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[reidsdimples]

Something in how aggressive this gesture is has me 🧎🏻‍♀️ and the eye contact?!? The attitude?!

Sir please slap me as hard as you can 🙏🏼

[reidsdimples]

His mouth. His MOUTH! HIS MOUTH 🗣️‼️

I just know he tastes exquisite 🧍🏻‍♀️

[reidsdimples]

Producers decided he was too distracting , he had too much power

(Real, not made up)

The amount of times I’ve seen people using clips of Boy Band Reid or saying that it’s their favorite hair era of his, I did not expect it to be ONLY TWO EPISODES???

WE ONLY GOT FLUFFY, MESSY, BOY BAND HAIR REID FOR TWO (COUNT EM (TWO)) EPISODES?????

[reidsdimples]

Save me director Matthew

(Ruin me, respectfully of course)

[reidsdimples]

Saturn | Spencer Reid x Reader

Angst 🖤

The loss of Spencer Reid. Based on Saturn by Sleeping at Last

TW: heartbreak/death

29 days. 696 hours. 41760 minutes since Spencer turned and walked away from you. You stared forward, seeing nothing, seeing everything. Your shoulders were heavy, your head far too full of all of the memories that you had no use for any longer.

Not an evening passed where you didn’t sit in this very spot in your small car and stare out into the endless body of water which seemed to call to you.

Something in the sound of crashing waves rang eerily similar to his voice in the morning. The wild breeze reminded you of his laugh when something was so funny he couldn’t stop cackling. Your fingertips burned, remembering them on his skin, remembering how he turned red with laughter as you tickled him. He positively hated it, but he laughed so hard that his face hurt and then he would entice you to do it again.

29 days and 29 nights you’d promised you wouldn’t think about him, you wouldn’t fixate on him. All it did was create exactly that outcome.

You were consumed with withdrawal from his constant closeness, his constant contact which seized 29 days ago.

You wondered what he would be doing, what city needed him, what he was reading. You wondered what jokes Derek would make to ease his pain. If he was smiling. You hadn’t smiled since he slipped away from you.

You felt like an imposter in your own skin without him. You didn’t know yourself without him, you lost yourself loving him, you died when he walked away. When you begged him not to go but he needed to. Those eyes that adored you had turned cold, disconnected. Your heart shattered under the weight of that empty gaze.

How could this have gone so very wrong?

You were once again grabbing at your chest where you were certain you could feel your heart shattering.

You wished you could forget his voice, forget the way his lips formed the words ‘I love you’ because you would never hear him say it again. You’d give anything to hear him tell you one more time that the universe was made just to be seen by your eyes. He was so sure of it.

You wanted to forget all of the times he called you beautiful and stared at you in awe as though you were the world’s most magnificent creation. You wanted to forget how it felt to render him speechless by just walking into a room.

His hands would never hold you again, you would never taste his kiss, or hear his hushed whimpering of your name in the dark. He wouldn’t dance around you in the kitchen as he rushed to make coffee in the morning, he wouldn’t hog the blanket, or the hot water again. The trivial things you took for granted didn’t seem so trivial any more.

He would taste, feel, and love someone else. Your eyes screwed shut at the unsolicited image of his lips on a strangers skin. You could still feel his panting against your throat when it all just felt too good. Your body still remembered how to fit against his, into his, around his. You were certain you were made for him.

You never wanted to learn how to fall asleep without him, never wanted to learn how to stop loving him. You never wanted to learn to live with the fact that someone else was loving him, holding him, cherishing him.

You fall to your knees in the crashing waves, sobs ravaging you until it feels like your soul is attempting to break free of its vessel.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t live without those sleepy hazel eyes above you when you awoke. He couldn’t be looking at someone else with that smile, he couldn’t be caressing someone else’s face so tenderly. He couldn’t be falling asleep while someone else was playing with his hair.

He would once do anything to make you happy, to hear you laugh, to make you feel loved. Now he did nothing. He freed himself of you, and turned his back on your heart as though he hadn’t once held it so close to his own.

Someone couldn’t just wake up one day and decide they’ve fallen out of love with you. But Spencer did. You begged and begged him to take it back, it couldn’t be true. He couldn’t just feel nothing for you out of nowhere. The confession removed your still beating heart and crushed it in his hands.

The very fabric of your being crumbled into ash in his wake.

He strolled into your life with messy hair, doe eyes, and a brilliant mind. He worshiped your body, made your heart his, learned all of your deepest fears and desires and then he… he…

The vastness of the dark ocean paled in comparison to the emptiness within you in his absence. The salty water ebbed and flowed around your waist as you took step after step.

What he had done to you was worse than cruel, it was inhuman.

He had ended you. In three years he gave you life and then he looked you in the eyes as he bled you dry.

You began to wonder as the ocean floor faded away from beneath your feet, if he’d shed a tear for you.

You couldn’t cry for him anymore. You knew you’d be broken for him as long as you breathed air. Somewhere in the mess of your mind the sea floor seemed like a better source of oxygen.

So the ocean called to you, roaring, begging. The current pulled greedily at your hips the way he once had. The stars in the night sky paled in comparison to the ones in his eyes. But they would have to do.

When that current caught hold of you, the free fall into darkness was as blissful as falling in love with Spencer Reid.

The water rushing into your ears faded into the muted sounds of his laughter. The current tugging on your hair became his fingers once more, deaths caress became his. The darkness in your vision became your face buried in his chest as you slept. The taste of salt water were his tears on your lips on those nights where his work became too much for him. The burning in your lungs felt like finally giving your heartbreak a physical form.

And when death finally met you, he wore a smile a lot like Spencer’s. You wrapped your arms around his neck, envisioning a love requited once more. When he welcomed you to eternity, your love for Spencer Reid followed you even then.

It would seem love does not cease even in the arms of death.

[reidsdimples]

[reidsdimples]

Ugh it’s perfect

this NEEDED sharing

by : @/reidifiy

[reidsdimples]

Strictly Professional | Part 5 {Finale}

18+❤️‍🔥 MDNI ‼️

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Time to confront the truth. Will you and Spence sink or swim?

