#spencer reid x you

[pathologicalreid]

bringing your work home with you | S.R.

spencer shares details of a case with you - with a hands-on learning approach

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: case information from 10x17 "breath play", erotic asphyxiation, choking, fingering, praise kink, aftercare, explicit consent, softdom!spencer, sub!reader, dacryphilia (ish), established relationship dl;dr. word count: 1.74k a/n: im no longer afraid of being perceived on the internet (lie) and will begin writing whatever i want (truth). including this.

“How was work?” You asked hesitantly, looking across the couch to where Spencer was sitting. He was lost in thought, although, you supposed if you had just returned from Wisconsin, you’d feel relatively similar.

Spencer hummed absentmindedly in response while flipping through the pages of the file he brought home with him. “The UnSub certainly had a unique signature,” he answered, dragging his thumb across his lower lip in thought.

You tilted your head to the side in curiosity, “Oh, yeah?” It wasn’t often that Spencer shared details of cases with you, usually because the information he’d be divulging was privileged, but you shuffled over a cushion in hopes that he’d share with you. “What was it?”

He reached over and ruffled your hair affectionately, “He had a particular affinity for erotic asphyxiation. Each of his victims had read this book, Bare Reflections, and that’s how he found them – through sexual fantasies.”

Furrowing your brows, you rested your face in your hand, “So like… sex choking?”

“Yes, love. Like sex choking,” Spencer said, not without humor, before getting up and going to the kitchen, asking you if you needed anything as he did.

When he returned, sitting down on the couch and flipping the file back open, you leaned to the side and said, “I never got the whole choking thing. Not being able to breathe never seemed very sexy to me.”

At that, Spencer closed the file he was scribbling in and set it on the coffee table, “It’s not meant to fully restrict your breathing. At least, not if you’re doing it properly.”

“And you know how to do it properly?” You challenged, raising a single brow at your boyfriend.

He laughed breathily at your test, “I know human anatomy well enough to know not to press on your trachea.”

You fail to hide the way your eyes widen when he speaks to you, his use of the words ‘your trachea’ implying that he is now thinking about choking you. “Cool,” you responded, your brain spinning as you began to think about Spencer’s hand on your throat.

“Come here,” Spencer spoke up, already grabbing your waist and sliding you across the worn leather of the couch. He carefully guided your body over his own until you’re straddling him – one knee on either side of his hips. “You’re a kinesthetic learner, you’ll do better with a hands-on approach.”

Letting a shuddered breath loose, you met Spencer’s eyes, “Hi,” you whispered, keeping your voice low as if you were sharing a secret in a crowded room. Without waiting for him to move, you ducked your head and pressed your lips to his. Quickly, Spencer’s lips coaxed yours open, allowing for his tongue to slip into your mouth.

Spencer’s arms wrapped tightly around you, pressing your chest to his so that you could feel the buttons of his work shirt through the thin cotton of your t-shirt. You were severely underdressed compared to him, lounging in just a t-shirt and underwear while he was wearing his work attire – it just added to the power dynamic you were navigating.

Gently, Spencer tugged at your lower lip, taking the flesh between his teeth before pulling away from the kiss. “Do you trust me?” He asked, loosening his hold on you, and instead running his hands down your arms in a soothing manner.

Straightening up, you nodded, “Yes,” you responded, reaching a hand up and grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

Lifting his dominant hand to your neck, your breathing faltered as he put his hand at the front of your neck, the thumb on one side and the remainder of his fingers on the opposite. “Is this alright?” He murmured, using his free hand to trace small circles on your inner thigh, leaving you wishing you could press your legs together in a desperate attempt for friction.

“Yes,” you repeated yourself, taking the inside of your cheek between your molars and sighing when he moved his hand from your leg.

Nodding assuredly, Spencer brushed your hair from your face, his dominant hand never straying from its newfound home on your throat. “Good, I’m going to keep asking because we’ve never talked about this before,” he informed you. “I won’t fully restrict your airway. If you need me to stop at any point, just tap my arm three times.”

His words led you to relax. The two of you left almost everything on the table, and you were usually good about discussing things ahead of time. You were sure he’d start doing things he knows you like in order to put you at ease. “Thank you,” you whispered, studying his golden irises.

“Such good manners for me, angel,” he praised you, noting the way your back straightens up when he does so. “When I squeeze the sides of your throat like this,” he said, keeping his voice gentle as his hand tightened around your neck, “I’m stopping some of the air from getting to your brain, which makes you feel lightheaded, and when I let go,” he released his firm hold, “You feel a release of dopamine, serotonin, and endorphins that make your head spin.”

As Spencer guided you through the process, you felt yourself getting needier. Humming lowly as you came down from the high, you noticed Spencer’s hand back between your thighs – you couldn’t tell when he had moved his hand, you were too preoccupied.

You held your breath as his hand slipped into your panties, “Hey,” he chided, snapping you out of your anticipation. “Don’t hold your breath,” he says sternly, “I won’t touch you if you hold your breath.”

Pointedly taking a deep breath, it took all of your focus to maintain your breathing as he gently slid a finger between your folds, the wet noise only muffled by the fabric of your underwear. Tentatively, Spencer slipped his finger inside you, swirling it around your inner walls before pulling it out and pushing it back in, squeezing the sides of your throat as he started fingering you at a steady pace.

“Do you feel that?” He asked, continuing the pace he had set, keeping his voice low as he spoke to you. “How when I squeeze your throat your cunt tightens around my finger?”

Reaching a hand up, you gripped his forearm and placed your other hand on his shoulder, trying to steady yourself and desperately needing something to do with your hands. You let out a soft moan as he easily added another finger to his ministrations, your volume growing louder as he released your throat. Your skin flushed as you bit your bottom lip and looked up to the ceiling.

Quickly squeezing your neck, Spencer brought your attention back down to him, “Keep your eyes on me, love.”

You nodded almost imperceptibly in response, blinking rapidly, but leaving your head where Spencer held it – gently forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as he started curling his fingers inside of you, pushing his fingertips against your inner walls. “Spence,” you whispered, letting out a low whine as you feel your orgasm beginning to build in your lower belly.

“Did you wanna cum? Make a mess all over my hand?” Spencer asked tantalizingly, resuming pressure on your throat before you even had a chance to respond to him. He was enjoying this just as much as you were.

As you maintained eye contact with Spencer, he began to press the heel of his palm against your clit, the pressure only adding to your lightheadedness. With his hand on your neck, your moans come out garbled, forcing their way through your body. “Fuck,” the word came out as a hiss as tears gathered in your lower lash line. Between the pressure on your clit and throat and the continuing ministrations of his digits, your orgasm built up quickly.

In-kind with the pressure on your throat, you squeezed firmly at Spencer’s forearm, and he watched carefully to make sure that you weren’t trying to tap on his arm.

Your tears flooded over the edge, slowly streaming down your cheeks. You blinked to clear your eyes, but you didn’t let your eye contact with Spencer waver.

A small whimper escaped your throat, and Spencer hummed, “There you go, angel.” He said, nodding as his fingers continued working you to your peak, “I know,” he cajoled when you whined again. “I know. Let it go for me,” he murmured, watching as your body shuddered.

Once your orgasm hits its zenith, Spencer released his hold on your neck, moving his hand to your shoulder to keep you upright while your pussy spasmed around his still-thrusting fingers. Endorphins flooded your mind, prolonging your orgasm for god knows how long until he finally withdrew his fingers from your underwear.

While you remembered how to breathe, Spencer moved his hand from your shoulder to your back, gently pressing on your spine and letting your body fall forward. “I knew you’d like that,” he whispered mischievously, and if you had the energy, you would have rolled your eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Groaning, you buried your face in the crook of Spencer’s neck, “Jell-O,” you responded simply.

Your eyes were barely open as Spencer reached over for a tissue box, wiping your slick off of his hand before slipping his hand beneath the waistband of your panties. You whined and tried to push his hand away, “I know, baby. I just want to wipe you up a bit.” He told you before gathering your wetness on the tissue, wrapping it up and placing it on the end table.

“Toss it,” you mumbled sleepily, ignorant of the fact that you’re still in his lap.

Wrapping an arm around you tightly, Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “When you feel like moving, I’ll clean up.” He reached over for a glass of water from the end table, grabbing it from its coaster and trying to hand it to you, “Come on, you need water.”

Sighing, you forced your eyes open, “’m tired,” you told him, reaching a shaky hand up for the glass.

Spencer kept a hand on the glass as you drank from it, setting it back down when you were done and smiling softly at your sleepy nature. “Rehydrating is a nonnegotiable,” he whispered gently, but you were already asleep - or close enough to it that you didn’t respond.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

a little comfort fuck with Spencer Reid after he's back from prison, questioning if you still deserve him after everything that happened. (i love this man a completely normal amount i swear)

LOVE it!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

SAFE AND SOUND.

spencer reid x fem!reader — smut

word count. 615

warnings. 18+ pinv, cowgirl on the couch, cute comfort stuff. minors dni

You found it difficult to process everything during those months of Spencer's absence, everything almost crumbling around you while your boyfriend sat in a cell for a crime he didn't commit. Every thought went to him, every ounce of energy went to him, every resource went to him, but it wasn't enough. The endless sessions in front of lawyers and his teammates felt almost pointless.

You didn't want to lose hope, especially for someone you love, someone innocent, but it was hard. You and his team struggled, and you couldn't imagine how Spencer was coping with it all - with all the changes.

But then, the day of his release finally rolled around. 

He had been back for almost two hours now: all fresh, clean and showered, tummy full with a hearty homemade meal. He wasn't himself, but as the minutes slowly passed, you began to see him settling back to being home, being safe. Tiny slithers of his old personality creeping back.

It wasn't long before you were rekindling the passion from before those few months, both of you on the couch - you sat atop him, straddling his lap. The full length of his cock, tucked snugly inside your pussy. 

Neither one of you barely moving, the grinding motion of your hips almost non-existent. It was as if your sole focus was to feel one another, to feel the skin of the other after all this time - the concept of cuming being a distant thought. 

His palms rest loosely on your waist, fingers skimming the hem of your baggy tee, the placement only there for your stability. His pretty hazels peered up at you from your slight height advantage, gaze keen as he looks over your features. 

You keep your hands on his face, palms over his cheeks, fingers grazing across his scalp as you hold his head carefully. You, too, kept your attention on your lover, watching those tiny microexpressions play across his face. 

It was as if you were both making sure that this was real, that you weren't imagining it like all those times when you were apart.

But then you notice his countenance change, eyes downcasting, his mere grip on your waist vanishing. The warm spot on your skin growing cold with his absence. 

"What's wrong?" you quietly ask, carefully tilting his face - making him look you in the eye.

He faintly shakes his head, the motion almost delicate. 

You could tell something was on his mind, something gnawing at his thoughts. With Spencer, when something good happened, he was often likely to question it - doubt if he even deserved it. And with him being home after all that time locked away, you knew those prior feelings would resurface, only worse this time around. All you could do was comfort him in the now, hoping that the little bits of love and care and affection you give him would bring him back sooner.

"Please let me be there for you," you murmur, gaze honing in on him. "Let me help."

He frowns softly —a sad smile— the corners of his lips tilting downwards as he brings his hands to the initial spot on your waist. His palms resting firmly over the slight indentation. "I will."

Your thumb glides over the apple of his cheek, pad lovingly swiping over him. "I'm happy you're home," you whisper between the close distance, tucking a messy, unkempt curl behind his ear. "I've missed you."

He presses a kiss to your lips, eyes darting over you. "I've missed you," he utters, voice soft.

You slowly wind over him, cunt dragging over his dick in no particular rhythm. "I'm glad you're back."

[minswriting]

Dom Spencer overstimulating sub reader? Like making them cum over and over just being like “you can give me one more can’t you?” And then afterwards having them do it again

nsfw | mdni | spencer reid x reader | overstimulation, unprotected sex, praise, squirting, etc.

note: y’all ever write while highly caffeinated? it makes little to no sense. so pls give me your feedback!

you let out a choked sob as you came for the fourth time that night. you were sat on the bed with your back pressed to spencer’s chest as he fingered your pussy relentlessly. spencer stopped for just a moment, allowing you time to calm down from your orgasm. you breathed heavily in his arms as he kissed your neck, whispering praises in your ear about how good you are for him.

“good girl,” he whispered, his lips against your skin. “doing so good for me.” spencer soothingly rubbed your inner thigh with his other hand. as you calmed down in spencer’s arms, he moved his hand back to your cunt, causing you to whine and shutter from the overstimulation. “shh, shh, shh,” he said. “just one more, okay? you can do one more, can’t you, baby?” he asked as he began to gently rub your clit.

you moaned as you nodded your head. “yes,” you replied, gripping spencer’s wrist.

“good girl,” he said as he dipped two fingers into your cunt, curling them to hit your g-spot. you moaned loudly, arching your back against spencer. he thrusted his fingers at a brutal but pleasurable pace, causing tears of pleasure to well up in your eyes. the room was filled with the sound of your moans and the wet sounds of your pussy.

“oh my god,” you cried out, feeling your fifth orgasm of the night approaching quickly. “am gonna cum!”

“yes, baby, go ahead,” spencer coaxed you. “cum for me, sweetheart.” his voice was soft as he fucked you with his digits.

and so you came, your walls clenching around his fingers as you let out another choked sob. this time, however, you felt the mattress underneath you get wet as you squirted around spencer’s fingers. “fuck, baby,” spencer moaned into your ear. “you’re so beautiful, so good,” he said as he fingered you through your orgasm.

as you came down from your high, you expected spencer to stop. but he didn’t. he kept fingering you, not giving you time to calm. you started to shake from overstimulation but you didn’t want him to stop. “oh fuck,” you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

“this will be the last one, i promise,” he said. “just wanna make you cum one more time, baby.”

and so he did. then he fucked you, giving you seven orgasms in total in one night. to say you were spent was an understatement. but you most definitely had the time of your life.

[luveline]

Hey Jade!

I can’t remember if you’ve already written this or not but if not, could you please write bombshell!reader finally joining the BAU? I wanna know how Spencer and everyone else reacted to her finally joining

Thanks lovely :) hope you’re doing well

ty for requesting 💌 fem, 1.3k

The trek from the SCU to the BAU is familiar. If you aren’t being asked to consult, or occasionally brought along on sex crime specific cases, you’ll make any excuse to get there. A broken laptop, an updated reading list, a good cup of coffee. Spencer Reid always provides. 

He just doesn’t get it. You think about it every time you see him, but he can’t understand how nice, kind, and pretty he really is, or he wouldn’t be so shy, and he wouldn’t act surprised to have you seeking him out. 

He’s sitting now behind his desk with a hand over his mouth. You can tell he’s smiling despite it, a warm light to his brown eyes as you approach. 

“Hello,” you say. 

“Hi.” He sniffs, curling his hand into a fist under his nose. His smile is a thousand times more obvious as he tries to hide. “You okay?” 

“Hotch asked me to come. You don’t know what it’s for?” 

His smile finally softens before fading to a more neutral expression. “I have no idea.” 

You wipe your hands down over your hips. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine, and not at all like last time.” Hotch has never been angry with you before. It was strange. “I hope he still likes me.” 

“What are you talking about? Of course he does.” 

“What am I talking about?” You agree. “Kiss for luck?” 

“Pucker up,” Morgan says, a coffee cup in hand. Without coffee you’re sure this office would cease to function. 

You shoot him a smile, Spencer a promising look to return, and start up the stairs to the office. You watch your shoes on each step, their shiny black, and you try not to be nervous, but Spencer was acting strange and Hotch has enough reason to revisit his anger. 

Your best defence is a smile, you decide. If you act like nothing happened, you won’t get another rehashing of your mistakes. 

You knock his door. “Hotch? It’s me.” 

“Come in, please.” 

You turn the handle and feel the weight of the door against your elbow as you enter. Hotch sits behind his desk, as usual, but when you’re a few paces from the desk he stand up, which is unusual. 

“How are you?” he asks.

Your eyes widen against your will. “I’m fine. How are you, Hotch? How’s your sweet boy? Did he have fun at little league?” 

“Jack’s perfect. I’m good, I need to talk to you about something.” 

“I assumed.” You wait. Then, neck growing warm, “If it’s about last time, I'm still so sorry.” 

“I’m not going to get angry at you twice for a mistake. But no, that’s not what you’re here for.” 

He’s making you nervous. Is this a guessing game? You lean into your nerves and put your arms behind your back, grasping your wrist as you tilt your head ever so slightly to the side. “It’s not about Spencer, is it? I told you, he’s just a friend. A good friend. But I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise my chances.” 

“It’s about that.” 

You stand straighter. “I do like him,” you confess, which Hotch already knows. Everybody seems to know except for Spencer. It’s not like you’re in love with him, just you could be, maybe. “But I’m really not– I would never do anything–” You start again. “I want this job more than anything. I know I flirt and I make more jokes than I should, but I take the work seriously, I promise. You guys are the most impressive people I know and I might feel like you’re a friend to me, Hotch, but you have to know how much I admire you. I admire Spencer, and I’d never let my feelings impede my professional ability.” 

“Y/N, I’m not reprimanding you for anything.” 

You swallow awkwardly. “You’re not?” 

He raises his eyebrows and turns to his desk. There’s a packet waiting across his outgoings, which he picks up and gives to you. “I need you to fill these in, first and foremost.” 

He’s smiling. Why is he smiling? 

You peer inside cautiously. Chest suddenly aching, thinking, It isn’t what you want, don’t break your own heart, you pull out the very top sheet from inside. FBI letterhead greets you. 

Facilitation of department transfer for Y/N L/N from the Sexual Crimes Unit to the Behavioural Analysis Unit, as requested by Unit Chief Supervisory Special Agent A. Hotchner and approved by Unit Chief S. Peterson. 

You lay it on top of the envelope. All the papers whine under your tight hand. “You requested it?” you ask. 

“Months ago.” 

“And Sandy said yes.” 

“Strauss, finally. If you sign them today, Penelope’s promised to expedite your processing, whether that’s fair or not. Your desk is ready.” 

“Hotch,” you whisper, not without excitement, but sound hard to summon, “are you serious? You’re not messing with me?”

“You deserve it. You have for a long time.” 

You squeeze your eyes closed. For five long seconds, you stand there, and you think about how hard you’ve worked and how badly you’ve wanted this, and how much faith everybody’s had in you the whole time. You’re so thankful. For Hotch, Morgan, and especially for Spencer Reid. 

“Don’t get upset,” Hotch says, taking your arm. He gives it a good squeeze. It’s so friendly and kind you consider jumping up to wrap your arms around him, but you restrain yourself. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, pressing the packet to your chest. 

“You’re welcome. I didn’t mind fighting for you.” 

“I need to go and tell Spencer.” 

“Spencer, your good friend.” 

Your laugh comes in fractures from a sudden deep breath. “My good friend,” you agree. “Hotch, thank you. Thank you, I’m gonna go tell Spencer. I’ll be right back.” 

“It’s fine. Just make sure you finish those forms before lunch.” 

You leave with some dignity. You close Hotch’s office door, and you walk to the balcony and look down at Spencer where he’s waiting for you. His hair falls against his neck, his head angled up, and he’s smiling so hard he must’ve already known what you were summoned into the office for. 

You rush down the stairs. He, in all his loveliness, stands in time to open his arms. “I can’t believe it,” you say, your laugh like a ring as you lean against him. He holds you tight and hugs right back, forcing you to bend under his weight. “Spencer.” 

He pulls away just as quickly. “Tell me,” he says. 

“I’m gonna be part of the BAU.” It’s so insane to finally say aloud. 

Spencer looks extremely, achingly happy for you, but his second hug still surprises you. Your nose ends up pressed to his hair, strands of it falling from behind his ear as his palm cups your shoulder. 

You close your eyes. Spencer laughs, his lips a hair's width from your cheek. 

Your excitement grows too much. You squirm away from him and wrap your hands around yourself, holding in a girlish, giggly squeal. “I did it. I can’t believe I did it.” 

He takes your hand. You barely notice. “Why can’t you believe that? You’re amazing. You work hard and you didn’t give up.” 

Morgan returns from wherever he’s been with Emily and Garcia in tow. “There she is!” he says. 

It’s possibly the best round of hugs you’ve ever had in your life. The little congratulations cupcake they present you with is the sweetest you’ve ever tasted. Spencer puts a makeshift name tag on your desk and you don’t bother pretending your eyes haven’t filled with tears, but nobody cares or minds. 

