hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)
A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚
Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.
Masterlist
Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were.
“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized.
��You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight.
“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-”
“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.”
The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot.
He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans.
“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.”
“Turn around.”
You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day.
You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist.
“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”
“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”
“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.”
Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest.
His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him).
With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all.
“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you.
Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life.
The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.
“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention.
“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet.
“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-”
“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.”
“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”
“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”
The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on.
“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter.
“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question.
“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?”
The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?”
xxxxx
A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance.
You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime.
You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character.
“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave.
Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view.
The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair.
A girl could dream.
“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.”
Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw.
“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.
“What? Why?”
“I don't hit women.”
“And I do? Emily, wha-”
But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame.
Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door.
“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?”
“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.”
“You make a good point, shall we begin?”
He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender.
“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?”
You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it.
You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane.
There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.
“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”
He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head.
“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight but not bruising yet.
“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?”
He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs.
“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.”
“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.”
He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention.
“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little.
You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints.
He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again.
“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow.
“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes.
“Y/N, put it down.”
“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab.
“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.”
His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward.
“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged.
“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”
It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat.
You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun.
Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning.
“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?”
You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat.
“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”
You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back.
“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.”
His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties.
“I can tell.”
If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute.
“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.”
He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach.
“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.”
His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better.
Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers.
A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor.
“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun.
“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.”
He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you.
“Yes, yes, please touch me.”
The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue.
The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table.
You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.
Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy.
“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure.
The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you.
“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.”
You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window.
“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path.
“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…”
Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free.
You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick.
As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple.
“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.”
Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release.
But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him.
“If you need something, use your words, Agent.”
“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged.
The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting.
“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you.
“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls.
Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster.
Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug.
His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair.
“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-”
“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck
“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.”
Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms.
“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?”
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this is my element (+ album)
asking me to pick my fave album is like asking an orphan matron to pick her favorite baby boy
thats some weird and cruel circumstances to put upon me i feel like it changes every damn week like a rota
i mean what if my beats misbehave and i gotta put 'em in time out i cant play permanent on that theyre too cute
but yknow what i can show you one thing thats been on my mind lately
===
so when i was a kid we had this skateboard vid by "element skateboards" on DVD
they were this skateboard kit slash apparel company that was all about progressivism and shit and they did these much lauded comp tapes of dudes riding around on their boards and doing the dopest of macho tricks on the shit
flipping it turnways
putting the rock in the house like a big man
we had some of their merch actually
===
so anyways the one we had back then was This Is My Element
released 2007
mostly clips from cali i think and i mean the camerawork is fucking insane on some of those shots
this is gonna sound lame as fuck but i prob spent so many cumulative hours just peelin through the footage and ogling the shit outta it
that framing was tight
===
so you may be asking yourself or me
dave you genuine dicksucker i asked about your fav album not your favorite sordid ass display of smooth dudes hardcore riding and grinding them boards in public dude you have a problem
ok well that wasnt a question first of all so jot that down
but anyways to THAT i say
listen to the music
the whole thing has an original soundtrack of ambient beats
got some abstract hip hop jams, got some more indie stuff, lots of acoustic sampling
HELLA underground
and basically every track minus one is done by sampler beast david p. madson AKA "odd nosdam"
dude is my hero seriously
he is the master of the beat machine i shit you not hes always been kinda my idol on this stuff
aside from bro obviously
===
obviously.
===
anyways he had an E-mu SP-1200 which is a really oldschool sampler invented by dave rossum in the late 80s
revolutionary to the hip hop scene
nosdam had this mega distinct sound to his music that i always wanted to replicate on my own beats
still do
i dont know for sure if he used it on T.I.M.E. but he uses some of the same samples from "vol. 9" which was exclusively SP-1200 so im gonna get a lil j’accuzi on that
it couldve been a boss dr sampler SP-202 though idk
he had one of those
===
so aside from beating the shit out of the pause/resume button to flip my whole cranium at the cinematography or whatever i would also kinda play it on loop to listen to the soundtrack and space out at 2am
the lonely broner seemed to free his mind at night
ok shit broner is good but i didnt mean it like that
that was goofy lets just keep movin
it was the only way i had to listen to it back then but i mean the video is 50 mins long so its basically just an odd nosdam album with accompanying ambient skater sounds and random expletives and whatever
random car sequence
yknow what i dont think people respect enough?
the dude who catches all the "mad stunts yo" on camera
i swear to god at least half the time hes ALSO on a board and that shit is bananas to me
bros gotta be on some whole other level of zen to skate good AND catch all them glamor shots of his fellow skater
thats like an express ticket to the ER imo
the ambulance is already on the scene watching you like an eager crow watches a half dead dog
===
ok gonna go ahead and lay it out flat
not great on a board myself
kinda dogshit at it actually
so maybe im not exactly an arbitrator of skateboard heinousness
but i always kinda liked watching THEM do it i mean who doesnt?
whats an even crazier layer to stack on the "dave" cake is
and dirk told me this because unfortunately it kinda happened post-2009
he would do all these collabs with one of my childhood favorite underground rappers david cohn aka serengeti
surrounded by daves left and right dude even before all the time travel horseshit
thats like
serendipitous as fuck i think!
===
if sburb was just a revolving door of artists called dave that i could bump fists with
instead of other mes in various states of aliveness tending toward extremely dead
i wouldve probably given it something higher than 2 stars on my TGN review
===
so yeah you ask me my favorite album its T.I.M.E. by odd nosdam i guess
bump that shit on a walk your mind will go places unknown to man
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