Part 4 | Masterlist

“Hotch, what’s going on?” You hear Spencer say as he opens the door. You’re still in the running shower. “I have company so…”

Good, maybe Hotch will leave and not ask any questions. You decide to leave the shower on and start drying off and getting dressed. You were completely baffled, you had no idea what to do with yourself.

“I’m finalizing this case report and need more information on this part of your statement,” you hear them murmuring outside of the door.

A few minutes pass and you hear him leaving.

“Oh and one more thing,” you hear Hotch pause outside of the bathroom door. Your stomach sinks. “Y/N come on out,” he sounds exasperated.

Shit.

Fuck.

He knows, of course he fucking knows.

You open the bathroom door slowly, you’re pretty sure your face is flushed white as a ghost. Hotch looks between the two of you, his brow furrowed and his mouth set in a hard line.

“Do you understand this could jeopardize the professionalism of this team?” He shook his head, not angrily but more disappointedly. “The two of you need to have a conversation about what you’re willing to risk for one another. We will discuss the next steps back at Quantico.”

With that he turns and exits the room. You don’t know who is more stunned, you or Spence.

Spencer was about to tell you he wants more and now this. You could see his walls shooting back up, detachment becoming ever present in his eyes. He had made a home in solitude, grown cozy in loneliness’ embrace. Perhaps you had too.

“What are we-“ you start.

“There can’t be a we,” he levels his eyes on you, his tone stern. “This has to stop.”

“Are you serious?” You scoff at him. “We’re already caught Spence, we can’t undo it.”

“No but he can transfer or fire one or both of us. We can’t have sexual or romantic relationships with other members of the same unit. You know that,” he retorts.

“I get that it jeopardizes the team, you don’t think that worries me too?” You approach him and grab his arm as he turns from you. He jerks his arm away. “I think Hotch with work with us on this,” you plead.

“No. This is just too much,” he snaps.

“Fine,” you scoff. “I’ll see you in Hotch’s office tomorrow.”

With that you storm out of his room, with what little dignity you scavenge.

Tears sting your eyes when you crawl back into the far too big hotel bed. Why were you so stupid to think you could actually have him?

-

“Come in, sit,” Hotch’s stern face sends fear up your spine.

You glance at Spence who walks ahead of you, pulling his shoulder bag off and placing it on the floor. The two of you sit in the chairs facing Hotch’s desk, intimidated wasn’t a strong enough word.

Could your future at the BAU be in jeopardy? Never mind a future with Spence.

Hotch sits and looks between the two of you for a moment. Is he expecting on of you to speak?

You dare a look at Spencer, who by the looks of it, hardly slept either. At least he dozed on the jet.

“How long have you known?” Spencer asks.

“A while,” Hotch answers and scribbles something on a pad. “I realize I’ve paired you two up a lot this year. So I’m going to start there in the spirit of remedying this situation. First, the two of you will be partnered with other agents when we’re in the field,” he sighs.

“But you said yourself that we work great together,” you argue in reference to your recent evaluation.

“And I stand by that. This is about ensuring that your loyalties also lie with the other members of this team, not just one another,” his eyes bead into you.

“The manual says that it’s only forbidden once it proves to impact our job performance, it hasn’t,” Spencer says coldly.

You stare at the side of his head, was he actually fighting for this?

“It only says relationships are discouraged, but this is not a terminable offense,” Spencer adds.

“I’m not here to terminate either of you,” Hotch swears. “I’m here to ensure that this” he gestures between you. “Does not impact job performance in the future. I’ve been meaning to address this for a while.”

Spencer sighs, you do too. At least no one was losing their job.

“Now, apart from separating you two in the field…” Hotch pauses. “The team most likely already knows something is up. But don’t make it a thing, don’t make it obvious. I don’t need Strauss or the brass coming down on me about this. What you do in your off time is your business,” he says and writes something else on his notepad.

“Of course,” you nod when he glances up at you. Spencer just nods too.

“This also means no disappearing together into filing rooms or old offices,” he places his pen down and latches his fingers together. “Is that clear?”

Your face reddens. Oh fuck, he knew about that?

“Crystal,” Spencer swallows. His jaw twitches and feathers. Sex at work was definitely a terminable offense.

“Should I have to address this again, the consequences will be grave. Do not let your personal lives effect your job,” he says with finality.

You’re shaking, but you place your hands under your legs to stop it.

“Reid you’re going with Rossi and Prentiss to Dallas tonight to consult on a case there. Y/N you’re staying here with the rest of the team to work on a kidnapping in DC,” Hotch instructs and stands.

Both of you scramble to your feet like two kids in the principles office and confirm your understanding of your orders.

You leave first with your head down. You just way to focus on work, focus on the kissing kid. You meet JJ, Garcia, and Morgan at the round table to get started.

-

“Just come over,” Garcia whines later that night.

“Fine,” you laugh.

“I want to know all about what happened,” she smiles but rubs your back sympathetically.

The kidnapping case closed pretty quick, luckily the child was found safe and the unsub was taken in. You were thankful for an easier case after the last few darker ones.

Spencer would be in Dallas by now and you probably wouldn’t hear a peep from him until they got back. The two of you rarely texted, and you didn’t know where or how the two of you left things. Everything was up in the air.

Then again, you pleaded with him last night to fight for you. To some degree he did in Hotch’s office… or he was just fighting for his job. You sighed, you had no idea where his head was.

You just knew you felt sad, heavy. You wanted him, you wanted him to want you back. The whole thing sucked. Somewhere along the way you began wanting more from him while he seemed content just to have sex. The whole thing was getting messier.

You also knew you shouldn’t be telling Penelope any of this, per Hotch’s orders. But you trust her, she hadn’t told anybody when she found out.

“So he didn’t say anything to you when he left for Dallas?” Garcia sat on the couch and handed you your own ice cream.