[qlossytbh]

𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐟 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you had been affected by harsh comments you overheard about yourself and spencer finds a way to cheer you up.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 mean comments on readers physical appearance :( , fem!reader, use of makeup, insecurity, tooth rotting fluff bc why not!, established relationship

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 no bc i would literally die if this happened to me, why do i write perfect men that don’t exist

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It was stupid.

You repeated that to yourself, like a prayer. Like maybe if you continued to repeat it, you’d somehow convince yourself to believe it.

During the long tedious hours of work until the quiet drive back to your apartment, you tried convincing yourself that what he had said did not really prick a nerve the way it had.

You climbed out of the car, stiletto heels clicking against the crisp pavement. You popped your phone into the back pocket of your pants, grabbing your bag and closing the door with a huff.

The two of you were silent— both for ostensibly different reasons. Spencer was exhausted, sluggishly moving with each step he took towards the door of your shared apartment. You however, had your mind slowly, painfully eating you away.

It hadn’t necessarily been what the particular officer had said, if not how he said it— Quoting something along the lines of ‘using too much makeup because without it you knew you weren’t much.”

You hadn’t been paying attention, hearing it was a complete accident— Morgan was ranting non-stop about something you were initially paying attention to when you heard a pair of officers beside you chattering.

They were talking to each other, laughing emptily while glancing over at you every once in a while. You were sadly accustomed to the perpetual obtrusive gaze of men and they objectified you in and out of the job, something Spencer had yet to get rid of.

You didn’t let it torment you, continuing your attention on Morgan. Until their comments were filtering into your attention more vividly than what Derek was even saying.

They had been cruel in every way, shape or form— evidently your clothes, your makeup, the way you talked— were all a problem to those specifically snobby officers.

You held yourself firmly enough that these things usually never got to you— you wouldn’t let them.

Usually.

Spencer opened the apartment door, slipping his satchel onto the ground beside it with a soft thud. Your hand reached up, rubbing soft, reassuring circles into the back of your neck.

Things were quiet.

You headed to the bathroom, Spencer headed into your room. There was a familiarity between the two of you— coming home together, unwinding the day together, doing most things together. You fell in love with it ever since Spencer asked you to move in, but now it felt almost impossible to hide this growing insecurity from him.

Girls like you weren’t insecure— I mean you were, you just couldn’t show it much. It was pathetic, how something so stupid had dug its claws so deep into your skin.

A few minutes later, Spencer walked into the bathroom, watching you inquiringly reapply some pink shade of blush. You glanced up at him through the mirror, shooting him a quick smile before turning back to yourself and fixing the two coiled strands that framed your face gently.

He sneaked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your body and sighing heavily, immediately infected by the virulent sweet smell of you. You leaned back into him, allowing him space to dig his face into the crook of your neck and rest there while you continued. These small moments with you tugged at Spencer's heart, but he still wondered.

“What are you doing?” His voice was muffled, hot air tickling the side of your neck as he spoke.

You caught him gazing up at you through the mirror. “I’m retouching my makeup,”

“How come?”

You opened your mouth to answer but opted with a shrug, not entirely sure what to answer without allowing his prying gaze to see right through you. Spencer said your name once, in something nearly above a whisper.

“Hmm?” You hummed, trying to make nothing of his worried gaze.

“Did something happen?” He asked, pulling away from you. His voice was drenched in concern, grabbing you lightly by the shoulders and encouraging you to face him.

“No!—“ You were quick to jump to your defense, but the instability in your voice gave you away almost immediately. “No, it was nothing—“

You sighed heavily. Spencer’s hand came up to your cheek, lightly grazing it under the soft touch of his thumb, reassuring his presence just like he always did. You found yourself annoyed at the exposure— not at Spencer, of course not. But something about having to show him that the things you always reassured didn’t get to you in fact did, nicked something in your ego.

“I overheard some officers saying stuff about me,” You mumbled with an eye roll. You straightened your shoulders and reassured Spencer firmly. “I don’t care, I promise but—“

Spencer waited. Patiently, like he always did when you got like this. Maybe that’s what was so perfect about him. He was always willing to listen, whether it took you months to open up, or a quick shot out ramble, he was always there.

“I don’t know, it made me think,” You said, shaking your head.

“About?”

“Like if I actually tie my value to the superficial perception others have of me,” You explained, as accurately as you could. “People like what they see, and I do too, but I think that’s one of the only reason why I do,”

You looked up at Spencer, who was gazing into your eyes deeply, trying to puzzle together your thoughts for you. “You think that your beauty is judged solely on what people think of you?”

Your cheeks blazed with heat and you let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t know, it’s stupid Spence—“

“Hold on,” Spencer let you go, reaching into your side of the shared bathroom drawer. You blinked, completely bewildered as to whatever it was that your boyfriend sudden idea. You watched him, brows slightly crinkled as he pulled one of your bottle’s of makeup remover, along with a few cotton pads that had been lying loosely in the drawer. He popped the cap open, pouring a tiny bit of liquid onto the fluffy white pads.

He turned to you, cotton pad in hand. You looked between the small piece of cotton in his hand and his face. Before he could reach over to grab your chin, you quickly grabbed him by the wrist, eyes panicky. “What are you doing?”

Spencer huffed. “Do you trust me?”

“Not really,” You said, giving his wrists a small squeeze as a smile crept onto your face. Spencer deadpanned at you.

“Please?”

Your lips pulled into a tight line before accepting your defeat and nodding gently. He reached forward, grabbing your chin softly and bringing it across the side of your cheek. He then dragged the cool pad over your temples as your face twisted in disgust.

“It’s cold,” You hissed. He chose to ignore your complaints, aimlessly dragging the cold pad across your face and removing all the makeup that sat on it comfortably.

Somehow, this felt like undressing yourself in broad daylight— maybe even worse. You never usually walked around without at least a bit of makeup on, so allowing the person you loved the most to see what you were so insecure about was scary.

It erupted a string of thoughts and countless worries in your head, that were probably way too destructive than kind. What if he found something wrong with your face? What if he was somehow disappointed? What if he only got with you because of your beauty and now he’s realizing you really weren’t all that much?

“Is this your attempt at proving a point?” You asked as the cotton pad hovered over your left eye, rubbing gentle circles.

“Yes,” He answered, tongue sticking out in deep concentration. You began pulling back, hand tight around Spencer’s wrist. You squirmed under his grip.

“You’re getting it in my eye!” You whined.

“Stop moving around then,” He groaned, moving onto the other eye. You blinked, peering through your only available eye.

“You’re going to see my eye bags and I promise you it’s not a cute look,” You warned.

“Seriously?” He asked, sarcasm lacing every single word in his voice. You glared at him through your single eye.

“And my acne scars,” You listed, voice getting close to that of a warning. He hummed nonchalantly.

“And my lanky eyebrows and my lips—“ The cotton pad hovered across your lips, shutting you up, probably on purpose.

“The horror,”

“Spencer,” You muffled a groan, pushing his hand off your lips.

He pulled back, taking a quick look at your now bare face. Spencer wasn’t exactly used to seeing you like this. You’d never really walk around without any makeup in front of him, it was always either too dark to see or too early for him to even realize.

And god if he thought he had won before, he was now realizing he had won the whole lottery. His eyes raked across every freckle, every line, every dot on your face and he was absolutely stunned. He felt himself fall in love twice as hard as he already had. He set down the last used cotton pad and directed your chin towards the mirror at your own reflection.

“Look,”

“Hmm,” You shrugged, squinting your eyes indifferently. “Didn’t realize my eye bags were getting darker.”

Spencer pinched your side, causing you to giggle. “You look beautiful.”

You looked at Spencer through the mirror. This time, the compliment sat much differently. It always meant the most when the words ‘beautiful’ came from Spencer, but having him say it when it was just you, bare and exposed, meant the world and it made your heart start pattering harshly against your chest.

He guided your chin back at him, and cupped your face in his palms, softly stroking his thumbs across the soft pads of your cheeks. “So, so beautiful,”

He brought your face up to his and closed the space between the two of you. You sighed, melting once again under the substantial comfort of Spencer’s touch. You breathed him in— every part you possibly could while your hands rested on either side of his torso. The kiss was soft, but heavy with feeling.

He pulled away, wallowing in two more soft pecks to keep himself satisfied. You smiled before your eyes fluttered open. Spencer himself was decorated in a lopsided smile as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You watched him concentrate his attention on your fly away hairs. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

He nodded, pecking your lips once again. “And I love you,”

“Even if my eye bags get darker?” You pipped pursing your lips.

“Especially if,” He smiled, pulling you into a tight hug.

[cerisereids]

𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗼𝘀- 𝘀.𝗿. [𝗽𝘁. 𝟮]

pairing- spencer reid x fem!reader

w.c.- 8.5k (wtf)

summary- it's been months since you've seen spencer reid. you miss him more than anything, but your friend convinces you it's better if you move on. what happens when he bumps into your new fling at the library?

warnings- sfw but making out at the end, reader is referred to as a woman, emily meddles in spencer's love life lol, angst to fluff, happy ending, not rly proofread im sorry yall i tried my hardest, reader is a little bit messy but she doesn't mean it, last part of this series! part 1 found here

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

“You ready, Pretty Boy?” Derek claps a hand on Spencer’s back as he assembles his desk for the weekend. 

Spencer shudders at the nickname, like there’s a bug crawling up his spine. He can tell just from Derek’s debonair tone what tonight is going to look like, and he wants no part of it.

“For what? To watch you get phone numbers from every girl you meet?” Spencer teases, doing his best to deflect as he reluctantly stands to leave his desk with Derek.

“Maybe,” Derek shoots him a smile and wraps an arm around his shoulders, “but it’s also time for a special someone to finally follow in my footsteps,” he pinches Spencer’s cheek and he playfully pushes him off.

“Ooh! Are you guys getting drinks?” Spencer turns to see Emily and Penelope coming up from behind him.

“Yeah,” Derek responds, “trying to see if Mr. Grumpy over here can lighten up a little bit,” he shakes Spencer’s shoulders, and he unsuccessfully fights an eyeroll. 

“Haven’t been grumpy,” Spencer mumbles, completely proving their point. 

“Yeah guys, he hasn’t been grumpy at all!” Emily starts, and Spencer can tell from the theatrics in her tone that the other shoe has not yet dropped, “we all spend our free time moping at our desk after work, looking through old case files that we’ve already solved.” And there it is. 

“You know, you guys are this close to becoming a trio for the night,” Spencer holds his index finger and thumb mere millimeters apart, and his comment earns a chuckle from the group.

“Hey now,” Emily gives his shoulder a playful knock, “we tease you because we love you!”

“Well, regardless of Reid’s attitude, we are so in!” Penelope chirps, nudging herself in between Spencer and Derek so she can link arms with both men, and it does make Spencer smile.

Spencer uses their newfound company as an excuse to keep to himself, at least on the way there. He knows Derek won’t let it go when they get to the bar, but for now, he allows his mind to drift. Emily was right, to his everlasting dismay. It’s true that he’s been grumpier in the past few months than normal. He sequesters himself away in conference rooms of local police departments, and he spends hours upon hours going over case files and documents until his eyes go cross. He plays solitaire on the jet home, tucked into a corner, not to be disturbed. He mopes on nights like these, nights where Derek tries to inspire him out of his comfort zone. 

It’s all because of one stupid day on the job. One singular day in Massachusetts has turned his life more upside down than seven years in Quantico. It’s torturous, the way you flood his mind, his senses at any waking moment. The way you looked at him, your eyes piercing straight through him, is forever seared into his brain. He doesn’t need an eidetic memory for that. It’s been years since he’s truly felt someone understand him for who he is, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for letting you go. 

Spencer is rudely thrust back into reality by the ding of the bell above him and the incessant chatter of a crowded bar on a Friday night. They’ve made it, and now Spencer has to put on an Academy Award worthy performance so he doesn’t get lectured by his coworkers. Damn profilers. 

“Now, you kids have fun,” Derek says, the glint in his eyes suggesting he’s already spotted a lady across the bar, “I will be over there, working my magic,” he swiftly points to the direction of the bar, the girl perched on a stool with a friend, “unless you wanna come with, Pretty Boy,” he adds with a knowing smiley. 

He claps Spencer on the back again as he shakes his head no, “here, have this to loosen yourself up a bit, then come find me in 20 minutes,” he hands him a beer and moves toward his target. 

Spencer fiddles with the glass bottle, feeling the eyes of Emily and Penelope burning holes right through him. He raises his brows, eyes glancing up for the briefest moment, and he knows it was a mistake the second he catches their accusatory glares. There will be no getting out of this one, he’s afraid, especially with Morgan gone. 

“So, do you wanna tell me what happened with Pretty Library Girl? Or do you want to continue to avoid the entire team every chance you get?” Spencer’s head snaps to Emily, his stomach dropping at the mere mention of her, eyes wide and wild.

“Pretty Library Girl?!” Penelope squeals, and Spencers takes a big swig of beer. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sputters, a tiny drop of beer spilling over his lip. 

“Who is she and why haven’t you told me anything about her?” Penelope sounds offended, like he’s done her wrong by not engaging with her in every detail of his life. It is Penelope afterall, though, so maybe he has. 

“It’s nothing, it’s not important! Emily’s just being mean,” he feels himself going red as he takes another sip. The cold of the glass bottle against his lips makes him long for three months prior, when he had you in his arms and his mouth pressed against your temple. The alcohol infiltrating his brain encourages further thought of how sweet your lips would taste, how warm and soft they’d be compared to the icy feeling of the glass rim. 

“I am not being mean, you baby!” Emily teases, and he shoves an onion ring in his mouth, “remember that one case we worked on about a few months ago? With that one east coast diplomat who was kidnapped?” Penelope nods so Emily continues, and Spencer feels the warmth in his cheeks spread to his ears.

“Well, Spencer here really hit it off with the librarian who called in that he was missing. We were sent to spend the day at the library to keep her safe, he was nearly starstruck at the mere sight of her,” Penelope’s jaw hit the floor at this information, as did Spencer’s, but Emily kept going before either of them could react. 

“To be honest, though,” Emily added, “I think she was starstruck at the sight of you, too, if her reaction to your handshake was anything to go off of.” 

Penelope immediately burst into happy squeals and claps at this revelation, and Spencer put his face in his hands. 

“So that’s why you’ve been such a sourpuss? A girl? Oh Spencer, this is so exciting!” Penelope squeals as she shakes his bicep back and forth, her nails lightly digging in the skin there.

“No, it’s not!” he finally exclaims, “I didn’t get her number. I haven’t seen or spoken to her in three months and I feel like I’m going crazy!”

A weight was lifted off his chest at the confession, but it only made more room for the longing piercing through his heart. He took another sip of beer.

“Ahhh…” Penelope drawls, “so that’s why we’re grumpy. You know, you could just tell me her name and I’ll find her for you in two seconds flat,” she punctuates her remark with the snap of a finger. 

“No…no, I don’t want you to do that. I screwed up by not going for it. If I’m going to contact her, I should at least be honest about it,” he rests his forehead in his large palm, another sip. 

“Well, it’s never too late, you know,” Emily remarks, “I thought she was good for you.”

“Yeah, me too,” he mutters, chin in his palm.

Spencer’s on his fifth beer when Derek comes back to the table, this time with a woman on each arm.

“Spencer…” he drags out, introducing him to the one on the left, closest to him, “meet Callie. I was chatting with her and her friend over at the bar and I think you’d really hit it off.”

His tone is light, but his eyes are saying if you fumble one more time, I’m gonna kill you. Looks like he’s a dead man, because he’s quick to tell the girl he’s not interested. He’s never disrespectful, always straightforward. He doesn’t have time for games, unless, apparently, it’s his own heart he’s interested in playing with.

“Excuse us just one second, ladies,” Derek escorts Spencer out the doors of the bar, out to where it’s more quiet. 

“What the hell is goin’ on, man?” Derek nearly interrogates, “that’s the fifth girl in the past month I’ve introduced you to that you’ve rejected. Something has been up for a while and I want answers, kid. I’m just trying to help,” his eyes soften with that last bit, but Spencer is now too tipsy to respond similarly.

“That’s just it, Morgan. I don’t need your help, I’m fine. Nothing is going on, all these outings are pointless, and you should’ve just let me go home,” Spencer turns to leave, the alcohol flooding his senses, dizzying him as he whips around. He stops for a moment to regain his balance, and he hears Derek chuckle behind him, which only makes him even more annoyed with himself. 

“Come on, what’s going on, man?” Derek asks gently as he turns Spencer around by his shoulders, steadying once he’s faced him again. 

He sighs, accepting defeat. Every single emotion he’s held in over the past three months is released with that sigh, and he nearly crumbles when he croaks out, “I miss her.”

“Who, man?” confusion laces through Derek’s tone, and Spencer folds himself in half before he can answer.

“The-ugh! Pretty Library Girl!” he exclaims finally, words slurring together ever so slightly, “and she’s not just pretty, either. She’s the most beautifullest girl I’ve ever met, Derek,” his voice comes out in a whisper, and he felt the gravity of saying those words out loud, there was no going back now, “didn’t get her phone number, it was the biggest mistake of my life, Derek! I don’t care about any of these other girls you’ve introduced me to because none of them are her! And now I’ll never see her again!” he buries his face in his hands at the end of his rant. 

He's only vaguely aware of how dramatic he is in his drunkenness, holding in emotions for so long will do that to you. He’s thanking his lucky stars that Penelope and Emily exit the building the moment he says it. They can fill Derek in on the blanks on the walk home. He won’t be able to without bursting into tears. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

A wine glass balances delicately between your fingertips as you decide which clothes you want to take with you on the move, and which clothes you’ll be donating to your local GoodWill. 

“So, Hot FBI Guy will be living close by, right?” the crackled voice of your best friend, Mary, echoes from your computer, and you take another sip of wine at the mere mention of him. 

“All I know is that he works in Quantico. I have no idea where he lives,” you try and keep the conversation about Spencer as neutral as possible, the ache of his departure still stinging like it happened yesterday.

“Well, I’m just saying that if he works near D.C. then he’s local. Just. Saying.” she drags out, innocently holding her hands up like she’s being interrogated. Ironic. 

“What does that have to even do with anything?” you know you’re being dense, but you haven’t yet been able to confront what you’ve lost quite yet. That connection, albeit in its infancy, was a million times more powerful than anything you’ve felt with your past relationships. You long so desperately to know what you and Spencer could have been, and it gnaws at your stomach like a parasite.

“You know what it has to do with! If he was as into you as you told me he was, then I can guarantee you he’d jump at the chance to reconnect,” you wish you feel as confident as your best friend sounds. 

Still, excitement sparks in your belly at the thought of being so close to him. When Mary came to you a few weeks ago with a job opportunity at the National Museum of American History Library in D.C., you lept at the opportunity. Mr. Anderson had decided to retire shortly after the incident that brought Spencer to you. You can’t necessarily blame him, and you’re elated about the new prospect.

Whether your enthusiasm had to do with the job itself or the brunette agent that would be nearby is anybody’s guess. In the months since you’ve seen him, your memories with him have morphed into something dream-like, something you’ve disconnected from your reality. It’s the only way you’ve been able to continue without him. Reality is becoming harder to ignore, though, the more you put items in boxes and clothing in suitcases. You’re flying to D.C. in a few days to begin the move-in process, and that’s what this video call was supposed to be about. Key word: supposed. 

“I don’t know,” you take another big gulp, the acidity tickling your throat, “what if this silence is an answer? If he wanted to, he would, y’know?”

“Ugh! Fine! I guess that’s fair, if you want to be stubborn,” your best friend groans, and you smile at her theatrics, “so, how about I set you up with someone when you get over here? There’s a really cute guy that works at the local university, his name is Brad. He comes and works with us every now and then. Maybe when you get here I can introduce you guys.” 

“Ugh, Brad?” you spit out. The name tastes acrid on your tongue, like you can feel notes of the red flags already forming on your palette. 

“Don’t be so quick to judge!” Mary sputters, “you are the one who refuses to find Hot FBI Guy, so as your best friend, I’ve appointed myself to solve this problem for you.”

“Y’know, I never asked you to do that,” you joke as you finish the last drop in your glass, a pleasant buzz overtaking your senses. 

“I know, that’s why you love me!” she chirps, finishing her own wine, “I’ll text you his number, okay? I gotta get going, we both have a busy next few days. I’ll come get you from the airport when you land here, though, okay? Fly safe!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

Spencer’s long, deft fingers pad against the spines of books, some dating all the way back to the 1600s, some that must have been published within a year. He can tell by the condition of the spine itself. He hums to himself quietly, until the dull thud of books hitting against carpet takes him away from himself, his mind. He has to blink twice when he turns around, to make sure he’s not seeing things. It’s you. It’s you, and you’re flustered. You saw him first, he can tell by the way you scramble to pick up the books, avoiding eye contact while you shove them haphazardly back onto the metal cart you’re pushing. Melvil Dewey would turn over in his grave at the sight. 

