ratatoastwrites

[ratatoastwrites]

Habits and Distractions

Spencer Reid x wife!reader

nsfw, 18+ MDNI

Synopsis: Your oral fixation has been getting out of hand, and your husband is concerned enough to take matters into his own hands

cw: professor Reid (but it’s like only briefly referenced), also he teaches at harvard (even more briefly referenced, like barely at all), reader has an oral fixation, chewing on lips, mentions of viruses and bacteria, pet names (angel, sweetheart, etc), some terms of degradation (slut, whore) BUT it isn’t meant in a degrading way, use of ‘Sir’ (once), like maybe one religious imagery ?, oral (m receiving), oral cockwarming, shoe humping, coming in underwear, face fucking, softdom!Spence

a/n: ughhhh this is so self-indulgent lmao 🥸 also, my reqs are open, so check out my masterlist for guidelines if you’re interested 🤟

wc: 2.8k

The grandfather clock ticks quietly in the corner of your shared home-office with Spencer, the room illuminated by the warm light of the setting sun. You’re both already home, sharing space in the quiet study, content with being in the same room, even without any conversation.

You don’t have any paperwork left to finish, so you’re curled up on the loveseat, drawing the outlines of a future painting on a canvas. Spencer is sitting at the big mahogany desk, glasses low on the bridge of his nose, as he grades some essays from his students, his lips moving quietly as he reads, mouthing the words on the paper. There’s something you’ve always found endearing about it, and you once told him that it was like he needed to taste the words, to fully take them in.

You don’t realise that you’re staring, at least until his lips stop moving, and when you glance up into his eyes, you find warm hazel irises looking right back at you.

“You’re doing it again,” he says softly, making your nose scrunch up a little.

“Sorry. I can’t help it, y’know. Try having such a pretty husband and not staring at him all the time.”

His lips curl into a soft smile, a fond huff leaving his nose as he shakes his head.

“I already have a gorgeous wife, so I understand the struggle.” His words are sweet, but you can tell that there’s a lingering ‘but’ in there somewhere. “That’s not what I was talking about, though.”

And there it is.

“What do you mean?” You ask, teeth sinking into your plush lower lip, which prompts a pointed look from your husband. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” His words aren’t mocking by any means, his tone is soft and indulgent. Still, your eyebrows pinch together, your lips twisting into a small grimace.

“You’ve been doing it a lot more lately,” Spencer points out, his gaze gentle, but observant, as he looks at you. “You did it approximately ten times just in the last hour. And that is not accounting for the nearly twenty times you chewed on the end of your pencil.”

You sigh softly in frustration, raking a hand through your hair as you glare down at the pencil in your lap, like the piece of wood is the real villain here. Spencer’s quick to cut off your negative thoughts before they can even form, completely attuned to your micro expressions.

“I’m not saying this to embarrass you, sweetheart. I’m just worried. For one, chewing on random things like pencils and pen caps can damage your teeth and cause several infections transmitted by bacteria. Did you know that, for example, a cold virus can survive on a pen cap for over a week, with bacterial strains surviving for up to a month?”

“I guess not.”

“Yeah. And that’s not even mentioning your lips.”

You reach up a hand to run your fingers along your lips, hissing softly at the sting. You habitually chew on your lower lip, but these days your top lip hasn’t been safe anymore, either. You have all sorts of chapsticks and lip balms lining your vanity, laying in your purse, decorating the bathroom counter. Still, it’s never enough, not when you aren’t giving your lips the chance to recover.

“You know I’m not judging you, angel. And I know this isn’t a new development. But you’ve been doing it more frequently, and I want to know if I can help you somehow.”

He sounds so genuine that it makes your heart squeeze in your chest. It also, coincidentally, makes a familiar heat flicker in your lower abdomen.

You stand up from the loveseat, smoothing down your skirt and the Harvard sweater that you stole borrowed from his closet, before sauntering over to where he’s sitting behind the desk.

“I don’t know,” you reply with a heavy sigh, leaning your lower back against the mahogany. “I guess I’ve just been more stressed about work lately. I know that I should try to redirect my frustrations, but I don’t know how. Lollipops aren’t my thing, and they aren’t good for my teeth either. Chewing gum only works for a while, and if I have too much, my stomach starts rioting. I’m all out of options here.”

You know that you’re being very transparent about your faux dilemma —which isn’t completely fake, actually, but you’re definitely playing it up. He catches on immediately, of course, raising one of his eyebrows as his lips twitch into an amused smirk. Being the indulgent, sweet husband he is, though, he doesn’t point it out. Instead, he pushes his chair away from the desk, making space for you as he spreads his legs.

“I think I know just the thing you need.” His tone is still mellow, but there’s a darker edge to it now, something that you know to recognise as desire. “Kneel down for me, sweetheart.”

You’re on your knees before he even finishes his sentence, making him chuckle fondly while you blink up at him. You reach out a hand to touch the bulge that’s formed in his slacks, and while you know that it never takes much from you to turn him on, you have a sneaking suspicion that watching you chew on your pencil and bite your lips for the past hour may have been what got him so worked up in the first place.

You retract your hand when you see his raised eyebrow, understanding the warning without him having to tell you. He smiles at you in approval, and it does nothing to quell the growing need in you.

“Please, Sir,” you plead in a whiny tone, making him let out a sigh of exasperation. You know it’s just for show, and he confirms your theory with his next words.

“Only because I appreciate your manners, princess.”

Spencer finally unzips his slacks, pushing down his briefs just enough for his heavy cock to spring free. Just the sight of his length has you salivating, looking at the flushed tip and prominent veins like you are seeing the second coming of Christ himself.

“Look at you, drooling over yourself just from seeing my cock,” Spencer murmurs softly, carding a hand through your hair gently. “You want it that badly, huh? You dirty little slut.”

All you can do is nod enthusiastically in response, biting down on your lip. Noticing this, Spencer cups your jaw gently, his thumb swiping over your abused skin, freeing it from your teeth.

“None of that, sweetheart. Come here.”

He guides you closer to his erection, your thighs rubbing together from anticipation. Your lips are so close that you can taste him in the air, but you don’t do anything yet. Not until he gives you the word.

“Such a good girl. So patient for me.” Spencer’s tone is close to reverent as he praises you, watching with something akin to fascination as your gaze briefly leaves his cock, in favour of looking up into his eyes.

“Go on, baby. Take what’s yours.”