“Nothing, barely even looked at me today,” you frown.

“I think he’ll come around. Especially since Hotch gave you guys specific parameters to operate within. He’ll work it all out in that big brain of his and come running back. I just know it,” Penelope huffed.

You hoped she was right. You weren’t sure. A big part of the excitement for both of you was the thrill of getting caught. What lay outside of that meant confronting the possibility of more, of a real relationship. Not just fun and games.

You and Penelope spent the rest of the night getting wine drunk and watching cheesy scary movies.

The following days drug on slowly with no contact from Spencer. You finally had a day off though and you were determined to make the best out of it.

You treated yourself to a massage, a mani pedi,a new hair cut, and new highlights.

By the time you got home you were pampered and worn out. You made short work of feeding your cat before wrapping your hair and getting in the welcoming hot shower.

When you had time to think, you always drifted back to Spencer. In your head though, it was Spencer without those damned walls up. The sweet and caring one, the fearlessly unafraid to be loved version of him. It was a side you rarely met. But you saw it, lying below the surface. That part of him that craved love, hoped beyond all hope that love would find him.

You found yourself hoping he found it one day. After everything he had gone through, after so much heartbreak, he deserved it. You just needed to be okay with the possibility of it not being with you. Selfishly, you weren’t there yet.

Steam billowed out of the shower as you dried off and wrapped your towel around you. You frown at the bathroom door, not recalling closing it. Weird.

Upon stepping out of the bathroom, you nearly have a heart attack.

“Fuck Spencer!” You scream. He’s sitting in the arm chair across from your bed, flipping through a book. “That’s it, give me the key,” you hold your hand out.

He looks up at you and smirks.

“No welcome back to Virginia?” He jokes.

“Na uh, nope. I’m still mad at you,” you reach down and snatch his keys from his lap. “Why are you here?” You cross your arms.

He looks devastating, he’s still wearing a FBI jacket, a tie, a checkered button down, and slacks. His hair is artistically messy, and he’s looking up at you with those big eyes.

“I-“ he hesitates, all humor gone from his face. “I don’t want to lose this.” It’s the most honest he’s been about ‘this’.

“And what is this Spencer? Huh? You don’t want to date me, but you kind of want more? I don’t get it,” you throw your hands up and walk away from him into the living room.

“I was afraid,” he grabs your arm and turns your towards him,

“Of losing your job?” You let breath hitches because of the physical contact.

“Partially, mostly because the way I feel about you is…” he trails off as he stares into your eyes.

“Completely unprofessional,” you smirk.

“Completely,” he exhales.

“What do you want?” You ask him.

“I want you to be mine, I want to take you out, and date you but in secret so the team doesn’t know. I want to stop pretending like I don’t care about you. Like I don’t spend every moment away from you hurrying to get back. It’s maddening,” he pushes his hand into your hair, caressing the side of your head. You blink as you try to take in the words you’d longed for for so long.

“This whole time I’ve just wanted you,” your voice is hushed, choked with the threat of tears.

He pulls you into him and crashes his lips into yours. You get the peculiar feeling that you’re kissing the real Spencer Reid for the first time. He’s gentle, vulnerable, soft, and starving for you. He’s not holding back, he’s running his hands up your body and discarding the towel. He whimpers when you pull his hair and push him into the wall.

“Will you be my girlfriend. Please,” he begs with his hands on your hips.

“Yes,” it’s breathless and you kiss him harder.

He hoists you up and wraps your legs around his waist before carrying you back to your room.

You giggle when he lays you on the bed and begins trailing kisses down your body. His soft lips clamp over your nipple, pulling a moan from you. His strong hands squeeze your thighs as his body hovers over your center.

He plants kisses down your stomach, on your hip bones, and then to your inner thighs. Your body comes alive for him, as if reaching for the deepest expanse of the universe, needing and needing more.

“Please,” you whimper as he kisses around your pussy teasingly.

“We’re not in a hurry this time baby,” he shushes you. The word baby feels like a sweet caress and has you whimpering for him.

You feel his middle finger run down from your clit to your entrance, spreading the wetness between your folds, before he pushes in into you. Those perfect fingers, you couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck,” you whine.

At which point he pressing his tongue into you as well, your whole body shuddering in response. He drags its upward, slowly until he finds your clit. He flicks and sucks at the sensitive bundle of nerves while he works a second and third finger into you.

You’re so wet that you’re soaking him, but he loves it, he devours you. He curls his fingers upward and starts lumping you harder and more violently.

“Cum for me, show me that you’re mine,” he begs. You glance down at him, his perfect fucking face between your legs and you’re done for.

You grip his hair, grind yourself against his face, and cum hard until you’re practically crying his name.

“Yours baby,” you whimper.

Then he’s climbing on top of you, still clothed but he’s undone his belt and pulled his cock free.

“Wait,” you whisper and start undoing his shirt. You both laugh at how clumsily you undo the buttons but you finally manage to strip him of it. “You’re so sexy, Spence,” you place your hand on his chest where you feel his heart hammering.

Somewhere in all of your hooking up you picked up on him not loving his thin frame. You wanted to make sure he knew that you did. He smiles shyly as you pull your knees back for him.

He hovers over you for a moment, as if just to look at the girl he now calls his. Then he slowly pushes himself into you, allowing you to stretch to his size, your walls tightening perfectly around him.

“Mine,” you arch your back and moan, feeling every inch of him.

It’s a declaration that means the world to him. He begins to roll his hips into you, more passionately and needy than he ever had before.

This was more than just sex, more than just fucking. He was relishing the feeling of you more than usual, he was taking his time. His hands held you close as though he were afraid he’d lose you, his lips couldn’t cover enough of your skin as if he needed to mark you. Then he did just that, he bite and sucks at your breasts while thrusting into you until you were coming apart for him.

He flattened himself on you, pushing deeper, needing to be closer until you were clawing at his back, until your legs wrapped his hips. You latched your mouth onto his chest and marked him for yourself. You greedily did so three more times, enjoying the sound of him sucking air through his teeth and locking eyes with you while he absorbed the pain.