“Let me help you,” Spencer starts gently, so ask not to spook you even more. He kneels slightly, his large hands picking up twice as many books as you were able to. His chest puffs just slightly at the way your eyes linger on them, your gaze following the way the veins in his hands stretch to accommodate the thick text in his hands. He folds back into himself, though, when your eyes meet. Those eyes. Those eyes he’s dreamed about night after night for four months, now inches away from him, staring right into his soul.

“Hi,” is the only thing he can say. It comes out breathy, like a secret.

“Hi,” your voice is shaky, so is your breath as you stand to adjust the books, now lying disorganized across the top of the cart.

“Stop-” your hand shoots out to cover his, and you both make immediate eye contacts at the action. Yours are wide and big, brows furrowed in regret. It makes his stomach drop and he tears his eyes away from yours, stepping back from the cart. 

“Spencer-” you start again, but he can take a hint. 

“No-no, don’t bother,” he smiles sheepishly as he backs away, “I get it, I’m sorry if I overstepped. It’s good to see you again, you look good,” he can’t help but dote, even if it’s obvious you don’t want to see him. 

He supposes he’s ruined things by not taking initiative the first time, has already accepted that life doesn’t hand out second chances. That’s why it’s not too difficult for him to start to walk away, even though his brain screeches at him to turn around with each step. 

“Spencer-wait!” he hears you call after him, and he believes in a god for the briefest moment.

“I’m sorry,” you gush, “I just-I wasn’t expecting to see you, which I guess is silly considering that we’re both here now, an-and you surprised me and then I dropped all of this…” you trail off, gesturing down to the mess you both created, but before you could continue, Spencer registered your words. 

“Wait-” his head snaps up, eyes locking with yours, brows furrowed in confusion, “what do you mean ‘that we’re both here now’? How long have you been here?”

Your face goes white, and his heart falls into his stomach. 

“About a month,” you mutter quietly, and Spencer positively aches. One month of you being within 50 miles of him, and he didn’t even know. “I’m sorry, Spencer,” you nearly plead with him, and he wants to take your hands in his and kiss all over them so you know you don’t ever have to plead, not when it comes to him. 

“I just didn’t know how to go about this, it’s not like we were really dating or anything…” you trail off, both of you seemingly struck by the verbal acknowledgement of a relationship, or whatever was going on between you two in Massachusetts. It hangs heavily between the two of you, absorbing all his brain power until an idyllic, domestic life with you is the only thought his big brain can create.

“Maybe we can start slow. Friendly,” he suggests. You’re reserved, not telling him something, so even though it physically aches to stay still, to not pull you in his arms and kiss every bit of skin he can find, he’d rather take this slow. He'd rather have you as only a friend than not at all. He did that already, and he never wants to again. 

“Yeah,” your eyes sparkle, and he can see the rest of his life in them, “friends.” Your smile at this moment is worth any heartache he’d ever have to go through.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

“You know, that’s the fourth book you’ve checked out on American sewing patterns in the 1940s this week,” you smile when you hear your coworker’s voice float over from the checkout desk. 

Spencer’s here. 

“I got him,” you say once you’ve jogged into the front room, “don’t even worry about it,” you shoo your coworker who rolls her eyes, knowing full well you’re not alleviating her from a customer. 

“Neither of you are slick, you know,” your coworker jokes in a quiet tone that only you can hear, and you blush furiously at her insinuation.

“Doing some light reading over the weekend, Doc?” you smirk as the scanner beeps, a red light flashing over the barcode of his book. He smiles and looks down, a slight pink tint dusting his cheeks at the title.

“Not really, actually. We’re working on a case with an unsub who’s very well versed in sewing patterns,” he chews around the words, a cinnamon sugar donut resting in his left hand. 

“I see,” you respond, bagging his book, “and you’ve been assigned to do all the research on the symbolism of sewing patterns?” you raise your brows teasingly, and it earns you a million dollar Spencer Reid smile.

“You know it,” he chuckles a little as his cheeks redden, you’ll never get tired of seeing him blush.

“Well…maybe I can help you?” you offer shyly, “y’know, my mom was a professional seamstress back in the day. Taught me everything she knows. I’m no FBI profiler, but I might be able to help,” you shrug, and now it’s your turn for your cheeks to heat up. With the intensity with which he was looking at you, you were surprised you didn’t burst into flames on the spot.

“Realy? You never told me that,” Spencer whines accusatively. 

“Well, we’ve only been friends again for three weeks. Sorry we haven’t yet gotten into our parents’ lore yet,” you joke, and you can just barely make out a shift in his eyes, like the acknowledgement of your current predicament pains him, “my shift’s done in about 15 minutes,” you soldier on, “let me finish up everything I need to do and I’ll meet you over there,” you nod towards one of the comfortable study couches in your library, complete with tables, cupholders, and outlets.

When you found him there a mere 20 minutes later, you could have melted. Glasses you’ve never seen before perch on his nose. Your heart swells, a symphony of angels could come down and sing at any moment at the mere sight of the wiry frames resting on his nose. There’s an extra pep in your step as you approach him, and his eyes light up once he sees you’ve arrived. 

“Hey!” he chimes, happy as a clam, “you ready to study up on the importance of sewing during the second World War?” he punctuates his question with the slam of a thick textbook on the table, and you lean back slightly so as to avoid the dust emanating from it.

“Oof! Sorry!” he coughs, waving his hand in a weak attempt to dissipate the dust. It just makes you giggle, which in turn earns you yet another smile. You two stay like that for a moment, lost in time, lost in each other. Your head and ears become fuzzy, the pounding of your heart soon becoming the only thing you can hear. You rest your chin in your palm, and you won’t be surprised if cartoon hearts start beating out of your eyes while you listen to him spew out sewing information. 

You pretend to listen as your eyes trail down his face, from his hairline, down to the slope of his nose, to his full, pink lips. There’s remnants of sugar dusting his lips from the donut he had earlier, and you allow yourself one brief moment to wonder what it’d taste like. If he’d let you run your tongue over his bottom lip and find out. The mere thought makes you shudder, and you adjust in your seat. You throw your right leg over your left in a way that allows the sundress you wore today to cling to every curve and dip of your body, something Spencer notices. You see him adjust, moving the arm closest to you to rest on the table. He feels it too. He wouldn’t be shielding himself if he didn’t.

“Sooo…” he trails off, cheeks reddening once more. You’ll never get tired of it. “How much do you know about sewing? Or was this all a ruse to spend some one on one time with me?” he raises his eyebrows accusatively at you, and it loosens the tension in your shoulders, a laugh bursting from your throat. 

“There it is,” he mutters softly, seemingly to himself. 

His chin is also resting in his palm now, and it’s brought you closer together. His nose is just inches from yours, your legs entangling with each other under the table. You see his eyes go down, down. You feel them scan over your body, studying the flowing linen of your floral print clad frame. You see his eyes linger on your chest for a brief moment, his own breath picking up at the slightest peek of your cleavage heaving up and down. The way it cinches your waist, the way it allows the rest of your curves to flow freely below it, he drinks it all in. It’s completely silent, save for your heavy breathing. All you can do is watch.

“There what is?” you ask, adjusting once more in your seat so you can face him directly. 

You’re open to him, now. Chest fully open and facing him, one arm on the table and the other on the back of your chair. You’re showing him you’re open, you’re ready. You would push him onto this table and kiss him silly right now if you could, you’d give him a really good reason to love this sundress. 

“Could tell something was keeping you tense. I wanted to make you laugh so you’d loosen up,” he smiles, “and because I love your laugh.”

You smile and inch impossibly closer, until you’re yanked out of your dream world and slammed onto the cold, hard ground in seconds.

“Hey, babe! You ready? We got reservations in like a half hour,” you feel a hand on your shoulder from behind and a kiss to your cheek. Your stomach plummets, eyes wide like you’re in a horror film and the killer is behind you.

You can see the instant disappointment creeping onto Spencer’s face. He doesn’t want to show it, but it’s there. 

“Brad!” you chirp in the fakest possible voice you can muster. 

You look up over your shoulder at the man Mary set you up with. He’s taking you on your third date tonight. You completely and totally forgot. A fire of guilt ignites in your lower belly, burning hot until you’re nearly sick with it. Your head snaps back to Spencer, where you see him collect his materials. Your heart sinks into your stomach, charring itself to bits with the rest of your guts down there. 

“Spencer-” you reach an arm out to stop him, but he yanks it away. An internal skewer prods your fire, makes it hotter, bigger. 

“I checked this out, actually. I’ll look it over at the station, it’ll probably take me not even 10 minutes to read it by myself anyway,” he rambles sheepishly, his face now turning red for the worst possible reason. 

“Hey, man!” Brad chuckles obliviously, and you wish you could crawl into a hole right then and there, “you must be her genius FBI friend, yeah she talks about you,” he puts his hands on his hips as his head turns from him, back to you. Realization dawns on his face as Brad reaches out his hand, Spencer shakes it professionally and you want to die.

“Talks a lot about you, actually. It’s funny, I never really understood what a guy with such a high IQ would be doing in the FBI, but that’s just me,” he’s the only one that chuckles at his statement, his gaze now turned towards his phone, “plus, don’t you need to be more fit to be in the FBI? You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who chases down killers.”

“Yeah, well, my unit actually profiles the behavior of serial killers in order to catch them. That’s where my IQ of 187 comes in, as well as my three PhDs,” you can tell he's word vomiting, and he sends a fake smile at Brad, who gives not one signal that he listened to any of that at all. You can hear the shake in Spencer’s voice. He’s trying to make it through this conversation without blowing a gasket. You’re doing the same. 

“Yeah, man, that’s sweet,” he flips his gum around in his mouth, chewing as he scrolls on his phone, “listen, can we go now, babe? I’m starving,” he tries slinking his arm over your shoulders, eyes still glued to his phone. 

This isn’t unusual for him, he’s been guilty of this the past few dates he took you on. Whether it was when you were ordering the food, or walking home, a time would come on the date where his eyes wouldn’t leave his phone. It piqued your curiosity, but truthfully, you never liked him enough to care. This position allows you a quick glance at his screen, opened in the messages of someone named Emma, who he’s also calling ‘babe’. 

Spencer takes this as his cue to leave, though. You know you don’t deserve it, but not getting a goodbye from him is like a kick to the shins. 

“Yeah-yeah, I’ll be ready in just one second,” you say breathlessly, “gonna just go walk him out,” you give him a weak smile before breaking into a jog to catch up with him.

“Spencer!” you call as you jog out to the patio, where you saw him for the first time that March morning. 

“When were you going to tell me you have a boyfriend?” he turns, not letting you get a word in edgewise. 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” you exclaim, grasping at straws to save face, “he’s just someone that Mary set me up with. We’ve only gone out on a few dates, it’s not a serious thing!” the wind whips desperately between the two of you, an earthly manifestation of four months of swirling emotions, repressed and ready to bubble over the surface. It’s true that you’ve only been on a few dates with the guy, but you know what honesty means to Spencer. You know that lying by omission is still a lie. You were so desperate to pick up the pieces of your broken heart, you just wanted to let someone else do it for you. You never expected Spencer to come back, never expected a friendship like this to blossom, never expected to be in love with him while dating someone else. You didn’t know what to do. Clearly, ignoring it was not the best way to handle that.

“Serious enough to call you ‘babe’,” he mutters to the ground, rolling his eyes. 

“Hey!” you spit, now defensive, “you were the one who wanted to just be ‘friends’,” you throw up air quotes, “you don’t get to be mad now!”

“‘m not mad,” Spencer insists, grumbly. His gaze is kept on the ground, the toe of his Converse kicking a rock, “I get it. You’re beautiful, he’s beautiful. No wonder Mary thought you’d be a great couple. I see it, I really do. I just don’t know why you didn’t tell me, ‘s all,” his voice is high pitched and whiny, an aggravated tone that gives away his true feelings whether he means to or not.  

You roll your eyes and fold your arms across your chest, “because, Spencer, I didn’t realize I had to run every single relationship choice by a man I’ve only really known for three weeks! A man who took off without leaving any way for me to contact him! So yeah, don’t be too surprised that I’ve moved on,” you huff, eyebrows drawn downwards in an angry pout. 

“Moved on?” Spencer whines, turning to face you, “we spent one day together! I’m an FBI agent, I can’t just hand out my number to random strangers I meet on cases!” “You and I both know I wasn’t just a random stranger on a case!” you shout, and a heavy silence falls between you. 

The rain splatters harshly against the ground, moving so fast you can barely see each individual raindrop. Your mind is a similar storm, clouded, dark, and so desperate for sun. The sun in your case is the man standing before you, chest heaving as he stares back at you. 

“I don’t know, Spencer, I don’t know,” you chuckle, breaking the silence with a venomous huff, “we spent one day together, yes, but I felt a connection with you that I’ve never felt with anyone else. I know you felt it too. Do you go around telling everybody you meet on a case about how amazing your mentor was and how much you miss him?” 

He flinches, and you know you got him. 

“Leave him out of this,” is all he can mutter.

“You brought him into it in the first place,” you jab back. You know you’re being petty, you know you’re in the wrong, but you can’t accept it. Not with Spencer standing right in front of you, looking at you like he’s Caesar and you’re Brutus holding a bloodied knife in your hand. Maybe that’s exactly who you are, but the humiliation of your mistakes creeps into every bone in your body, sitting most prominently in your throat. It’s strangling you, holding you back from any logic, your emotions running rampant throughout this conversation. 

“Have fun on your date, I have a killer to catch,” Spencer doesn’t spare you one last look before leaving you stranded in the rain. 

You return to your desk completely soaked through, and Brad’s eyes widen in a condescending way that makes your skin crawl. 

“Whew,” he whistles, nearly scared at the sight of you, “well, it seems like you two have some stuff you need to work out. You’re hot, but I’m not interested in being a part of some weird ass love triangle you have going on with that loser. See ya around,” he raps his knuckles on the desk and leaves without second thought. 

Your skin crawls at his third grade insult, your eyes trained on his retreating figure. You’re frozen in place, unbelieving that this all just unfolded in front of you, because of you. Your pruney fingers come up to hide your soaked face. You can only imagine how much of a disaster you looked like right now, dripping and wilted, like the dewey trees hanging outside. You stare at one in front of the window by your desk, and can’t help but feel envious of the sopping bark and dripping leaves. Their storm is about growth, renewal, yours was brought on by your own selfishness and humiliation. Your head falls back into your hands. You need to make things right with Spencer. You’ve already lost him once, you know you won’t be able to go through it again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

“Hey!” Spencer whines, snapped out of his stewing by a crumpled piece of paper flying from Emily’s direction hitting him square on the nose.

“What’d you do that for!?” he whines, nose scrunching as he throws the paper back at the perpetrator. 

“You need to focus, Genius!” her voice rings sarcastically, “were you able to get any help from your girly friend at the library or no?”

Spencer’s insides twist at her teasing, the sheer mention of you makes him want to crawl in a hole and never come out. He feels like such an idiot. In what world would someone so beautiful actually like someone like him? The humiliation regresses his emotions to the sinking feeling in his gut he felt when he was 12, watching the jock ask the girl from his AP calculus class that he’d fantasized about for months to prom. He knew it was a pipe dream then, but he should’ve known now, too. As angry as he is at you, he’s almost more angry with himself for letting his guard down. Your beauty destines you to someone like Brad, with his sculpted jaw and perfect hair. It’s a tale as old as time, one where there are two beauties and one beast left behind to study sewing patterns from World War II. 

“Oof, sore subject?” Emily asks after a moment of bitter silence, “I thought things were going well. I was thinking we could even have her come in to help us with some of this if you want,” she pats the multiple books they have to help with the case. 

If it were any other circumstances, Spencer would feel grateful for his friend doing him a solid, even though they both know he could read everything on the conference room table in an hour. Now, though, the thought feels like a boiling pitchfork slicing through his gut. 

“Well, she’s on a date with someone named Brad right now, if you were curious,” Spencer snapped before walking out to read his books in peace. 

“What?” he hears a high pitched shout from behind him, and he fights an eye roll when he hears the clicking of Emily’s heels hot on his tail. “I thought things were going well? You were over there all the time, I mean you practically spent all of your free time there, everyone else thought you were just going into hermit mode, but I knew-” “Well, things change, Emily. I won’t be going there so much anymore,” Spencer cuts off her rambling dryly, trying to sound as neutral as possible about the situation. The shakiness in his voice tattletales on him, though. He knows he’s been figured out by the way Emily’s eyes narrow down at him, her tongue poking at her cheek. He accepts defeat, his forehead falling to the crook of his arms resting on his desk. 

“Alright…” Emily sighs, moving to sit adjacent to her distressed coworker, “lay it on me, kid.”

Spencer can’t help himself. Everything, every thought that’s been keeping him up late at night, every feeling that’s eaten through his stomach til it’s raw comes spilling out. He tells her about the last three weeks, about how it’s allowed him to actually establish a connection with you, and how it was better than he ever thought it could be. He tells her about Brad, about the patronizing way the beefcake eyed him up and down. 

“I just feel so stupid,” he vents, unable to make eye contact with Emily, “I really thought she could actually like me, but it makes so much sense that she’s with someone like him instead,” he shakes his head, gaze turning towards his lap, “she’s so pretty, Emily, I just blew it too many times.”

He’s ready to give up, ready to wallow in his sorrows with Derek, maybe finally take him up on all the offers to set him up. That’s what you did, anyway. 

“Well,” Emily scoffs, kicking her feet up on his desk. He frowns at the sight. “Your first problem is that you’re comparing yourself to this Brad loser-”

“You didn’t see him, though,” Spencer jumps in, defensive, “he’s perfect for her-”

“On the outside, maybe,” Emily cut him off, regaining power of the conversation. Spencer slumps back in his chair as she eyes him, “and honestly Spencer, that means nothing. I know you know that,” she says, and Spencer retreats into himself as her pointed gaze pierces through that rawness in his stomach.

“Honestly, Spencer, I’m shocked you’re so intimidated by some meathead,” she sits back, more relaxed now, it allows Spencer to loosen up too. “You’re Doctor Spencer Reid. Three times over, actually!” she makes sure to enunciate his full name, title and all, and it makes his chest lightly puff up once more, “just because you may not be some adonis with a six pack doesn’t make you undesirable, Spencer. I wish you knew that,” she utters that last bit quietly, softer, it makes his heart churn with vulnerability. 

“Sometimes I do wonder what it would be like to be like Derek,” Spencer remarks, “to not be scared to go out and find a connection, to be able to act on it once you find it. It’s one of the very few things I’m not an expert at,” he jokes lightly, and Emily smiles at him sadly. 

“Nobody is, Spencer,” Emily sighs, “love is messy, and it’s complicated, but it’s worth fighting for. If you really think going cold turkey on your library visits is the best way for you to handle this, then so be it. But I don’t want you forgetting who you are, what you bring to the table, because if someone is lucky enough to capture the attention of the Spencer Reid, she better be able to keep up,” she smiles at him, standing to ruffle his hair like a big sister. It still makes his cheeks go red. 

“Thanks Emily,” he mutters, “I’ll think about it.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

Your hands are visibly shaking as the elevator lifts you to the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They grip the visitor’s badge dangling from your neck in a desperate attempt to find something to do. You’re here on business, though you’re not sure Spencer knows that. You’re not in the mood to find out. After two weeks of staring at the door from your desk, waiting so desperately to see your favorite person walk through the doors, only to go home disappointed everyday, you have no clue how he will react to seeing you, let alone working with you. 

Your eyes drop down to your phone, open to the email you received from Emily Prentiss earlier in the week, requesting a meeting with you for some advice on a case. Your eyes scan over one particular sentence, over, and over, and over again. ‘Spencer told me about how you helped him on cases, and I’d love to hear your expertise…’ You honestly stopped reading after ‘Spencer told me’. He talked about you. He told Emily about you, how you’d help him. It feels you with a mix of joy and fear at the same time. Did he tell her good things about you? Does she know the reason why he stopped coming by the library? 

You don’t have much time to ponder, as the doors of the elevator slide open with a ding. You take one step off the elevator, and that’s all you can muster. Your eyes frantically scan the hustle and bustle of the bureau, and you can’t help but feel even more intimidated than you already were. Panic slithers its way from your stomach and wraps itself around your throat like a cobra. You wonder if this was all a big mistake, if you should have just ignored it and stayed out of Spencer’s way. He didn’t fight for you, so why are you fighting for him? You turn around, the only movement you’ve made since stepping off the elevator, and desperately press the button multiple times.

