reid-me-a-story

[reid-me-a-story]

Premature Release (S.R.)

Summary: Virgin Post-Prison Spencer. Spencer’s secret gets revealed in a rather embarrassing fashion. Request: Virgin sub!spencer fresh out of prison cumming in his pants whilst you both make out. He gets super embarrassed, so you reassure him. A/N: Little ficlet of Reader with an innocence kink <3 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Kissing, making out, heavy petting, premature ejaculation, embarrassment, cursing Word Count: 3k

MASTERLIST

I’d always loved freshly fallen snow. That first mid-winter morning where you woke to find the world covered in a sheet of white. It was untouched by anything but the moonlight, undisturbed and pure.

There was nothing else quite like that. I knew because I craved it with my everything. Each summer I would seek it out in whatever little way I could. I scavenged for even the slightest hint of purity.

And then I met Spencer Reid.

He was odd in his innocence. It was nothing something that could be easily placed; it was something he kept hidden. But I could see it, feel it, taste it every time that I’d touched him. I felt the yearning kept caged inside of him and I ached to make it mine. In my greed, I ached to grant him freedom.

His purity was a special kind. There was no shortage of tragedy in his past, or even in his present. But somehow, through the hellish history of his life, he maintained that feeling of freshly fallen snow.

I’d only known Spencer for a little over 6 months. Three of those months were spent separated by steel bars and prison guards. One might think that seeing him in that setting would prove my theories about him wrong, but if anything, it only became more obvious to me.

He didn’t belong in a cage. He didn’t deserve the darkness thrust upon him. From the moment he left those oppressive walls, I’d tried to dig through the layers of hurt to find the pure heart that remained.

That was what led us to his apartment. A quaint little hideout where we could forget everything happening outside. The night began like any other from before he left. We sat down on his couch, close enough that our hands could brush against one another, but never enough to be satisfying. As the night drew on, however, we would inch closer together until we couldn’t handle the magnetism any longer.

I’d kissed him before that night. Soft, chaste pecks and the occasional scandal. He was always gentle, always shy. It was refreshing, to be with a man who was so hesitant to display his desire. But at the same time, I longed for more.

I saw the purity in his gaze and the way his hands would tremble against my waist. Occasionally, they would wander, but never far. He stayed wherever I led him.

So, that night, I made an executive decision.

There were no words to be said, so I said nothing. Instead, I caught his attention with one gentle finger against his cheek. I turned his face to me, and he followed without hesitation. And when I kissed him, he didn’t hesitate to return that, either.

I kept things light at first, pressing against his lips with just enough pressure that I heard his breath hitch in his throat. It filled me with such overwhelming lust that I immediately kissed him harder.

“(Y/n)…” he mumbled against my lips.

I kissed him harder. Without thinking, I sunk my teeth into his bottom lip and smiled when the force elicited a timid little whine.

That was all it took — one sweet little sound of submission — before I couldn’t hold myself back any longer.

I couldn’t stand being away from him for a second more. I wasted no time and climbed onto his lap, and like the good boy that he was, he didn’t try to stop me.

His hands fell to my hips for possibly the first time. They were still tentative in the most appealing possible way. I reveled in the softness, gasping at how he could view me as something so delicate.

I couldn’t stop kissing him. I’d tasted the innocence on his tongue, and I could hardly bear hearing it call my name. That time when I kissed him, I sneaked my tongue between his lips the second he’d parted them.

Our chests heaved with heavy breaths as I pressed my palms against his jaw. Without relenting at all, I dragged my fingers through his hair until I was hopelessly tangled in him. I tugged him forward and used my grip to ensure that he couldn’t go far.

For the first time, Spencer’s hands became greedy, too. I could feel short, blunt nails against my bare skin. My shirt had ridden up just enough for him to feel the heat, and he took it without hesitation. His hands, soft and free of callouses, forced their way under my shirt in a daring act of defiance from his usual demeanor.

“I missed you, Spencer,��� I whispered once our lips broke apart.

I paused to let him breathe and calibrate to the new position we’d found ourselves in. But it would have been difficult to describe anything about him as intelligent in that moment. He was drunk on the thrill of it all; he was lost in the lust. I could feel his dewy breath against my lips, and I found it so hard not to demand more.

Eventually, quietly, Spencer answered my call.

“I missed you so much. I thought about you every day.”

As much as I loved to hear his voice, I could feel his confidence waning when he spoke. I wasn’t ready to let go of it yet.

Without warning, I ground my hips down against his until he rewarded my actions with a breathy squeak. It stroked my ego in just the right way that I had to do it again. Rocking against the bulge in his pants, I moaned without reservation.

Immediately, he returned it with his own. With his hair still in my hands, he threw his head back. He displayed his neck to me so shamelessly that I was powerless to stop myself. I latched myself onto sweat-dampened peach colored skin. I sunk my teeth into his sweetness and was rewarded with more wonderful noises.

But as I’d expected, Spencer was not used to that level of worship. I could feel pained sobs as I colored his skin. I could feel how his stomach tensed and his hips started to buck right before he grabbed my hair and pulled me back to look at him again.

That time, it was him who kissed me. It was an excited, innocent attempt at something lewd. It filled my heart with a terrible, sinful kind of pride.

Because I was the one driving him to his corruption. I was the object of his desire, begging him to break.

“Did you dream about me?” I purred.

“Yes,” he answered without pause. Then, when the lustful haze started to take hold, he continued, “Yes. You were the only thing keeping me sane.”

The poor thing’s eyes started to water from his refusal to close them for even a second. Or perhaps it was just an indicator of how overwhelmed he was. Whatever the reason, I found the sight so beautiful that I could hardly contain my excitement.

“Tell me what you thought about, Spencer.”

My hips were still steadily rocking along his erection and my hands that had been tangled in his hair dropped to pull him closer.