You knew he was close when you came around him a second time. He pushed himself up on his palms, focusing with his mouth open, as he angled his hips to hit that sweet spot inside of you a few more times.

“Spencer,” you were practically begging for mercy.

A fourth orgasm would shatter you. But he wouldn’t accept anything less tonight. You both needed this.

He took one of your hands and laced his fingers between yours as he flatted it to the mattress next to your head. You watched his hips move as he pleasured you, as his cock moved in and out of you. Fuck, you would never tire of this, of him.

“Cum with me baby,” he breathes.

You do, your eyes roll back as the sensation seizes you, until you’re wound so tight that stars explode in your vision. You crescendo with him, shaking and screaming as he pumps into you.

“So good, you’re doing so good,” he’s moaning but you barely hear him. You feel out of body, you feel unreal, you’ve never felt so good is all you can think as your body starts humming.

When he pulls out of you and drags you against him, your limbs are jelly and you’re trembling.

You latch onto him and lay across his chest, listening to the sound of his heart, lost in the afterglow.

He gathers your hair from your face and pushes it back as he kisses the top of your head.

“You did so good baby,” he whispers again. You take his hand and kiss his palm gently.

“I like when you call me that,” you admit.

“Get used to it,” he smiles as his hand rubs lazy circles on your back.

“You get used to it. You’re stuck with me now Spencer Reid,” you smirk and kiss his chest.

He sits up suddenly.

“Is that rain?” He pulls back the curtain, then gets excited. “Throw something on, “ he smiles as he puts on his undershirt and pants.

“Why?” You groan.

“This is perfect,” he smiles and drags you playfully out of bed.

“Fine,” you laugh and tug on a tank top. “Where are we going?”

He grips your hand and pulls you behind him.

“Wait we’re not wearing shoes!” You squeal as he pulls you out of the house.

“Even better!”

He pulls you into the grass just outside, the rain coming down starts to drench you both immediately.

You try to run back to shelter but he seizes you around your waist and spins you around.

“Spence,” you squeak out a laugh. He turns you towards him, he’s smiling hard, his hair soaked.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss my girlfriend in the pouring rain,” he says and kisses you sweetly. He kisses you until you don’t care about the rain, until you know that you’re his and always will be.

A/N- thank you guys for following and loving on this fic 🫶🏻 it means the world to me that you guys loved it enough to keep asking for more!

Check out the master list on my page for other stories 🫶🏻

[reidsdimples]

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Spencer Reid x Reader (BAU!Reader)

18+ ❤️‍🔥 MDNI

in which you’re shoved into a closet for a fun little game of seven minutes in heaven with your work crush Spencer.

The team is gathered at Rossi’s while he makes some authentic Italian cuisine that you can’t remember how to pronounce. You’re with the girls, talking about JJ and Will and Penelope and Kevin, when they ask you if there’s someone you’re interest in.

Your eyes swim to the other side of the room where Spencer is helping Rossi chop some vegetables.

“Not really,” you drop your gaze.

“Mhmm,” Emily hums sarcastically.

“Just tell him,” JJ nudges you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie.

“My smartest love!” Penelope calls to Spence. “Come here!”

No no no. Your cheeks flame, you beg whatever god is above to spare you from what they were about to do. The wine had gone to their heads.

Spence washes his hands and walks over while drying them on a towel, you watch the movements closely. You fantasized far too often about those damned hands.

He takes long strides towards you, that dark purple button down fitting his skin body perfectly. You catch yourself staring and look anywhere else.

“You’ve been dragged into our game,” Penelope purses her lip.

“What game?” He looks intrigued.

“Truth or dare but right now the dare is seven minutes in heaven,” Penelope says. At that JJ and Emily light up.

“Yeah,” Emily nods.

“What’s that?” He tilts his head. You’re horrified, there’s not way they’re doing this to you.

“Did I hear were playing seven minutes in heaven?” Derek slides into your little group.

“Guys, keep it clean,” Hotch warns.

“I don’t even wanna know,” Rossi laughs but continues to cook.

“Okay! All but Rossi are in,” Penelope chirps.

“What’s the premise of the game?” Spencer asks again.

“The group selects a couple to go into a dark closet for seven minutes,” JJ smiles and sips her drink.

“For what purpose?” He asks. Derek claps him on the back and leans down to whisper in his ear. His eyes widen and color stains his cheeks.

You’re pretty sure you couldn’t press yourself further into the wall if you tried.

“Anyway we were playing truth or dare and I dared Y/N to play seven minutes in heaven with you,” Penelope tells him. His hazel eyes dart over to yours where your hand is covering your face.

The girls give you wicked smiles.

“Okay?” He raises his eyebrows suspiciously.

“Go on lover boy,” Derek urges and he’s leading Spencer to a walk in closet in Rossi’s guest room.

“All of you are dead to me,” you bite out as JJ ushers you in behind him.

The door snaps shut and you’re plunged onto complete darkness.

The room outside of the closet goes silent.

Your ears burn, your body tenses as you listen for Spence who moves next to you.

“Why did they pick me specifically?” He asks, of course he asks.

“No idea,” you lie. “But we don’t have to do anything.”

“Timer starts now!” Emily yells and you hear the bedroom door shut too.

Your body hums as Spencer steps closer to you.

“I can’t see you, it’s hard to profile you in the dark. My guess from your rapid breathing and fidgeting though is that you’re hoping something happens,” he speaks lowly.

“What if I do?” You decide to be brave.

The feeling of being so close to him in utter darkness is exciting and hot as hell. You were aware of his every movement and as your eyes adjusted, you could see him. Not very clearly but he was right in front of you.

“I’d be okay with that,” he exhales a shaky breath.

You place a hand on his chest and run your finger down to his waist band where his shirt is tucked in. You pull him closer to you and lean up. He slowly and clumsy finds your lips in the dark.