“What are you doing here?” you freeze when you hear the unmistakable voice coming from behind you. The shake in his voice, the slight grievance in his tone makes you freeze again, and now you know you’ve made a mistake. Anything that has to do with Spencer paralyzes you, why would you think you could pull this off?

“Leaving,” you respond curtly, pressing the elevator button a few more times.

“That won’t work, just makes it move slower,” his tone is playful, but biting. He’s mad, you know he is, and bile rises in your throat at the thought. You fold your arms across your chest and do your best to ignore him, but you feel him. You always do, only this time, he’s closer to you than he’s been in weeks. It’s infiltrating your brain, your senses betraying all logic as the heat radiates from his chest, nearly pressed against your back, the smell of his woodsy aftershave floods your nostrils, the spice of his cologne lingering on his sweater a close runner up. You don’t spend much time thinking about your next actions, if you had you wouldn’t have grabbed the collar of Spencer’s shirt and dragged him into the elevator with you.

“I’m sorry, Spencer, okay? I’m so, so sorry. I made a huge mistake not telling you about Brad, it was a mistake to even go out with him to begin with,” you say that last part mostly to yourself as the doors shut. You and Spencer breathe heavily in the newfound silence, unsure where to go next. 

“What does that mean?” Spencer asks.

“What?” you huff.

“You said it was a mistake to go out with him to begin with. What does that mean?” he presses, like he’s in an interrogation. You don’t expect the sternness from him, but you can’t deny the way it sets your stomach aflame, burning embers warming your heart. 

“It means that I never wanted to just be friends with you, Spencer. I thought you were going to ask me for my number when we met for the first time in Massachusetts,” you brush fallen strands of hair out of your face, still out of breath from the intensity of the conversation, of having Spencer so vulnerable, so close to you. “You didn’t, though, and to be honest? I was crushed.”

His eyebrow quirks, “you were crushed?”

“You’re trying to tell me you didn’t feel a connection, even from our first meeting?” you challenge him, and when he ponders silently for a moment too long, you know you have him. “Me too,” you breathe, “I was so upset, my friend thought it would be a good idea to set me up with Brad, try and help me move on, y’know? It didn’t work, obviously, because now I’m here, at the first beck and call of anyone who’s anywhere close in proximity to you,” you chuckle condescendingly towards yourself, eyes filling with hot tears as humiliation seeps through your veins. 

“I mean…Spencer,” you scoff, breathing heavier now as tears spill over your lash line, “my entire life changed the day I met you,” his big brown eyes nearly turn you to applesauce in that moment, the way they gaze lovingly at you, a light shine reflecting off the LED light of the elevator.

“Mine too,” he mutters, voice raspy and cracked with emotion. “I’m sorry, too. I was just so hurt by that run-in with Brad that I didn’t think I could face you, was too humiliated,” his gaze falls towards the floor. 

“I’m so sorry for doing that to you, Spencer, I should have told you,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion as tears slowly keep spilling. 

“Yeah, well, I should have asked for your number that day in March,” he smiles sheepishly at you, and you want nothing more than to just put him in your pocket and take him home with you. 

Your conversation is cut short by the ding of the elevator. You wipe at your cheeks before instinctively reaching for his hand, pulling him with you out into the parking structure. 

“Hey-” he lightly protests, although he goes along with you anyway, “you know I have to work still, right?”

“Well, you can tell Emily to take the fall for you,” you quip, “because she was the one who told me I needed to meet with her,” you turn to face Spencer, whose eyebrow quirks in the cutest way, “mmhm, told me it was a big case and everything.”

“We’re in between cases right now, what does she-” Spencer stops himself, the lightbulb flicking on over his head, “...oh.”

“You just now figured that out, Spence?” you gently tease, “you didn’t see her and Derek spying on us by the elevator?” you stop by your car, and the tension from the elevator follows the two of you, settling like dust. 

“No,” he chuckles bashfully, his arms lifting to lay lightly at your waist, testing the waters, “no, I didn’t. You ever considered a future in profiling?”

You can’t help but laugh further into his hold, you feel so naturally safe there that you can’t help but just step closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. This time, tears of relief, tears of overwhelming joy flood your eyes again. You know things aren’t perfect between you and Spencer, but the fact that there is finally a relationship to build floods your body with relief like a dam breaking. Your bones no longer ache for his touch, your heart slowly stitching itself back together, just from the healing powers of his magical arms. You feel his warm, calloused hand come to rest against your cheek, brushing a tear out of the way.

“Y’know,” he mutters, “the reason I stopped coming by after meeting Brad was because I felt stupid,” he continues when you quirk your brow, eyes full of confusion, “I felt stupid thinking you would like someone like me over someone like that,” he pumps his muscle in a weak attempt to mock Brad, but it earns him a chuckle from you, so his eyes shine. 

“Oh, Spencer,” you dote, your eyes shining into his with the brightest confession of love, “he could never hold a candle to you, I mean it,” you punctuate when he avoids eye contact, “not only are you the smartest, kindest, gentlest man I’ve ever met, you’re also incredibly sexy. Your hair works wonders you’ve never even heard of.” He looks at you like you’re crazy, “sexy?!” he exclaims, nearly forgetting he’s in the parking lot at his work, “I don’t think anyone’s ever actually called me sexy, and meant it,” he adds, quieter this time, and you have no choice. 

You place both your palms against his scruffy cheeks, clenching your thighs together at the thought of him not shaving for a few days, and press your lips to his. It’s not a picture perfect first kiss, either. It’s messy, it’s desperate, it conveys everything the two of you have been too scared to say over the past four months. You nearly swoon when he places a hand at the small of your back, tugging you closer and deepening the kiss. His scruff moves against your supple skin and reddens your chin in a way you’ll have to explain to your coworker later, but you don’t care. Right now, all you can care about is the feeling of his lips on yours, moving to your cheek, down your neck, nibbling at your collarbone. “Spencer,” you gasp, regretfully lifting his head up, “you’re at work.” His eyes close, like he’s trying to retain some composure. He rests his forehead against yours, and your eyes fall closed, too. Your hand grips his wrist as both of his hands rest against your cheeks, your breathing syncs, you lock eyes. You know from the second his blown out irises catch yours, there’s no way he’s going back in that office. He places the softest kiss to your lips, adding one more before he moves to bury his face in your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses your back to your car.

“We can blame it on Emily, like you said,” he presses a kiss to your neck, “I’ve been thinking about the way your body would feel in my arms for four months, baby,” he rasps, and you want to hear him call you baby until the day you die. “I’m not giving it up now, if it’s an emergency, Hotch will call me,” he provides some reassurance before giving you one last kiss and heading around to the passenger side of your car.

“For now, though?” he poses, “we’re finishing this at your place.”

Your heart skips a beat as you hop in the driver’s seat.

[ladylannisterxo]

... the one where spence takes an interest

Pairings; Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Words; 0.6k

Warnings; one use of Y/N but this was written back before I stopped using it lol but other than that, none, just fluff!

Summary; {requested} "Not to pester you, I had this thought and wanted to share is all, but could you imagine talking to Spencer about something you're really excited about (like a movie/tv show/game or something) and the next day he starts talking to you in length about it, and it turns out he went home that night and read/watched everything he could on the subject."

A/N; goodness, I wrote this years ago on another blog and since I've been rewatching Criminal Minds, I figured I'd go ahead and post it again (cause why not?)... the one and only thing I ever wrote for Dr. Spencer Reid ajdhsakdshak

{ masterlist }

You didn't plan this. Really, you didn't. But you know how it goes when you start binging a new tv series: just one more episode... and then before you know it, it's 2:00am.

Now you're sitting in the bullpen. It's 8:00am and you're constantly rubbing at your tired eyes and chugging coffee like your life depends on it.

And Spencer is wearing a curious expression, already extrapolating possibilities as to what could have kept you awake last night.

But he doesn't mention it. Not when the team is discussing the new case, not even on the jet en route to your destination. He waits until it's just you and him, paired off to go talk to the medical examiner about the latest victim.

"Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, just a little tired."

He smiles warmly, offering you an amused glance before fixing his eyes back on the road. "I gathered. What kept you up?"

"You know, I just..."

But then you realize you don't want to tell him, not really. To you, staying up super late to watch a tv show seems embarrassing when compared to how he most likely spent his night.

You imagine that he read around six books, most of which were probably in a language you didn't understand. Or maybe he called his mom to check in with her. Or maybe he had nightmares himself and so he thinks that's exactly what happened with you...

Any scenario you think of infinitely sounds better than oh, you know, I just stayed up super late watching some trashy guilty pleasure tv show because I have no self control.

"Nothing really," you settle on, "it's dumb."

"Try me."

So you cave, mostly because you're too tired to fight. He listens intently as you tell him about the new show you found, how it's completely ridiculous but it allows you to step out of your life for a bit and relax.

He doesn't say much, just nods along as you talk and before you know it, you've arrived at your destination and it's back to work.

Spencer actually doesn't mention your conversation again for the remainder of the case and finally, the unsub is in custody and the team is back home to enjoy a nice, long weekend.

You don't see or hear from Spencer during this time but first thing Monday morning, he's greeting you as you step off the elevator with a cup of coffee and a bright smile.

... and then he tells you he spent the weekend watching the first season of the show you mentioned and to his surprise, he really enjoyed it.

To say you're confused is an understatement but you listen as he discusses every character and what he thinks of the current story arc.

"Spencer," you laugh, resting your hand on his arm and halting his speech. "Not that I'm not thrilled to talk about this but I really wasn't expecting you to go home and watch an entire season of a show just because I mentioned it."

He smiles sheepishly, eyes lingering on where your hand still rests on his arm.

"You were really excited about it though."

"And?"

"And it seemed important to you... so it's important to me."

A smile pulls itself across your face and you open your mouth to respond when you're both interrupted by Garcia letting you know there's another case.

"Hold that thought," you inquire.

"It's impossible for me to forget it."

And just like that, you're discussing trashy tv with Dr. Spencer Reid during any downtime that you're granted. You gush about your favorite character and he theorizes future story arcs while simultaneously pointing out behavioral inaccuracies.

"People do not speak like that in that kind of situation, Y/N."

"It's tv, Spence, it's supposed to be unrealistic. That's what makes it fun."

+ Bonus: if it's a series that is currently airing, you both come into the office the next morning and excitedly discuss every single thing that happened and then theorize on what could possibly happen next.

[rynwritesreid]

Take a bite| Spencer Reid

Summary: After unknowingly teasing Spencer, he needs your help so he can finish paperwork.

Content: Fem!reader. Established relationship. Dom/sub dynamic. Dom!Spencer. Sub!reader. Praise kink. Oral (both receiving). Overstimulation. Bondage (handcuffs). Semi-public sex. Use of nicknames (good girl, baby and sir). Vaginal penetration. No mentions of contraception. Choking/breath play.

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

To Spencer, there was no one more beautiful than you. Every inch of your body was perfection in his eyes. So, when you had previously asked Spencer what his favourite body part of you was, he said he couldn’t decide as he loved every part of you. But if he was being honest, it was your thighs.

He loved the way your thighs felt around him. He loved how they would tremble when he was overstimulating you, or they would hug his head when he buried his face between them. He loved to kiss the soft skin of your thighs, feeling the goosebumps rise under his touch.

So, unknowingly to you, when you had decided to wear a skirt to work, you were being a tease to Spencer. As you walked into the office that morning in your skirt, Spencer couldn’t stop stealing glances at your thighs. He was practically eye-fucking you all day.

Because of you, Spencer hadn’t been able to fill out any reports. “Spencer, can I speak to you?” Emily’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He quickly snapped back to reality, trying to compose himself before facing Emily. She raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing his distracted demeanour.

"Is everything alright, Spencer? You seem a bit... off today," Emily inquired, her gaze piercing through him.

Spencer cleared his throat, mustering up a professional facade. "I’m fine just had a lot on my mind. What did you need to talk about?" he replied, avoiding direct eye contact with Emily.

She handed him a folder with a concerned expression. "I need these reports completed by the end of the day. Is that going to be a problem?" Emily asked, her tone firm but not unkind.

Spencer nodded, taking the folder from her. "No problem at all, I'll have them on your desk before you know it," he assured her with a forced smile.

As Emily walked away, Spencer let out a sigh of relief mixed with frustration. His eyes wondered back to you. You were engrossed in a conversation with a colleague across the room, unaware of Spencer's intense gaze on you.

He stood up, and walked directly towards you, he didn’t care that you were in the middle of a conversation. “Hey, can I talk to you?” Spencer didn't care about the puzzled look on your face as he grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the prying ears of Luke and Tara.

"Spencer, what's going on?" you questioned, slightly taken aback by his urgency and the way he was looking at you.

“You.” he paused for a second, his voice was horse, “you’re such a fucking tease. You know that right?” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. 

You didn’t know what to say, but you did know your cheeks had gone a bright shade of red.

“Because of you, I haven’t been able to do any work today. So, you’re going to be a good girl, and follow me into that storage closet, okay?” Spencer's voice was laced with desire and a touch of command that made your heart race. Without a word, you found yourself nodding, your body reacting to his proximity and the sudden rush of adrenaline.

He didn't wait for a response, tugging you gently by the hand as he led you towards the storage closet at the far end of the office floor.

Once inside the dimly lit closet, Spencer wasted no time in pressing you against the shelves, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss.

“Get on your knees.” Spencer commanded, his voice low and authoritative. You didn't need to be told twice; it was clear that Spencer had been holding back all day. 

You sank to your knees, your heart pounding in your chest, your breaths coming out in shallow pants. You looked up at him, your eyes searching for reassurance, but all you saw was raw desire.

His hand gripped the back of your head, guiding you to where you needed to be. With one swift motion, your eyes widened as you felt the thickness of his erection, pressing against your lips. Trembling, you parted them, welcoming him inside.

Spencer's breath hitched as you took him in, the wet sounds of your mouth enveloping him filling the small space. He thrust gently, his hips rocking in rhythm with your movements. You kept your eyes locked with his, the heat of his gaze intensifying with every stroke.

As the sounds of your mouth moving on him filled the closet, Spencer's control began to slip. His fingers tightened in your hair, and he started to thrust harder, his hips bucking against your face.

Spencer's breath became ragged, his voice a husky whisper as he urged you on. "That's it, baby, take it all. I can't hold back anymore."

The slap of your lips around him, the wet sounds of your throat accommodating him, the intensity of it all was overwhelming, and yet, you craved more.

Spencer groaned, his hips thrusting more violently, his release imminent. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum, baby..." he warned, his voice strained and filled with urgency.

You felt his cock twitch against your lips, and you knew it was only a matter of time. He continued to thrust, his pace becoming erratic as he approached his climax.

Spencer's body tensed as he reached the edge, his hips stuttering against your face. Then, with one final thrust, he let out a guttural moan, releasing himself in your eager mouth.

You swallowed, your throat adjusting to the new sensation as he continued to fill you. It was only when he was spent that he slowly pulled away, his breath still coming in ragged gasps.

“Clean yourself up, I’ve got to go write my reports before I get scolded by Emily again.” Spencer mumbled, still trying to catch his breath. You stood up, your knees wobbly, and grabbed a handful of tissues from the carton on the shelf. You wiped your mouth, feeling your cheeks flush.

Spencer watched you, his gaze lingering on your lips, the tissues still clutched in your hand. "You're such a good girl," he whispered, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Spencer wasn’t done with you yet, but the rest would have to wait till you had both finished work and where back in the safety of your shared apartment.

“When I home tonight, I expect to see you naked waiting for me.”  Spencer warned.

With a final kiss to your lips, Spencer straightened his shirt, adjusting his tie. "Let's get back to work," he said, his voice back to normal, as he led you out of the closet. "I still have those reports to write."

You sat down at your desk, trying to focus on your work, but all you could think about was the next time you'd see Spencer. The corners of your mouth curled up into a smile, knowing that later tonight, you would be waiting for him with nothing but your body to offer. You wanted him to take you again, to feel his hands on your skin, to hear his voice telling you how much he wanted you.

When your workday finally came to an end, you hurried to your shared apartment, excited for what was to come.

Upon entering your apartment, he found you exactly as he'd ordered, standing at the entrance, your body bathed in the soft light of the hallway. The sight of you left him breathless, and his eyes devoured every inch of your naked body.

He approached you slowly, taking in the sight of your breasts, full and inviting, your nipples hard and erect. He reached out, running his fingers gently over them, eliciting a low groan from you.

"You're such a good girl," he whispered, his voice full of desire.

“I always try to be, for you sir.” You whispered back, your eyes never leaving his.

Spencer couldn't help but smile at your response, he loved the way you addressed him, even in these private moments.

“Now, go lie on the bed with your legs spread for me.” Spencer commanded, his voice a mix of desire and authority.

You quickly complied, lying down on the bed with your legs apart, your heart racing as you awaited his touch.

Spencer's eyes devoured your body as he approached the bed. He looked up at you, a smirk on his lips. "You're such a good girl," he said, his voice deep and filled with desire. He crawled onto the bed, his eyes never leaving your body as he made his way between your legs.

With one hand on your thigh, he gently spread your legs wider, exposing yourself to him completely. His other hand reached down, his fingers brushing against your folds, coating them with your arousal.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he growled, his eyes locked on yours.

“I want you to eat me out, sir.” You pleaded, your breath hitching as anticipation seized your body.

Spencer grinned, a wicked glint in his eyes. "With pleasure," he said, his voice a low growl.

He lowered his head and began to kiss and lick your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to your most sensitive spot. Your breathing became shallow and ragged, and you could feel yourself becoming wetter with each passing second.

As his tongue finally made contact with your throbbing clit, Spencer's eyes met yours, and you could see the hunger in them. He began to lick and suck on your sensitive area, his tongue darting in and out with precise movements.

Your moans filled the room, and you could feel your body starting to tremble as the pleasure built within you. You reached down, running your hands through his hair, pulling him closer to you.

Spencer continued to work his magic, his tongue flicking and probing your clit. Your body arched off the bed, your breath coming in short pants as you felt yourself headed towards the edge.

“Oh god, sir, I'm so close,” you gasped, your hips bucking up towards his mouth.

Spencer grinned around your clit, his tongue not missing a beat. He knew just how to push you over the edge, and he was determined to do so tonight.

When you finally screamed out his name, your body convulsing in a powerful orgasm, Spencer slowed his movements, savouring the taste of your release. He pulled away, his lips glistening with your juices.

With a satisfied grin, he looked up at you, his eyes hungry. "I'm not done with you yet," he promised, his voice filled with lust.

Spencer stood up for the bed and walked towards the bedside cabinet. As you tried to see what he was looking for, you saw him grab a pair of handcuffs.

Your heart raced as you watched him approach the bed; his eyes locked on yours. “Spencer, what are you going to do?” you whispered, your voice shaking with anticipation.

Spencer smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Just relax, baby," he said, his voice deep and filled with desire. He climbed onto the bed, his body hovering over you, his hands securing the handcuffs around your wrists.

“While I know you didn’t mean to tease me today, I still believe you need to be punished.” Spencer's voice was firm, and there was no denying the strength of his authority.

"But... but I didn't mean to..." you stammered, your heart racing as you looked up into his eyes.

"I know you didn't, baby. But there are consequences for our actions, and you know that very well." His voice was soft, but the threat was clear. You knew you had to accept the punishment because you knew the rewards that would follow.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt the cool metal of the cuffs on your wrists, securing your arms to the headboard. You looked up at Spencer, fear and desire mingling in your eyes, as he crawled between your spread legs.

With one smooth motion, he entered you, filling you completely in one powerful thrust.

"You're such a good girl," he whispered, his voice filled with satisfaction. 

You let out a small, pained moan as your body adjusted to his size. A mixture of pain and pleasure coursed through you, making your heart race and your breath catch in your throat.

Spencer’s hand seemed to find its way to your throat as he began to thrust into you, his rhythm deep and hard. Your body responded to his every move, your breathing becoming ragged as the pleasure and pain mingled within you.

"Are you enjoying yourself, baby?" he growled, his eyes locked on yours.

You nodded, too caught up in the sensation to speak. Your body was on fire, every inch of you alive with desire.

"That's good. Because I'm not going to stop until you beg for me to," Spencer promised, his voice filled with lust.

He continued to thrust into you, his body slamming against yours, the sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the room. Your body responded to his every move, your hips bucking up to meet his each time he thrust into you.

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Malicious Compliance - 18+

Spencer’s job has been hogging more of his time than usual, leaving you neglected, frustrated and bratty. He makes up for it by ever-so-kindly giving you exactly what you asked for.