The sudden shift in position seemed appreciated by the man underneath me. Spencer’s mouth dropped open against the bare skin of my chest with absolutely no hesitation. The deep v-neck offered him all the access he’d needed to indulge himself, and so he did.

Enough so that he’d forgotten to answer my order. I didn’t blame him, though. I couldn’t be mad when I felt his stubble creating a sharp friction on sensitive skin. And when his lips hit the fabric, he didn’t hesitate to push it out of his way to find more of me.

“Tell me what we do in your dreams,” I said through a breathy, whorish moan.

Spencer’s breath was growing so feverish that I was worried the poor thing would pass out. If he’d offered any intelligent reply, it had been mumbled against my skin. But I had not given up hope on his answer.

Gently, I took his hands into mine. I was careful as could be while I led one to my chest and helped him pull down half of my bra. As for the other, I sneaked it past the top of my leggings until he took over. I urged him on until he looked up at me with wonderment and adoration that nearly stopped my heart.

“Or better yet… if you don’t want to tell me,” I whispered, “Then show me.”

“Oh, god,” was his only reply.

“It wasn’t his name you were calling out, was it?” I teased.

His stomach tensed and he swallowed hard enough that I could hear it. His whole body was shaking, and if I’d stopped for a moment, I might’ve noticed how overwhelmed he was.

But I wouldn’t have stopped even if I knew.

Because he looked so positively helpless, so fucking unbelievably and perfectly pure when I took his chin in my hand. My hips grew rougher and my heart raced at the way his eyes started to roll back in his head.

Right before he lost himself, I ran my tongue over his open mouth and giggled as I cooed, “Say my name, baby.”

“F-Fuck!” he cried, instead.

His hands that had grown greedier were suddenly ruthless. Digging into whatever he could grab, Spencer forced my body down hard enough that I could feel the soft twitching of his cock through the layers of fabric. Enough that I could feel the warm wetness of his release start to bleed through.

“Oh!” I squeaked.

I didn’t dare move. Not because I was horrified or unsure of what to do, but because he looked so beautiful that I couldn’t bring myself to disturb the image. I refused to deprive myself of that vision, that perfect encapsulation of my hands all over the freshly fallen snow.

My mouth hung open because I could hardly control my breathing. The pressure building between my legs had not been dulled in the slightest, but as I teetered on the edge, I thrived.

Spencer slowly came back to me, initially dazed, but then thrown into a state of pure shock when he saw the smug grin stretched across my features.

“Shit!” he blurted out, quickly followed by an even more frantic, “Shit, I’m so sorry!”

“What are you sorry for? I don’t have to do your laundry,” I said with a casual shrug.

Spencer, however, was anything but nonchalant. His hands that had been so passionate and at home on my body were torn away. He used them instead to hide away, covering his face with a very unbecoming shame.

“Fuck. This is humiliating,” he blubbered.

“Why?” I asked while trying not to let my offense show through.

When I got no reply, however, I was much less kind about it. After readjusting my clothing and scooting back just enough that I wouldn’t make the mess worse, I grabbed his hands and pried them off his face.

He accepted the implicit order, but still refused to look at me properly. Instead, he averted his gaze anywhere other than me.

“I’m so sorry,” he whined. And while the tone had been welcomed moments before, it only served to upset me now.

Gently, but with enough force to make my seriousness be known, I took Spencer’s face in my hands. I forced him to look at me until I felt no more resistance against my palms.

“Why is it humiliating?” I repeated, that time not leaving room for protest. “You have a very pretty girl on your lap with the goal of reaching this exact result. If anything, you should be saying thank you.”

Spencer swallowed again. His mouth floundered, but he said nothing.

“Say thank you,” I said, not as an order, but a request.

“T-Thank you.”

He seemed almost ashamed of the way his voice stuttered when he’d said it, but from where I was sitting, it was charming. I adored the fact that he could still find me so intimidating, even when I was sitting on top of his dirty pants.

I knew what he’d needed, and I was all too happy to give it.

When we kissed again, he was as shy as he’d started. Whimpers still bled through well-kissed lips, and his hands were empowered to start roaming again now that he didn’t have to hold himself back from the edge.

I ended the kiss sooner than he would’ve liked, but he didn’t complain.

Especially not when I purred, “My good, sweet boy.”

In fact, he smiled. A perfectly pure little pout just before he bit down on his lip.

“You poor, pitiful little thing,” I continued, steadily losing my breath with every word, “Oh, I want to take care of you so badly, it hurts.”

As I said it, I pushed his hair back and out of his face. Spencer, ever attentive and always ready to please, moaned at the contact.

Then, to emphasize his desperation, he confessed, “I’ll do anything for you.”

“I know you will,” I giggled.

I could still see the remnants of shame on his face. No matter how many times I peppered kisses over his cheeks, I couldn’t seem to erase the guilt. And although I knew he must be uncomfortable from the mess in his lap, I’d also known that wasn’t the reason for his nervous shifting.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” I pleaded.

To his credit, he tried to answer. It just didn’t work.

“I… It’s just that… I’ve never…” he stuttered before he let out a deep exhale that carried with it a heavy admission. “I’m… a virgin.”

He winced as he said it, and I jumped in response. I would be lying if I’d said I didn’t half-suspect it to be a lie. While the news hadn’t been particularly groundbreaking, it was a little more innocence than I’d expected.

Surely, a man as good looking and well-credentialed as him had to have entertained at least one other.

But as he gathered the courage to look up at me, I knew that he’d been telling the truth. He chewed on his lip as he tried to come up with an explanation.

“I was scared to tell you because I want to— I-I…”

“You want to what?” I encouraged. With soft fingers running along his jaw and curling locks of his hair, I tried to offer him a safety within me. I offered him intimacy that he craved so that I could hear those magical words on his lips.

“I want to… f-fuck you,” he said so quietly I barely heard him.

My eyes softened at the innocence in his tone, and Spencer took it as a challenge to his honesty. It hadn’t been, but I didn’t complain at how it provided him a renewed vigor.

