The Story That Didn't Want To Be Written | Spencer Reid x Reader

Burdens

Warnings: Mentions of addiction/relapse, mentions of homophobia, mentions of sexual assault, gaslighting by a parent, SMUT!, D/s dynamic, oral sex (female receiving), safe word, praise kink, pegging (I know, finally!), fucked-out Spencer, aftercare.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

It was a fair question. It had been an hour and neither of you were asleep. Every time you thought Spencer might be falling asleep, you would hear him quietly sign and shift a little, like he was uncomfortable. At one point you thought he might be uncomfortable because of the way you were laying, so you tried to shift to give him some more space, but his grip on you had just tightened to prevent you from moving away.

You heard him exhale contemplatively above you, his chest rising a little higher than it had since you two laid down. You felt him nod above you, his chin rubbing into your scalp as he did. You nodded into his chest in response before you gave his shoulder a little squeeze and shifted to try and sit up, which caused Spencer to tighten his grip on your waist a little bit. You took that as your cue to stay put, so you wrapped your arms around his torso and gave him a little reassuring squeeze that you weren't going anywhere.

"Should we start with that the cop said?" you asked tentatively, you had assumed he would start talking but instead he just stayed silent, so you took that as your cue to speak. You felt him nod in response above you again and he shifted a little bit before you heard his voice.

"I just- I don't understand how people still have such a problem with it. I feel like everyone always assumes I can't do my job properly or that it somehow makes me less of a man and it's just really frustrating that people still use that word as an insult." you ran your hands up and down his back as he spoke, nodding into his chest to assure him you were listening since he didn't want you to move and you didn't know how else to make him feel heard without interrupting.

"I also think it bothers me because sometimes I think if I was straight then I wouldn't have been-" his voice broke. He had started out talking normally, the past hour had seemed to calm him down but it seemed that he was worked back up again as he stumbled on that same word again. "I understand the psychology behind my mindset and that it wasn't actually my fault. I know that logically, but I just- I can't help how I feel." He took a deep breath, holding it for a moment and then shakily letting it out again.

"I just feel like it's somehow my fault it happened because I'm not straight. He wouldn't have raped me if I were straight." he said rather bluntly, you could tell he was trying to separate himself from the memory he was no doubt reliving. Your hands stopped in their tracks on his back and you elected to just hold him a little tighter, your grip around him tightening as you clutched the fabric of his shirt. You waited a few moments to see if he was done speaking, and when he didn't say anything else you took that as your cue to talk.

"Spencer, what happened to you had nothing to do with your sexuality and everything to do with the rapist that assaulted you." you reassured him, keeping him tight in your arms. You felt his jaw shake a little on the top of your head and you felt like you could almost see his bottom lip quivering. He was trying to hold himself together.

"It's not your fault, love. I promise" you added, feeling his jaw shake harder above you. He bit his lip but even that could stop the shaky exhale he let out through his nose. You shifted quickly before he could stop you, bringing your head out from under his so you could see his eyes, even in the dark you could see the way tears were starting to collect in them, reflecting the streetlight that streamed in through the cracks in the curtains that weren't closed all the way.

The sight broke you, he wholeheartedly believed what happened had been his fault, and you wanted nothing more than to convince him of otherwise.

"Baby," you cooed quietly at the sight of him trying not to cry, taking his face in your hands as the tears spilled out of his eyes before he even got the chance to blink, so heavy they fell out of the middle of his eyes. You brought your forehead to rest against his, watching as he closed his eyes and let more tears spill out of them; you silently willed the pain away but knew all you could do was attempt to comfort him.