Spencer Reid X AFAB! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW. It contains strong themes and detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact! You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING: Smut, penetration, PinV, word porn, no mention of protection/unprotected sex, use of pet names, BDSM elements (details in spoilers), basically just straight up word p0rn with almost no artistic licence and a sprinkle of fluff. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 7.2K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Do people ever get so pent up that everything their partner does becomes provocative? Their mind begins looking for any signs to give their body a reason for release, even if those signs are entirely made-up. And every time they’re denied that release, the desire that previously coursed through their veins becomes frustration. 

It fills them until there’s no room left for it inside of them, pushing their limits, like water pressure challenging the confinement of a pipe. Eventually the pressure becomes too much for the pipe to handle. Just a little bit more pressure and that pipe inevitably bursts. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been more frustrated in your life. Maybe it’s an exaggeration but sitting here, barely two feet away from your boyfriend, watching him flip through his work files might be the last amount of pressure you can handle before your pipe bursts.  

Even if you somehow manage to compose yourself, you know you’ll burst not long from now. You can’t really blame yourself. It’s been almost two full weeks since you’ve had any sort of release. Scratch that, it’s been almost two full weeks since Spencer’s even properly acknowledged your presence. 

You haven’t even bothered to try and hide your shameless ogling. Not once has he looked up in your direction. So you continue to stare at the way his fingers slide down every page as his mind absorbs the information, turning the page before you even blink. 

They move so elegantly. You trace the veins on his hands with your eyes. They’d look so nice wrapped around your thro - Lord, you can’t do this. Taking a deep breath, you decide it’s time to alert him of your presence. 

“Spence?” Not mentioning that your presence has been lingering for almost half an hour. No response. How oblivious does he have to be? “Spencer?” 

“Hm?” Even when you finally get a response, it’s barely a half-hearted one. Not even a glance up. 

“You wanna take a small break? You’ve been going through that same file for ages now.” You attempt to fuel a conversation anyway. 

“Can’t.” 

You want to be upset, you really do, but your eyes are locked in on his fingers working that damn paper. Your mind wanders to all the times they slid along your thighs, just like that. Knees squeezing against each other to try and suppress the electric jolt that just ran up in between your thighs. 

“Do you want me to order you some food?” You try to distract yourself from your current predicament, by focusing on your boyfriend’s well-being instead. 

“No thank you. Just order for yourself.”  There was really no point in trying when Spencer entered this headspace, it was almost impossible to get him out of it. 

“I’m going out tonight, remember? Going clubbing with my friends?” Was he really so focused that he wasn’t even aware of your plans? Plans that you made infront of him this morning, by the way. 

“That’s great Honey.” 

Yes, you suppose he really was. 

This was basically another rejection in a long list of rejections from the past two weeks. You doubt that he was even aware. That desire surging through you just a second ago morphed to frustration once again. In an attempt to let it be known, you blow out an annoyed huff as you get up from your seat. 

No response.

The problem wasn’t that he was busy because of his job. You knew his job, you completely understood when he had to leave home at bizarre times. The problem was that he had been bringing his job home with him. It was hard enough to have his attention when he was actually at work, now you had to fight for it in your own home? 

You make your way around the couch and sneak up on him from behind, resting your arms on his shoulders. Starting from the top of his head, you begin planting small kisses down his face until you reach his ear. 

“Spence, c’mon you’ve been doing this for hours.” He leans back towards you, bringing the file with him, but keeping his eyes - and fingers - on that file. Seriously? 

“Honey, I really can’t right now. You should start getting ready now for your plans.” Wow so he was aware. You should be elated, those were the most words you’d gotten out of him all week. 

A dazed exhale escaped him when you nibbled on his ear. His head rolled back, giving you room to keep kissing down his neck. He slightly turns his head towards you and his hand captures your jaw in a light grip. It pulls you away from him, his voice calls out your name in a stern tone. 

“Stop that, I said I’m busy. Go get ready.” His eyes remain on the page the whole time. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You think. Your eyes roll on their own volition at the same time as you start to walk away. 

“I saw that.” He warns. 

“So do something about it.” You scoff in annoyance. 

You’re actually hopeful that maybe he will do something about it. You remained hopeful for almost an hour while you got ready. Your hair gorgeously styled, seductive makeup enhancing your best features and now as you browse through your closet for a suitable dress to wear, there’s still no Spencer in sight. 

You find a dress and make your way towards the dresser to see if it completes the look. You press the hanger against your shoulders, scanning from your neck-line down to your legs and unintentionally look towards your underwear drawer. 

Just a few weeks ago, you were out shopping and were innocently asking for his opinion on a new set of lingerie you liked. When you hopped out of the dressing room to show him he didn’t even stop to look at it before he hauled your ass right back behind the curtain and re-dressed you himself. 

Spencer may be the sweetest man alive, there’s no doubt about that, but most people don’t know that he’s possessive as hell. An idea pops into your head when you recall that he still hasn’t properly seen the under-wear. 

You dig out the brand new set and take a second to admire how well it compliments your assets. You put the dress on over the lingerie and have to admit, you look really good. Anybody with half a brain could tell what you were wearing under the dress. Spencer would never let you leave the house like this, but he’d have to look at you first if he wants to stop you. 

It’d be a shame if Spencer didn’t bother to pry his eyes away from his file so he could stop you. What would he do if he realised you’d been dancing around all night in nothing but a tiny dress that barely covers the promiscuous cloth under it? Not to mention the attached stockings it’s entirely unable to hide. 

He’d spank you red, that’s what he’d do. 

Either way, you’re going to get laid tonight. You get closer to the mirror by leaning into the dresser and spritz a few drops of your signature perfume around your pulse points. There’s still plenty of time left before you actually have to leave, but if you stay any longer you’re going to go insane watching Spencer use his fingers on anything other than yourself. You just need to get your keys from the kitchen counter, put on your shoes and you’re ready to go. 

“I’m leaving now.” You yell out to Spencer. You don’t even have to look at him to know that he’s still sitting where you left him. 

And yet again, no response. “How many files does he have in that satchel?” You wonder. 

You reach for the keys on the counter and just as you grab them, Spencer’s hands surprise you by grabbing your waist. You almost squeal at the sudden contact. “Where do you think you’re going, hm?” His arms cross around your waist. 

“Oh so you do remember I exist?” You snark, trying to play it cool. 

You can’t let him have the upper hand just because he’s finally paying attention. He snakes a hand down to your thighs and lifts your dress up slightly, his body pushing against yours. He doesn’t even bother to comment on the jab you took at him. 

“You still can’t respond properly.” You try for a response again. 

Before you can comprehend his movements he’s stepped back and swung you around, his hands pressing on your hips, pushing your ass against the counter. He drinks in the sight in front of him as his eyes travel down your figure and back up, meeting yours. His tongue darts out and swipes across his lips, in true Spencer fashion. He lifts you up to sit on the counter as he steps in between your legs, closing the distance between you. 

“Let me rephrase,” there’s a fire behind his eyes when he speaks, tone levelled, finger creeping inside the stocking’s band. He pulls it away from your skin when he speaks,

“where do you think you’re going…” 

and lets it go

 “...wearing this?” 

The elastic slaps your thigh and adds to the emphasises of his last word. The close proximity, his lingering scent, voice, touch - your core was beginning to light up. It was dumb to think that you could keep the upper hand. Spencer had complete power over you and he knew that. 

“I asked you a question.” 

You were still going to try and challenge him, despite knowing better than to keep him waiting. It’s only fair, considering how long he made you wait. And how it took you acting out to make him notice you. 

“The club, silly. With my friends. You keep forgetting.” You coyly answer, wrapping your arms around him as you lean in. 

He raises both his brows in amusement and maintains eye contact, keeping his voice low and gentle. 

“I haven’t forgotten. I just wonder why you want everybody else there ogling you. Don’t even try to deny it. It would only take a few drinks before you start stumbling on your ass, displaying yourself for anyone who wants a peak.” His grip on your thigh tightens. 

Spencer didn’t actually care about what you wore, as long as he was the only one who saw what was underneath it. Your current attire went against that.

It took everything in you to not crash your lips on him right then. You wanted to feel him so bad but you couldn’t, not just yet. You pull out your most doe-eyed pout, eye contact still in place.

 “If I can’t get my own boyfriend to pay attention to me then I’m going to have to get that attention from somewhere else.” An empty threat, you both knew that. Nobody else's attention mattered to you. 

“Have I really neglected you so much?” He swallowed, not even blinking as he stared back. 

Maybe you’ve been reading the signals wrong. You expected anger or annoyance, but the man in front of you looks almost…apologetic? You lean your head back slightly so you can read his face better. His expression is entirely apologetic, causing you to soften your features as well. 

“Spencer I didn’t mean-” 

“I know you didn’t.” He cuts in before you can finish. “I’m asking if I’ve been too neglectful.” 

His hands roam from your thighs to your waist from under your dress, his fingers massaging you. You can’t pick up on his mood. He leans in and kisses your cheek. 

“I’ve been ignoring you. I’m sorry” He reaches for your forehead and gives you a kiss there too, before coming back down to your other cheek. “Let me make it up to you.” 

You expected him to punish you for acting up, his soft demeanour was throwing you off entirely. 

“Spence, it’s okay. You can finish your work. I have to leave soon anyways.” You lied, unsure of how to act.

“No you don’t. Even if you leave an hour from now, you’ll still make it on time.” He moves to your jaw, leaving a kiss there. You melt at his tender touch. “Let me make it up to you. Anything you want, just ask.” He insists.

You wanted to resist, to reassure him, to make him feel less guilty. It had just been so long and your head was getting so cloudy. His lips felt so, so good against your skin. 

“Ask.” He whispers, his voice so painfully sweet. 

Your hand runs through his hair, the other one dragging along his back lightly. He pushes his clothed, but clearly hard, length against you and a soft whimper finds its way out of you. He was clearly just as turned on as you were. 

“Please fuck me Spencer. Make me cum. Please.” 

He pulls your dress over your head and throws it somewhere on the floor, leaving you only in your lingerie and returns to your neck. The grip in his hair becomes slightly tighter as you grind against him. He takes this as permission, grabbing you by your legs to pull you as close to him as possible and takes you in a deep, hungry kiss. Another whimper leaves you, travelling from your mouth into his. 

He glides his tongue against yours, arms tightly hugging your waist. You’re both heated, panting heavily as you kiss, grinding against one another. Before things go any further, he pulls away. 

“You wanna cum?” He glides his hands all the way up your torso, cupping your jaw in his hands. 

“Mhm,” You nod, cupping his wrists “Please.” 

He gives you a clumsy peck. 

“I can help you do that. Let’s get you to bed. I’ll make you come. Would you like that, Princess?” His voice sounds so raspy, he’s almost whispering. 

You don’t entirely trust his sweet demeanour, he’s never this nice when you’ve broken as many rules as you have. But fuuuckkk. You were so turned on right now and he looks so beautiful. 

“Yes please!” You enthusiastically bounce off the counter, kissing him as you start to walk backwards. He doesn’t let the kiss fully break, walking with you, your hands feeling whatever part of each other they could. 

You manage to find your way to the bedroom with some minor collisions against furniture, giggling every time. Your motions come to a halt when you reach the edge of the bed, the kiss deepens again. 

Your hands start fumbling with his shirt and he works his belt, functioning as quickly as you can to get him undressed. His boxers slide off and you can’t help but break the kiss again to gawk at his shaft. Fucking hell, you’d seen it so many times and it’s still just as pretty. He kisses your forehead and chuckles. 

“Like what you see, Princess?”

You smile, biting your lip in response but not taking your eyes off his length. He lifts your head back up by hooking his finger under your chin to meet his gaze and he returns to your kiss. You reach around your back to unclasp your bra and he grabs it in the middle, pushing you down on the bed gently. 

The mattress catches you, but your bra is ripped away in his grasp. Spencer remains standing over you, eyeing your figure beneath him as he discards the laced bra on the floor.

“Well Handsome, you gonna join me or what?” 

This earns you another chuckle as he leans down towards you, the mattress dipping from his weight. You shuffle back on the bed together, sharing another passionate kiss on the way. Both of you refuse to break away until you finally reach a place you mutually decide is comfortable. 

Or at least, til Spencer decided it was comfortable enough and yanked you towards him until both your cores were completely pressed against together. 

The only thing restricting complete contact was a flimsy piece of fabric and it was barely enough, judging by the needy whine that you let out when the underside of his cock brushed against your heat. 

“So wet. So pretty.” Spencer groaned, kissing his way down your neck again. 

His hands freely roam up your body again, stopping to cup and knead your breasts. He takes his time using his mouth, sucking on the flesh as he makes his way down from your collarbones to my sternum. 

This must be your punishment. You’ll have to leave the house covered with his markings on your skin, warning anyone else who even thinks about touching you, that you belong to him. 

“Fuck, Spencer.” You breathe out in desperation and grind your hips against him, earning you a gravelly moan. Your hands come off the bed and back into his hair, trapping him against you without applying pressure so that he can move about as he pleases. . 

When he’s satisfied with the bruises he’s stained you with, he licks a path from your sternum to your left tit, leaving his hand to continue playing with your right one. He sucks, nibbles, kisses and licks your nipple all while pinching and rolling the other one between his fingers. 

“Spence, please!” You gasp, unable to control your hips. 

“Mmm, my needy little whore.” He mumbles and begins a trail of kisses back down your torso, stopping just above your mound, but abandoning the region altogether as he diverts his path to your thigh instead. You whine at his delay to satiate the fire that he ignited. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” he coos “patience Princess.” 

You whine harder and he pinches your nipple, earning him a yelp.

He continues his motions up your thigh, kissing all the way to your knee before switching legs and trailing back down from your knee to your thigh. Every kiss sends electricity through your core, hands still in his hair, following his head wherever it moves. 

“As much as I love you, if you don’t stop teasing me I’m going to fucking lose it.” You interrupt his foreplay, deciding that he had done enough priming. 

He lets out a breathy chuckle, and it sends chills through your spine. Your body jerks up in reaction and he takes this opportunity to slide off your panties, leaving you bare, save for your stockings. 

Cold air hits your heat and before you have the time to adjust to the feeling, he runs his tongue up your slit, flattening it entirely to cover as much surface area as possible. A loud, rippled moan emerges out of you, arch intensifying. Your hands tighten the grip on his hair automatically. 

“Fuuuccckkkk.” is all you can muster in that moment, your brain short-circuiting. 

Spencer focuses the tip of his tongue at the edge of your entrance, sampling the taste of your arousal before fully dipping in. His arms hold your legs apart in place and he sneaks his thumb to your clit.

You feel euphoric, you could float away. The feeling of his tongue pushing in and out of you was enough to leave you grabbing at his shoulders, digging your nails in slightly. Your hips started rocking against his face, Spencer had to physically hold them down as he shifted his mouth's attention from your entrance to your clit. 

“Hold still,” he ordered in the most gentle tone, the vibrations from his voice causing goosebumps, “you’re doing so well, Sweet Girl.” 

You squeaked when you felt his mouth circle around your bud, sucking gently. As he worked you with his tongue, You felt him enter a finger inside you. His name rolled off your tongue in a sigh, your hand back in his hair pulling slightly and causing him to erotically groan. 

The sounds coming from between your legs were so sinful and lewd, only amplifying when he added a second finger. His pace increased with the addition, fingers curling slightly while he pumped. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, vocabulary reduced to filthy swears and moans. You could feel my orgasm pending below my abdomen. Spencer didn’t slow down, even when you tried to buck away from his touch. 

He was persistent in following you, his head moving wherever you tried to escape to. When he felt that he couldn’t keep up, he held you down by applying the entire pressure of his forearm against your pelvis. 

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer!” Each repetition got louder, you didn’t know what you were trying to say. He only sucked harder at your cries. 

“So, so, so, so, clo - mmmh” Was all you could manage to say, your head lolling back into the bed. 

“So good for me.” He uttered, making your thighs squeeze around his head. Spencer knew just what to say to get you to the edge. Your senses began to cloud in ecstasy, you were on the brink of your orgasm. 

His slender fingers were working you from the inside, his skilled tongue was working you from the outside, you could barely keep your breathing in order. Your walls started clenching around the intrusion, your legs dug into the mattress, one hand pulling on his curls and the other hand digging into his forearm holding you down. 

You were just on the verge of cumming when Spencer pulled out his fingers and stopped his motions. The whine you let out was visceral. 

“What the fuck?” It was a genuine question. 

The only response he gave was a puppy eyed stare, so full of adoration as he trailed his way back up to you with more tender kisses. You propped yourself on your elbows, trying to read into his expression. 

You were so confused. Were you being punished?

He must’ve picked up on your thoughts because he skipped over your chest entirely to whisper in your ear. 

“I’m sorry Princess.” He pecks your cheek, dragging his lips across your face to your lips. 

You return the kiss, but don’t hesitate to question his motives once you’re finally able to find your words. 

“Why’d you stop?” Tone pathetically whiney. 

He kisses you again, stronger this time as he rests his fingers under your chin. 

“I want to fuck you.” 

He turns your head slightly to the side so he can whisper in your ear again. 

“I want to fuck you until cum on my cock. Is that something you want me to do Princess?” 

His voice sounded like he was whispering sweet affirmations, but his words were so filthy. The contrast had you clenching around nothing. Spencer loved hearing you confirm how bad you wanted him.

“Princess?” He turns your face to him again, so he can look into your eyes. “I asked you something.” 

The eye contact feels so intense, it causes your breath to hitch a little. 

“Yes.” 

He moves in just a little closer, lips grazing. 

“Yes?” He was testing you. 

You should be grateful he was only testing you instead of tying you up and edging you all night for being a brat. That was still a possibility and you really don’t have the patience to wait anymore. You knew exactly what you had to say. 

“Yes, please! I want to you to fuck me until I cum on your cock.” 

That was all it took for his lips to come crashing down on yours. This kiss felt different to all the others tonight.

Almost like it held a hidden meaning. 

He hooked his arms around your thighs and wrapped you around his waist. Neither of you pulls away, until you both gasp into each other’s mouths as he finally enters you. 

He fills you up slowly, until there’s no more of him left to give and your arms instinctively drape against his shoulders. The second your bodies adjust comfortably, he pulls out slowly until just the tip is left in you, thrusting back in after a second. 

You moan at the intrusion,  pulling him closer for another kiss. He continues thrusting in and out, your make-out getting more careless as you moan into each other and his pace gradually picks up. 

Your bodies move in sync, chasing a mutual high. His moans only encourage you to keep meeting his thrusts. He lifts one of your legs higher along his side, the tip of his shaft lightly bumping your cervix with every thrust from this angle. 

“Feels..so..good...” You moan against his mouth. 

“Yea?” He questions softly. 

“Mhm.”

“How does this feel?” He reaches between your bodies to play with your clit as he fucks you. Your fingers dig into his back at the sensation, brows furrowing in an attempt to hold it together. 

“Reall- fuck, really good.” You choke on your words from the intense pleasure. 

He keeps up his pace and you feel myself getting close. 

“Spencer, I’m clos-” You don’t get to finish your sentence, Spencer interrupting you with his lips on yours. 

“Cum for me Pretty Girl.” He coaxes, pulling away.

“I wanna finish together.” You plead, hoping he was as close as he seemed from the way he was grunting. 

“We will. Just let yourself go Princess. I’ve got you.” There was mischief laced with his promise, but you didn’t pick up on it. 

The coil in you was almost at its breaking point. It only took a few deep thrusts and you felt it snap. The feeling forced your eyes to the back of your head and your mouth aimlessly spewed random obscenities. 

Your orgasm had been brewing for almost two whole weeks and when you were finally allowed release, well, the release was really intense. Spencer was no longer moving inside you once you finally came down from your high. 

“Thank yo-” your gratitude was cut off by a loud wail when you felt Spencer slam back into you. You hadn’t noticed him shift into an up-right position, his hands pinning you to the bed by your hips as he continues fucking you with a brutal pace. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” his demeanour shifted to demanding, “what were you saying?”

“Spence, fuck-” You couldn’t think properly with the way he was pounding into you. “What-” Your inability to speak matched your inability to think.

He abruptly pulls out of you, flips you over and pulls you up by your hair. He then grabs your wrists with his free hand and pins both your hands behind your back, pulling your back to rest against his chest so he could whisper directly in your ear. 

“You asked me to fuck you. I’m just giving you what you want.” His tone remained soft, but it was laced with a harsh, taunting aura.

You were utterly flabbergasted. You had pissed him off. Spencer played you. His previous notion of ‘wanting to make it up to you was a decoy. He planned to properly punish you the whole time, buttering you up for his own entertainment.

