hotch, despite being a monotone man, usually tried to keep things optimistic. “We’ll continue pursuing that angle. Morgan and Prentiss, I want you to go back to the first crime scene. I’ll call Dave and we’ll head to the latest.” The mentioned agents nodded their heads and started making their way out the door.

Your eyebrows furrowed at your lack of instruction. “And me, sir?”

“Go home.” He looked you over for a moment. “You look like hell.” Then he was gone, calling Rossi on his way out. How mortifying.

–

It had been three days since Hotch’s dismissal of you. You managed to get some sleep, convincing your co-workers of normalcy when you went back into the office the next day. In truth, you were anything but. You had been noticeably distracted but the others chose not to mention it until it hindered your performance, which it had yet to do. You were on a timer, counting down the seconds until your next call with him. You seemed to be endlessly tugged back and forth between excitement and pure dread. Everytime you got home, you took a moment to stare at your phone, almost like you could will him to call if you glared at it long enough. The day was just shy of a week since his last attack, and you were nervous as hell. Your phone buzzed once, then it buzzed again. He was calling.

“You’re early.” You didn’t find it fitting to greet him. You knew who it was, why be friendly? “Is there another one?”

“Relax, honey.” His voice lit a fire in you. Jesus. “I didn’t know I was only permitted one call a week.”

“What are you playing at?” You tried to sound sturdy, but your voice hit your ears with more desperation than you’d ever expressed.

“I could ask you the same.” You could hear the tilt in his words, he was so sure of what he was doing. “You didn’t tell them about us.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m not in cuffs, am I?”

“You think we’d catch you if I told them?” Was it your fault he was still free?

“No.”

“Maybe they’re listening.”

“Maybe.” He was so unbothered by the notion. You were never a good bluffer.

“It wouldn’t bother you?” You narrowed your eyes at nothing, staring at your wall as you tried to read him through the phone.

“You could bring in the whole nation, Y/n.” You listened more intently than you ever had. “It wouldn’t keep me from you.” You felt like you were choking on your own heart, feeling it beat at the confines of your throat. Jesus Christ.

“Do you know where I live?” Your lips were too weak to hold back the question. It’d been the only thing on your mind since the first note had been left on your car.

“Why?” His smile bled into his words. “Are you inviting me over?”

“Answer the question.”

“Why don’t you answer a question of mine?” He was so intentional, his MO proudly showing in the way he spoke to you. “Haywood or Clancy?”

“Are those your actual choices?” You tried to analyze him, justifying your actions with the ruse of investigation. He’d tell you more if he wasn’t monitored. “Or are you trying to throw me off your trail?” It was certainly plausible. Get you running after two men not of interest, leaving his real victim neglected by your team.

He laughed, breathy and soft. “I don’t know.” You could almost picture him tilting his head, faceless and so enticing in your imagination. “Pick one for me. Maybe I’ll do him next in your honor.”

“What do you know about honor?”

“Everything I do is about honor.” What did that mean?

“The only thing that would honor me is you turning yourself in.”

“What do you know about honor, agent?” His voice was taunting, you heard his body shift. “What do you think that team of yours would think about us, hm? Those are their words, not yours. You’re the one who’s waiting on calls from the enemy.” Shock paralyzed your tongue. You felt your head pulse with the blood rushing to your ears. “You don’t have to be guilty about wanting it, honey. You don’t fit with them.”

“As opposed to what? Fitting with you?”

He chuckled. “You’ve thought about it.”

“Nightmares, maybe.”

“That’s the angle you're going with?” He saw through you. “If you dreamt of me, I doubt they were nightmares.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know where you are.” You didn’t feel relieved. “I have no interest in hurting or robbing you. Why would I want your address?.”

You slipped your hand under your shirt to trace the scar across your chest. Gift from the accident, now a nervous habit of yours. “What do you want?” God, you were a broken record.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Y/n.” You could barely hear him over the thrum of blood in your veins. Your entire body felt tuned into his words. You’d never felt so far away while connected. “Only what I can do.”

“You take everything from them. More than just money. Clearly you lost something.” You were so sick of asking this question but you were getting farther from the answer with every conversation. “Why are you doing this?”

“They made the first move.” Jesus what did they do to this guy? “I’m not the bad guy, honey. I’m just defending my side.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“It might as well be.” He was quick with his responses. “It’s all the same to men like them.” You stayed quiet for a moment. How did you reply to something like that? “Get some sleep. It’s late.”

“Give me less crime scenes to look at and maybe I’ll sleep more.”

He smiled, you could hear it in his tone. “Every mean has an end, agent.” You held your breath, and as if gaining consciousness, you hung up the phone. You felt the brick of the encounter sit heavy in your stomach. He wasn’t lying. You were guilty, and you wanted it beyond belief.

–

You’d talked to him four more times over the past two weeks. There’d been two more victims corresponding with those calls, continuing his routine of a new one each week. Your understanding of your feelings had become less hazy as you talked to him more. Your guilt wasn’t from withholding information from your team, it was from the fact you wanted to. It stemmed from your instinctual desire to keep him to yourself. Let him exist differently in your home life than he did in your work life. It was difficult keeping something from profilers. It made you feel worse that they definitely knew something was up, but chose not to push it because they trusted you. Did this truly make you untrustworthy? You were only human.