You’re on him as soon as he gives you the permission, moaning whorishly at his taste. You lick a fat stripe along the underside of his length, before swirling your tongue around his tip. You repeat the sequence a few times, feeling rewarded by the sounds leaving Spencer’s lips, and you can already feel your panties sticking to your dripping cunt, even though he hasn’t even touched you yet.

When you finally wrap your lips around his flushed, leaking tip, Spencer and you moan at the same time. You swirl your tongue and suck like he’s your personal lollipop, whining obscenely, like you are the one getting head.

His hand moves to the back of your head, his fingers twisting into your hair, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t make you take him deeper. He just lets you enjoy yourself on his cock, hissing out a curse when you finally take more of him into your warm mouth.

“You’re doing so good, angel. You look so beautiful like this, fuck. You needed this, huh? Needed that pretty mouth stuffed full of my cock.”

You moan around him pornographicaly, your eyes glazing over as you look up at him, your throat bobbing around him as you nod, making him let out a delicious sound in return.

You take more of him, as much as you can, your tongue continuing to run along his shaft, as you bob your head slowly up and down his length.

“Jesus Christ, baby, you’re an absolute vision,” he whimpers out the praise, his fingers tightening in your hair to ground himself, head tipping back against his chair. “Go on, sweetheart, just like that.”

You would love to do as you’re told, but you know that if you continue on like this, it won’t take long before he cums, and this ends. And you simply never want it to end, never want his beautiful length to leave the confines of your throat.

You humm around him apologetically as you still your movements and lay your head down on his thigh, with his cock still inside your mouth. Spencer looks down at you with a quizzical expression, to which you only respond with innocent puppy dog eyes, that are hazy with lust, and your cheeks hollowing around him for a second, before relaxing your mouth around him.

Spencer huffs in amusement and fondness, his free hand moving to caress your face gently, his thumb brushing over the bulge in your cheek, from having him in your mouth.

“Aw, you just need me in your mouth for as long as possible, right sweetheart? Warming my cock, while you hump my foot like a bitch in heat. My perfect little cock drunk whore.”

You don’t even realise what you’re doing until he calls you out on it, making you whimper around him needily. And true enough, somewhere along the line, your thighs parted around his leg, your hips grinding your wet pussy against his dress shoe, making the material shiny with your slick. You can’t bring yourself to feel bad about it though, matter of fact, your hips only pick up the pace, once you are aware of what you’re doing.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good.” Spencer’s soft encouragement has you whining around him as you grind your throbbing pussy against his shoe, your moans and whimpers vibrating around his shaft. “Mmh, so good for me. You gonna cum like this, angel? Is my perfect slut going to cum on my shoe, with my cock in her mouth, like the dirty little whore she is?”

You can’t answer him properly, but the need in your eyes definitely does. He continues stroking your hair tenderly as you get yourself off on his foot, and it isn’t long until you’re squeezing his ankle between your thighs, your whole body shuddering as your orgasm wracks through your body. Your throat relaxes around him, until your nose is buried in his neatly trimmed pubic hair, his moan loud enough to cover up your quiet gagging.

“Good girl. Did so well for me. You’re so beautiful, just for me.” He continues murmuring soft praises as you come down from your high, before he pulls you off his cock, just enough so that you aren’t deep throating him anymore, letting you catch your breath, as much as you can.

“You did so good, my love. Do you need me to take over for you? Want me to fuck your throat, sweetheart?”

The idea nearly makes you shiver in anticipation, managing a small nod in response. He gives you a soft smile, before standing up from his chair, tapping your cheek twice to make you open your mouth. You do so obediently, sticking out your tongue, that earns you a reverent “good girl”.

“You know what to do if it’s too much,” he says, his fingers tightening around your hair, and you barely have the time to nod, before his hips snap forward harshly.

Spencer doesn’t fuck your throat often, he likes watching you take his cock at your own pace and volition, and ultimately, he prefers going down on you anyways. But when he does, there is nothing hesitant about it. He fucks your mouth like he fucks your cunt, with deep, precise thrusts, holding you still, so you can’t squirm away. Your eyes fill up with tears from gagging around him, which he seems to enjoy, his eyes dark and heated as they take in your appearance.

That’s not to say that he has no compassion. Though he isn’t particularly gentle, after every deep thrust, he pulls back just enough to let you breathe, and he even reminds you to relax your throat from time to time.

“Mhm, there you go, sweetheart. Just breathe for me, yes, good girl. You’re so perfect, baby, you were made to take my cock.”

His praises come in the form of sharp gasps and whimpers between pants, looking absolutely gone as you look up at him. His eyebrows are pinched, his lips parted, and his nose scrunches up every time he has to remind himself to open his eyes, not wanting to miss the sight of you on your knees, with a mouthful of his cock.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum like this, twitching harshly in your mouth, making you dizzy with the taste of precum he’s leaking on your tongue. Your only warning is a choked “fuck, baby, gonna—“ and then his hips buck against your face, his tip spurting warm cum down your throat, as he trips over the edge with a moan of your name. You attempt to swallow as best as you can, your tongue tracing his shaft to clean him off, before you finally pull off, letting out a few shaky coughs as you try to catch your breath.

He is on his knees in front of you in a second, large hands cradling your face, like you are the most precious thing on the planet. Even through the fog in your brain, you have enough brainpower to think ‘holy fuck, I’m married to the most beautiful person in the world’. His face is flushed, his hazel irises looking almost black with how wide his pupils are from the lingering effects of his high. His brows are furrowed in slight concern, and his glasses sit a little crooked on the slope of his nose. His lips are red from the way he was biting them —ironic, huh?— and they’re also moving, making you realise that he’s talking to you.

“…you listening?”

You barely catch the end of his question, blinking a few times as the haze finally clears from your brain, shaking your head to snap yourself back into reality.

“Sorry, what?”

Your voice is a little hoarse, which makes his eyebrows furrow even more, despite the small twitch of his lips.

“I asked if you’re alright, sweetheart,” he says, with a tone so tender that you can’t help leaning forward to kiss him gently. He kisses you back just as softly, one of his hands sliding down from your face to your neck, caressing your throat with his thumb, like he’s trying to soothe it from the outside.

“I’m okay. I was just a little… out of it,” you murmur finally as you pull back, tilting your forehead against his.

“Mhm, I know. Your voice is a little rough, baby. Does it hurt?”