“I-I mean it. I want you. I want to be able to please you so badly. I want to show you how I feel about you and I want… you. All of you.”

As if to prove his point, his hands ran over the curves of my body. His eyes somehow showed even more appreciation than eager fingers. For as much as I appreciated them, I still treaded carefully over the minefield of his vulnerability.

“Spencer?” I called.

He looked back up into my eyes in the most pitiful, puppy-dog manner.

“What?” he whispered like he’d been expecting a rejection.

It was anything but.

“I want that, too,” I promised him.

But before the excitement could set in, I let him down gently. It was in his best interest, although he looked adorably devastated when I explained, “But not tonight, okay, baby?”

That was all it took for his confidence to fall away with his shoulders and hands.

“Why not?” he mumbled.

“Because I like you this way,” I returned with a simper. The coyness in itself was new and exciting, and I couldn’t help but continue to smile as I explained, “I want to keep you pure just a little while longer.”

Spencer’s pupils started to dilate the longer I spoke. His breath, too, became heavier. His hands were growing adventurous and his bottom lip quivered with anticipation as I grew closer.

Close enough to whisper against his lips, “I want to absolutely ruin you, bit by bit until you can’t stand it anymore. I want to have you begging by the end of it.”

With one fluid motion, I grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced his head back. I held him on display beneath me and I marveled at the sight. I saw how the paleness of his skin was tinged pink, red, and purple where I’d touched him too hard. I saw my mark all over him, in swollen lips and blown pupils.

I saw something pure at my disposal, pleading, “Please.”

“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you, Spencer…”

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

REMINDER: I DO NOT WRITE PART 2S.

Please stop asking, especially if that is your only commentary on the work. Please just enjoy it for what it is. I have several series and over 150 other works that you can enjoy.

[reid-me-a-story]

Relief in Regrets (S.R.)

Request: early season 12, when Reid’s stressed about his mom, he seeks comfort in his ex-girlfriend, and they end up sleeping together.

A/N: This is one of two eventual fics for my Reunion Trope challenge! This has been in the works for ages and I’m so glad I finally got to it. Angsty smut is my all-time favorite. I hope you enjoy it, too! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Exes, slightly toxic dynamic, heavy kissing, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, crying after sex (Spencer), aftercare included, ambiguous/poignant ending Word Count: 8k

MASTERLIST

——————————————————

I swore off coffee the day Spencer Reid and I broke up. While my friends insisted that I was being dramatic, I’d never felt that way. If they’d ever spent more than an hour with the man, they would understand why it was necessary.

They would come to realize, as I had, that there was no divorcing coffee from his memory. The smell soaked into everything the same as his touch radiated warmth. Each droplet in the pot sounded like a sleepy yawn as he struggled to stay awake for just an hour longer because he hadn’t seen me in so long.

Each abandoned half-full, half-empty mug served as a reminder to how he would fall asleep on my chest moments later. Or worse, a cup abandoned by his departure. Again.

It was almost Pavlovian how badly I craved it; how its absence was almost painful. But its presence hurt all the same, because the second I’d smelled the bitter grounds, all I could think about was him and how he wasn’t there anymore.

So, I had promised myself that I wouldn’t drink coffee anymore.

It hadn’t lasted very long, but there had been a sincere effort for about forty-eight hours. I returned to coffee quickly, but I’d at least managed to avoid a few particular cafes. While I could handle tasting coffee, I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing him.

But when his name appeared on my caller ID, I didn't hesitate to answer. I’d figured that I’d already proven I wasn’t able to swear off one vice, so what was another? I’d agreed to meet with him for a cup of coffee on the condition that it would only be the one. We both pretended like either of us believed that.

Of course, things like that always seem better in theory. Everything changes when you’re actually faced with the reality of the situation. When you’re standing outside the window of his favorite cafe, staring at him through the glass.

I knew I shouldn’t have come. The memories rushed back before I’d even opened the door to be met with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. The memory of him outlining olfactory memory and the pesky Proust effect was but the first of many.

The bell hung on the back of the door rang to announce my arrival. Spencer was quick to rise, and I suspected that he’d done the same each time he heard the door open. It was obvious in his expression that some small (or overwhelmingly large) part of him had been convinced I wouldn’t show.

But there I was, fast approaching a table with my order already set in front of my chair.

Of course he remembered. Of course he knew I wouldn’t have changed it.

Even when I sat, he didn’t say a word.

“Hey, stranger,” I offered with a smile I’d hoped would sell the lie that I didn’t miss him.

“Hey,” he muttered back with a similar sentiment, “you look great.”

The bitterness won out in the end. I hadn’t even realized the insult until it stumbled over my tongue.

“You look... tired.”

He took it in stride, however. I suspect he’d been expecting the hostility. He was clever, after all.

“So, the same as usual, then?” he said with a self-effacing chuckle.

It had only been thirty seconds, but I could already feel myself falling for his facade all over again. It had only taken a few words, a little bit of beautiful nonsense for me to forget the nights I’d spent crying over him.

The bittersweetness of remembering him coated my mouth with a scorching heat. I almost welcomed it, too. I welcomed any reminder of how much it hurt to be left behind. I let that anger rise and come out with another insult, however playful.

“What’s keeping you up this time? Is this a post-mortem or a rebound?”

“Wow,” he said with a hissing breath and a smile through the grimace, “you make me sound like such an asshole.”

Then, with just a second of self-reflection, he conceded, “I guess I deserve that.”

“Yup,” I agreed as simply as I could.

The silence that followed wasn’t as enjoyable as I’d thought it would be, though. I had fantasized so many times about the things I would tell him. I ranted to myself in the shower more times than I could count — each time explaining to him in graphic detail how it wasn’t only my fault everything had fallen apart. That he had been the one who decided his priorities, and that it wasn’t my fault if I wasn’t one of them.