You’d spent what was meant to be your day off at the BAU working. When there was a case like this, rest time seemed to take the backseat. You were drained, more emotionally than physically. You were lying to your friends, but truly, you didn’t know how deeply you considered them friends. They were good people, easy to like and easy to work with. You were starting to wonder if that's where it stopped, though. Everything about their company was easy, but it lacked gratification. His company was hard on you, but it was so rewarding, so filled with feeling that you started to wonder what your morals even were. You wouldn’t find them here, you thought. You certainly tried. You stared into the chipped white paint aging poorly on the brick wall of the bar as if the pigment of the words would organize your thoughts better than your malfunctioning mind could. The liquid in your glass was nearing it’s end. The drink had loosened your joints, loosened your mind. You hadn’t come here to get drunk, you were basically still sober, you just needed the warmth of a drink. There was a certain coldness within you, there had been since the accident. You accredit the feeling with driving away any potential love interests of yours. There was always a sense of being stuck, like you were interrupted in the middle of moving on, and never fully got to close the chapter. This wasn’t hard for others to sense. You were as emotionally nonreciprocal and unresponsive as a corpse.

“Mind if I join you?” A man who’d immediately caught your eye upon entrance gestured to the barstool next to you.

You motioned to it. “Please.” A casual invitation. You didn’t know how to talk to random men in bars. You took a good look at him, something subconscious stirring beneath your skin. The minimal buzz of the drink you had making you write it off, preferring the focus of his eyes on yours.

“What’s your name?” The smoothness of his voice could have rivaled the most expensive whiskey in that place.

You told him your name. He nodded, murmuring a “pretty” under his breath as he took a sip from his glass.

“I’m Matthew.”

“Pretty.” You reiterated, raising your eyebrows slightly as you joked. He chuckled, and you asked if he was new to the area.

“I’m a local, actually. I grew up here, surprisingly never been to this bar, though.”

“Really? I grew up around here too. This place is old as dust, been here forever.” You looked down, finishing the last of your drink.

“I know. I’ve wanted to come here for a while because it’s so old.” Something about him was so off putting but so irresistible. You’d never encountered such an uncomfortable concoction. It was intoxicating. “I lost the knack for drinking I had in my teen years. Back then my friends and me would just buy a 12 pack and get drunk in the field on Fromage.”

You lacked the memories to know if you related to the man, but you weren’t going to delve into why and kill the mood, so you lied. “That field used to scare the shit out of me. Everyone at my school said there were bodies out there.”

His eyes held a certain glint in them when he looked at you, his lips perked up at the edges slightly, if you hadn’t been a profiler you might have missed it. “Really?” Maybe you imagined it all, that or he caught on to you, the look leaving his eyes after lingering for a moment. The slight promise of something more sinister pulsed throughout them. The hairs on your arm were standing. “Mine said the same thing.” He smiled, looking away, shaking his head fondly as he remembered. “My school was full of dumbasses though so I never really took it seriously.” And you laughed.

You laughed a lot throughout the time you sat there with him. A few hours, you’d guess. He lowered your guard so easily, walking leisurely through the gates of you. You’d practically rolled out the red carpet for him. You wondered if he could see how easily he got in, how much you welcomed the feel of him in your veins. He didn’t seem to mind if he could. When he’d wanted to take you home, your lips parted, and you said you’d like that. You don’t really remember driving, knowing one of you did, both of you sober by the time you’d left. He’d been so gentle, so all-consuming. He’d run his thumbs along the scars he encountered, punctuating the sensation with his lips following close after. Mumbling praises against your skin and rhetorically asking “does that feel good, honey?” as your legs shook around him. He melted you down to pure liquid gold with just his touch, knowing exactly how to map you out. You’d felt him everywhere, his fingers burning their respective shadows on your skin, seeping slowly into your soul to leave marks there too. He’d felt so safe, the pure want joining the two of you together. A euphoric distraction from all the disaster you’d let befall you. He was gone before you woke up the next morning, but you saw him in your shadow, felt him in the soreness of your legs. He’d been a deviation, something put in your path to confuse you. What a brutal fucking night.

–

The same day, you’d gone to work, gone home, and then ended up back at the BAU an hour later. There had been another victim. Two days early. This was his eighth, and up until now he hadn’t strayed from his weekly pattern. This was a bad sign, if he was ramping up, who knows how many more he wanted to hit. The story had stayed the same, and that night you were arresting another board member, this time for solid ties to human trafficking. He really knew how to pick them. You’d give him that, at least.

The meeting post-arrest basically just shared what you were all thinking. He was ramping up, and you were getting no closer to catching him. Stating the obvious was doing nothing but wasting time. He was good. One of the best you’d ever seen. Nobody really knew what to do at this point. You watched their faces get more and more helpless and you felt bad. Nothing in your calls with the man would have helped you solve this case, you were almost positive. Any aspect that could have helped was one you explored.