You just shrug, leaning in for another kiss, and he indulges you, just like he does about everything. He pulls back before the kiss could deepen, swiping a thumb across your bottom lip when it juts out into a pout.

“Please don’t shrug this off. I want to take care of you, angel girl.” His voice is still so achingly careful, like you’re made of fine china, and you’d crumble from so much as a harsh word. You’re putty in his hands now, unable to say no to him when he asks so sweetly.

“Okay. I’d like that.” The smile he gives you after your mellow reply is radiant in the gentlest way, his adoration lighting up the room like the pinkish orange hues of the sunset.

“Can you stand up for me, darling?”

He helps you up to your feet gently, pressing careful, soothing kisses to your red knees, his hands massaging your thighs. He makes you drink some water from the glass on his desk, and then reaches into one of his drawers to give you a honey flavoured throat candy, ignoring your raspy claims of being just fine.

And then he pulls you into his lap, turning on the desk light to continue grading the essays, even after the sun has set, letting you curl up against him, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead with every paper he finishes reading. You fall asleep to the sound of his pen gliding on the paper, the grandfather clock’s rhythmic ticking, and the soft voice of your husband, telling you that he loves you more than anything.

[ratatoastwrites]

good afternoon sharks (or whatever time of day it is for you), today i’d like to humbly request your opinion on how to frame my smut 🤓

the main premise is about reader having an oral fixation, so Spencer tells her that instead of biting her lips or whtv, she should put her mouth to good use 🫦

i’ve already written the smut part, and it’s established relationship (of some kind), with softdom!Spence (purr), but idk much else about how to frame it

[ratatoastwrites]

My request guidelines 🦅

Characters I write for:

basically every popular mgg character, but let me list them lol

Spencer Reid (cm)

Chip Taylor (68 kill)

Raymond Wadsworth (suburban gothic)

Thorn (king knight)

Lesley (hot air)

Bart (how to be a serial killer)

Franklin (beginner’s luck)

Paul (500 days of summer)

I’m also open to writing for house md characters, I suppose (mostly for Chase, but eh)

and I am willing to try writing for other cm characters as well, but keep in mind that even though I know the lore, i’m only on season 8 🧚‍♀️

Things I write ✅

smut, mainly (only for fem!reader)

but also angst (gn)

and fluff if you so wish (gn) 🧞‍♀️

Things I don’t write ❌

incest

anal (f!receiving, i’m willing to write pegging, ig)

blood play

anything to do with throwing up or vom!t (i have emetophobia)

illegal age gap (mdni on my smut posts 🙏)

uhm, idk that is all i can think of for now, but if im uncomfy with what u request i’ll just tell u xx

So, yeah, that’s pretty much it

but also i’m a slow writer, so keep in mind that it might take a good few days for u to get ur req 💞

also if you’re requesting smut, pls specify abt whether u want the character to be dominant or submissive ☝️

and also also if you’re requesting fluff or angst, pls specify whether u want gn or fem reader 🥸

okey thanks bye xx

[ratatoastwrites]

Break my bed to make me wanna stay

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

nsfw, 18+ MDNI

Synopsis: Romantic relationships and intimacy don’t come naturally to you. It’s rare that you sleep with the same person twice. That is, until your wonderful friend and colleague comes along, and the two of you discover together that commitment doesn’t have to be scary.

cw: no use of y/n, reader is implied to be aro but it isn’t mentioned, fwb/situationship that can be read as a qpr, secret relationship (except it’s not really a relationship), this is just pure filth with very little plot though, sub!Spencer, brief body worship (m receiving), mommy kink, dry humping, begging (m), slight dacryphilia, sloppy kissing, unprotected p in v sex, orgasm denial (m), creampie

wc: 2047

a/n: i’ve never written cowgirl before so idk if this is any good lol 🥸

title from Say It by Flume

You and Spencer had… a complicated relationship, so to say.

You two were friends, sure. You worked together, and in your line of work, that meant seeing each other almost 24/7. You weren’t exactly besties, but there was definitely a sense of understanding and camaraderie between you two.

That wasn’t all, though. There was a side to your relationship that was hidden from the rest of the team, or rather the rest of the world. Meetings that started in dark hotel rooms and dimly lit supply closets, and escalated into giving each other keys to your apartments, ‘just in case’.

But you weren’t together. There just simply wasn’t enough room for you in Spencer’s brain, that was always so full, filled with facts and numbers and things that you wouldn’t even pretend to understand. And you just found the whole concept of love so strange and foreign, the idea of falling in love with anyone filled you with anxiety rather than butterflies.

Relationships were difficult. They were complicated and required an amount of effort that neither of you were ready to give. What you two had however, was easy. It began as quick bursts of passion that lit you up from within, a cacophony of desire, pleasure and something almost bittersweet. The uncertainty of how much this would affect your friendship. Waiting with baited breaths until this tentative peace between you two was broken, until this entanglement caused more grievance than relief.

You sometimes still found it hard to believe that it never happened. Your involvement morphed into something more comfortable, the bittersweetness and uncertainty turning into stability and understanding. You didn’t need to tiptoe around the other in fear of what might happen and how they might react. The fire was still there, only even more amplified by the sheer trust that was more than tangible between you two.

You still enjoyed sneaking into his hotel room during sleepless nights, on out of state cases, but when you had the option of having him fall apart under your hands in your own bed, it was impossible not to prefer the latter.

The way he looked in your silk sheets, his hair spread out around his head like a halo, while he looked up at you with half-lided eyes, full of devotion, made you almost dizzy. His body felt soft and warm and familiar as you pressed burning kisses from his jawline, all the way to his navel, his soft pleas only amplifying the firey desire swirling in your chest. You wanted to completely devour him, your teeth digging into his skin, your nails leaving red marks in their wake, as your fingers cascaded down his body.

“Fuck, mommy, please.”

The way those pleading words fell from his lips, his voice nothing more than a shuddering gasp, was enough to drive you completely insane. You loved having him under you like this, so sweet and pliant, looking at you with those pretty hazel eyes that seemed almost black with how wide his pupils were, as he looked up at you.

“Please what, baby?”

You continued teasing him, straightening up above him, grinding your clothed cunt down on his leaking cock. He was so desperate, twitching and squirming under you, completely naked and vulnerable, while you still had most of your clothes on. Your blouse was unbuttoned, exposing your lacy bra, and your skirt was bunched up around your hips as your thighs caged him in, straddling him and keeping him completely under your mercy.