I had everything planned out, every insult scripted and memorized. But in that moment filled with a palpable tension, I couldn’t find anything about him that I hated. In fact, the emotion that was dominating the rest was… pity.

Because he looked so pitiful. The dark circles under his eyes were deeper and darker than I remembered. The strong angles of his face were more pronounced, a stark display of weight lost from the crushing stress that he was clearly under.

I hadn’t expected it to feel like this. I hadn’t been ready for it to feel like this. But there I was, with a trembling hand as I sipped burning hot coffee.

There I was, forgiving him before he’d ever even said he was sorry.

“I was a little surprised you still had my number in your phone,” I said in an attempt to force myself out of his spell. I forced myself to remember the depth of my own hurt.

And it worked.

Because he winced before he admitted, “I… didn’t.”

Of course he didn’t. He didn’t need to have it programmed to remember it.

“Ah. Yeah, that makes sense,” I whispered.

That time, it was him who broke the awkward silence. With a little bit of humility and that same, pathetic half-laugh.

“I kind of feel even worse about my real reason now.”

“What could be worse than what’s happened so far?” I joked, only to immediately regret it.

There was no humor left in his voice. There was no sign of laughter or playfulness. There wasn’t even that manipulative, wide-eyed innocence about him.

“It’s... my mom,” he admitted with a voice so strained you’d think the words were made of knives. Even just uttering the last two words brought tears to his eyes. He’d tried to hide behind his hands, but he must have found the darkness too terrifying to bear, because he dropped them almost immediately.

I watched as the tears dried through sheer willpower. I watched the steely facade cover him like a sheet until he was a man I hardly recognized. His jaw was clenched tightly enough that I could hear the menacing sound of bone on bone.

“Oh,” I offered to stop the sound, “Is… Is she alright?”

He didn’t hesitate before he answered, “No, not really.”

Suddenly, all the reasons I’d had to be angry vanished. It had only taken one errant tear, one small droplet that Spencer had failed to catch.

In that moment, I’d wanted nothing more than to hold him, all the others in the cafe be damned. I could feel the pain as it rolled off him wave after relentless wave. The self-loathing hit me with the full, unforgiving force of the ocean and left me gasping for air in its wake.

I could see it, then. All the pain, all the pressure that he carried on skeletal shoulders that were starting to shake.

“Can I do anything to help?” I begged the man who’d broken my heart.

The same man who couldn’t even look me in the eyes when he whispered, “C-Could I... do you think I could just talk to you about it?”

And even though I knew it would hurt the both of us, I took his hand in mine. I squeezed his fingers until I felt the life return to them. I waited until we were both holding on for dear life. Then, when his eyes slowly, cautiously raised to meet mine again, I offered him the only reprieve I could in a world that had only ever been cruel to him.

“Of course you can, Spencer.”

For the next hour, I witnessed the strength that was Spencer Reid. My own heart took the backseat, watching with eyes unclouded by hatred. I listened as closely as I could, taking the pain into my hands brick by brick until his words didn’t have to be forced through clenched teeth.

Spencer confessed to every perceived inadequacy, each failure to do what we’d both known was impossible, anyway. He told me everything. He divulged secrets and memories that I was convinced he’d never spoken aloud before.

In his eyes, I saw so much of the man I’d fallen in love with. I saw that pure, excitable boy who was begging for someone to see him. Just once.

Our hands stayed together while he fell apart without shame. The rest of the world moved around us at a different pace. We’d convinced ourselves that, at least for now, there was nothing but the two of us. Nothing but two joined hands and locked eyes that wouldn’t judge our inability to solve it all.

In the end, Spencer was the one to remove his hand from mine. We’d stayed together until the sun peeked from behind storm clouds and burned his skin. But his hand remained in a fist as he pressed it against tired eyes that would have to wait at least a few more hours for sleep.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” I offered as an apology for the merciless nature of the universe. “I wish I could help you more, but... I don’t know what to say.”

But the ever-humble Spencer just shook his head. His hands dropped to his lap to wring together in private, to hide his anxieties from the world like he always had.

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry to just drop it all on you like this.”

“I’d rather that, than you handle it all by yourself,” I assured him.

He didn’t believe me, though. His skepticism was as clear as his quivering lip. They both hurt me more than I’d ever imagined they could. That was the only excuse I had for reaching out to him. I’d so desperately wanted to offer him the tenderness that he deserved. The gentleness that I knew he so badly needed.

The second that my palm touched scratchy stubble, his breath came out in a short, shaky exhale. His eyes widened like he had been expecting pain. He shivered like he was waiting for a biting wind that never came.

“I loved you, Spencer,” I whispered with the most warmth I could muster. Then, with my heart wrenching in my chest and my vocal cords straining against the truth, I clarified, “A lot of me still loves you. I hope you believe that.”

The tension from his jaw left all at once. The weight against my hand increased the more he gave into the temptation to let himself be held gently, even though he knew it wouldn’t, and couldn’t, last.

I saw words making their way through his throat, but they never made it. Instead, that transcendental realm around us was shattered by the sound of his obligations.

Spencer glanced down at his phone before he pulled away from me entirely.

“I-I have to go. There’s a caretaker I have an interview with and—"

He could barely look at me, like he’d suddenly become aware of the embarrassing state of his request to see me.He gathered his things so quickly that I was only barely able to catch his empty coffee cup before it tumbled to the ground.

He paused when his eyes landed on me again. He saw the upset in my eyes, the fear in my expression, as I watched him prepare to rush back into the world that was going to eat him alive.

“Spencer…” I warned, I tried to convince him to stay.

But he cut me off swiftly and with enough finality for me not to question him any further.

“Thank you,” he said firmly, “For meeting with me. And listening to me and just... everything.”

“Of course.”

It would have been so easy to let him leave like that. I had no doubt that he wouldn’t look back if I didn’t make him. He would find another way than to bother me again. I had every justification to let him go.

But I couldn’t.