His hands grip your hips as your tongue starts to explore his mouth. The taste of wine lingers between you, making him taste sweet. The softness of his lips and feeling of his hands on your body make you moan into his mouth.

You’re pleasantly surprised to feel his erection grow in his pants so you hurriedly undo his belt.

“What are you gonna…” he asks.

“I just want you, Spence,” you whisper. You’re thankful for the darkness of the space, it’s making you more bold.

You wrap your hand around his silky skin and pump him gently. A small moan escapes him and he’s running his hands up your skirt.

“We have to be quick,” you say after kissing him again. He nods. “Sit, against the wall,” you usher him to the back wall.

He obliges as you step out of your panties and shove them into your pocket. He’s looking up at you from the floor, his cock hard as he registers what you’re about to do. You stand over him and lower yourself slowly, teasingly. He bites his lip in anticipation. You’d been wanting to sit on his cock for months.

You straddle his waist and reach down to line his cock up with your entrance. You slide down on it with a restrained moan. Taking him felt like finally getting everything you’d been missing. The whimpering that escaped him awoke something inside of you that you’d long lost.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers in awe and grips your ass.

“I told you I wanted you,” you smirk and start riding him.

He throws his head back as though in disbelief of how good it feels. You’re wound so tight from the excitement and anticipation of the ordeal that you know you could cum at any second. Something about the team being just two doors aware adding an extra thrill to what you were doing.

“4 Minutes!” Someone yells, you don’t register who.

You wrap your arms around Spence’s neck and ride him until his clawing at your back and digging his nails into the flesh of your ass. You inhale his fresh scent, one you’d always been fond of but now it’s mixed with something else. Like you can smell his arousal, it’s addicting.

“So tight, I’m gonna..” he groans.

“Shhh.”

You rock your hips, feeling him as deep as possible while your clit rubs against his lower abdomen. You lean down and kiss his neck, before probably stretching the collar of his shirt to access his shoulder.

Your orgasm seizes you and you’re biting down on that sweet spot where his neck meets his shoulder. You suck on his soft skin hard, needing to taste him while you fall over the edge.

A loud groaning sound begins to escape him and you clamp your hand over his mouth. Your pussy clenches around him as you move, taking in the delicious feeling of cumming around him. It’s better than you ever thought it would be. Especially when his cock twitches and he’s biting down on your palm to cum with you. You feel his hard cock throb and his massive amount of cum starts pouring out of you, around him.

It’s messier than you hoped but it’s so fucking hot, it feels so good as you grind down onto him on last time to enjoy the feeling.

“Is that okay?” He pants, clarity returning.

“Yeah I’m on birth control,” you swallow and move off of him.

“It’s been a while since I..”

“Me too,” you sigh. You didn’t want him to feel bad for cumming so much, you fucking loved it.

He stands and you stop him from pulling his pants back up. You clean up the mess on him with your underwear and shove them back into your pocket.

“Thanks,” he huffs a shy laugh before tucking himself back into his pants.

“I’m gonna need to go to the restroom to…”

“Yeah…” he sucks air through his teeth in an ‘oops’ kind of way.

“One minute!” It’s Derek who yells it.

You grab Spencer’s shirt and pull him into a kiss, one that he smiles into.

You help him adjust his collar and fix both of your hair before opening the closet. Heat seems to roll out of it and you’re sure it smells like sex. You’re just grateful the team is in the living room when Garcia screams that time is up.

Spencer steps out of the room first, his head down as he b-lines for the kitchen.

You hear Derek stop him as you hurry to the bathroom to clean up.

“Okay I dare Hotch to eat an entire pickle!” Emily says. He protests because he hates pickles.

“What happens in the closet stays in the closet,” is all you say when they turn their attention towards you.

Spencer is back in the kitchen helping Rossi cook.

“Yeah, keep it in that closet. I don’t want to fill out any unnecessary fraternization paper work,” Hotch grins.

“I’ll cheers to that!” Rossi calls and raises him glass.

You all clink glasses, Spencer’s eyes meet yours and he smiles shyly.

[reidsdimples]

Guys I can’t listen to this song without objectifying him 😔🤚🏼 so I made this

[reidsdimples]

When Everything Changed | Part 3

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Enemies to lovers- slow burn/case talk/yapping Spence

Part 2

In which you and Spencer help with a case virtually from his apartment after his hospital stay. 🧸 🖤

You had always thought time to work in mysterious ways. It could heal any wound yet allow it to fester. It could bring people together and rip them apart. Time was an enigma, especially to you. How much time did it take to recover from something like a near death experience?

How much time did it take to recover from trauma without allowing it to cripple?

“Y/N, my office,” Hotch calls out to you.

You’ve been on desk duty for a week, going crazy truthfully.

“Yes?” You ask when you see him.

“Reid is behind discharged today,” he informs you as you sit.

You don’t really know why you had to be called into his office for that information.

“The team is flying out to Atlanta. I’m going to need you and Reid working virtually. Are you able to see him home and work with him from there?” He asks.

“I don’t see why not, is this pertaining to the suspected serial down there?” All you knew was that people in the ghost hunting and supernatural communities were turning up dead.

“Yes, we will brief you via video chat while we’re on the plane,” Hotch nods.

You leave the office toying with a mix of emotions. You were eager to work on an active case, happy that Reid was being discharged, and nervous to see him.

Following that night you read to him, you recalled the quote in question that he had partially written.

One from Pride and Prejudice reading;

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

You had not mentioned it to him, nor had he said anything to you. When you showed up two days later with a copy of the book to read to him, he got agitated. He asked that you read something else or don’t at all.

It was strange, his behavior was strange. He had been happy to see you yet distant. Then you found that very same page with that portion of the quote crumbled up and thrown on the floor. Why?

You knew what that quote was about, it was about the moment Darcy realized he was developing feelings for Elizabeth despite not realizing it.

Your heart pounds as you think about it. Could he be feeling that way for you? Or you him? You feel your pulse in your throat as you recall the feeling times you stared to long at his waist or his hands. Perhaps listened too hard when he spoke because there was something soothing in his voice even when he was annoyed with you.