Letting go of your hair, he pushes you back into the mattress, ass up in the air. He keeps your arms pinned and before you can make any noise, the air cracks to the sound of him spanking you. 

Hard. 

You squirm, burying your face into the mattress to muffle a surprised shriek. He leans down against you, re-aligning his lips to your ear. 

“I’m going to count as I spank you. And for every single one, I want you to tell me one thing you did wrong tonight. Do you understand?” The setting had shifted entirely. Spencer had fully embraced his dominant role and you knew you had to be careful if you didn’t want the punishment to be too prolonged. 

“Yes Sir!”

“One.” His first smack was lighter than the one he surprised you with just a second ago. 

“I rolled my eyes.”

“Two.” Hand hitting over the exact same spot as before. 

“I was mouthy.”

“Three.” This time he hit the other cheek.

“I- I don’t know-” You really didn’t. 

Well you did, but whenever Spencer punished you, your brain turned to mush. You couldn’t think, it turned you on so much that you became stupid. 

“Wrong. You dressed like a whore just to get a reaction out of me. We’re going to start again.” The force he hit with that time was unforgiving. you wailed at the sting. 

“One.” 

You had to restart at least two more times, your recall ability getting weaker with each blow. By the time Spencer finished, both cheeks were stinging. 

He runs his middle finger through your slit, collecting your arousal and pushes it inside you. “Of course you’re even wetter now.” He snickers, you could only moan in response. 

“Nothing? You had so much to say before.” He finally lets go of your wrists, allowing them to fall to the sides and he rubs your sensitive behind. 

“I’m sorry for being a brat.” You muster as you try to flip around and face him.

“You will be.” He stops you and twists you back into position. 

Face down, ass up. 

“Get comfortable Princess, I’m not done with you yet.” 

With that, he enters you in one quick motion, building to the brutal pace he originally set in no time. You swear it’s like you feel more of him now than you could before. Your hands rush to grip the bed sheets to try and keep yourself grounded. 

“Spencer- ah-” He grips a handful of your flesh to shut you up. 

“The only sounds I want coming out of you right now are the ones where you scream my name. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yessir!” You cry out from the pain. 

He’s practically fucking you into the mattress at this point, every thrust so harsh, so precise, hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over. Everytime his body meets your behind the sting intensifies, as if he keeps adding fuel to the fire he set on your skin, blurring the lines between pain and pleasure. 

“Shit- Spen-” You can’t hold yourself back, the only thing on your mind is him, his name falling from your lips as if it was a song stuck on a broken record. 

Your senses were on overload. He was consuming your entire being. You could feel every inch of him inside you and you didn’t want to stop. Your core began to tingle, feeling another orgasm approach you, reducing you to a blubbering mess. The room was filled with sounds of your moans and skin slapping against each other.

“I’m gonna cum, gonna cum, gonn-” Your words fade out.

“Go ahead, cum.” Spencer orders in between thrusts. “Cum all over my cock.”

His permission is all it takes for stars to come down from the sky and take hold in your vision. The sheets aren’t enough to keep you anchored and if it weren’t for Spencer’s grip on you, you’d have fallen flat against the bed. 

It takes a few minutes for you to catch your breaths, knuckles white from how hard you scrunched the sheets in your fingers. He’s still inside you when you come down again, just watching without saying a word. 

“Colour?” Spencer leans in above you from behind, planting a kiss on your shoulder. A reminder of his promise that he’s got you.

“Green.” You wearily whisper. Your legs were burning, your body was utterly exhausted, but you enjoyed it when he used you in spite of the fact. 

“Good. You’re going to give me one more.” 

He plants another kiss and wraps a hand around your neck, the other sneaking between your breasts. Without using any force, he pulls you up in his lap, your back to his chest. A whimper chokes out of you when his length brushes against your inflamed bud. 

“You look so pretty like this Princess.” He coos in short breaths. “All red and fucked out for me. Only me.” 

He lowers his hand from the apex of your breast to his shaft, so that he can align himself with your entrance again. You subconsciously arch in anticipation, eager to have him fill you again despite your physical debilitation. 

Once he’s lined up, his hand travels up again, stopping at the height of your hip. He pushes you down at the same time as he moves up, a loud moan erupting from both of you. 

“You take me so well Princess.” Spencer praises.

Your eyes roll to the back for a second time tonight as your head falls against his collarbone. While his initial pace was slow, it didn’t take long for him to speed it back up to ruthless - you have to admire his stamina. 

He lowers his mouth to just below your jaw, his fingers tightening around the sides of your neck, limiting the blood supply to your brain. At the same time, he starts sucking another hickey on your skin and your jaw hangs open to allow passage to a series of moans as a result. 

“You enjoy being fucked like a whore hmm?” 

The contrast between praise and degradation had you clenching, resulting in desperate grumbles from him. His grip only tightens more when you take too long to answer.

“Yessir-” You stifle, brain going fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. He loosens his grip and smiles, lips grazing your cheek. 

You’re beside yourself, all you control had been relinquished to this man long ago. You feel him play with your clit, circling and flicking the bud. It’s already swollen from previous use, the overstimulation is too much for your body to handle. Unable to squirm away from him, you grasp at his wrist, attempting to push him away. 

Spencer doesn’t relent and you’re too weak to use any force. Everything he does is pushing you over the edge and all you’re able to do is whine and moan. 

“Use your words Princess? What do you want? Do you want me to stop?” He sneers, knowing that’s not at all what you want. 

“N-No Sir.” 

“No? You want me to keep going? Want me to make you cum again?” Small grunts slip from him when he speaks, fingers speeding up between your legs. “You gonna be a good little slut and give me one more?” 

“I ca-can’t, it’s to-ah - too much-''

“Oh so now it’s too much for you?”

There’s nothing romantic about your current disposition. It was purely salacious- his hand on your neck, the other between your legs, you practically kneeling against him with your back to his chest as he pounds into you from behind, the sounds created from your bodies melding and pouring from your throats. 

You’re practically a free use doll for him. Your need to release from earlier today was nothing compared to how bad you need to cum now. You feel like you might explode from the extreme pleasure. 

“Spen-Spence- fuck- pleasepleaseplease-” 

“Oh my poor, sweet little Princess, doesn’t even know what she wants. Can’t even think because her brain’s too fucked out. Maybe I should stop, let you get a break.” Spencer mocks. 

“Nononono, please! So close, Im so-fuck!” 

Spencer keeps his pace on your clit, but slows down his hips when speaking.

“I think we should stop here.” He taunts. “Just look at you! You’re a mess. I don’t think you know what you want.”

“Yes-Yes I do- I do! Please Spence- don’t stop!” 

“I can’t help you if you’re not making sense. Speak clearly, what do you want me to do?” Your desperation was thrilling for him. He wanted to draw it out as long as he could by teasing you. 

“I’m so-close, I c-can’t!”

His fingers tighten around your throat again.

“Yes you can. You can and you will. Use your words, what do you want?” 

“Ple-ease Sir, let me c-cum.” 

He purposely thrusts as hard as he can when you speak to throw you off, so you have to repeat yourself. 

“I said clearly, Princess. That was not clear enough.” He teases, smugly. 

You inhale deeply.

“Please let me cum, Sir.”

Satiated with your answer, Spencer releases your throat and speeds up again. It doesn’t take long before he becomes sloppy with his movements. The final few thrusts are buried as deep within you as physically possible and you surrender to your climax.

Not even a moment after you finish, Spencer empties himself inside of you, hot ropes of his cum filling you up as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. A synched, loud moan concludes your tango and you fall limp against each other before you tumble onto the mattress.

Both take a moment, heaving intensely as you lay side by side. Spencer’s hand finds yours and he rubs small, soothing circles on the back of it. 

“What was that?” You ask when you feel enough air fill your lungs. 

He gradually turns his head to you, eyes darting as if he was searching for something in the back of his mind.

“Malicious compliance. For a lack of better wording.” He answers in a whisper, trying to catch his breath. You snort weakly, not much energy in your body to spare.

“You should maliciously comply more often.”

“I don’t think you actually want me to maliciously comply.” He pants. 

Re-adjusting to face him and you just stare at each other for a moment. A breathless fit of giggles sparks amongst you. When you fall silent again, you just lie there, staring deeply into each other's eyes. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up. Hmm?” He intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“How you have any energy left to get up is beyond me.”

“Oh believe me, I don’t,” still panting, “but I really want to take care of you right now.”

“You just did.” You counter.

There’s a hint of penitence in his eyes, so fleeting that you almost miss it. you want to question it, but it’s quickly replaced by the expression of rapture. 

“Come on Honey.” He implores and you make a mental note to ask him later. 

He takes your hands and pulls you up with him. You both lazily make your way to the bathroom, you hold on to him the whole way, scared that your legs alone won’t be strong enough to carry you right now. 

Immediately upon seeing your reflection, you laugh awkwardly. Mascara was running down your face, your lipstick all smudged, you truly looked like a mess. Spencer kisses your temple and turns on the shower, returning to you while you wait for the water to heat up.

He props you on the bathroom counter, removing your stockings for you, peppering you in thankful kisses. You reach over for your make-up remover and Spencer grabs the cotton wipes, insistent on removing it for you. His touch is light as he carefully wipes cosmetic residue from your face.

The bathroom fogs up and you finally get in the shower. Neither of you speak, reserving your strength to keep you standing. Instead, you wrap your arms around each other, letting go only to aid in washing your bodies. Both of you stay in the shower for a little bit longer than intended, just holding the other. 

“I’m going to make us some tea. Will you be okay to finish off here by yourself?” He speaks up after a little while. 

“Yea I’ll be fine. I’ll join you in a minute.” 

He gives you a quick peck, then two, before he leaves. You take your time, peeing after your shower when you remember Spencer’s lecture on avoiding UTIs from when you first started dating. Once you’re all nice and clean, you slip into one of Spencer’s shirts and some fresh underwear.

You walk into the living room to find Spencer sitting on the couch, two cups of tea on the coffee table, while he fiddles with his files again. Great. Opting to ignore it due to your fatigue, you march into the kitchen to grab your phone. 

Your abandoned dress is neatly draped on one of the dining chairs. Spencer must've picked it up when he was making tea. You grab your phone to find many missed calls from your friends. Fuck. You had forgotten about your plans. 

You quickly shoot them a text to apologise and make some excuse for your absence, promising to make it up to them soon. 

“Honey, you okay?” Spencer calls out from the living room. 

You make your way back to him upon hearing his voice. “Yea, I was just texting my friends.”

“Would you like to do that sitting down? Your tea’s getting cold.” He extends his hand out to you from the couch and you take it, sinking into his embrace. 

“Don’t you have to go back to your files?” When you look around, the files are nowhere to be seen. 

“No. No more working on files.” He sighs

“Spence, what’s wrong?” You ask, pulling away from his arms. “You have that look on your face again.”

“I’ve been neglecting you. And I’m sorry.”

That’s what it was. 

“Oh, Honey. It’s okay, I mean I get it. It’s your job.” 

“You don’t have to do that. This isn’t part of my job. It’s just this one case that’s really getting to me and I’ve let it take over my life outside the job.” Guilt rides his features. You  cup his face in your hands and he takes hold of your wrist. 

“I won’t lie to you. It’s hard, but I know how much the BAU means to you.” You console. 

“It does mean a lot. But so do you.” He shakes his head as he pulls you into another hug. “I’ve seen what this job does to people. To relationships. I value you too deeply to let that happen to us. I promise that from now, work stays at work. When I come home, I’m all yours.”

“Jesus I love this man.” You proclaim to yourself silently. “Thank you for that.” is what you say aloud. 

“Infact,” Spencer's the one to pull away this time. He reaches over for his phone and begins texting someone, “just give me a second.”

“What are you doing?” 

It takes him some time to reply. Texting is not one of his strong suits, he needs to pay a little more attention to the task than most people. 

“I’ve just texted Hotch for some time off. I hope you don’t have any plans this weekend, because you and I are going to spend the entirety of it together.” He smiles goofily. 

“I love you.” You blurt out with more passion than you were expecting. 

“And I love you.” He replies with equal enthusiasm, leaning in his lips against yours. 

The kiss is so emotional, so raw, so perfect. 

“Now,” He brushes your hair behind your ear, “let’s finish this tea and get to bed. I have two weeks worth of cuddling to make up for, I believe.”

“So you’ve been counting too?” You laugh.

“I count every second I don’t spend with you so that I know to make up for it properly.” He confides.

You almost jump at him for another kiss, unable to contain your emotions. This man was perfect in every sense of the word to you. 

As the two of you sat there, just talking, desire surged through your body once again, but in a different way this time. It was more than a desire for pleasure. It was a desire for the man you’re lucky enough to call your boyfriend. A desire to just be in his presence, to be loved by him and to love him in his entirety. A desire for Spencer Reid.

Spoilers: Established relationship, Dom! Spencer, Possessive! Spencer, Sub! Reader, Bratty! Reader, soft & rough sex, spanking, degrading kink, praise kink, breast play, name calling, choking, hair pulling, fingering, slight edging (barely), overstimulation, creampie, after-care, fluff.

AN - Hey guys I’m beginning to sense that I might be incapable of not writing fluff in every story and I recognise it may need to stop. Anyways when imagining this, my brain decided it should include vanilla, soft dom and mean dom Spencer all in one, I’m sorry for that.  Shoutout to all the smut writers out there, this is my first smut piece and it was so fucking complicated to write. There’s only so many ways you can write smut, y’all are dedicated. To all my virgins out there: please keep in mind that this does not represent real sex and barely is sex ever even slightly close to as good as we imagine in fanfics. Also women's bodies do not react the way we read most of the time.

Feel free to drop helpful constructive criticism, I’m always looking to improve :)

Thank you for reading!

[moonstruckme]

oooooo can i request reader getting jealous about spencer having to seduce the cinderella killer in 10x6 but being in complete denial and rossi, derek, etc are all like mmmmhmmmm sure ok 👀😏

At long last!! Thanks for requesting and for weathering the wait baby <3

cw: mention of weapons/guns (also I know she drops her shears in the actual episode but shhh) 

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 704 words

“Keep sucking your teeth like that, you’re gonna need braces,” Morgan teases. 

You roll your eyes but stop. “That’s not how that happens,” you say. 

(You don’t actually know how it happens, but neither does Morgan. You know from photo evidence Penelope had somehow gotten her hands on that he’s been genetically perfect since he tucked-and-rolled out of the womb.)

Reid’s hair has grown long enough to tuck behind his ears again, and he does it now, looking every inch the nervous admirer as he advances slowly, almost dazedly, toward the girl. 

“May I?” he asks, voice breathy and expression wide open. 

The girl—your unsub—looks just as smitten. She walks towards him as if in a dream, and you really wish Spencer had his gun out. You know JJ is covering him with her finger on the trigger, and Spencer has a knack for getting out of scrapes, but now he’s kneeling before a girl who’s killed several men, bending his head down as he slips a shoe onto her foot, and she has a pair of shears in her hand that she was just about to use to slit another man’s throat. 

You’re scared for him. That’s what this is. This is fear, just like you’d have for anyone else on your team. 

“What’re you so sour about?” Rossi asks, his tone lilting with intrigue. He looks away from the scene, the three of you leaned against the SUV while you wait for Spencer to bring her in, and studies your face. “Is there something about Spencer’s performance you don’t like?” 

Trust him to chip in. You swear, he and Morgan have to be the worst busybodies in the department. You start to kiss your teeth again, but stop when you catch Morgan smirking. 

“I just didn’t realize he was such a good actor,” you reply. 

And it’s true. Spencer’s performance is kind of astounding. There’s an indomitable sincerity about him that shines through even now, in the gentle way he looks up at the girl when the shoe fits. It makes your chest tighten slightly, and then something foul and warmish curdles in your gut when he takes her hand and presses his lips to it. 

Spencer’s a kind soul. He’s got a sweet voice to go with his sweet face, and the unsub trusts it just like you would, dropping the shears and following him towards where the rest of your team waits. He’s not afraid to touch her, brushing a guiding hand along her back to help her into the SUV. To maintain the ruse, you know. Still, knowing doesn’t help the irritated prickle that goes over your skin. 

Wordlessly (though not without communication, if you count Morgan’s smug look and your answering glare), the three of you peel off from the van, getting into your vehicles to drive back to the police station.

Spencer shuts the door behind the unsub, and you expect him to get in the front seat to help keep her calm on the way to the station, but to your surprise he walks in your direction, getting into the passenger seat of the SUV you’re driving. 

“Hey,” he says casually, like this is something he does every day. And this is a regular part of your job, but it’s not every day one of you pretends to be blindly in love with a violent serial killer while she holds garden shears over your head. 

“Hey.” You give him a little smile, putting the van in drive. “Nice job. She looked really enchanted with you.”

“Thanks, I’m glad Hotch thought to bring the shoe to complete the fantasy.” Spencer brushes off the compliment easily, more than used to excelling. “It’ll be good for her to finally get the help she needs.” 

“Well, you were awesome.” You glance at him in the passenger seat, and he’s got his head propped on his elbow, looking out at the rolling hills and vast greenery of Montana. You look back to the road. “You make a great prince charming.” 

Spencer turns his face towards you. “Thanks,” he says again, this time with more feeling, and that sweetness is in his voice again. You like it best when it’s for you. 

[golden1u5t]

clingy | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: fluff

ꨄ summary: you knew spencer was clingy, he's always been, but it intensifies after being prison.

"where are you going?" spencer's voice was full of sleep as he spoke. you were sure he was fully asleep and thought you were in the clear to get out of bed but apparently the slightly bit of movement had him awake and alert. you wanted to go get a glass of water but with how attached to you spencer's been lately, you wanted to get him to sleep first.

you didn't have a problem with him being attached to your hip, per se, but you figured it would be nice to have a moment alone, even if it was only for a few minutes. you knew why he was so clingy and it's sure to pass when he gets back in the routine of being back at home, so for now you'll let him hold onto you and you'll give up your personal space until he's back to normal.

"i'm just going to get a glass of water, baby. do you want to come with me?" it was a stupid question, really, since you already knew he was come with you whether you invited him or not.

spencer didn't verbally answer you, opting to nod his head and get out of bed. he attached himself to you almost immediately, wrapping his arm around yours and trailing behind you all the way to the kitchen. when you made it into the kitchen spencer leaned against the counter while you fixed your drink.

of course though, the second you were done and ready to go back to bed his arm was back around you.

[unseededtoast]

Shadow of Obsession | Spencer Reid x Reader

Part Four

Series summary: In which you find that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral out of control.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

"They don't believe me." Your words shatter his heart completely.

"Don't worry about them. You're all that matters right now."

For hours, you've sat in the same spot at the dining room table, watching Spencer work with a tenacity you have never seen before. His eyebrows are drawn tightly together, his tongue darts out between his lips as he concentrates. Every so often he runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

You feel like you should be helping him, but you find yourself all too distracted by the simple fact that your stalker knows where you live. Who knows how long he's known, and what else he's done that you're not even aware of. The thought of a stranger walking around in your apartment makes you sick to your stomach.

But what really sends you over the edge is the fact that your stalker took an item of your clothing and then returned that same night to deliver the folder. He was right outside of your door while you sat petrified in your bedroom and he now possesses a part of you, no matter how small that part is.

The thought of what he's using your sweater for sends a chill down your spine and you shudder. Your sudden movement must have snapped Spencer out of his trance and he sets down the picture he was analyzing. You see the sleep-deprived bags under his eyes and know you likely don't look any better. His eyes soften as he looks you over.

"You should get some rest, you've been at this for hours." Your voice is scratchy from not speaking. Spencer is quick to shake his head.

"I'm fine, you should go lay down though, I know you didn't sleep all night." Though his guess is accurate, you won't admit it.

Before you answer, you take a second to let your eyes focus on his hand resting on the table. Under different circumstances you may even say the veins in his hand were oddly attractive, but you refuse to let that thought run wild and instead focus back on the matter at hand.

"No, really I'm fine." You fight the urge to yawn and you know you don't have him fooled in the slightest.

He stands straighter and crosses his arms across his chest. Like you're a child being reprimanded, he gives you a stern look, one that lets you know exactly what he's thinking. A silent exchange occurs only through the look in each other's eyes. His are golden-brown, like fresh honey, and they transport you to a time when things were simpler.

For a moment you're taken back to your first day at the BAU. You were fresh out of the academy, recommended to the team by your trainer. The nerves had your stomach twisted and upset, and you vividly recall walking through those glass doors for the first time; your heartbeat pounded in your ears with each step. Everyone had been welcoming, warm, and kind. And you very distinctly remember seeing the most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on. His hair was long, maybe just a touch messy, but it was the kind and reassuring smile he offered that let you know you had made the right decision to join.