Emily had said the name ‘Spencer Reid’ and the way your stomach lurched made you feel like you had to be onto something. You’d never had such an intense gut feeling about something only for it to be absolutely impossible. You hadn’t told them, but you looked more into him. His death was an easy one to fake. As much as you hated speculating on what could very well have been just a heartbroken boy, you couldn’t deny the theory you were building. His mother had found a suicide note, they hauled a body out of the river a month later and just assigned Spencer’s name to it, marking it down as conclusive. You weren’t convinced.

–

You got home within the hour, locking the door and pulling out your phone. You hadn’t called him before, but it was the same number every time, and you needed to talk. The phone rang so long you were almost sure he wouldn’t pick up. Almost.

“Y/n.” He greeted you. “This is new.”

“You broke your pattern.” You started with the topic at hand. “Why did you do that?”

You heard a chair squeak slightly as he leaned back. “What can I say? You being so interested gave me some extra motivation.”

“Interested?” What the fuck was he talking about? “This isn’t - I’m not fucking interested in anything. You’re a criminal.” You were slightly out of breath. When you lied to him, no matter how small the lie, air seemed to gain a disinterest in staying within your lungs.

“Mhm.” He was smug. That wasn’t a good sign. “I don’t believe that. You seemed pretty interested last night.”

He had pulled a lever, and your stomach dropped to your shoes. “That was you?” You sounded as defeated as you felt. Your eyes were watering from the pure shock, feeling the drop of the bomb shake you down to your core.

“You kept tracing that scar on your chest, you know that?” You hadn’t known that. “Almost like you could feel it.” Feel what? He didn’t elaborate. “You sounded so pretty when I touched it, when I kissed you. Been thinking about it all day.” He was breathy, sounding like he was trying to put himself back in it as he spoke.

You steadied yourself before you opened your mouth. “You lied to me.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” He sighed. “You lied to me, though.” You hadn’t imagined it. “That field used to scare you?” He laughed slightly. “You were the one who told me about it. Took me over there once to look at the moon in the back of your dad’s pickup.”

God, this was frustrating. “Who are you?” The tears were dancing the border of your eyes, begging to run down your cheeks. “I knew you?”

“You know me.” He was so sure of it. “I’m still in there. Everything is.”

You had to ask, at this point you were near certain of it. “Spencer?”

He sighed, relief intertwining with his words. “There she is.” It was such a soft delivery, the moment he took before replying had you wondering if you’d said anything at all.

What kind of situation even was this? “Is this about your brother?”

“You know, when we were younger, my mother knew the mayor. He used to babysit my brother and me when she worked nights.” His tone was humorous, bitter, like he couldn’t believe the stupidity of what he was explaining. “I listened to him promise us he would change the community when he got the time. Get us a house with more than one bedroom, get us into a school system deserving of us. He used to call me a genius.” He scoffed at the thought. “Then my mom couldn’t afford the insulin, and he let my brother die.”

You didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“The payments wouldn’t have even made a dent in his pockets.” You could visualize him, alone in a room somewhere, that familiar crease between his eyebrows as he talked. You were going to be sick, you thought. “One man for every year my brother got to live. Seems only fair.”

“Two more to go, then?” You couldn’t identify a single thought in your head. All of them speeding past you like bullets before you could latch onto one. “Is it helping?”

“Yeah.” He sniffled, quiet and subdued. “It is.”

“I - um” A tear finally fell, breaking the dam. You wiped it away quickly, two more taking it’s place almost immediately “I have to go.”

“Y/n-” but you were gone already. You put your hand over your mouth, laughing into it slightly at the absurdity of your situation and sobbing into a moment later as you took the cold plunge into reality. You texted your parents, knowing they were asleep, asking if you could swing by when they woke up. If anyone would know something, it was them, and you had every intention of shaking them down to find out exactly how you’d known the man. You had to know. You spent the night preparing the questions you’d ask and trying to fall asleep. You were almost paralyzed with the weight of him on you. There was no getting out of it now.

–

The outside of this house always felt alien. You knew you’d grown up here, but it lacked any sense of home. You wondered as you stood out front how much Spencer had to have meant to leave more of a mark than the place you spent your first 18 years in. The sun was nearing it’s peak in the sky, it was almost noon. Your parents had texted back at eight am, worried and eager to know what was wrong, eager to see you. You’d fallen asleep barely an hour before that, waking up at eleven and quickly getting ready after seeing the text. You were scared. These were practically strangers to you, and you were betting an ungodly amount on them. That’s not fair, you thought. But honestly, nothing was fair, and you calmed your guilt with promise of filling the void in your gut. You broke your staring contest with the front door and leaned forward to knock, the thing opening almost immediately.

“Hey.” You spoke before they did. You found that being the first to talk usually decreased the amount of warmth in their greetings. “It’s good to see you guys. Thank you for having me, I know my texts were sort of alarming. I just needed to talk about something.” You held eye contact to the best of your ability. They brought out a deep feeling of shame, knowing they didn’t blame you for the distance but still being responsible for it nonetheless.

“Of course.” Your mother talked while your father looked down. “It’s good to see you too. Come in, please.” Your father broke from her side to go sit down, while your mother opened the door to usher you in. You stepped forward, nodding at her in thanks as you passed her, joining your father where he sat.

