Spencer Reid | Oneshots

It's Too Cliché ❤️‍🔥 (E)

Summary:  Reader and Spencer are the worst at friends with benefits. After an exchange of gifts & nasty words, the two reunite on a very eventful NYE.

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Content Warning: Alcohol, Implied non-con, domestic abuse, drunken smut(both references to implied dub-con & w/ blanket consent), fighting, jealousy, break ups,cheating (kiss), penetrative sex, fingering, unprotected sex

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It had started just like this.

It was  about a year ago when Spencer and I both made the stupid decision to  drink at one of Rossi's infamous dinner parties despite neither of us  ever being able to handle alcohol.

I say it was stupid, but I never once regretted it.

That  night, though, something felt different. When I was at the bar, trying  to drink away something I didn't even remember, I was so sure I wanted  to go home with him. But now that he was here, his hands raking down my  back and his breath smelling of beer instead of whiskey, I realized what  was wrong.

He wasn't Spencer.

Don't be mistaken – I'd known  he wasn't Spencer when I saw him at the bar. Of course I recognized my  ex-boyfriend and could distinguish him from my current... was fuckbuddy too crude a word to describe Spencer?

Fuck,  Spencer. That's why this felt different; it felt wrong. Because my ex's  hands didn't feel like his, and his lips didn't kiss me like Spencer  would. It hit me then, that these were the exact reasons why I was at  the bar in the first place. It was Spencer I was trying to drink away,  and it didn't fucking work.

We'd agreed at the beginning that we  wouldn't be anything more than friends who slept together, but at some  point over the past year I'd realized that "friends who sleep together"  is actually pretty close to dating. In fact, it's kind of exactly how I  would describe dating.

It wasn't until July 15th came, and we had  both gotten each other a gift for a stupid ass holiday that Spencer had  told me about, that I'd realized how completely and utterly fucked I  was.

It was bad enough that I got him something for National "Be a Dork Day," but the fact he knew to get me one back...

I  was still wearing the ring he bought me, even while another man's hand  was sliding up my shirt. I could still feel the care with which he'd  slipped it on my finger while we lay in bed, like an unspoken promise.  The thought made my stomach turn, and I knew immediately that it had  nothing to do with the alcohol.

"Hey, can we slow down?" I  slurred, clumsily pushing myself away from the man currently holding me  down against his lap. "I don't feel so hot."

"You seem pretty hot to me," he joked back, and the tone of his voice caused a chill to spread down my spine.

"No, seriously, stop."

More  forcefully now, I frantically shoved at him until I fell backwards,  unceremoniously hitting the floor. I heard more than felt my head smash  against the dresser against the wall, but I couldn't even focus on the  pain.

My ex was towering over me, waving his arms like a goddamn lunatic while he yelled, "What the fuck is your problem?!"

"My problem?" I spat back, struggling to stand on the ridiculous heels I'd insisted on wearing tonight.

"You were fine until five seconds ago!" 

Laughing  to combat the adrenaline currently coursing through me, I shouted back  at him at an even higher volume, "Well, I changed my fucking mind!"