And now, sitting only a few feet away from him, you can't help but to feel reminiscent. Your relationship with Spencer had grown far deeper than with anyone else on the team. You had been there when he was wrongfully imprisoned and now he's here when you're being stalked. The two of you celebrated the arrest of each unsub together and worked wonderfully as a team, playing to each other's strengths.

A feeling within your chest flutters, one that you've been trying long and hard to suppress. And it had worked for a long time, that is until very recently.

"I know you're not fine. Please, just come on." His voice is soft and he offers his hand out to you. Not thinking twice, you take his hand in yours and let him lead you to the sofa.

Without you even having to ask, he makes sure that the curtains are closed and you watch as he scans the street for anyone who looks out of place before he sits next to you. He's warm and inviting, and if given the opportunity you know you could fall asleep in his arms.

You lean your head on his shoulder instead, and he wraps his arm around you, hugging you closer to his side. His hand rubs up and down your arm, comforting you as you allow your eyes to flutter shut.

Not another word is shared as you feel yourself being lulled to sleep by Spencer's presence. Just having him near is enough to make you feel safe and secure. You vaguely feel him lay you down on the couch, and you feel a pressure to the top of your head. And you're not sure if you're hallucinating or half-dreaming, but you swear you could hear him whisper to you,

"I promise that I will find who is doing this to you."

-----

Hotch arrives at the office early in the morning before anyone else. His signature scowl is plastered on his face and he's deep in thought about what Derek presented to him yesterday. While the system clearly shows that you were the one who made all of the alterations to the case reports, something deep within Hotch tells him that you're innocent.

There's just no way you would go to these great lengths for simple recognition. But it seems the others on the team are convinced you're behind all of this. Their insistence is the only thing giving him pause. He makes a mental note to follow up with them again sometime today, perhaps there's more that wasn't initially disclosed. There's just no way they've all been swayed by simple electronic records, ones they know are hackable.

Hotch sits at his desk and looks over the reports again and again, hoping that the answer jumps out at him. And it's on the fifth re-read that he notices something. It's a very small detail, but he thinks it could be an important one. He grabs a highlighter and begins marking up the reports.

After a few hours, Hotch walks down to Penelope's office. When she opens the door she's surprised to see Hotch on the other side, but she knows that whatever he's here for is something serious; Hotch doesn't make these visits often.

"Can you show me the video footage on the night that the document changes were made?" He asks, nodding to Penelope's plethora of monitors.

"Certainly sir." She says and sits down, pulling up the footage. She's watched it a hundred times, she knows this video like the back of her hand.

Hotch sits next to her and she plays the video. Just as she watched with you, and the others, the video has been tampered with. The shadows on the ground make that obvious.

"So someone got into the computer system and altered the footage." Hotch states the obvious.

"It appears so, yes." Penelope says, nervous about where this conversation is headed.

In the past day Penelope has had the same conversation with just about every other member of the BAU. Each of them didn't want to believe you had orchestrated this elaborate scheme, but they couldn't ignore the evidence.

Everyone was reluctant to admit that they believed you were responsible; Spencer was the only one to flat out deny your involvement. He was adamant about it, and his passion caused Penelope to second guess the others.

Of course she would never say that out loud, but it caused her to do some digging. She remembered how upset you were about the flowers, and she wasn't sold on the narrative that you had planned this for recognition and praise.

"Is it possible for you to-"

"Already ahead of you sir. I got into the system and looked for interferences. And it shows that she was the one who got into the camera systems as well, only a few minutes after the documents had all been changed. And it was her badge that scanned into the office." Penelope cuts Hotch off, eager to share what she learned from her sleuthing.

Hotch nods his head shortly and takes a moment to collect his thoughts. There are only a few people in this building with the kind of expertise to be able to pull something like this off. But he is apprehensive to accuse anyone of anything without further, concrete proof.

"Can you send this to me, along with the edit history?" Hotch stands from the seat and goes to leave Penelope's office, who sends him the video right away.

Being no stranger to situations like these, Hotch knows he has to keep this investigation under wraps. Especially if the team has seemingly turned their back on you. The BAU has had their fair share of rough moments, and during those moments the team always stuck together. But for some reason, this caused everyone to doubt you. It just isn't adding up to Hotch.

He returns to his office and looks out into the bullpen. Everyone is working diligently and he plans on how to handle this. While he forms a plan, he picks up his phone and makes an important call.

-----

"What do you mean I can't go in?" You ask Spencer, who just got off the phone with Hotch. Spencer sighs and sets his phone down on the coffee table. Running a hand through his hair he answers,

"Hotch said it's best if you stay out of the office while he figures out what's going on. He didn't say much about specifics, just that it would be best if you didn't come in." The words feel like a hot knife being pushed through your heart. Does this mean you're under investigation? Will you be suspended from the bureau?

You sit down on the couch, shocked about what's happening. As if being stalked wasn't bad enough, it might actually cost you your job? Not only your job, but some of the closest friends you've ever had?

Rubbing your eyes, you try to make sense of it all, but you just can't. There has to be something you're missing. There's a missing piece of the puzzle, that one piece would complete the picture. But now, it's just fragmented and incoherent.

"What am I missing? There were the flowers, the document changes, the re-tagged evidence, the tampered video, and now the folder." You speak, mostly to yourself but you know Spencer is listening as well.

You rub your temples as you try to connect the dots. Obviously it tells you that there's a stalker, and the evidence points in the direction of that stalker working for the bureau but you cannot figure out why the stalker would take those specific actions.

"Whatever it is, we will find it and we will find who is doing this." Spencer's voice is low and even, the determination is obvious. He moves to sit next to you, his leg only a few inches from yours.

You turn your head and look at him. His hair is disheveled from the amount of times he's run a hand through it in frustration, but it's charming.

"And what if we don't? Spencer you know how these things end." You simply state. As you say the words you realize you're not speaking as a profiler, but rather like a victim. And you're not sure how that makes you feel.

Spencer places his hand on top of your thigh and gives a reassuring squeeze; your heart races with the contact and you try to hide the feeling so that he can't perceive it on your face. The way his eyes dart down to your cheeks and lips make you think you didn't do a great job of hiding it. His tongue wets his lips and he goes to move a piece of your hair behind your ear.

"I don't care how many times I have to repeat myself. But I promise you that I will not rest until we find who is doing this to you. I will hunt down the man who is making your life miserable, and I will make him pay for what he's done." His words are laced with malice and venom. You nod your head and swallow, unable to think of anything coherent to say.

After a few moments, Spencer squeezes your thigh again before he gets back up to analyze the folder for the thousandth time. As he walks away, your heart swells with gratitude, and your skin buzzes where his hand was.

-----

Spencer walks into work with a feeling he can't quite place residing in his chest. It's something raw, and intense. His focus feels like it's been dialed to 100.

While he felt bad for leaving you at home alone, he knew that he would be able to do his best work here, without distractions. He had dedicated every piece of evidence to memory and was sure he would see the full picture soon.

But until then, he's got a job to do. And that job is to track down whoever is making your life a living nightmare. Spencer is unable to find the words to describe how upset he is every time he sees you looking over your shoulder in fear, or fending off sleep because of anxiety.

He hadn't felt a rage like this in a long time.

Spencer drops his bag on his desk and walks to Hotch's office. During the call Hotch made to tell you to stay home, he had also told Spencer that they needed to talk as soon as he got in. He isn't sure whether or not it's in your defense, but he knows it has to deal with your situation.

Hotch's back is turned when Spencer enters and as he turns around Spencer sees the file in hand and the scowl on Hotch's face.

"Please, sit." Hotch takes a seat and motions for Spencer to take the one across from the desk. Spencer tries to get a glimpse of the file Hotch has, but he's unsuccessful.

"We have some things to discuss." Hotch speaks again with a sigh. Spencer nods, agreeing. He only hopes Hotch believes you're innocent as well, or else he fears this discussion might become heated.

"You've probably already seen the electronic records with her credentials and the tampered video, I assume?" Hotch questions.

"Yes, I've seen them." Spencer doesn't give more information than necessary, not until he knows which side Hotch is on.

"Give me your unbiased professional opinion." Hotch leans forward on his desk, fingers interlaced and elbows resting on the wood. Spencer blinks a few times, trying to formulate an opinion void of personal feelings.

What he realizes is that he's been handling this entire case almost entirely with his personal feelings. But he recovers quickly and soon finds the words he's looking for.

"I think that she is being stalked by someone who works here. But not a regular agent, I believe it's someone pretty high up." Spencer says. Hotch nods, stoic expression not revealing anything.

"And why do you believe that?" He tilts his head just slightly to the right, something that tells Spencer that Hotch is genuinely interested in what he has to say. It's one of his small giveaways.

"Well, there are only a few people here that would have the expertise and ability to access and change credential logs like that, and to be able to get into the system and change the video. It would also take someone within the bureau to know where she's located at within the building, to send the flowers to. And whoever it is would have enough working knowledge to know how to retag evidence properly." Spencer rattles off, becoming more and more confident with his theory as he speaks. It's like saying this all out loud is helping him connect the dots.

Hotch takes a moment and nods while he studies Spencer's face and body language. It's usual profiler behavior and Spencer has seen him do this hundreds of times before with other people.

"But what else?" Hotch eventually asks. Spencer's shoulders tense up and his eyebrows scrunch together.

"What do you mean?" Spencer questions, recounting the evidence and what he explained. What more could there possibly be to say?

"You raised you hand like you had something else to add onto your explanation, but then you said nothing. What else were you going to say?" Spencer curses Hotch for being so observant just this once. With a sigh, Spencer decides it's easier to just lay everything out as plainly as possible.

"I know she didn't do it because I was with her the nights before everything happened, for the most part." Spencer doesn't elaborate any further, wanting to keep your relationship with him as much to himself as possible. Hotch's eyebrows raise in surprise, but he recovers quickly.

"I see. You'll be glad to hear I don't think she did any of this either. But what we think and what we can prove are two different things here." Spencer is all too familiar with this premise.

In fact, the similarities between this and his wrongful imprisonment are beginning to share too many things in common. You're being framed just as he was, evidence was planted and tampered with, and you're scared out of your mind because you don't know how this is going to end.

But not only that, he remembers in vivid detail how you helped him find sobriety after Tobias Hankel, how you stayed by his side through the entire journey when he was terrified. And he remembers how supportive you were when Maeve died right in front of him. You had shown him love and compassion when he thought neither of those things existed. It was you who stuck beside him through it all.

Spencer remembers the fear of being framed and the anxieties that accompanies the unknown. He hates that you're experiencing this, and he so badly wants to take it all away. And he knows the only way he can do that is to catch whoever is doing this. Now it's his turn to return the favor, to stick with you until the end. With strong resolve, he leans forward in his seat.

"So what's our next move?" Spencer asks Hotch, ready to put in as much work is needed.

Hotch nods his head and explains to Spencer his plan. It's simple, but should be effective.

-----

Hours later, Spencer sits at his desk, trying to look like he's busy. All he can think about is how you're doing back home, he worries that you're scared and wants nothing more than to run back to you; to keep you safe and away from the man wreaking havoc.

His daydreams are cut short as the agent from the IT department walks through the doors. The agent walks into Hotch's office where Hotch asks him to see if he can find any evidence of credential fraud.

The agent sits down at your desk and Spencer can't help but notice how nervous he looks. His shoulders are tense and his eyes are darting every which way as he acquaints himself with your space. Spencer's eyes narrow in suspicion and decides to keep a close eye on the man.

Spencer finds an old report and acts busy, when in reality he's watching the man's every move with careful and clinical eyes. He notices how the agent's eyes linger on the flowers sitting on your desk, and how he keeps momentarily looking at your photos.

Alarm bells are sounding off in Spencer's mind and he has to remind himself to keep calm. He reminds himself of what's at stake and forces a nonchalant demeanor. His knuckles turn white with how tightly he's gripping the paper in his hands and he's thankful the agent isn't a profiler, otherwise it would be a dead giveaway about just how angry Spencer is.

The agent works diligently, and then Spencer sees it. The man's shoulders go rigid, he holds a breath, and his eyes grow ever so slightly larger. He swallows and looks around the office before returning his focus on the screen in front of him. Spencer pretends not to notice.

While the agent is obviously dealing with some sort of turmoil, Spencer is envisioning lunging across the table at him and demanding answers. When he realizes his train of thought, Spencer knows he hasn't had these kinds of violent thoughts since he spent time in prison.

And somehow, he's okay with it. He knows that if it led to finding answers that he would be okay doing whatever it takes. He's also quick to understand the lengths he's willing to go for you and the risks he's fully prepared to take.

Abruptly and without a word, the agent returns to Hotch's office, just out of earshot from Spencer. And within minutes the agent is hightailing it out of the office, not even sparing a passing glance.

Curiosity gets the better of him and Spencer goes to speak with Hotch almost immediately. Sitting behind his desk with a troubled look on his face, Hotch's eyes flick to Spencer as he enters the room.

"Please, close the door and have a seat. We have some things to discuss. There's been a slight change in plans." Spencer closes the door quickly before taking a seat in front of Hotch's desk.

Spencer's heart beats heavily in his chest and it's like he can feel the blood pumping through his veins. Before Hotch says a word, Spencer knows that whatever he is about to say is nothing good.

"What happened?" Spencer barely recognizes the serious tone of his voice. Hotch sighs,

"The agent told me he found evidence of AES 128 bit encryption." Hotch says and Spencer's heart sinks.

"Rijndael Algorithm. It's never been cracked before." Spencer says, his heart rate increasing as his mind processes what this means for the case.

"I'm going to put Garcia up to the challenge. But I believe you're right, whoever is doing this is very intelligent and has a lot of access to our systems. With that said, I'm going to have her placed under twenty-four hour surveillance." Hotch says matter of factly. Spencer shakes his head,

"I'll be there at night, she wouldn't want to be constantly watched like that." He tries to advocate for the least invasive surveillance possible. Deep down he knows that the twenty-four hour monitoring is safest, he also knows you're likely to protest about it.

"I believe in your abilities to keep her safe. I'll put in for twelve hour surveillance, with additional overtime as needed." Hotch nods his head and Spencer thanks him.

The only thing on his mind now is getting back to you as quickly as he possibly can.

-----

You jump as loud knocks on the front door echo through your apartment. Normally you would go and answer it without a second thought, but you catch yourself worrying about who is on the other side.

Three more knocks sound off and you approach the door cautiously.

"Hey it's just me." Spencer's voice can be heard through the door and you release the breath you had been holding.

You answer the door for him and he wastes no time coming in. He turns and locks the door as soon as he's inside and he doesn't bother taking his shoes off before he's buzzing around. He's closing the curtains and pulling the couch away from the window like a mad man with thirty seconds to complete the mission.

"Spencer what's going on?" You feel a new wave of anxiety bubble up within you. You've never seen him act like this before.

Spencer stops moving around and you see him take a deep breath. He rubs his eye with the palm of his hand, and your eyes grow wide. You've seen that mannerism before, but you haven't seen it in so long. Something bad happened while he was at work today. Something very bad.

When he opens his eyes he walks up to you, leaving only a few inches between the two of you. He places his hands on your shoulders and looks into your eyes.

You see a tenderness in them, but you also notice almost a crazed intensity, like his mind is working a hundred miles a second and he's having trouble keeping up with himself.

"I will explain everything shortly. But please let me do this first." You nod wordlessly and watch as he walks back into the living space. He tosses blankets over the curtain rods to make sure nobody can see through the windows.

He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and moves the couch even farther away from the window. And just for a split second your fear is forgotten as you admire the way his biceps flex under the material of his shirt.

There's something about his behavior that seems different, and you can't help but be attracted to it. Like a moth to a flame or a bee to clovers, your eye is drawn to every move, every flex of a muscle.

After he's satisfied with the changes, he walks over to the dining table and opens the folder. You had put away all of the photographs earlier, you couldn't stand the feeling of having them out in the open, it was like they were taunting you.

Spencer spreads the materials back out across the table and leans forward. You see his eyes dart over all of the pictures and the notes before he stands back to his full height and tugs at his tie, loosening it from his neck.

Your eyes stay glued to him as you step forward. His eyes glance from the photos to you and you can see how his face instantly softens.

"Will you tell me what happened now?" You ask and he nods, gesturing for you to join him on the couch.

You listen intently as he explains that Hotch believes you're innocent and that he had called in one of the IT workers. And a fresh wave of nausea came over you as he explained the encryption that was found. This most definitely is not just some guy, no, this is the work of someone sophisticated and organized.

"But, listen to me, I will not rest until we find him. Believe me, there is no obstacle too challenging. I promise you that I will not stop until you're safe again." Spencer says following a few moments of tense silence.

You've done so well to hold your emotions together, well, the best you could anyways. Up until this point it was only fear that you felt, but that fear has morphed into several other things much more terrifying than simple fear. You bite your bottom lip to keep it from trembling and blink rapidly to keep from crying.

Your breaths are shaky and you look down at your lap. This is no longer just affecting you, but the whole team as well. Spencer and Hotch are willing to go out on a limb to prove your innocence while the others are convinced of your guilt. You feel guilty about the anger you harbor for your teammates who don't believe you. And truthfully, you don't know how you will be able to move forward after this.

This stalker has already taken from you something near and dear to your heart; they've taken your team.

It's then, when you accept the reality of what is, that you let the first tear fall. It's full of anger and sadness and remorse, and just a little bit of love.

Spencer envelopes you in his arms and the dam breaks. He holds you close to his chest, your tears staining his shirt. But he doesn't seem to mind. No, instead he hugs you tightly and presses the most delicate of kisses to the top of your head. You grab onto the front of his shirt and let the emotions finally break free.

-----

Spencer cradles you in his arms and as you cry it breaks his heart just a little more with each sob. He hates seeing you in such distress. Once you finally calm down a little, you sniffle and look up at him with wide, watery eyes.

"They don't believe me." Your words shatter his heart completely.

"Don't worry about them. You're all that matters right now." He says, running a hand up and down your back to try and soothe you. 

But your words remind him that he needs to speak with the team about this situation. Even he can't believe they've apparently turned against you so easily. It makes his blood boil; the team is supposed to stick with each other, not work against one another. He does his best to suppress his own anger towards them, knowing that if he expresses his distress that it will likely only make you more upset.

Instead, he focuses on nothing except you in his arms, and his anger dissipates almost immediately. He doesn't think he'll ever admit it out loud, but he secretly loves the way you cling to him. He loves how you trust him, how you confide in him, how you've taken care of him and stuck beside him through thick and thin. He loves the way your smile brightens his day, and how even the smallest glance sends butterflies soaring through him.

He presses another kiss to the top of your head as he realizes and admits to himself for the first time that he's in love with you.

He is absolutely and undeniably in love with you. And God help whoever threatens his love.

---------------------------------------------

taglist: @yondiii @juhdoche @themarauderseraslut @shardsofmarxx @mel-vaz @bippityboppityboob1tch @babyspiderling @honestlyloving @emisback @thatredlipped-classic @desperately-seeking-serotonin @threespacemonkeys @small-and-violent @ropickle @honestlybabymiracle @hiireadstuff @suckstobrlaurie

[luveline]

Hey Jade!!! I was just wondering if you could do a soulmate au with Spencer please? Maybe something along the lines of those cheesy ones like the first words are tattooed on or they have the same tattoo idk, whatever you u feel like 😊

—Spencer meets his soulmate. You’re as lovely as he’s always pictured. fem, 1.3k

Someone will love me one day.

Spencer must think it a thousand times. When he has to put his mom in the sanitarium and he feels more alone than he ever has in his life, he knows one day someone will love him anyways. When he gets called ugly, too skinny, nerd, dork, and a handful of words that are even worse, he knows one day someone will say the opposite. He won’t be alone forever.

He was two when they appeared, dark black cursive words tucked against his pulse. Spencer felt ugly nearly every day of his life, wrong and weird, but the words on his wrist have never changed, ‘You’re so handsome I can’t believe it’s you.’

One day someone’s gonna look at him and see handsome.

Today, he feels pretty good. He’s back home in Washington, D.C., the grocery store he loves is open again after a long reconstruction, and they had a bunch of fruit from South America that he’s never tried before. He carries a white plastic bag full of fruit, bread and cheese back to his apartment, each step in the sunshine, the kiss of it warming his cheeks. A busker plays music near the mouth of the subway station. Nobody has yet to scowl at him for being in the way.