“Um…” You faced both of them as your mom took the place by his side. How did you even start this? “Well, in a case I’ve been working on, somebody came up.” You couldn’t tell them he was alive. “And he just…seemed familiar, I guess. Did I know a boy named Spencer Reid growing up?” You watched the sparks of recognition ignite in their eyes as you said the name. Your mother’s grew teary, while your father’s seemed to harden.

“Knew him?” Your mother chuckled at the thought of it being so simple. “You two were more in love than your father and I.” She rolled her eyes as she held your father’s arm, the man laughing lightly at her words.

“He was the first friend you talked about. I remember picking you up from the first day of kindergarten and listening to you rave about the boy who was ‘smarter than the teacher’.” Her tone got lighter at the end, seemingly trying to imitate the excitement of your adolescent self. “You two were always close, you know?” She seemed to remember him fondly. “When you got older, you would get so defensive if I asked after him so eventually I stopped. But I knew. I knew you two would end up together from your first playdate.” She was on the verge of tears, giggling at her own words as the stories she told surrounded her, smiling at the past.

“His family really struggled. Such a sweet kid, him and his brother both. They were over here a lot.” Your father took the role of speaker as your mother’s emotions got the better of her. “We went back and forth for a while after the accident on whether to tell you or not. It just seemed cruel to. He died the night before you got hit, and you were such a wreck we just -” He struggled to find the words. “We considered it a blessing you didn’t remember him.” Your father’s guilt was apparent, twisting his features slowly as he explained their choices. “You were so in love, sweetheart. You didn’t know who he was when you woke up and we figured, you know, what’s the point? When the only thing that could come from it was pain, it just seemed futile.”

You don’t think you blinked the entire time they were talking to you. You only knew you were crying when your vision went blurry, completely neglecting the beading of tears down your cheeks. You remembered the day your mother was talking about, seeing the children you once were illustrate the world in front of you. You could almost see his face, how it would have looked when he died, how he used to look at you. Like he was staring at the universe’s secrets, easing his hands through the veil to touch them - to touch you. You remember the feeling he gave you, something warm and distinct, reserved for the two of you only. If you could have seen yourself in the moments you shared, you’re sure you would have worn the same look in your eyes.

You started speaking, but couldn’t manage much. “Yes, yeah, you’re right.” Reassurance usually worked well. “It was a…a good call.” You had trouble with your words, remembering the feelings of him but lacking the visuals. “Do you have any pictures?” Your mother nodded in response, detaching from your dad and going to retrieve something that held the memories you sought.

“I’m-” Your dad started. “We’re sorry.”

You shook your head. Your parents were the last people who owed an apology. “It’s ok, dad. I’m glad you did it.”

“I could never myself look back at these. Thinking about what happened to them I just…I can never look at them knowing they’re gone.” Your mother re-entered the room holding a camera, dark pink and cheap. “It was meant to document your childhood, but he was around so much, it’s basically just a compilation of you guys.”

You held the thing in your hands. It was everything you wanted to happen but you couldn’t force your fingers to move. Did you even want this? He was alive, sure, but you’re certain the boy next to you in these photos would never see the light of day again. All your birthdays for thirteen years, field trips, science fairs, even just the two of you sitting together reading. It was all here. All consumable. You felt the urge to boil them down and burn your skin with the residue. Anything to keep a semblance of this life with you. You had a right to them, they were yours. Your teeth clenched at the sting of the absence. He had been yours and you couldn’t even remember. “Can I keep this?”

“Of course.” You’re sure the thoughts in your head were obvious to them, spinning like a cyclone in your eyes zoning out on the camera. “I’ve thought about giving it to you for a while now anyway.”

–

They’d made you lunch, then dinner. They told you tales of your past and you let them glance into your present. It was dark by the time you left, setting the goal to talk with them more. You walked to your car, having parked down the street, and tried to shake yourself out of the trance that house put you in. You thought you were seeing things at first, squinting slightly to focus on the chunk of passenger door that was shrouded with out of place darkness. Someone was leaning against your car. You didn’t feel defensive.

“Spencer?”

“Hey.” He pushed off the door and walked closer to you, facing you on the sidewalk. You could see him now, lit up by a streetlight. He took you in, too. Glancing at your hand and grinning. “I remember that thing.” You had forgotten you were holding the camera until now.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know, honey.” He shrugged, matching your exhaustion at the situation. “I guess I wanted to see how much you remembered.” He looked at you, his eyes just as bright as they’d been a decade ago. “How much I could make you remember.”

You sighed. God, if only it worked that way. “Do you want to-” What the fuck were you thinking? “Do you want to come over?” You’d looked through every picture on that camera. You missed him. You missed him in your space, on your bed, waiting for you at the bus stop. That knot of feeling stuck only wanted to unravel if it were his hands tugging at it. “I can drive us.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprise blending seamlessly with the undiluted hope he carried as a kid. “Ok.” He smiled, just a tiny lift at the corners of his lips. The image of that smile resting on his teenage face struck you so violently you felt it in your bones. You looked at him, starstruck. His presence was a trance of it’s own.

“Ok.” You repeated him, trying to elongate the moment. You weren’t sure when you’d be ready to look away. He’d have to move first, and he knew it, so he walked to the passenger door. You blinked, grounding yourself, and unlocked the car.