“Spencer?”

He froze in place. His feet settled into the space, and he turned back to me until I saw it again — that anticipation for something horrible. The inability to see anything other than a threat.

“If you need anything, please call me,” I offered in place of anger.

He didn’t know how to handle it. Who could blame him for that?

When I arrived, I promised myself that I wouldn’t let him trick me. I wouldn’t fall for those innocent sunshine eyes and beautiful words. But when I saw him fidget and shake in response to kindness, I realized that there was nothing he’d done to make me feel the way I did.

It wasn’t his fault that I’d loved him. He was just one man, begging someone to tell him that it was going to be okay.

So, I did.

“I know that it probably doesn’t feel like it right now, but you aren’t alone.”

And for the first time that day, I saw him accept the softness.

“Thank you,” he said.

I still love you was what I heard.

I still love you, too was what I should have said.

——————————————————

I didn’t hear from Spencer again that day, or in the several days that followed. It wasn’t unexpected. He wasn’t exactly the best when it came to difficult emotions. His vulnerability was a privilege that wouldn’t go unpunished. I expected no less than for him to run away and never look back. Lord knew he’d done it before.

But this time was different from the last. This time, I didn’t blame myself for falling victim to his whim. There was something about him that had changed, and it didn’t seem to be for the better. There was a lifelessness about him, a hollowness about him. I found myself wondering how long he’d spent listening to his own echoes, and how it must have felt to hear my voice there, instead.

I didn’t hear from Spencer again; not until he showed up at my door.

I couldn’t tell you what time was on the clock, but I could tell you that the steady beat of the rain on my window warned me of the storm standing on my porch. I could tell you that the air felt colder, like the dread was his companion or captor that he just couldn’t shake.

When I opened my door, the two of us just stared at each other for long enough that the lightning and thunder joined us. For a moment, I was forced to wonder whether it was all a dream. The vision was so perfectly poetic that I chastised myself for idealizing a broken man.

“Spencer?”

He didn’t reply with words. Instead, his head raised slowly until his eyes found mine. Fiery topaz filled with its own form of lightning struck me to my core. I took a step back on instinct and was surprised to see that he followed. Each movement I made was mirrored like we were nothing but marionettes playing through someone else’s script.

We followed each other until we were both inside with the door closed behind him. It was only then that I heard his heavy breath. I watched as raindrops dripped from damp hair and I found myself about to ask how long he’d been outside trying to convince himself that he would be allowed to come in.

But each time I opened my mouth to talk, my throat would close in on itself. My hands were burning to reach forward to touch him. I wanted to brush away the rain and leave warmth in my wake. I didn’t touch him, though. Instead, I asked him a question that seemed to come as a shock to his senses.

“Are you alright?”

Spencer considered his answer for a few too many seconds. Just long enough for him to find the truth that he had only barely come to accept.

“No.”

“D-Do you want to talk?” I offered.

His answer was much quicker then.

“No, I don’t want to talk.”

Before I could ask another question, Spencer silenced me the only way he knew how. He’d closed the distance between us so quickly that I stumbled back just as he caught me. One hand pressed lightly on my lower back while the other cradled the back of my head with a painful tenderness.

His lips were the last part of him I felt touch me, but once I felt them, they were all that mattered. The roughness of cold, chapped lips still felt like fire. He’d tasted as sweet as I remembered him to be when he was mine. His grip was still clumsy but firm as he tried to find something within me to steady himself.

Even after all this time, I was his only anchor among the raging waves.

But my lips alone weren’t enough. I could feel him searching for something lost somewhere in my skin. Impossibly soft hands slid under my shirt, and I didn’t try to stop them. I gasped at the contact, and he took the opportunity to come closer. Our tongues slid against one another with a familiar fondness until there was no more telling them apart.

We stumbled together through the darkness, guided by a flawless memory that had lived through this so many times before. But Spencer didn’t lead us into the bedroom. He stopped right before the doorway, taking one last sharp turn before slamming my back against the wall, instead.

I missed him the moment his lips left mine, but I said nothing. I didn’t beg him to come back; I didn’t root my hands in his hair and try to convince him to stay. We both just stared at each other in silence. The rain was still relentless in its begging to be let inside, but we drowned out that sound with more heavy breath and the sound of hard-beating hearts.

Spencer looked down at my disheveled clothing that he’d already started to pull off me. I looked down at his, the vestiges of power that he had such a hard time allowing himself to wear. But our clothing betrayed the truth.

I was not the wreckage. He was.

And it was beautiful in the worst way. I hated myself for thinking it, but I did. I tried to remind myself that his vulnerability was a privilege that wouldn’t go unpunished, but I didn’t care.

Because as soon as he asked, “Do you want this?”

I was already answering, “Yes.”

I was already betraying my promise and begging him to come closer, to stay, to find home in my arms and not let himself leave this time.

Spencer turned his face away seconds after our lips touched again. The sting of his stubble against my lips was nothing compared to that sinking feeling that I wouldn’t be enough this time. But then he turned to me again with that look in his eyes that made me feel like he saw something worth staying for.

“Let me have you,” he begged. His voice was hoarse, and each word was muttered like a curse, and I found myself falling for every mistake.

His hands abandoned their positions to rest against my face. His thumbs brushed over my cheeks like he could see tears that hadn’t yet fallen. I felt him memorizing me and I wondered how long it had taken to forget me in the first place.

I remembered him in a way that he would never understand. I did it because I wanted to.

The next time he spoke, he did so through clenched teeth.

“I want to have control over one fucking thing in my life,” he seethed.

There was no denying the visceral need behind the words. Even at our most unhinged, I’d never heard Spencer speak in that register. Everything about him was darker and more broken than I’d remembered. But the man I loved was still there, scratching at the surface and my skin, fighting to crawl out from the darkness.

I had to let him try. I did it because I wanted to, and so did he.

“You have me,” I said, confirming what we already knew, “I’m yours.”