He’s wondering what he forgot when he sees you. You’re smiling, the sun on your face and arms, which are strangely full. Books slide against your chest, but besides a little huff and a shift of your elbow, you don’t seem to notice the slim paperback working its way through the crowd in your arms. It drops down onto the sidewalk but you keep walking. You must be in a hurry.

Spencer darts forward to your dropped book, thumb under the title. Charlotte’s Web by E. B White. The spine is flaking and soft from use.

He should call out for you. You’re already getting too far away.

Spencer crosses the road and dives deeper into the city with you. Washington, D.C. isn’t without grandeur —it’s the capital of the USA— and so he finds himself surrounded by potted trees and stretches of well tended grass. School’s broken for the day, children weaving around on bikes and scooters or holding hands with their parents taking up altogether too much space. He loses you in the crowd.

Spencer stops in defeat.

Maybe if he puts the book back in your path you’ll see it on the way back.

He’s not sure why he doesn’t. Spencer keeps your book and starts to walk home. This isn’t how he’d usually get there, but he can manoeuvre around the park.

He keeps an eye out for you. Ridiculously, he’d thought about giving the book back to you and making you smile. He hasn’t talked to anyone who wasn’t a cashier in two days.

“Hi.”

Spencer looks down. “Hi,” he says, spooked by the little girl in front of him.

“Is that for the library?”

He shakes his head regretfully. “No, I– I found it. I’m trying to give it back.”

“Okie dokie. I never read that one before.”

“I’m sorry, it’s not my book to give away… Where’s your mom?”

The little girl points at a mom and a younger child playing on the grass near a circle of benches. There’s a huge dark cabinet with its doors skewed open in the middle, and when he squints he realises it’s full of books. “Oh, is that the library?” he asks.

“Yes!” the little girl insists.

“Okay, well, here’s what we’ll do,” he says, looking desperately for you, disappointed when he can’t see a sign of your nice blue shirt or your sunny smile, “let me go see if I can find the lady who dropped this book, and if she says it’s okay, I’ll keep it for you to have. But you can’t run off from your mom again. Deal?”

The girl grins, thick hair shiny in the sun. “Deal!” she says, running in a burst toward her mother, who startles when she realises she’d left in the first place.

Spencer creeps toward the library. He can’t leave the book here now, he’s promised he’ll try to find you.

You come around the back of the library cabinet with a smile. Free Library, the sign says. Take one if you want, leave one if you can.

You stop in your path when you see him. You smile again, you’re prettier for it, lovely with the sun on half your face, your slight squint. You open your mouth to speak.

Spencer beats you to it. “Hi, I’ve been trying to catch up to you,” he says, raising your copy of Charlotte’s Web to his chest. “You dropped one of your books.”

You take a half step back.

Spencer grimaces. “I promised a little girl I’d ask if she can have it, I’m so sorry. I get stuck and I don’t know how to say no.”

Your eyes flash down to your hands. “You’re so handsome,” you say, and Spencer’s heart stops dead in his chest, your lips shaping each word without measure and somehow the prettiest anyone’s ever looked as they move, “I can’t believe it’s you.”

His shoulders sag with a deep breath.

You raise your arm to show him the contrasting font laid against your pulse. Hi, I’ve been trying to catch up to you.

Spencer shows you his. You’re so handsome, I can’t believe it’s you.

“It’s you,” he says.

You press your hand to your mouth. “I was walking too fast, right? When I was a kid I thought if I made everybody chase me that eventually somebody would have to say it, but then it stuck, and I rush everywhere I go.” Your voice turns breathless. “But you’re the person who was supposed to catch up to me.”

He smiles softly. “I think so.”

“And I just told you you’re handsome. I’m sorry, I bet that was embarrassing to… carry around, all this time.”

“It’s the best gift anyone’s ever given me,” he says honestly.

“I didn’t think you’d be so pretty,” you explain.

“I knew you would be.”

You hold your hand out. He’s about to tell you he doesn’t shake but he finds he really wants to, and you’re not shaking his hand anyways, you’re holding it, looking at the cursive on his arm with a disbelief he echoes in his own smile. You rub the tip of your thumb over the word handsome.

“Do you like books?” he asks.

You nod distractedly. “I love them,” you murmur, looking up.

His entire arm is alive with tingles.

“Do you read much?” you ask.

Every word you trade with one another has this shy longing he’s never felt, like you’re desperate to know about one another but worried you aren’t allowed to ask. Spencer’s about to tell you all about it, how he’s always reading, how books have been with him through everything, but there’s a tug on his shirt that stops him.

“Hi,” the little girl says.

Spencer laughs. “Hi.”

“What did she say?” the little girl whispers.

Spencer looks to you for guidance.

“Of course you can have it. It’s an amazing book,” you say.

“Thank you!” she says, holding out her hands.

Spencer doesn’t mind handing it over. If she didn’t ask him for it earlier, he might’ve never had the courage to look for you. He could’ve left the book in the cabinet and turned around, but he didn’t. And now he’s met you.

You step into his side. “Did you– do you want to get coffee?” You peer down at the bag now slipped from his elbow down to his wrist. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Do you want to have a picnic with me?” he asks.

You nod for so long he has to laugh. “I’d love to,” you say, offering your open hand.

Spencer threads your fingers together. That one day he always dreamed of seems a lot closer than it did before.

[backofhismomsmercury]

spencer reid nsfw alphabet

( @backofhismomsmercury edition :3 )

18+ mdni. or don’t, what u view online is up 2 u.

this is like mostly softdom!spencer (what else is new)

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

tooth achingly sweet. like just so so so soo loving, he’d just lay with you and hold you and tell you how good you did/how proud he is, and how much he loves and appreciates you (im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure)

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

literally his brain lol, but also he likes his hair a lot, (even if he looks like he doesn’t brush it half the time lol) i think he likes having it played with/brushed/pulled (braided even..? he likes the feeling, finds it relaxing.)

he also likes his hands (he thinks they’re pretty?) i don’t think he knows why, but other people like them. which he doesn’t really understand because they’re always cold and not really soft because of how much he washes them. but he knows people like them, so he likes them. 

his fav on you is probs your legs/thighs. he likes having them wrapped around him, and he likes laying on them, he just thinks they’re pretty.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

his own? he thinks it’s messy, gross, doesn’t like when it gets everywhere and probably hates even touching it. doesn’t like feeling sticky or sitting with it, he cleans it up right away. definitely doesn’t like the idea of you swallowing it. (he’d probs still let you if you REALLY wanted to.)

but yours..? ohhh he loves it. (still thinks its kindaaa gross, just cuz it is what it is.) but he’d like having it on him, he’d like watching you cum too, esp. on his hands or thigh.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

LOVEEESSSS HAVING HIS HAIR PULLEDDDD. idk why i just feel this in my gut. not too rough though.. he’s sensitive :( but just a little bit. like while he’s going down on you or even just making out. doesn’t matter, just pull it. (now if we’re talking about sub!spencer OHHHH he loves it even more, he’ll deadass start crying, lol fucking loser.)

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s not reeaallllyyy experienced, but he fucks from time to time, he knows what he’s doing. he’s smart, he’s read up on this shit. 

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

the basics, and anything where he can see your face. i think he likes being underneath you. even if he’s acting more dominant, i think he still likes being in a more submissive position.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s somewhere in between, but probs more serious. i think he gets in his own head and wants to make sure he’s doing everything right

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

verrrryyyyy well trimmed, he hates germs and feeling gross. i think he’d actually take a lot of time trimming it and making it feel and look clean, mostly for his own peace of mind.

also, i’d love to be like “he’s grown!!! he doesn’t care if his partner has hair!!!” but ngl that's just not possible because he actually thinks it's gross. just shave and he’ll be fine.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

ohh this mf is sappy as FUCK. he’s such a romantic at heart, he’d take his time & go slow and it’d just be constant ‘i love you’s and praise.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i think in the early seasons, he doesn’t do it a lot. when he does he just feels kinda bad about it. he knows it's not wrong, it just makes him feel weird. maybe as time goes on he does it more, i don’t really know tbh.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

honestly i don’t think he’s really kinky. i think a lot of stuff would be hard for him to get into because he sees so much insane shit at work all the time (again, he’s sensitive) but like i said i think he lovvveeeess when you pull his stupid perfect hair. 

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

at home. his or yours, doesn’t matter. he wouldn’t do anything in public, i think he’s waaayyy too anxious for that. he’d be CONVINCED that someone would see you, and he’d be too nervous to even do a good job lol. i don't think he’d really care where at home, but he’d mostly like the bed or the couch, just somewhere where he can take his sweet time. i think he’d appreciate the shower from time to time though.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

literally anything you do. you. you. you!!! he just loves you!!!! he lovesss hearing your voice, especially when you’re talking about something you learned. i think spencer finds your intelligence so attractive because he was embarrassed about his own for a long time. (idk if that makes sense ??? but whatever)

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i think the list of shit he’s not into is a lottttttt longer than the list of shit he likes lol. idk he’s just not really kinky, but he definitely wouldn’t be into feet, piss/scat, anal, anything age related, the list goes on.. i think he’s just very normal and he’s okay with that. 

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

not to be too controversial.. cause i do think he loves giving, but i think he LOVVVEEESS receiving. he’s a man after all, he would love some good head. he’ll always return the favor though.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he’s too not rough and he never would be, he wouldn’t want to hurt you. i think his general pace is somewhere in between, not too slow, not too fast, but he’ll go faster if you ask him to.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he doesn’t like them. again, he likes to take his sweet time!!!

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

like i said, i don’t think he’s really kinky but i do think he’d be down to try some stuff. he just wouldn’t bring anything up, he’d wait for you to suggest whatever.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

i deadass think he passes out after once round. i mean come on, he doesn’t work out, he’s a fucking pipe cleaner (with eyes.) he’s just not going for more than maybe 2 rounds max. i think he can maybe last a while during one round, but he gets sleepy fast. (aww :3)

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i don’t think he cares for them. would probably be open though?

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

spencer doesn’t ever like to see you in and kind of discomfort, but he does like to tease quite a bit, and he knows you like it too. it never lasts too long though. (mostly because you beg and ask him so nicely, but also because it makes him feel kinda mean.)

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

oh he’s LOUDDD. especially sub!spencer. that mf whimpers and whines like there's no tomorrow. i think softdom!spencer is loud too, but he tries to be quieter cause he wants to hear you.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

would let you peg him. wouldn’t ask though. (i will not be writing this, don’t ask lol)

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

LONG AND SKINNY!!!! just like the rest of his body. 

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

it’s not too high, but it’s definitely not low. just thinking about you makes him dizzy, but he has pretty good self control.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

INSTANTLY. he’s a sleepy guy!!!!! spencer obviously doesn’t have a lot of physical energy to begin with so i think it’s quite exhausting for him. (but he loves it)

<3

thank you so much for reading!!! i had so much fun writing this!!!! :)

sorry i haven't been super active, i've been quite busy these last few weeks, but i'll be back with some new stuff soon i promise!! hope this can feed you guys until then.. lol :)))

[dudeitiskarev]

Maybe Someday | Ch. 8

A Spencer Reid mini-series

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader

Chapter summary: feelings come to light and neither knows how to handle it.

Word count: 1.8k

Tags/warnings: mention of reader’s abortion, regrets, love confession *gasps*

Author’s note: this part was so a bit tedious to finish because they just didn’t want to talk about their almost kiss and nothing felt right. I had to grab them each by their ear and sit them in a room and force them to talk 🤭

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | SPENCER MASTERLIST

You’d come to his place to address the big elephant in the room. Instead, you got slapped in the face with memories. 

Henry was the kid that was born the day you had an abortion. He was a beautiful and kind little human who managed to turn your very exhausting day into a lightweight. 

When you held him, he’d caressed your cheeks and nose with his tiny fingers. It helped him fall asleep and you couldn’t help but wonder what your life would be like right now if you hadn’t gone through with the procedure (what would make your baby fall asleep so soundly).

You wouldn’t have Spencer, that’s for sure. Which was enough reason to know it was the right choice. But you wondered, how much you wondered... 

The front door opened and you jumped, trying your best to gather yourself before Spencer made it next to you.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down. “You okay?”

You nodded, looking at him. “I miss Henry already,” You said through a small laugh.

You missed your baby. What could’ve been. What could still be.

“Yeah, he has that effect on people as soon as he leaves,” Spencer gave you a lopsided smile. 

You’d healed since then but that didn’t mean you’d ever forget and you had too many emotions playing with your body right now. Your throat was too tight to even swallow properly. 

You cleared your throat. “I think I’m gonna go now.” You stood up, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants and reaching for your purse.

Spencer mirrored you and stood in your way. “Sorry, I didn’t think of it when you said you wanted to go.” He gulped with guilt. “Henry triggered memories, didn’t he?”

You smiled. Of course, he’d noticed. 

“It’s fine, it’s not your fault.”

“It is, though.” He raised his brows. “I insisted you’d come in.”

“No, I should’ve called before showing up. I just wanted to ta—“You bit your tongue right away and looked away “It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

“Talk about what?” He searched for your eyes.

You took a deep breath, raising your brows. “Nothing, it’s silly.”

“You can talk to me, you know?”

No man has ever been so soft-spoken to you about everything, always, all the time. You wished he had the power to make himself tiny so you could put him inside your pocket and carry him with you forever. 

“I know, but… you haven’t mentioned it so I don’t think I should either.”

Spencer stared and his chest rose as he took a deep breath. “Is it about how we almost kissed?”

He’d probably been thinking about it more than you. 

You huff a small embarrassed laugh, raising your brows. “About that day, yes.” Spencer didn’t respond, giving you the window to talk about what’s been keeping you up at night these past two weeks. “I… I got very emotional,” you began, moving your hands and using them as a second language in case words turned blurry. “You made me very emotional by showing up out of nowhere with perfect gifts and perfect things to say and I guess I got carried away with my feelings.” You brought one palm to your chest. “Not that I didn’t mean what I said but after, what happened after is what”—you chuckled at the memories that were still so damn vivid—“I cried and we hugged very closely and—“ you clasped them together. This was going terribly already. “I think it made things awkward between us. I mean, we barely talked for like two weeks and now I’m making it more awkward but… I needed to address it.”

You ended up so out of breath you were lightheaded. But you didn’t sit down. You wanted to run. Disappear. Become dust. But he was still in your way. 

“Yeah.” Spencer raised his brows, nodding. “Yeah, I guess I got carried away too?” He gulped and his voice slowly faded as he added, “Not that I didn’t mean any of it either.” 

You took a step closer and placed your palm over his upper arm. “You’re my best friend, Spencer.”

His arm twitched at your touch and his gaze softened, his brows pinched together ever so slightly and his honey-sweet voice came out so pained it began to shatter the ice surrounding—protecting—your heart as he said, “I don’t want you like a best friend.” 

Oh, this was not how it was supposed to go. 

“Spencer,” you breathed out, taking a step back and saying the first thing that came to your mind. “You’re… you’re getting the wrong message.”

“Am I?” He took half a step closer.

He was making it so hard. To stay put. Stay away. And right now, more than ever, a strong warmth welled in your chest. 

“I would’ve kissed you if Noah hadn’t shown up,” he said. “And I know you would’ve kissed me, too.”

Something inside you cracked. It was the ice around your heart melting. 

“We would’ve kissed.” He lifted his hand and caressed your cheek with the back of his curled fingers.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean… anything.” You shut your eyes in an attempt to dodge his touch.

It was getting so, so warm inside you.

“It does to me,” he replied.

So warm.

“I’m in love with you,” he bluntly confessed, raw and straightforward. 

Your breath hitched and the air in your lungs was gone. The man you loved, loved you back. 

You couldn’t help but laugh a little.

So, so, so incredibly warm.

“I love you,” Spencer said. “I know you. I know who you are, and I love you. Just like that. I love you.”

You opened your eyes and caught the plea in his eyes. 

“Say you don’t love me and I promise you”—he begged, cradling your face with both hands—“I’ll try my hardest to make it go away if that’s what you want. Just say you don’t love me back and I’ll… make it  stop.” You couldn’t move or breathe or talk or do anything at all. It sounded like a prayer. Like he was talking to an all-powerful being, begging for an answer. “I know you have feelings for me too. I know you do, you wouldn’t have said all those beautiful things if you didn’t.”

You wrapped both of your hands around his wrists to tear yourself off his touch. But you stayed there, hands clutching. “I’m not good for you.” Your voice barely came out. 

“Don’t… say that.”

“I have nothing to offer, Spencer I… you deserve someone that—”

His eyes darkened and his tone changed as he said, “Why won’t you let me in?” 

Because the last time you did—letting in a man by saying ‘I love you’—he got you pregnant then left you. You’d realized soon after that it was attachment disguised as love. And deep down you feared this might be it, again. 

“I need… a moment.” You let go of his touch and walked past him on your way to the door.

“Where are you going?” He walked behind you. 

“Home.” You turned the knob and opened it. “I… I need to think, Spencer.”

“No!” He slammed the door shut with his whole palm. “Just talk to me, damn it!”

You flinched by instinct, but even his loud voice was filled with care. 

“Sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to—“ he brought one hand to his mouth. “I don’t know what—“

“What do you want me to say?!” You matched his tone. It was all about to come out now. It was brewing within you. The love. “That I love you too?! That it terrifies me to love you this much.” You closed the gap between you two and pointed a finger at yourself. “Good things don’t happen to me. And you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t want to do anything different because I want to keep you in my life. Like this. This far away. Forever.”

Spencer held your face tenderly and scanned your probably wrecked features. “You don’t have to do anything.” He begged. “You don’t have to do anything differently at all. Please.”

The hurt in his tone was like a ton of needles wanting to get through you. 

“I’m scared,” You murmured. “What if—

His forehead was glued to yours now. “I won’t go anywhere. And I won’t let you go away ever again. Just… let me in and we’ll figure it all out together. Just don’t walk away. Don’t leave me. Please,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

He sounded so scared. All you could do was nod with guilt, licking your lips. “I won’t. I promise.”

He then fell silent. Only your shaky breaths separated you. Your foreheads glued together, his hands cradling your entire head, almost, and your hands clutching his waist. Hearts beating for each other. 

He’d said he loved you and you admitted loving him back, and neither was doing anything about it. 

“I… I still have to go home,” you broke the silence.

“I know.” His lips were hovering over yours, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he added, “Just let me… have you this close a little longer. Let me—“

He cut himself off by leaning. His lips grazed yours ever so slightly yet he didn’t kiss you, as if there was a magnetic force keeping your lips from touching properly. 

“Spencer,” you murmured.

“Hmm?”

“Just kiss me already.” 

“I’m trying I—“

You yanked him by the nape of his neck and pressed your lips together. It was harsh, but he was taking too long. His hands traveled down your sides to your waist and pulled you closer into a tight hug as the kiss slowly became a real one. 

He let out a dark sound as he parted his lips, changing the pace. Took charge and the earth stopped spinning. This was your only world right now, in his arms and his lips and his hands burying into your body. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your tippy toes as if you couldn’t be any closer. You wanted him closer. You wanted to crawl inside his skin. Be a part of him and let him have you whole. 

He abruptly pulled away to catch some air, panting against your lips. 

“I need— I’m getting too eager, hold on.” He pressed his forehead with yours again.

You swallowed, trying to regulate your breathing but your thoughts came out loud. “God, Spencer. I didn’t think you’d be such a good kisser.”

You were still levitating.

“Uh, thank you?” He sort of laughed.

“Would you kiss me again?” You asked, searching for his eyes but he had them shut tight. You missed his lips already. You needed to keep kissing him until it all became real.

“Right now?” His voice came out slightly high-pitched. 

“Or in a billion years. I can wait.”

You’ll wait for him forever and would relive your life a thousand times if it meant you’ll have this again. 

He laughed a little. “You don’t have to wait that long.” 

YAYYYYYYYY they finally stopped being so stupid 🤭

From now on everything is even more fast paced. There’s only 2 chapters left 💖

Thank you to everyone who’s been following this little story so far. I see you and I appreciate you all so very much 🥹🫶💖

[defectiveporcelaindoll]

Imagine getting Spencer to watch Bridgerton with you. At first he’s reluctant, but you watch Doctor Who with him so he decides to suck it and gets really involved. The modern music confuses him though, and he’ll rattle off a list of more appropriate classical pieces. The first steamy scene has him blushing and looking at you like “oh this is regency p*rn.” But he ends up reading all the novels in the end. He’s very excited for season 3 with Colin and Penelope, even though it should’ve been Benedict’s season but it’s fiiiine. He even organized a little tea party watch party for the two of you.

Emily and Pen absolutely teased him about it when they found out but now they bring him in to discuss the episodes.