Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Femme Fatale 🔥 (E)

Summary: Unit Chief Reid is in over his head with the newest BAU member.

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Content Warning: Spider references (only in the first few paragraphs), enemies to lovers, boss/subordinate relationship, jealousy, arguments, Reader kisses another man (not cheating), oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, penetrative sex

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It is widely believed that the black widow spider always devours her mate. The black legged woman with her belly painted red. A mascot from nature herself; an iconic image of the temptress. An inspiration for the women with vengeance to exact.

The truth, however, isn't as enticing. Only one of the three Latrodectus species is known for cannibalism, and she is not the widow. It is the redback, the one who offers her warning hidden from sight of those who face her dead on.

I'd always wondered why femme fatales preferred the image of the widow. Perhaps they wanted to flaunt the danger they represented and prove that men would succumb to them, anyway. But the truth was that, by choosing to be a widow, most of those arrogant, idiotic men would live to tell the tale, and the woman would be left with nothing but wrecked web and regret.

I had met my fair share of black widows. But she was the first of her kind.

Becoming Unit Chief of the BAU had never been a dream of mine. For a long time, I had accepted that it was simply out of the question. Not only because my neurotype didn't lend itself well to FBI optics, but because I had a history that often led to being listed on a crime board.

But somehow, I did it. I hadn't even had enough time to consider if I'd wanted it before the regret set in. My first day as chief coincided with her first day as a member of the team. What had just become my team.

She was unassuming at first blush, as so many dangers are. Whether it was fortunate or not, the troubling nature of her became obvious relatively quickly since my first view of her was actually many views in rapid succession.

That was just the kind of woman she was. She drew you in with a single smile. That was all it took to become ensnared in her web. But I was a smarter man than most. I knew not to resist. It would only entangle you faster.

We maintained a healthy distance. Or at least, we tried. Eventually, the nature of the job caught up to us. There was bound to come a time when the two of us were forced together.

That night, I watched her, knowing damn well it meant that I would be devoured. I was ready.

At least, I thought I was ready. But when I saw her, with the red light of the bar creating a spectacle of shadows across the dress desperately clinging to her body... I knew there was no being ready for a woman like her.

I didn't drink often, but I couldn't be blamed for drinking that night. It had taken her less than five minutes to pick one of many men to call her own. I watched her work through her perfected craft, and I almost pitied the man for falling for it.

'Jealous' was another word for the feeling.

After all, it had taken her less than five minutes to pick one of many men to call her own, and it hadn't been me. Even with the knowledge that the barrier between us had been self-imposed, seeing her with someone else stung worse than the alcohol. It was only made worse by her enthusiasm for his advances. The way that her head tilted slightly when he came forward until it seemed almost inevitable his lips would grace her skin. What a privilege he had been granted, only for her to look almost bored by it.