His pupils dilated in the dark and swallowed the only warmth left in his eyes. I witnessed the transformation into the version of the man I knew all too well; the one with a wicked grin that commanded legions of butterflies in my stomach.

Spencer let his lips hover centimeters from mine. He dangled that intimacy I craved just out of my reach and waited for me to beg for it. I knew what he’d wanted me to do, and I wanted nothing more than to please him, so I did.

But just as our lips touched, soft, gentle, and filled with an innocent sort of longing, he whispered, “Get on your knees, sweetheart.”

My legs, although unpracticed and unsteady, still knew to follow his orders. I began to lower with my back against the wall until he offered his hand, instead. I held the tips of his fingers lightly, too afraid to shatter the moment before it had even begun.

With my throat bared, I stayed looking at him from my position on the cold hardwood. He withdrew his hands to place one against the wall and the other smoothed over the top of my head.

“Good girl,” he called, sparking new life in a part of me I’d tried to snuff out so many times. “You know what to do.”

I could feel my heart beating erratically while my hands worked to remove his pants. Everything was operating on muscle memory alone, and my mind, too, was stuck in the past too much to enjoy the present. I was chasing the ghost of the man standing in front of me. Maybe that was why the flesh and blood felt so scorching.

Spencer groaned in relief when I pulled his erection free from the restraint of formal clothing. He threw his head back when I brought the tip to my lips, and I found myself working harder to command his attention on me once more. I flattened my tongue against the base of him and took my time worshiping each inch before slowly closing my lips around him.

It was then that his eyes returned, along with his hand resting atop my head. He gripped a fistful of my hair and he tugged me forward until he found resistance. It was in that struggle, in the sound of my gentle choking, that he found the relief he was seeking.

“It’s okay,” he assured me, releasing me just enough that he could feel the cool burst of breath against his heated skin once more. After a brief reprieve, he started to drag my mouth over him again. He was slower that time, watching with rapt fascination as he disappeared inside of me.

“I know it’s a lot,” he said. Not to stroke his own ego, but to recognize my struggle. Nonetheless, he smiled when he continued, “But you’re doing so good.”

I clung to that praise the same as I dug my nails into the fabric of his slacks still stretched over his thighs. I held myself steady on him the same he was doing to me, and I tried twice as hard to give him a reason not to leave again.

The noises were loud and lewd, the chime of a loose belt buckle like a metronome to the rest. The humid air held his moans and my stifled whimpers past their welcome until I was drunk on the chaos.

We reveled in the uniqueness of the moment. We let go, if only for a moment, of the belief that we weren’t meant to be, and we were, anyway.

Spencer’s grip grew tenuous instead of tighter. He loosened his fist until he could demonstrate the softness again. While ensuring there was no pain to be found, he pulled me off him. Still slowly, his eyes followed the string of spit that snapped back against my chin with something resembling jealousy. Like he’d wished he could come so close to me.

“You look so pretty like this…” he praised breathlessly, “but I want more than your mouth.”

I resisted the urge to analyze the look in his eyes when he’d said it. I tried to convince myself that he had only meant that he wanted to use other parts of my body. But in my heart, I knew what he wanted.

I want you, but not in the physical way.

I want you the way I had you before.

I stayed on my knees while he tucked himself back into pants. I stayed where he left me until he gave me the order to move.

It came in the form of an outstretched hand.

Cautiously, I placed my hand in his and let him help me back to my feet. He held me there, too, supporting my weight until I was steady enough to move into the room. He kept his eyes on me, glancing away only for a few seconds each time to ensure we’d make it safely to the bed.

Spencer nodded in the direction he wanted me, and I followed. He continued watching me as I took a seat on the bed. I couldn’t tell why at first, but it began making sense when he ran a comforting hand over my thigh.

“Don’t be so nervous,” he said quietly, all the while helping to drag soft fabric down my legs. When my bottoms dropped to the floor, he took a step back and stared at my trembling figure.

My nerves didn’t know to follow his orders yet, but he was patient. That time, he brushed his knuckles down my jaw and he spoke more fondly.

“You have nothing to be afraid of. You’re beautiful.”

And just like that, the tension started to disappear. I shed the anxiety more with each layer until I was almost bare. Still, I held my bra against my chest, and took in a shaky breath.

Spencer had stripped to nothing without a similar hesitation. He felt me staring, I’m sure, but he didn’t look at me just yet. He gave me the space and privacy to marvel at the silhouette in front of me. Both new and old, he bared his scars to me, but didn’t dare allow himself to measure my reaction to them.

He waited until he heard the last piece of clothing hit the floor before he turned around. It was his turn to take in once familiar sights.

For just one breath, I heard his lungs stutter. I saw the longing for more, the desperation for my arms to wrap around him not with debauchery, but with the closest thing to healing he’d ever felt.

I didn’t want him to break my heart again. He had already broken it a million times that week. With every overly fond glance and every tiny little smile. I didn’t want my heart to hurt when he held me, so when he climbed onto the bed, I began to turn onto my stomach. I didn’t make it, though.

“No,” he urged. He crushed my wrist in his haste but didn’t apologize. Still, he was gentle when he started to pull me back into my place. As soon as he’d touched me, my body went limp. I succumbed to his whim the same way I always did. I trusted him to lead me where I needed to go.

But I hadn’t expected it to be there. I hadn’t expected him to be close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him, to see the lightning strikes in his irises with perfect clarity when he explained, “I want to see your face when I fuck you.”

I nodded. That was all he needed. The tension left his shoulders as he reached between our bodies. His hand drew patterns through the nectar smeared between my thighs. He didn’t wait for permission; he had already gotten it through the sound of my whispering his name. Two lithe fingers worked their way between tight, tentative muscles.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he said with a little bit of a chuckle, “you remember me.”