Why had that quote come to mind while you were reading to him that first night? And when and why did he trash it?

You were once again back to being irritated by him but not enough to hate him. You were more elated that he was better, that his voice was back, and that he was cleared to go home.

You had a feeling that he insisted on helping with this case. You were fine with that. You could do this, you would just push the strangeness of Jane Austen’s words and Reid away.

So you swallowed those feelings, cleared your throat and stepped into his hospital room for the last time.

“Time to go home,” you announce as you enter.

He was spinning himself around absentmindedly on the doctors chair when he came into view. He smiled, delighted most likely to be going home. He was dressed, freshly, and showered. Save for the incision scars on his throat, he looked like himself. You think the scars somehow make him more sexy but you swat the thought away as soon as it occurs.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” his voice is low and raspy.

You hadn’t heard him talk yet and it took you off guard. Not because he sounded hideous. Quite the opposite, actually. It came off as sultry, like he was half asleep. Shit.

“You’re welcome,” you grin.

You’re standing in the doorway still, aware that you’re not sure what to do with yourself. What was your problem? Damn, it’s just Reid. Annoying old Reid. The same brainiac Reid.

Yet sexier somehow, probably because he almost died taking a bullet in your stead.

You collect all of the discharge information and prescription for his liquid diet formula grossness and before you know it, he’s easing into your passenger seat.

“How long until you can eat proper solid food again?” You ask as you try to fill the calm silence in the car.

“They’re going to reevaluate me in two weeks,” he answers, his voice like sand paper.

“Sorry you probably should talk as little as possible,” you wince because it sounds painful.

“Talking strengthens the vocal cords,” he informs. “I came dangerously close to never being able to speak again. In fact about 73 percent of patients with this type of trauma lose the ability to talk completely.”

You smile to yourself. The way he needs to blurt information is so endearing.

Your phone pings with the BAU group chat:

“Wheels up in 30,” from Hotch.

“Okay we need to get the laptop set up at your place by the time they take off so we can sit in on the case briefing,” you punch the gas to ensure you get there on time.

Reid sits up a little in his seat.

“Are you scared of my driving?” You ask.

“No?” He lies. You narrow your eyes playfully but don’t respond.

You and Reid are patched in with Garcia and the rest of the team just in time. Reid seems slight uncomfortable in the wooden chair with the way he has to hold his neck so you help him with some pillows.

“Cara Lynch, Jane Wilbur, and Mason Riley all found murdered and dismembered in the old mill plant on the east side,” Hotch starts.

“Ten days later, James Marlon and Ryan Finch met the same fate in a separate infamously haunted place,” JJ says.

“Ghost hunting seems to link all of these victims,” Hotch says.

“Were they recording at the time of their deaths?” Reid asks in a gravely voice.

“Tripods recovered, no cameras or audio recording equipment. It seems the unsub took it,” Morgan answers.

“Manner of homicide?” You ask.

“Shot, with arrows in vital organs. Each victim shot twice,” Prentiss says as she flips through the photos.

Both you and Reid seem to wince at the mention of being shot. But neither of you acknowledge it to the other.

More details are shared about the limb removal possibly being a forensic countermeasure before the team starts spitballing profile points.

"The use of arrows by the unsub suggests a need for a sense of precision and control. Arrows are often associated with hunting, so the unsub may view their victims as prey. Additionally, the fact that the victims are ghost hunters could indicate a belief by the unsub that they are somehow deserving of this punishment. It's possible that the unsub sees themselves as some sort of vigilante, targeting those who they believe are meddling in the supernatural realm,” Spencer muses. His speech is slower but the team is patient with him, more in tune with what he has to say than usual.

“I would point of alternatively that the arrows symbolize a form of justice or retribution in the eyes of the unsub. The unsub may believe that the victims, in their pursuit of the supernatural, have disrupted the natural order or crossed a line that they deem unacceptable. By using arrows as a weapon, the unsub may be trying to send a message that their actions have consequences and that they are being punished for their perceived transgressions,” you add. Reid glances over at you but says nothing.

“Given the victomology I can believe that this unsub believes the ghost hunters have crossed some sort of line,” Rossi says. “Maybe he’s religious?” Prentiss asks.

“The-“ Spencer starts but you inadvertently cut him off. He’s unable to speak over you like he used to.

“Sorry,” you squeeze his arm but continue. Just as you start talking, his hand moves to your knee. “In Christianity, arrows can symbolize strength, protection, and divine intervention,” you say. You could continue but pause for Spencer to add his thoughts, your mind glitching at the contact of his hand on your knee. The jeans didn’t seem like enough of a barrier for how heated your skin became.

“The unsub may view their actions as a form of divine justice or punishment for those they believe are engaging in sinful or forbidden practices,” he finishes simply, and removes his hand.

He doesn’t seem upset by you speaking over him which is almost out of character. He wasn’t nearly as aggravated with you anymore. You didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned in this new attitude… or lack thereof.

The team signs off and you and Spencer are instructed to work on the geographical profile until further notice.

You find yourself absentmindedly inspecting his endless rows of books while he uses his protractor on the map. The geographical profile had been relatively easy to put together since there were only two locations.

The tension and silence stretches out between you, things unsaid. What was that?

You turn your attention back to him when he stands, placing photos on the white board.

“To go searching for ghosts only to become one, kind of ironic right?” You sigh and add to the board with him.

“Unfortunate, but the risk that urban explorers and paranormal investigators put themselves at in these locations is relatively high. It’s why I don’t personally see them as low risk victims,” he says.

“True but they aren’t a high risk, nothing indicating drug use, an inclination towards petty crimes, or sexual deviancy,” you reason.

“Trespassing is a petty crime,” he insists. You narrow your eyes on him as his long fingers press a magnet over a crime scene photo.

“And part of the job,” you retort.

“The same could be argued about shooting a bank teller during a robbery,” he turns to you with his eyes up. “Doesn’t make it any less a crime.”