You could feel his hips buck upwards, desperately trying to get more of that delicious friction that you were providing. You tsked at his eagerness, raising your hips off him, causing him to whine in frustration.

“Don’t be rude. If you want something, you have to ask for it. Do you need me to remind you of your manners, or are you going to be a good boy for me?”

He shook his head quickly, desperately, his brows furrowing as he looked up at you with pleading puppy dog eyes.

“No. No, I’ll be good, mommy, I promise.”

“Good,” you purred, leaning down to trace his collarbone with your tongue, nipping at his milky skin. He whimpered in response, hips twitching under you, but he held back, just like you ordered him to. “Now, what does my good boy need?”

You straightened back up, your hips continuing to roll against his, making him moan softly. You didn’t stop though, hardly let him think, watching with a smug expression as his lips parted and closed uselessly.

“You,” he managed to gasp out after a few long seconds. “Need to feel you. Need to be inside of you. Please.”

You hummed in response, like you were contemplating his request, watching as his eyes glossed over in desperation. Your hands slowly slid down his chest, then traced his waist, before finally settling on his abdomen. His muscles clenched wherever you dragged your fingers, trembling under you with need. Like he could just burst at the seams from arousal, despite the fact that you’ve barely touched him.

“Well, I suppose you’ve been a fairly good boy today,” you sighed with a musing tone. “I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t give you what you want.”

Spencer moaned at your words, like your agreement was almost as good as being inside you. He looked up at you, like you were some deity, watching with parted lips and baited breath, as you pulled your soaked panties to the side, and finally sunk down on him.

The sound he let out was borderline pornographic, a loud, wounded whine, that turned into a moan at the end. His eyes were half-lidded, filled with need and want, but he knew better than to voice them, taking whatever you were willing to give him.

“Thank you,” he managed to gasp out shakily, which made you smile in satisfaction. “You feel so good, mommy.”

“That’s my polite boy,” you cooed, leaning down and giving him a deep, open-mouthed kiss, causing him to moan into your mouth.

“You’re so pretty,” you continued praising him, your lips moving to trail across his jaw. “I love seeing you like this. Love having you like this. So good for me.”

Your lips continued kissing down his neck, nipping at his pulse point, while your fingers mapped his torso, gently. You could feel him twitching inside of you, while small, needy whimpers left his lips. But he didn’t say anything, trying his very best to be good for you.

When you raised your hips, before sinking down on him again, though, he couldn’t help himself. His hands flew to your hips with a loud moan, his fingers grasping at the fabric of your skirt, like it was his only anchor to reality. Normally, you would’ve teased him about it, or depending on your mood, maybe even punished him for touching you without permission. You were in a giving mood though, or so it seemed, because you just gave him a sharp grin, before continuing to move your hips on top of him, relishing in the way he gasped and mewled under you.

“H-ah, mommy, mommy, feels so good, ah, mommy, you’re so t-ight.” Spencer was a moaning, whining mess under you, his fingers gripping your skirt tightly, while his head was thrown back from the sheer pleasure of having you ride him.

“Eyes on me, baby,” you reminded him, tapping his cheeks to make him look at you. “I won’t let you come if you don’t keep looking at me.”

You could tell he was close, could see it on his face, hear it in his sweet sounds. Your hands slid up his body to rest on his chest, leaning over him to hover your face above his. You arched your back, making each grind and bounce of your hips even deeper, making him tense up under you, his eyes screwing shut as his orgasm threatened to overtake him.

“I’m so close mommy, mnh, ‘m gonna c–“

“No, you’re not,” you huffed, pulling off him completely, raising your hips so that you were still hovering over him, but he received no ounce of friction at all.

His eyes snapped open with a strangled cry, looking at you like you just stabbed him in the back. His cock was a twitching, red mess on his stomach, leaking so much precum, that you almost took pity on him. Almost.

“Why?” Spencer half-asked, half-sobbed. His eyes were teary with need and desperation, and you knew that you were being a little cruel, ripping him away from his orgasm like this.

“I told you baby, didn’t I? I won’t let you come if you don’t keep your eyes on me,” you reminded him with a tut, tapping his cheeks lightly.

He threw his head back with a defeated whine, his hands sliding down from your hips to your thighs.

“Please,” he begged, looking up at you with tear-filled, kicked puppy eyes. He knew that it was your weakness, he knew what it did to you to see him so close to tears. “Please, mommy, I’ll be so good, I promise. Let me come, please.”

You sighed deeply, like he was asking the world of you. In reality though, this was just as hard for you, as it was for him. You ached to feel him inside of you again, longed to finish what you started and make yourself come all over his cock.

“I’ll cut you a deal, baby,” you said finally, looking at him with a small smirk. “If you let me use you to get off, like a good boy, I might let you come. But only after I’m satisfied. Got it?”

“Yes, yes, mommy, please, anything, make yourself feel good, please.”

He sounded so eager, so desperate, that you couldn’t hold back anymore. You sunk down on him again, tearing a loud moan from Spencer’s chest, but you didn’t focus on that. You began riding him earnestly, giving him no time to adjust to the feeling. You alternated between bouncing on his cock, and grinding his tip against your cervix, letting out a few moans of pleasure yourself.

Spencer was looking up at you with a slack jaw, admiration shining in his teary eyes, as he laid there and let you use him like a personal sex toy. He was turned on beyond belief, moaning and whimpering with each movement of your hips.

“Oh my god, mommy, you’re so beautiful like this. Feels so good, you– fuck, ah.”

One of your hands moved between your legs, as you began circling your clit. It made you clench around Spencer, while you threw your head back, your face scrunching up in pleasure.

“Please,” he moaned desperately, trembling and aching under you, longing for your release, just like he was longing for his own. “Please, mommy. Want to feel you come around my cock, wanna feel you–“

His words trailed off into a cry of pleasure, when you finally came, clamping down around him tightly, as your walls pulsed around him.

He was a begging, crying mess under you now, desperate pleas and whines tumbling from his lips, needing to hear your permission so he could finally finish.

“Go ahead, baby. You’ve earned it.”

And with those words, he came almost instantly, filling up your pussy with his warm spend. You continued rolling your hips, letting him ride out his high, while you leaned down and kissed him deeply, letting him pull you down on top of him, as his arms wrapped around your waist.

You stayed like that for a good few minutes, just trading lazy kisses and gentle touches. You kissed his tears away, while gently carding your fingers through his messy hair, whispering sweet, comforting nothings to him.