Although I didn’t mean to, I laughed. The sound was so unexpected that it was almost foreign. But if that had felt unfamiliar, it was nothing compared to the smile that bloomed over his cheeks. My body gave into him. I felt my jaw drop just as he kissed me. We both hid from the truth of our feelings by channeling that desire into something less scary.

Once he was sure that it wouldn’t hurt, he positioned himself at my entrance and wasted no more time. Inch by torturous inch, he filled the empty space in a way that only he could. My body accepted him, embraced him with a blatant and undeniable longing.

When he stopped kissing me, I was afraid to open my eyes. I didn’t want him to see the truth of what I felt at that moment. Instead, I selfishly took the moment in without his scrutiny.

His hand on my cheek almost felt cold compared to the burning heat of my skin. I whimpered at the feeling but leaned further into his touch. He held me harder, pushing his hips further until I winced from the feeling of too much. Too much of him and too much emotion that threatened to spill out in the form of, ‘I still love you.’

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I bit my lip until I felt the sting and I clenched my eyes shut the same way.

I can’t. Not yet.

Spencer didn’t take kindly to being ignored. His hips drew back and snapped forward faster and harder than I thought him capable of.

“Do what I say,” he growled before repeating lower, “Look at me.”

My jaw was forced open from the tension of his fingers on my cheek. His thumb pressed down on my lip, too, feeling the way my breath came in quick, unsteady bursts as I reminded myself that it would be nothing he hadn’t seen before. He wouldn’t mistake it. He wouldn’t miss it.

“Please,” he said softer.

With a shaky timbre he begged, “That’s an order.”

I opened my eyes. Immediately, the energy shifted. The undercurrent of anger remained, but it was covered with a relief and a softness that made my heart flutter. Devoted, determined golden eyes burned through all defenses until I was nothing but him.

The rest of the world faded away, and any color it brought was replaced with fire. Any happiness or comfort I’d derived from other things seemed meaningless compared to the gentle curve of perfect peach lips when he whispered, “Good girl.”

I craved it. I needed to hear it again and again until we both felt worthy of the things we were feeling. We’d found that feeling before — somewhere between the sheets when we couldn’t pretend like things were still the same.

Just like then, Spencer held himself back. His control in this realm was practiced; he knew exactly what to do when he was buried between my legs. Each thrust of his hips would make me tremble until I wrapped around him hard enough to leave bruises where my heels had been.

It was at that point between pleasure and pain that he would run his hand tenderly over the tired muscles of my thigh.

“Keep your legs open,” he said despite our mutual struggle to breathe, “You’re doing so well.”

And I would try for him. I would convince stubborn muscles to relax by reminding them how he had always kissed any bruises he’d left. I called upon memories of each time that he’d care for me when it was all over. My mind summoned images of him, captured perfectly despite not being blessed with a flawless memory.

I looked at him then, too. In that moment, in the throes of passion when he looked down at me like there was nowhere else that he’d rather be. He made me feel so special that for a moment, I wondered how it could ever be possible that he hadn’t meant every bit of it.

“You remember this, don’t you?” he asked.

Of course I do, I should have said. You were the happiest I’d ever been.

But instead, I said nothing. Instead, I bit my lip and I nodded at him. We both smiled at the concession that seemed so miniscule compared to the truth. If he’d noticed my avoidance, he’d chosen not to acknowledge it.

His curious smile grew into a smirk. He flashed me a look somewhere between playful and furious; a special kind of jealousy reserved for the ones who’d put themselves in a position to be envious.

“I bet you think about me every time you let some pathetic asshole into your bed,” he spat.

I didn’t tell him he was right, but he saw it on my face.

He smiled brighter, then. The jealousy faded and was replaced with a pride that I’d always thought suited him. His hips came down harder and his hand that had been on my thigh slid underneath me. With a firm grip on one cheek, he forced my hips up just in time for him to ruin me with one thrust.

The crushing force of his hips against mine sent my mind reeling. I could barely register the sounds of my own cries. They were all unintelligible, desperate pleas, not for mercy, but for more.

He knew this, so he gave me what I’d asked for. He gave me more.

“But he doesn’t get to see you like this, does he?” he teased. That time, there was no doubt that he had been having fun with it. “No one does. No one but me.”

And in a twisted sort of way, so was I. I reveled in his jealousy, but even more so in that pride. I wanted him to imagine me with someone else because I wanted him to claim me the way he always had. I wanted to feel him so deeply that his name became etched on my bones.

“Spencer,” I cried. It sounded weak and pathetic and true.

It made his nails dig into my skin until the sharpness turned into an ache. The steady rhythm of his hips faltered for a moment — just the one, just long enough for him to mutter words like magic underneath his breath.

“You’re mine,” he said, and so it was true.

“Yes,” I promised him as he ravaged my body, “I’m yours.”

“Tell me…” he started.

I hung on the words the same as he clung to me. Even as our bodies slid apart, we never let them stray too far. My hands traveled over the flexed muscles of his arms with a gentle touch that turned rough the moment I reached something I could anchor onto.

A small tug on the hair at the back of his neck elicited a groan that escalated into an order. One with the force of half-full lungs and a ruthless thrust into me.

“Tell me that you miss me,” he said.

“I miss you,” I answered without waiting. I should’ve known the paranoid profiler would interpret my haste as falsehood.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not,” I insisted to no avail.

He’d just continued looking at me while fading away. The light in his eyes paradoxically flared, filling his mind with smoke that spoke the lies he’d projected onto me.

As my back started to burn from the friction of the sheets beneath me, I made my touch feather-light. I abandoned a tight grip on his curls and reverted to cradling heated cheeks.

“Please, Spencer,” I begged.

He took the request as a challenge, and he did not give in. I was rewarded for my intimacy by an increasing brutality. I hated that it still felt like home; a reminder among the monotony that there were still beautiful things among the bad.

Because I looked at him and I saw absolutely nothing worth hating. I couldn’t even find ambivalence. He was unhinged, speaking directly from the heart, and knowing that he could hide behind the shield of his own authority if he’d said too much.