He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath fanning against your face.

“You-“ you begin, pointing your magnet at him.

“I what?” He taunts you, dares you to finish that sentence. The rasps in his voice goes straight to your head. He outwitted you, you both knew it. He plucks the magnet from your hand and slaps in onto the board.

“I’ve resigned myself not to compete with you anymore,” you smirk and step out of his vicinity which fogged your head.

“Hardly a competition,” he murmurs.

“What is with you?” You whirl on him. “It’s like you don’t know how to act all of the sudden. You want to be an asshole? Fine, I’m used to that. But don’t touch me and then turn on me. It’s confusing,” you explode.

He blinks, stunned by your fury. Then he smirks.

“I get under your skin don’t I?” It’s a cocky rhetorical question.

“Your mood swings do,” you bite out.

“I don’t think that’s it,” he drops into the chair and picks up a pen. “Did you know hatred and desire are two of the most powerful feelings we experience?”

You knew that, of course. Fine line between love and hate and all that.

“As such it’s easy for them to become intertwined,” he whirls the one around his fingers. He clocks you watching the movement, seeming to further prove the point.

“Are you speaking from personal experience? Or just yapping like you always do?” You take a step towards him. He raises his eyebrows.

“Yapping?” He laughs.

“Maybe you should stop talking, your voice is becoming hoarse,” you say indignantly. How dare he insinuate that you hated him and now want him. Neither were true. You think.

“What if I don’t? What if I decide to recite every word of the Lord of the Rings novels to you?” He lifts his chin, his voice teasing.

“You don’t have the gall,” you grumble in annoyance. Mr. Eidetic memory with his very own weapon. You lean place your palms on the back of his wooden chair, briefly glancing at the case file in front of him, hoping he wouldn’t…

"When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton…”

“Not another word or something awful might befall you and you may end up in the hospital again,” you flick his ear.

He lulls his head back and dramatically feigns choking to death. Before you know it both of you are laughing.

Somehow your hand ends up resting on his shoulder, causing the laughter to slow until you both were painfully aware of the physical contact.

You clear your throat and gesture at the file.

“What was, um what is her cause of death again?” You already knew but you needed to say something to distract from the sudden shift in energy. “Which organ was pierced…” you clarify.

He glanced back and upward at you, those eyes full of something you’d never seen from him. A sense of uncertainty, vulnerability, and need?

You’re unsure why, as though being controlled by a force outside of yourself but you trail your hand up his neck, gently massaging the back of his head. Goosebumps prickle his neck as he turns his attention back to the table. You don’t miss the white knuckled grip on the pen.

“All of them took an arrow to the heart, that’s a shared trait,” his voice is low, distracted.

“A signature?” You hum and run your fingers through the longer hair at the top of his head. The strands are soft, moving between your fingers gently as you soothingly massage his head.

You hear him groan deep in his chest and he’s inadvertently leaning his head into your touch. You swallow hard, unsure about this sudden need to touch him. More than that, you wanted to hear other noises he could make.

“Second arrows hit various organs between the victims,” he leans forward from your grip to lay the photos out.

The absence of him causes you to frown, but you turn to the white board.

“He’s a skilled marksmen if he could hit them all in the heart in the darker locations where they died,” you state the obvious and write it on the board.

“Military training?” He asks.

“Not with bow and arrows, he may have had personal lessons. Ask Garcia to check with archery ranges inside of the geographical profile,” you say.

He shoots Garcia a text and places his phone down awaiting results.

You’re scribbling on the board when you hear him approach, he’s behind you, so devastatingly close that you can hear him breathing. His body heat warms your back, you falter but keep writing.

Now your body is tingling because he leans his mouth closer to your ear, fanning his breath across your neck.

“You spelled ‘toxophilite’ wrong,” he whispers. You flatten your hand over the word and smudge the blue ink.

“Maybe if you weren’t standing so close,” you hiss.

“Do you want me to move?” He reaches up and sweeps your hair back over your shoulder. You don’t respond, you stop breathing. Stop thinking.

You shudder when his lips find the soft spot of your neck, small kisses planted delicately until your own moan escapes you.

“That pesky line between hatred and desire,” he tutts and steps back.

You bite your tongue, after all you teased him first. The simple touch of his lips on your skin had your body heated up and your insides twisted with need.

You contemplated throwing the marker at his big head as he leaned over the table but refrained.

It was probably for the best because Hotch and Garcia rang in on FaceTime.

Whatever the hell was happening with you and Spence was going to take time. Luckily, the team had given you both the leeway needed to heal. Who knows what’ll happen in the mean time.

[reidsdimples]

S9 Reid could ruin me and I’d thank him

Sir, that slutty haircut?!! Kick me in the face, please

[reidsdimples]

I’ve been looking everywhere for this mf

[reidsdimples]

He could put that cane in my next Xray 🤤

What is with you people hating on Jesus Reid… that man is so gorgeous- AND WITH THE CANE???!!!! AAAUUUUGGGHHHH I WANT HIM SO BAD

[reidsdimples]

[reidsdimples]

Training Day

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

18+ ❤️‍🔥 MDNI

in which you drag Spencer into an empty office to confront his attraction to you after a day of training.

“Staring isn’t going to accomplish anything,” you hear Derek say to Spencer as you hammer into the punching bag.

“Hey, Y/N!” Derek calls to you. Spencer murmurs something like “what are you going?” To him but it’s hushed.

“Pretty boy over here needs help getting his jaw off the floor,” he slaps Spence on the chest and exits the FBIs training room.

Spencer crouches down and drops his face into his hands in embarrassment.

You stride towards him, sipping your water, aware that your stomach is exposed. Your sports bra and shorts set gave him a damn good view. He stands.

Not as good as your view, however. He was wearing an FBI vest, having just ended an active training session with Derek. You found him irresistible with that damn thing on, especially with those tight black slacks he was sporting today. Damn.

“He was just…” he stammers. “I don’t…” he blushes.