You knew that you would soon need to clean up. That you two couldn’t stay like this forever. But for now, you didn’t dare popping this peaceful bubble around you two. Maybe it would all come tumbling down between you tomorrow, or the day after that, but for now, you wouldn’t let yourself worry about that. Not when you had Spencer in your bed, in your arms, and for the first time, being with someone like this didn’t feel terrifying.

[ratatoastwrites]

Honey's very cool, not at all mediocre masterlist 🧚‍♀️

aka the fics I've written so far, and the fics I have in the oven (currently cooking 👩‍🍳)

Hazbin Hotel

Alastor x reader

Son coeur est le tien

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid x reader

The Tell-Tale Heart

Victoria's secret

unsub!reader blurb

Playing house

You feel like Home

aftercare hc's

It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to

Break my bed to make me wanna stay

Habits and Distractions

wips

Spencer Reid x reader

Price to Pay

These two

miscellaneous

req guidelines

[ratatoastwrites]

It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to

Spencer Reid x reader

Synopsis: Your birthday is definitely not a joyous occasion for you. Luckily, your cute neighbour might just make it a little better.

wc: 825

cw: kind of hurt/comfort, can be read as platonic, no gendered pronouns (if i remember correctly) but reader own a skirt, pretty short, open ending-ish, reader is straight up not having a good time, but nothing extra happens, oh and reader is in college/uni

a/n: guess who’s turning 22 in less than half an hour!! 🧌 this is mostly a vent fic, but i just made up some parts to make it less personal lol. um but yea, I wish I had Spencer Reid to cheer me up on my not-so-good bday (even though it’s not technically my bday yet)

also!!! i realised that i’m not the best at writing fluff, but if you guys want a smutty continuation to this, feel free to yell at me in my inbox 🧚‍♀️ oh and my wips are still cooking, it’s just busy season at uni for me #businessmajor

Arriving back at your apartment, you all but slammed your bag down next to the shoe rack, before kicking off your converse like a fussy toddler. Tears were already clouding your vision, hot, angry, frustrated, making your vision blurry as you trudged deeper into your home.

You flopped down onto your couch, face down, tears silently pouring out of your eyes. You stayed like that for approximately thirty seconds, before springing up with a gasp, realising that your wet, runny makeup was soaking into the throw pillow’s fabric — a fuzzy, dusty pink, because of course it had to be a light colour.

You stood up from your couch, beginning to pace the carpeted floor of your living room, while your hands rubbed your face, further smudging your already murky makeup. Your fingers slid into your hair, grasping at your messy strands, before you finally sank down into a sitting position, on the edge of the couch.

And then you just lost it. Your sobs filled your otherwise quiet apartment, the sound so broken and pitiful, that if someone overheard, they’d think you just received the worst news of your life. Your shoulders shook with the force of your sobs, your body trembling from the sheer sadness and irritation you were experiencing.

It was your birthday. Something that was supposed to be a joyous occasion, and yet, it always ended up being the most cursed part of your year. You woke up with sore joints, the kind that even your morning yoga routine couldn’t quite fix. Then, you burnt your scrambled eggs, and fixing that mess made you late for class —a lecture that you already really didn’t want to attend. It was nearing final’s season, which was a constant, added layer of stress as well, and you were up to your ears with studying and assignments and deadlines.

Your mood was already sour, and it seemed like the universe was only trying to test your limits further. The barista got your order wrong, and then acted all pissy when you dared to complain. You had a fight with one of your friends, then another altercation with another one of your friends.

And the very worst thing, that ruined your mood whenever it crossed your mind: your skirt. Specifically, your vintage Gerry Weber skirt, that was used to be in perfect condition, despite the fact that you had found it at a thrift store for one (1!) dollar, on sale. It was your pride and your joy. Until yesterday, when you put it into the washing machine, and it came out five sizes smaller, and with the underskirt hanging out on the bottom. Ruined. Just like your life.

You were considering ordering some unhealthy takeout and a bottle – or two – of wine, just to dull your sorrows a little, when you heard a knock on your door. You raised your head from your hands, sniffling in confusion. You weren’t expecting anyone —if you had, you wouldn’t have let yourself end up looking like a pitiful mess.

You were considering ignoring it, but then whoever was on the other side decided to knock again. You stood up with a shaky sigh, trying to wipe your face with the sleeves of your sweater, in the hopes of looking less ghastly when you opened the door.

Whoever you were – or weren’t – expecting, it definitely wasn’t your very pretty, very awkward looking neighbour, who was shifting from one foot to the other in front of your doorway.

“Spencer?” You asked, like you couldn’t quite believe your eyes. Your voice was rough, hoarse and wet from all the crying and the force of your sobs.

“Yeah, hi. Uhm, I was just stopping by to say happy birthday, but… Are you okay?”

He sounded so sweet, so genuine in his concern, that it tugged on your heartstrings. But what really did it was the fact that he remembered your birthday. He remembered, and he cared enough to show up at your door, to wish you a happy birthday, despite his hectic schedule. Despite the fact that the two of you have only spoken a handful of times before, in the past three months that you’ve been living next to him.

“Do you want to come in?” You asked, the words leaving your mouth before your brain could even register them. “I mean, you don’t have to, of course. I know that you’re super busy, I just–“

“Sure,” he cut off your rambling with a small, charmingly awkward smile. “I have a feeling that we could both use some company.”

And so you stepped to the side with a small, but genuine smile, letting him enter your apartment.

Sure, you didn’t particularly like your birthday. It somehow always ended up being the shittiest part of your year. But if it ended with your sweet, endearingly nerdy neighbour in your living room, well… Maybe it wasn’t the worst day of your life, after all.