You were preparing for an awkward car ride, but clearly your subconscious was more than familiar with him, being silent with him came as second nature to you. You took the long way back to your house, trying to enjoy the comfortability as long as you could. He added an elevation to your existence that you hadn’t been aware you were lacking. You pulled into your driveway ten minutes later, parking and turning off the car.

“Did you really not know where I lived?”

“No.” He was looking out your windshield, taking in the sight of where you felt safest. “I meant what I said. I never needed to.

You walked into the house first, hearing him shut the door softly behind him. You’d been listening to see how he’d close it, not sure what it would tell you, but deeming it important regardless. He’d been nothing but respectful of your space both times he’d been here. You sat down, nodding your head to the chair near you.

He let a moment pass, waiting to see if you had something to say. You had too much to say, too much to articulate. “I want you to leave with me.”

“Spencer-”

“Don’t.” His eyes were pleading, glistening with his unique mix of hunger and control. “Don’t write me off, Y/n. Nobody would know. They’re not gonna catch me. You can quit, and we can leave.” You looked away, down towards your hands. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.” It was all you’d been thinking about. Usually in dreams - obviously your mind was more up to date than you were. You were going to do it, you thought. Of course you were. You looked at him and knew you’d go anywhere he asked you to. Still, though, you had a life. One you needed time to wrap up before you could leave it. You were a federal agent, if you went missing, they’d send the entire nation to step on your heels.

“Can I think about it?

He looked at you, suppressing a smile and tilting his head slightly. “Sure, honey.” He could read you so easily. He’d known he had you from the moment he asked. “I’ve still got two more.” The burning in your stomach wasn’t a resistance to the words. It was an admiration, a feeling you could wallow in. You weren’t an opposing force to him. Had you ever been? Truly?

“What happens if I don’t go?”

His eye contact had a way of transferring, enveloping any part of you it could reach. You were testing him. “Don’t force my hand, Y/n.”

You didn’t plan on finding out what that meant.

#comet: SR #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #x chubby reader #x fat reader #x plus size reader #spencer reid x chubby reader #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid x fat reader #spencer reid fanfiction #suggestive #probably ass #im sorry for this

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fyodere · 26 days

Text

spy x family ! au yuri briar smut ( pt. 1 ) ♡

complex feelings about you

﹙ 🦇 ﹚── parings : yuri briar x fem!reader ♡

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), yandere themes (we’re talking about yuri), obsession, mutual obsession (kinda), masturbation, virginity kink, purity kink in general, yuri touching himself wearing his uniform 😩, kind of sexting ???, stalking

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Yuri was immersed in his obsession with you, becoming more and more determined to uncover every detail about your life. He searched through every file folder, every record, wishing to fully understand who you were. His fixation exceeded healthy boundaries, replacing even the photos of his sister with images of you in his personal spaces.

﹙ 🩸 ﹚── author's note : IM SO SORRY FOR THIS. i’m being for real. sorry for not posting the requests or my other drafts. yuri was simply calling for me. THIS IS GOING TO BE A SERIES because i need more yuri content. anyway, HAPPY EASTER <3

When you first laid eyes on Yuri, something clicked in your head.

Perhaps it was his innocent brown-reddish eyes; his youthful and gentle demeanor, reminiscent of a puppy; or maybe his slightly long black hair that practically caressed his shoulders; perhaps his unexpectedly masculine and strong stature.

Truth be told, when you saw Yuri Briar for the first time, you flipped, completely.

You were just a secretary working in the public sector for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Your job was relatively simple but tiring. Tasks like scheduling appointments, organizing documents, answering phones, drafting correspondence, and providing administrative support to members of the Ministry were part of your routine. You played an important role in maintaining efficiency and coordinating activities within the institution. Not that you were extremely valued — of course not. But still, the salary was good enough to sustain your humble and comfortable life in Ostania.

You saw Briar for the first time on your first day of work, early in the morning. He was standing, holding a cup of coffee while talking to his superior with a smile.

Your heart skipped a beat.

When you looked at Yuri, it was love at first sight. Your eyes widened, your face grew warm, and you blushed. How could such a handsome man be working in the same place as you? Staring at him for another brief moment, you presumed he was probably young and around your age. Your heart skipped another beat, did you two have something in common? The thought made you want to slap yourself; how could you fantasize about a man you hadn't even met?

You approached your superior, introducing yourself. The red-eyed man was by his side, and you resisted — emphasis on resisted — the urge to stare at him.

Your superior gave you instructions for the day and left, suddenly leaving you alone with the boy who took your breath away.

"I see it's your first day as a secretary, hm?" He said, now looking at you. "Pleasure to meet you, I'm Yuri Briar. I'm the Minister of Foreign Affairs."

So young and with such a high position? You thought.

"... I hope we can get along." He added, with a smile. And you felt your knees weaken.

"Of course, Mr. Briar! I'll do my best to be useful to you." Pathetically formal. But what could you do? Just his presence fried your neurons; it was better to err on the side of formality than to be disrespectful. Yuri gave you a smile, and your heart squeezed.