You loop your hand into the side of the vest and yank him closer to you.

“I’m going into office 611 in 15 minutes. Be there,” you whisper.

The offices on the 600 hallway were vacant, an extra space for task forces as needed. You bounded into the shower in the locker room, ma no king quick work of it. He’d be there, of course he’d be there.

The small office had blinds which you twisted closed on all of the windows, a desk, a couch, and a couple of arm chairs. More dust than anything but you were too excited, too nervous to care.

You see Spencer’s silhouette outside of the door, he hesitates. You open it and drag him inside by the collar of his shirt. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed in the lack of FBI vest.

“Wha…” he yelps.

“Come on Spence,” you lock the door. “No one knows we’re here.”

He glances down at you. You watch his nervousness give way to pure untamed desire. The he’s leaning down and kissing you, gathering you up against him greedily. He exhales hard as he lavishes in the taste of your mouth, his hands exploring your lower back and ass. He grips your ass hard, as though he’d been needing it for weeks. You groan into his mouth and push against him until he’s leaning against the wall.

You paw at his pants, fumbling with his belt buckle. His cock is already straining against the fabric. You want him so bad, you want to stroke his cock. You had been fantasizing about it for far too long.

He pulls your shirt up over your head. Something like a whimper and a plead for mercy escapes him when he sees you’re not wearing a bra. Your perky tits bounce and sway in his line of sight. He can’t help but to grab them, squeezing hard.

“Needy boy,” you praise.

Then his cock is free and you’re gripping it, causing his breathing to hitch.

“So pretty Spence,” you purr. He looks down at the sight of his cock in your hand. “Spit,” you instruct. He glances at you but obeys. His spit falls down to his cock and you use it to stroke him deliberately slow until his head lulls back.

You drop down to your knees, your mouth watering. You need to taste him.

“Mmm please,” he whimpers. His eyes like saucers, pleading and needy.

Your tongue darts out to tease the tip of his cock, the sweet drop of precum sinful in your mouth. You take him deep into the back of your throat, your hand tightening around his remaining length.

“Fuck,” he exhales.

You start to swirl your tongue around his silk skin. You work his cock and take him deep into your throat until his hand finds its way into your hair.

“Good boy, use my mouth. Make yourself feel good,” you say, looking up at him.

He obeys and pushes his cock back into your mouth, thrusting his hips until you’re gagging around him. Until drool is dripping down your chin and your eyes are watering.

He pulls out of you abruptly, bracing himself on the wall behind him.

“I’ll cum if you keep going,” he pants. Strands of hair fall into his eyes.

“But you want to fuck me too?” You grab his tie and pull him towards the desk. “If you’re so greedy, just take me Dr. Reid.”

You push out of your shorts and bear yourself before him. You prop yourself up on your hands and watch him as you begin to circle your clit. He watches in awe for a moment, his tongue darting across his lips as you slip a finger into your own cunt.

He briefly weighs the consequences of doing this but clearly decides they don’t matter. He grabs your wrist, pulling your hand from your cunt, and shoves your finger into his mouth.

His tongues swirls over the digit as his fingers find your entrance. He drops your hand and grips your jaw, forcing you to keep eye contact as he pushes his fingers into you. He curls them up perfectly until you’re moaning. He’s crashing his lips into yours to absorb the sound, pumping his perfect fingers into you repeatedly.

You had fantasized about those fucking fingers and now you were about to cum all over them. You’d never be able to watch him work, watch him write, or read without thinking about this orgasm. On queue, it’s crashing through you. He releases your jaw and allows you to fall back as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

You think you scream, you aren’t sure but your eyes roll back as he fingers and sucks you through your orgasm. He doesn’t give you very much time to recover, you’re barely able to lift your head up to search for him when he pushes his cock into you.

“Fuck Spencer,” you whimper. You were lost in the way he flipped that switch and took control.

He grips your hips, pulling you to the edge of the desk so that your ass hangs off. The angle meant nothing stopped him from fucking you as deep as possible.

His hips snap forward, slamming into you hard until you whimper again. He began pounding into you repeatedly, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing you open wider for him.

Fuck you never imagined it’d be this good, that he’d be this skilled, this controlled. Incoherent words fall from your lips as he ravishes your cunt, stretching it around him until he wore you perfectly.

“So pretty when you’re getting fucked,” he murmurs and digs his nails into your thighs.

Another series of moans escape you when he angles himself in a way that attacks that sweet spot inside of you. You reach up and twist your hands into his shirt, needing to hold onto something. It only manages to somehow push him harder and deeper into you.

Sounds of your dripping pussy and skin slapping together fill the room, along with groans of pleasure from Spence and whatever fucking noises were coming out of you.

“Please please. I’m gonn-,” you start and he presses his palm into your lower abdomen. How did he… You come again, this time tightening around his cock. Fuck. The pressure applied to your pelvis was enough to send you over that edge.

“Ahh,” he exhales almost as though it’s painful but he keeps working into you. “So fucking tight for me,” he praises as your orgasm drips down your ass into the desk.

“So good,” you moan and arch your back. You grab and claw at his arms but he keeps up his rhythm, not letting up.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He pants.

“Inside of me, fuck Spencer cum inside of me,” you beg as you try to hang on to the last few strings of your sanity.

It’s a lost cause, though.

You’re free falling into madness when another orgasm seizes you just as his cock begins to shoot hot cum into your cunt. You don’t know where he stops and you begin but you’re both moaning as you cum for one another. He pumps you full of the last few drops of his cum and then pulls out of you. He braces himself on the desk above you, the veins in his arms deliciously visible.

You’re dazed, having just been fucked into oblivion, and then he smiles at you. He leans down and kisses you softly.

“We should get back to training before they notice we’re gone,” he whispers.

You nod, smiling. You were definitely going to drag him to the 600 hallway again.

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

A/N- I’m finishing up the next parts of When everything changed and Strictly Profesional. I’m ovulating and this happened tho ✌🏼

[reidsdimples]

This really isn’t fair