[ratatoastwrites]

Do you have any aftercare fics? I love your writing

My Spencer Reid aftercare HCs <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader (can be read as gn!afab!reader)

a/n: sorry for the long wait anon 😭 i’m really not great at writing aftercare, so these are just my hcs 🧚‍♀️ but i hope you’ll like it 💕

cw: mentioned sex, mentioned sub! and dom!Spencer (he’s a switch in my mind teehee), bruising after intimacy (hickeys, teeth marks, general bruising) but it’s all consensual, cleaning up together, Spencer is a Sweetheart Angel Darling, this is mostly just fluff <3, also I edited this in my economic politics class, so if there are any spelling mistakes or anything, i’m sorry 😭

suggestive content, 18+ MDNI

he’s clingy after sex

i’m talking cuddling, head on chest, legs tangled

there’s barely any room between you two, barely any surface of your skin that isn’t touching

only for, like, half an hour at most, though, before he makes you get up, reminding you to pee

he’s definitely the type that reminds you to pee after sex, even if you’re tired

this man won’t take any chances of you getting a UTI, or anything like that

likes to clean up together after sex

it could be taking a shower together, but baths are much preferred for him

sometimes when you’re both too tired, he’ll make do with a wet towel

but i think that he wouldn’t want you to do all the work, even if he was the more submissive one between you two

he does like getting taken care of, he likes it when you help him clean up in the shower

but if you just want to clean him up and then take care of yourself, he won’t have it

he also gets sleepy after sex pretty often

with how demanding his job is, sometimes he only has energy for one round and then a quick clean up, and then he’s out quicker than lightning

when he gets more dominant, sometimes he’ll get carried away and leave marks and bruises on your skin, in the heat of the moment

he always makes sure to take extra good care of you after that

he massages your sore legs or hips, presses featherlight kisses to the love bites, or teeth marks on your skin

his touch is tender and gentle as his fingers ghost over the bruises in the shape of his fingers on your skin

he has a certain look in his eyes after nights like that, a mixture of guilt and satisfaction –like he’s pleased that you’ve been marked and branded as his, but he doesn’t like the fact that it means you getting bruises

you always reassure him that it’s fine and that you liked it, which seems to placate him, at least for a while

sometimes, on his rare days off, he’ll take the time to properly worship your body, going multiple rounds during the day

he always makes sure that you get enough hydration and nutrition during the breaks between rounds, makes sure to check in on you every step of the way

he’s also big on pillow talk

he’ll ask about your day, and he’ll share what he can about his, mixing in fun facts and statistics when he thinks they’re relevant

this man will talk until he’s out cold –sometimes even after that, soft, unintelligible mumbles leaving his lips in his sleep

he’ll also continue clinging to you during the night, like you’re his only anchor to this mortal realm

all in all: Spencer is a very clingy lover, especially after being intimate with you. He’d also rather die than to slack off on taking care of you. He’s the biggest sweetheart ever, and you can’t believe how you ever got this lucky. <3

[ratatoastwrites]

i’m currently working on a request, but after i post that, i already have two fics planned 🥸

so here’s a little sneak peek for you guys 🧚‍♀️

they’re both about halfway done, so i might have to change/add to the cws a little, but eek! 🐁 so fun! ✨

these might be the most self-indulgent fics i’ve ever written (so far) lol, but i hope you guys will like them 🧚‍♀️💕

[ratatoastwrites]

Ok ok smut. I keep thinking about how the BAU is often gone on longer cases and a Spencer who missed his girlfriend on a long case and just wants to be really close to her so like clingy...maybe some cockwarming...umm yeah imma see myself out byyyeeeee

-🌞

a/n: i’m literally so sorry that this took me six months to post 😭 i literally have no words omg. but i totally loved!!!! this request and it was so much fun to write and i really hope that i did it justice 💕🧚‍♀️ (even though i feel like the ending might be a teensy bit rushed 😭) also also also: today is mgg’s birthday! omg! i love me a pisces man 🧎‍♀️‍➡️

well, without further ado

You feel like Home

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

nsfw, 18+ MDNI

cw: no use of y/n, Spencer calls reader Angel, smut, cockwarming, dry humping (barely though), words to describe the female genitalia, unprotected p in v sex, mentioned rough sex, Spencer is described as “pussy-whipped” (he is), kissing, some light making out ig, and umm maybe softdom!Spence (?) idrk tho, also english is not my first language so im sorry if this isn’t grammatically pristine

• Before he met you, Spencer had no real qualms about his work schedule

• Sure, it was a bit of a hassle to travel for work so much, but let’s face it, he didn’t really have anything better to do

• While the rest of the team complained when they had little to no free time between cases, he was secretly happy for the distraction from his mostly uneventful life

• After he met you, though…

• To put it simply, Spencer was obsessed with you

• He fell fast and he fell hard, and now every second thought in that big brain of his was about you

• He most definitely would’ve spent every waking moment with you if that was possible

• Or inside you

• Pussy-whipped was one of the best ways to describe him

• But could you really blame him? You were beautiful, and alluring, and your skin was so soft under his touch, and you always smelled and tasted divine…

• Yeah, it was safe to say that you had him completely wrapped around your finger

• And now he suddenly understood why it was such a nuisance to have to travel across the country on a random thursday afternoon, for an unforeseeable amount of days

• He tried to call you as often as possible, but most of the time he was either too busy or your schedules just simply didn’t align

• It was no different on this case, and to make matters even worse, this time he had to go five whole days without seeing you, and three without getting to hear your voice

• So when he finally arrived home to your shared apartment, seeing you in one of his oversized sweaters, looking so inviting and cozy on the couch, smiling at him so sweetly as you greeted him…

 

“Spence,” you giggled softly, tilting your head to the side to grant him easier access, as he pressed gentle kisses to your neck. You were seated in his lap, your arms around his neck, and his hands on your thighs on either sides of his hips. He has refused to let go of you ever since he came home almost an hour ago, his hands and lips not leaving your skin for even a second, as if he was afraid that you would disappear like a mirage.

“Hm?” He hummed against your neck, his lips focusing on your pulse point. He nipped and sucked on your pristine skin, covering it with small love bites. They would fade by the morning, but for now, he relished in getting to decorate you with his marks, like a physical reminder that you were his.

Your breath hitched, only letting out the shuddering breath that you sucked in, when his hands finally moved under your –his– sweater. You very quickly forgot what you were about to say, your hips rolling against his with a small, needy sound.

“Angel.” Spencer’s voice was soft, if a bit choked, his hands quickly sliding down to hold your hips. “I want to take my time with you tonight. Will you let me?”

You bit down on your lower lip, feeling your lower regions ache with desire from how he wound you up with his casual, gentle kisses and touches. At the same time though, you were feeling just as clingy as he was. You didn’t want this to end for a long time, didn’t want to rush into an orgasm.

So you just nodded, cupping Spencer’s cheeks as you leaned in to kiss him languidly. Your lips moved in sync, in a familiar, well-practiced dance, while you raised your hips to allow him to pull off your shorts and panties.

You reached down to the hem of your sweater, but he caught your wrists, stopping you from taking it off.