"It's okay, you don't need to be so formal." He chuckled softly, with his eyes closed. "I need to go to a meeting now, if it's not too much trouble, I need help with the paperwork..." And then he gave you instructions on what you should do in his absence.

Your face stayed red for the rest of the day, and your heart felt tight. The man with black hair wouldn't leave your mind. You organized things as you were asked, unconsciously dreaming of receiving praise from Briar.

Lost in reverie, it was already night, and Yuri hadn't arrived yet. You were cleaning his desk, lost in your thoughts, when unexpectedly, a voice cut through your train of thought.

"Hey!" It was Yuri. "You're still here, sorry for keeping you here so late." he rubbed his own neck with his hands timidly, with a smile. Unbeknownst to you, the room was empty. It was just you and Briar.

"N-No, Mr. Briar." You said, stuttering. "I lost track of time out of distraction. You're not to blame for anything. I did what was asked of me, now I'll be going home." You tried to leave quickly, feeling your face burn.

"Don't you want company? It's dangerous for a woman to go out alone at this hour." He said, with a calm demeanor. "I would hate to see my sister walking alone at this hour."

"Do you have a sister?"

"I do, an older sister." He said with a smile. "But, uh, the offer still stands. I can accompany you so you don't walk alone."

"No, Mr. Briar!" You replied. "You don't need to be so kind, I live nearby. It won't be a long walk, such concern isn't necessary."

"If you insist..." He replied, with a smile. The same smile that almost made you lose your balance and the strength to stand.

You left, walking in opposite directions. You couldn't help but blush remembering the dialogue exchanged with the young man; the heat in your body protected you from the cold of the street. And, without realizing it, you had already arrived home.

You lay on the bed sighing, with your hand resting on your chest. Remembering every word, every smile exchanged with the Minister of Foreign Affairs.

The next few days passed quickly. Unbeknownst to you, it had been months since you started working at the public ministry. Honestly, you didn't exchange many words with Briar. The red-eyed boy was busy with various meetings — which was understandable, given his enviable position — you understood, but secretly missed the dark-haired man and the small smiles and short dialogues exchanged.

Until the fateful day arrived.

"Can I talk to you?" Yuri spoke near your ear, you were cleaning the countertop, lost in your thoughts, you hadn't even noticed the approach of the dark-haired man.

"Of course, Mr. Briar." You turned to him.

"I've observed your behavior over the past few months," He said with his characteristic smile. "And you're exemplary! I talked to the higher-ups to give you a promotion!"

"But— huh? I can't believe I can be promoted, Mr. Briar." You said insecurely, and he replied with a laugh.

"Don't worry. It's a position, um... let's say, a bit secretive." He said, putting his index finger on his lips. "Soon, some superior will talk to you about the details!" And then he left, leaving you confused and anxious. What kind of position would this be?

A few hours passed, and you were called for a meeting. You entered the room, visibly nervous.

And what happened? Oh, what happened...

You were explained about the State security service, the secret police. Now you would work with the feared by civilians, secret police, was that what Yuri wanted?

So Briar's job as minister was a force?

All the details were explained to you, your role hadn't changed, you would only be given files of deep secrecy, which sent a shiver down your spine. Would you be able to carry such responsibility?

Your workplace had now changed. You found yourself going every morning to the discreet lair of the State security service. Once again, you were close to Briar, taking care of his confidential papers.

Now you knew Yuri's true profession. Honestly, you were amazed at the violence exerted by the security service. However, such a discovery made your heart race. Discovering another side of Briar made your breathing heavy; you were delirious with excitement. Now, that was a secret you both shared.

And, of course, he looked ridiculously handsome in his secret police uniform.

Now, you shared more moments together. Considering that all meetings that Yuri attended were a sham, and that, in fact, he was in that place the whole time.

Honestly, you didn't exchange many words. The atmosphere in that place was more tense, more serious. And now, you knew Yuri had interrogations. Interrogations in which Briar was not merciful, interrogations in which the black-haired man had no shame when it came to using violence.

You knew how brutish Yuri was — after all, you cleaned the blood from the room after interrogations —, it made your heart race in anxiety and fear, but also in desire.

At that moment, you were cleaning the interrogation room that had just been used by Briar. The smell of sweat and blood hangs in the air.

But the perfume of the red-eyed man too.

You were alone in the room, the highly trained police officers were going about their business, and Yuri was probably in some meeting with Desmond and his superiors about some plan to prevail for the glory of Ostania.

The room was already clean, and you admired your good work together. For a moment, you picked up a small towel that was resting under the table, brought it to your nose, and, closing your eyes, you inhaled the odor given off by the cloth.

It was Yuri's. You knew from the specific smell, he had probably used it to dry his sweat during the interrogation.

You inhaled it again, closing your eyes tightly, imagining Yuri next to you. And, without realizing it, your panties dampened just by imagining Briar behind you, rubbing against your body, sighing in your ear.

Finally, you began to rub your intimacy on the corner of the table, on the most pointed part of the table, rubbing your wet and needy cunt against the furniture, feeling a wave of pleasure run through your entire body.