“Leave it on. Please,” he said, adding the adverb almost as an afterthought. “I like making you mine in my own clothes.”

And oh, that just simply wasn’t fair. He couldn’t seriously say stuff like that and expect you not to drag you needy, wet cunt against the noticeable bulge in his pants. You both moaned at the same time from the friction, and this time he didn’t have it in him to tell you to stop.

You kissed him deeply, moving your hands to unbuckle his belt, while he unzipped his pants –a combined effort, to get his poor, aching hardness out of the confines of his slacks as fast as possible.

There were very little words exchanged, lips parting as you both sighed into eachother’s mouths, once you finally sank down on his length.

“Jesus Christ, Angel. I missed you so much,” he whispered hotly against your lips, before dipping his head down, to press his lips to your throat.

It was hard to stay still at first. As much as you wanted to drag this out, his tip was nudging your cervix so deliciously that you couldn’t help but clench around him tightly. You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt him twitch inside you in response, while he whined against your skin.

But after a few minutes, you finally settled. It felt incredible, being connected with him so intimately, bodies and souls entwined on your couch. You kissed him lazily, before asking him about his day, his time away, letting him talk to you about the case –well, as much as he was allowed to tell you about it.

You talked and cuddled and just stayed in eachother’s embrace. Because after so long, you were finally reunited, and you’d be damned if you didn’t make the most of it.

And if a while later, after you’ve already discussed everything and caught up with eachother, he finally pounded you into the couch, well… You definitely weren’t one to complain about that either.

[ratatoastwrites]

Playing house

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

[this was specifically written with s2 bratty(suffering from withdrawal)!Spencer in mind 🧚‍♀️]

Synopsis: “has a PhD in engineering and thinks that Ikea manuals are for stupid people” boyfriend vs “isn’t really a good handyman but is determined to follow the rules” s/o get into a bit of an argument 🫢

a/n: it’s me woo! did y’all miss me? 🌝 ofc u did!! 🥰 jkjk but umm i was inspired to write this bcuz i actually got a new chair from ikea a few days ago and i almost ripped out all my hair by the time i managed to put it together ✨ i was listening to the Like a Prayer EP from deadpool & wolverine for the whole two (2) hours it took me to put it together as well lmao 🪑 also, the pic on the left of the moodboard is my own ikea manual on the exact page i messed up!! fun 🧚‍♀️ also, did u guys like that i included a synopsis this time? i hope u did ;)

cw: light angst, arguing about something that shouldn’t really be a cause of an argument, reader has one (1) violent thought but doesn’t actually mean it and also doesn’t act on it ofc, allusion to Spencer’s addiction/withdrawal, some kinda unhealthy thoughts, Spencer is a bit 🤏 of an asshole in the beginning, mostly fluffy ending, also kinda rushed ending which is my bad :( sorry

“This is stupid. And you’re doing it wrong.”

You scoffed in exasperation at your boyfriend’s complaints, but otherwise kept your focus on the task at hand.

You’ve been trying to assemble your new desk chair for the past half hour, while Spencer loomed over your hunched figure, like an unhelpful little devil on your shoulder.

“Well, why don’t you do it then?”

You mumbled under your breath, not necessarily wanting him to hear. He did anyway.

“Well, I would. If you weren’t so insistent on using the manual.”

You could quite literally hear the eye roll in his tone, and while you usually didn’t mind his bratty attitude, right now it wasn’t helping your already frustrated mood.

“Oh, right. Silly me, using the manual that tells me how to assemble this piece of- furniture.”

You had to try your hardest not to start cursing, not wanting to let this swedish nightmare of a chair get the better of you. Spencer sighed behind you, and you were secretly hoping that it was a sigh of resignation.

“I have a PhD in engineering, do you really think that I don’t know how to assemble a chair from Ikea?”

Your hopes were proven to be futile, just like every other time you found yourself not seeing eye to eye with your boyfriend. You took a deep breath, not wanting to turn this petty argument into an actual fight.

“I don’t know, Spencer. And I’m not interested in finding out. I just don’t understand what you’re trying to prove by refusing the very idea of using the manual.”

Your tone became a little sharper by the end, although it wasn’t actually aimed at him. As you read over the manual again, you realised that you messed up the last step, cursing quietly under your breath as you had to undo the last eight screws in the armrests.

“Good thing you were using the manual.”

You were seriously contemplating throwing the screwdriver at your boyfriend’s smartass head after his smug comment. However, you just slowly put it down instead, before standing up from your place on the carpet, ignoring the crackling in your knees as you turned around to face him.

“Spencer, I love you more than words could describe, but you’re seriously getting on my last nerve right now. I’m going to make myself a cup of tea, do not follow me please.”

You told him with eerie calmness, before walking out of the living room and towards the kitchen.

You tried to ignore the guilt gnawing at your stomach at how annoyed you’d gotten over something so trivial. You knew that he was going through a rough patch in his life, and you couldn’t blame him for being more annoying than usual. But you couldn’t always have the patience of a saint, and you were already quite worked up about that stupid chair.

‘I just need a few moments of peace. Then I’ll go back and pretend like everything is okay. As per usual.’

You tried telling yourself, blocking out the voices saying how unhealthy that sounded.

You went through the steps of making your tea, doing your best to silence the myriad of emotions swirling in your chest. By the time you finished your hot beverage and put your cup in the sink, all your previous frustrations were gone, replaced by only tiredness. The weight of the day weighed on your shoulders as you dragged yourself back to the living room, although the slight aching in your muscles quickly faded to the back of your mind when you took in the sight waiting for you in there.

“Wh- Spence?”

You were dumbfounded as you looked at your boyfriend, who was standing next to your -now assembled!- chair with a sheepish smile.

“I, uh, put it together for you. All according to the manual, of course.”

His tone was almost shy, and he gave you the sweetest puppy dog eyes imaginable, which never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“But I thought the manual was stupid.”

You stepped closer to him, still feeling a little confused, but your gaze softened in fondness as you looked at him. He shuffled on his feet a little, glancing between you and the chair awkwardly.

“It is. But it doesn’t matter. According to the studies, most healthy relationships are based on compromises. I guess I just realised that I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately.”

You frowned at his words, stepping even closer to him, until you were almost toe to toe. You didn’t like it when he talked about himself like that, and he quickly understood your expression.

“You know it’s true. You’ve been nothing but patient and accepting since I… And I can’t even swallow my pride for an hour to help you put together a piece of furniture.”