“Mr. Briar—Ah!” You moaned, but then quickly covered your mouth, and in a moment of realization, you realized what you were doing. "My God." You say, moving away from the furniture, with your hands, slightly trembling over your mouth.

You were taught that women of value don't touch themselves or succumb to the pleasures of the flesh, but Yuri, with that black hair and reddish eyes, made you lose your temper.

When Yuri Briar first saw you, a switch flipped in his head.

Maybe it was your clumsy steps, betraying nervousness; your eyes shyly cast down; the way you twirled your hair, reflecting shyness; perhaps your innocent and defenseless demeanor, like someone in need of protection.

Truth be told, when Yuri Briar first saw you, he flipped, completely.

Briar held the position of a diplomat as a facade; in reality, the dark-haired man worked for Ostania's secret police as a counterintelligence agent. He had initially started his job in the ministry as an ordinary worker but was soon chosen to work in the secret police, safeguarding Ostania's future.

Briar saw you for the first time on his first day of work, early in the morning. He stood there, holding a cup of coffee while speaking to his superior with a smile.

His heart skipped a beat.

Yuri, with his spy skills, felt your gaze and discreetly looked back at you. It was love at first sight. Yuri noticed your sweetly timid face as you entered the room; Briar felt his face grow warm and flush. How could such a beautiful, pure, helpless, and worthy-of-protection woman be less than 6 meters away from him?

How did he know this? Briar could read your body language, your gaze, and your delicate voice.

Staring at you for another brief moment, he presumed that you were probably young and around his age. Yuri's heart skipped another beat; he had never felt such a strong urge to protect someone besides his sister.

Then, he felt you approaching your superior, introducing yourself. The man with reddened eyes stood by your side trying to conceal his slightly flushed face. Damn, wasn't spy training enough to learn how to hide his emotions?

Your superior gave you instructions on what would be done that day and left; suddenly, you two were alone.

"I see it's your first day as a secretary, hm?" He says, now looking at you. "Pleasure, my name is Yuri Briar. I'm the Minister of Foreign Relations."

Oh, so pure, so precious. He thought.

"... I hope we can get along." He adds, with a smile, trying not to reveal all his thoughts of protecting you.

"Of course, Mr. Briar! I'll do my best to be useful to you." Pathetically formal. But what could you do? Yuri gives you a smile, inevitably amazed by your tenderness. How could you be so lovely?

"It's okay, you don't have to be so formal." He chuckles softly, eyes closed, trying to reassure you. "I need to go to a meeting now, if it's not too much trouble, I need help with the paperwork..." And then he gave you instructions on what you should do in his absence.

Yuri was now at the secret police headquarters; suddenly, he found himself thinking of you. Without a second thought, he rummages through his stack of files, wanting to find out everything — anything — about you.

Yuri was immersed in his obsession with you, becoming more and more determined to uncover every detail about your life. He searched through every file folder, every record, wishing to fully understand who you were. His fixation exceeded healthy boundaries, replacing even the photos of his sister with images of you in his personal spaces.

As he delved deeper into this insatiable quest for information about you, the line between reality and fantasy became increasingly blurred. His mind was filled with thoughts of consuming you completely, possessing every aspect of your existence.

The next days passed quickly. Unnoticed, it had been months since you worked at the public ministry. Honestly, you didn't exchange many words with Briar. The red-eyed boy was busy with several meetings — which was understandable, given his enviable position — you understood, but secretly missed the dark-haired man and the small smiles and short conversations exchanged.

Until the fateful day arrived.

Yuri had a plan, a plan he was proud of. It was only a matter of time until you were in his hands.

You were cleaning the counter completely concentrated, in a quick and discreet move, he put an earpiece in your ear "Can I talk to you?" Yuri spoke near your ear, you hadn't even noticed the approach of the dark-haired man.

"Of course, Mr. Briar." You turned to him.

"I've observed your behavior over the past few months," He says with his characteristic smile. "And you are exemplary! I've spoken to the superiors to give you a promotion!"

"But— huh? I can't believe I could be promoted, Mr. Briar." You said insecurely, and he responded with a laugh.

"Don't worry. It's a position, um... let's say, a bit secretive." He says, putting his index finger on his lips. "Soon, some superior will talk to you about the details!" And then he left, leaving you confused and distressed. What kind of position could this be?

It was the perfect plan.

Yuri did what was necessary to put you in the State Security service. He just needed to recommend you and be patient.

Time passed, and there you were, working as a secretary for the secret police. Yuri couldn't help but smirk maliciously when he heard the news. He had already heard the entire conversation the superiors had with you through the bug, but nonetheless, Briar relished hearing the news officially.

Your workplace had now changed. You found yourself going to the discreet lair of the State Security service every morning. Once again, you were close to Briar, taking care of his confidential papers.

Honestly, you didn't exchange many words. The atmosphere in that place was more tense, more serious. And now, you knew that Yuri had interrogations. Interrogations that Briar was not merciful in, interrogations that the dark-haired man had no qualms about using violence.

Yuri had just finished another one of his violent interrogations, using all tactics, from physical to psychological torture to get the necessary information. Then, after the interrogation was over, he left.

Arriving home and still in his uniform, Yuri heard gasps — gasps coming from you. Soon he felt his face burn and his heart race. Did you… no. He knew you didn’t have a boyfriend and that you weren’t talking to any other men.

“Mr. Briar—ah!”

That was the last straw.

With his hands on his face after hearing what you had said through the wire, Yuri felt his knees weaken. Damn, you had an effect on him.

Briar felt his manhood throb, it was painful as it practically ripped his black boxers. But what the hell. Why he couldn't control his primal instincts when it comes to you?

So, even dressed in the uniform that should represent love for the country, he caressed his throbbing intimacy, which pulsed with each breath he took.

Then, Yuri noticed the end of your graceful sounds. He felt so dirty, so disgusting and disgusting to hear you in such an intimate moment. But even so, your voice, your delicate voice, so vulnerable and precious calling him by his last name in the middle of such adorable sounds made him feel like the most despicable man on Earth.

When you got home, you felt your intimacy tingling. The way her panties were wet bothered her. God, since when did you become like this? You washed your face, trying, in some way, to purify your mind. What the hell were you thinking?

Your face was still hot, and your heart was beating so fast it felt like it would escape through your mouth. Your face felt hot—as did your body—but what the fuck? You were satisfying your carnal desires while thinking about the red-eyed diplomat, and worse, you did it on his desk.

You ran to bed and smothered your face in pillows, trying, somehow, to escape the tricks your mischievous mind played on you.

And then, your mind wandered, and you emerged into your thoughts.

You were sitting on the table, with your legs open and Yuri between them. You were kissing, tongues swirling and eyes rolling. Gasps, bites, lust, desire.

You break the kiss, saying, “Mr. Briar, if someone catches us—“

“Shh…” He whispers. “Do you know why I'm in the state security service, hm? I can do the dirty work and get rid of the evidence.” He says, then kissing you again. Yuri's hands traveled over his body. One hand supporting her delicate torso, and the other venturing through all the lines and curves there were.

Without realizing it, you start touching your thighs.

Yuri was strong, agile and determined. This made you even more in love with him, Briar had so many qualities that you could snort remembering. But not. Not at that moment, you can only focus on his hot tongue exploring the roof of your mouth, the hot air that came out of him touching your skin in the middle of kiss breaks and summaries. God, Yuri was so good, so good. The man with reddish eyes breaks the kiss again, this time saying something.

“You look so beautiful like this.” He says, taking his hand off your hip and placing it on his face. “With a flushed face, heavy breathing. Just succumbing to my touch.” He lets out a nasal laugh.

“Mr. Briar, I—“

“I’m not done talking yet.” He cuts him off, his hand, which was caressing his face, goes down to his inner thighs. “No man touched you, yeah?”

“Uhm.” You nod, visibly nervous.

“So perfect for me. So pure, so defenseless…” He licks his lips, and the once affection turns into strong squeezes on the inside of your thighs, leaving marks.

You decide to imitate him, squeezing your own thighs as you imagine Yuri's firm touch.

Then, his hand moves up, like a light glide, caressing your private area, which, honestly, pulsed and squeezed the air begging for touches.

“No man…” Briar said with a light laugh. “No man…” He reaches your most sensitive spot, rubbing it deliciously, making you moan.

“A-Ah—ha!”

It didn't take long for his hand to reach your needy part, you simulated Yuri's touch once again, closing your eyes to concentrate on the moment.

“So beautiful…” The red-eyed boy says, slowly inserting a finger into your hot, soaked entrance. Fuck! You were asking for this, you were begging for Yuri's fingers entering you.

Yuri's eyes, once radiating innocence and tenderness, now glowed deeply with pure lust.

It was late at night, Briar found herself in a delicate situation. He tried to fall asleep at any cost, but his mind was just a loop of his voice calling him.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, Yuri hears gooey noises coming from his ear. Hmm? What could it be now? He thought focusing on the sounds coming from the other end of the line.

“Ah—ah! There is!" He heard your sweet voice again, as the sticky noises grew louder. Yuri wanted to cover his face with so much shame, the event he had tried so hard to get out of his mind was now repeating itself in full force, longer and more intense.

How could you sound so lovely, precious and worthy of protection at a time like that?

Yuri felt his cock throb painfully for the second time that day, Briar snorted, he needed you. Then, he took his cock out of the boxers that covered it, pre-cum leaking from his tip. But what the hell? Was he really so needy because of some sounds?

I mean, Yuri had definitely touched himself thinking about you before—more times than he'd like to admit—but now he felt like an intruder. A dirty, perverted intruder. His mind was so full of dirty thoughts about you, so since you were relieving yourself, why wouldn't he do the same?

Briar moans softly as she squeezes his cock. Damn, you must be so perfect to be fucked. Yuri watches the veins on his member pop out and his glans redden, in pure excitement.

“Ha… fuck…” He moans and then says his name in a sly tone, calling for you.

“Mhmmm… Ah…” He hears you on the other side “Ah—ah! Yuri..!"

That was enough. For the first time, he had heard you say his first name. And still with that precious voice full of malice. That was enough, enough for Yuri to start masturbating like crazy, imagining pumping you with his cock.

#spy x family #yuri briar x reader #yuri briar smut #im sorry for this #happy easter ig

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