He continued before you could argue, and your heart broke as he trailed off mid-sentence. You knew that it was hard for him to acknowledge what he was going through, and you really wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he didn’t do anything wrong. But you knew that those empty words of comfort wouldn’t do your relationship any good.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. But Spence, I don’t want you to think that me being there for you is a chore, or a sacrifice. I’m being patient and accepting, because I love you.“

You told him, reaching your hands out to hold his, interlocking your fingers as you smiled at him softly.

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. And you being a little annoying about a stupid chair doesn’t make you a bad boyfriend. Not to mention that you ended up putting it together for me.”

You nodded your head towards the aforementioned furniture next to you, squeezing his hand a bit tighter as you smiled at him fondly.

“I don’t deserve you.”

He said softly, tilting his forehead against yours.

“Negative. You deserve only good things in your life.”

You told him, before capturing his lips in a gentle kiss.

The two of you didn’t always agree, and you could both be incredibly stubborn. But at the end of the day there was nothing you wouldn’t do for your beautiful, intelligent, sweetheart of a boyfriend, no matter how much he tested your patience. And you knew that he felt the exact same way about you.

🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

Bonus badly edited pic of Spencer in my new chair ✨

[ratatoastwrites]

My dearest pookies, y’all better prepare because I’m going to post about bratty!spencer x reader tonight 😼

It won’t be smut this time (who am I), because idk I was in the mood to write almost-angst lol

but ughhh i’m obsessed with bratty spence (specifically from s2) gosh 😫

also Price to Pay is still going to happen, I just got inspired to write this one thing real quick first 🧚‍♀️

[ratatoastwrites]

The thought of Professor reid got me sweating..

Me too tbh 🫣

[ratatoastwrites]

dude i just found your blog and i’m obsessed with your writing style PLEASE MORE SPENCER REID I BEG

aww omg tysm 🥹❤️‍🩹

I actually wasn’t sure if I wanted to continue writing for him, but then an idea came to me today like a vision, so now you made me want to share it with the class lol 🧚‍♀️

So, basically it would probably either be a longer fic or a multi chapter one, idk yet

And like I usually don’t write longer stuff like that cuz I have commitment issues, but this one is calling my name like Hamilton called Lin Manuel Miranda’s 🗣️

(jeez i just realised that i wrote man instead of men lmao)

(also fun fact i picked the title from the song genie in a bottle cuz im lame and unoriginal)

The only issue I have is that I’m only on s3 of cm so I would need to do a LOT of research first lmao, so I wanted to ask if y’all would even be interested in the idea xoxo also i just simply cannot promise that it’s going to be very lore accurate but hhhhhhhhhh idk idk

OH BTW I DO KNOW THAT HE ISN’T IN CM EVOLUTION, I just thought that it would be fun to imagine that this is what he’s been up to lmao 🫡

there would be smut (ofc), probably hella angst, possibly some fluff and also probably some more violent themes (cuz it is technically about a case yk)

ALSO i’m not telling y’all if reader is actually the unsub or not ✨🥰

🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

[ratatoastwrites]

we have a lot of laughs and fun on my writing account, but i just genuinely think it is important for me to raise awareness 🩵

Whew, I’ve really been debating whether I should make this post or not, but I’ve decided that it is my civic duty as a fellow cyster to bring awareness and maybe help others understand or even recognise the symptoms and what it means to have PCOS

I could hit you guys with all the official terms and statistics, but I will let the pictures do the talking on that

I personally just thought that I should share my story and how I got diagnosed with PCOS, and how I’ve been managing since then

So, I got my first period when I was 10. Which is quite early, but it never really bothered me. I always had a very regular menstrual cycle, from the number of days I menstruated, to the length of each phase.

Well, that all stopped when I was almost 19. My periods stopped being regular, I even went 3 whole consecutive months without even ovulating once. I was always irritated, I gained a lot of weight, my skin was horrible and I just wasn’t really on top of my game in general.

But I just kept telling myself that everything would be fine. I floated through 2 years of my life without knowing if I would be getting my period each month. I didn’t understand why I was always so hormonal and I kind of started hating myself.

So this year, in the very beginning of july, now at the big old age of 21, I decided to go to the OBGYN. I was honestly scared shitless, but I was trying to gaslight myself into thinking that it would be all fine. Except it ended up not being all fine. Because I got diagnosed with PCOS.

Now, I don’t know about other OBGYNs, but mine didn’t particularly care to explain stuff to me, just gave me my papers and told me to get a bunch of tests done to find out my root cause. My regular doctor just gave me a pamphlet for dieting with diabetes/IR and basically told me to just figure things out on my own.

I think it’s honestly disgusting how little healthcare professionals seem to care about a condition that affects so many afab people. There isn’t a cure, because nobody cares to find a cure.

Well, they should.

Everyone should.

Living with PCOS isn’t easy. I have mental breakdowns about it on the weekly. I hate having to restrict what I can eat so much.

And I hate that it is worth it. I hate that I actually feel better when I don’t eat dairy, I hate that I actually feel awful physically when I eat carbs. It’s not fair.

And I hate that my sickness affects the most important (to me) aspect of my life: my fertility.

I have never not wanted children. Becoming a mother is the biggest dream I had since I was a kid. It’s my life purpose. And I might not ever get it.

But I can’t let my PCOS rule my life. I am me, first and foremost. Chronic illness or not.

And I really hope that every woman struggling with PCOS can look into the mirror at the end of the day and find buty in what she sees.

You are beautiful.

You are strong.

You are loved.

[ratatoastwrites]

I will never ever want another man the same way I want Matthew Gray Gubler

The sheer magnitude of my need for him could move literal continents if it got converted into physical force or whtv

I need him so astronomically bad that I feel like I could find the cure for every illness known to man if it meant that I could have him

[ratatoastwrites]

unfortunately, i did not drink enough lol

but i did start drafting a chip taylor fic, which might be a little less exciting to some of y’all, but he is my sweetheart, so 🤧

i’m going out drinking tomorrow and if i drink enough, i might get tempted to write some strangers to lovers spencer reid smut ✨

well it might not be actual lovers, more like a one night stand maybe 🤓☝️ idk

[ratatoastwrites]

i’m going out drinking tomorrow and if i drink enough, i might get tempted to write some strangers to lovers spencer reid smut ✨

well it might not be actual lovers, more like a one night stand maybe 🤓☝️ idk