Within that framework, I could also lie to myself and say that we didn’t mean any of it. We could both pretend that there was no meaning to the fact that he had told me to do what he says.

That’s an order, he had said moments before.

And in that absolute, unparalleled freedom, Spencer only had one order left to give. Of all his wildest fantasies, there was one that reigned supreme.

He knew that I would do whatever it was that he asked of me, and so he ordered, “Tell me that you love me.”

His jaw was clenched shut, barely twitching to make way for his request. It was small and low and… still so fucking beautiful. It made my heart ache in a way that made the physical feel like a mere scratch on the surface. But his words had blown my rib cage open wide enough that I knew he could see my heart reaching to him through the rubble.

“Spencer, I—" I started, but I never got to say what I’d wanted.

I didn’t tell him I still loved him. I couldn’t complete the order because the moment he saw the letter L on my tongue, he pressed his lips against mine hard enough to bruise. He left no space for the words.

Maybe he did it because he decided he didn’t want to hear it, or perhaps he’d realized how badly I wanted to say it.

Because I did want to say it. I wanted it so badly that it hurt worse than anything else. So, in a moment of daring, and all the while reminding myself that no intimacy would go unpunished, I tore his face away from mine despite his resistance.

“I love you,” I said with the only air I had left, “I will alwayslove you.”

Spencer said nothing, but his eyes spoke poetry. Each beautiful thing he’d ever read was reflected at me through the blazes and lightning of molten irises. Although the words were not there, I heard them, nonetheless. I felt the way he loved me and saw them painted in a bowed brow as his jaw finally fell with relief.

“Fuck. I’m…” he blubbered. He’d tried to keep his eyes on me, to hold off a little longer, but the defeat was approaching swiftly and without mercy, so he gasped, “Where?”

“Inside,” I rasped.

Spencer smiled. A sweet but wicked grin exactly like the bittersweet we’d always been.

“You’re still mine,” he said, and so it was true. “You’re always going to be mine.”

I opened my eyes to look at him as the euphoria finally came, but I was surprised to feel his lips meet mine first. He kissed me, not with brutality, but softness. Even though he was clumsy and close, there was no heaviness behind the movements.

Spencer made one last motion, one deep thrust until he was surrounded by me, and then he let go. He found an anchor, a home within the part of me that no one else got to touch. He filled my body with warmth the same way he always had, but it felt different somehow. Even his lips felt different in that moment, almost as if I’d been a fool for thinking I’d ever actually been given his intimacy before then.

But that feeling still paled in comparison to what followed. Hot, moist breath puffed against my neck as Spencer collapsed into my waiting embrace. His mouth drew along the column of my throat until there was no sense to be made from the sound that followed.

We both pretended that I couldn’t hear him whispering.

But he had said, “I still love you.” We just pretended he didn’t.

That sacrifice made it hurt less when he finally left. Albeit reluctantly, he did leave, and the space on the bed seemed frigid without him there. The room smelled like sex and what we should regret but didn’t.

Spencer had gone straight for the door, fleeing down the hallway to the bathroom that would take him furthest away from me. I, however, took the path of convenience. I took the short walk to the bathroom attached to my room and tried to find a way to be okay with returning to an empty bed.

I took my time. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and noticed for the first time that my cheeks hadn’t hurt from his hands, but from the wide smile stretched between them. I basked in that feeling of peace for just a few moments longer, and when I was ready, I turned out the light before I lifted my head.

I should’ve known better than to think that his intimacy would go unpunished. Because despite all odds, Spencer was still there. His clothing, which had been strewn about the floor, sat neatly folded on his night table like an offer to leave.

I didn’t ask him to leave, though. I approached him cautiously, as if he were a caged animal with his teeth bared. But he didn’t appear fazed, and in fact didn’t seem to notice me at all until I crawled into the bed beside him.

“Do you feel any better?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, not with his words nor his eyes.

“Yeah,” I said with an awkward chuckle to fill the silence, “I figured.”

The quiet returned, but only for a moment.

“Did you mean it?” he asked. He didn’t look at me when he said it.

“What?”

“Did you mean it?” he repeated.

I considered telling him the truth. I spoke the words inside my head, and I felt my tongue move along with them between slightly parted lips. But when I gave myself permission to speak, ‘yes’ did not follow.

“You… you said it was an order,” I muttered, instead.

Immediately, the regret consumed him, and his vulnerability vanished with a one-worded white flag of, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” I tried to explain, but he was already speaking before I’d finished the beginning.

“Don’t be.”

But I was. I was sorry that I loved him, and I was even more sorry that I was too much of a coward to tell him. We’d both deserved better than the silence, but it was our only option at the time.

So, I worked within the confines of circumstance. I didn’t tell him that I loved him with my words, and I didn’t try to force him to look into my eyes and hope that his genius might translate to reading my mind.

Instead, I reached forward into the darkness and pulled him closer. His instincts led his lips to mine, and we found each other. It was a long but chaste kiss. An opportunity for closure, if only for one night.

When it was over, he finally looked at me again. The both of us were now wreckage, adrift in a sea of unknowns but still clinging helplessly to one another. We were fully prepared to drown or to burn from the reflection of the sun when it rose the next morning. The rest of the world would be unaffected by what had happened, but the two of us would remain forever changed.

Spencer looked at me with a quivering lip and he sighed. The breath should have carried words with it, but they lagged behind. Eventually, though, his lips parted and eventually, made room for something more.

“Thank you,” he whispered before pausing to contemplate exactly what it was that I was to be thanked for. Eventually, he settled on two words spoken with a nostalgia and a pain that didn’t suit the sentiment, “for caring.”

“Of course,” I said with a subtle turn of my tone, as if to ask if he’d ever doubted my affection for a second.

Then he made his insecurity more obvious. More poignant and pointed like the metaphorical knife his question dug into my chest.

“Can I stay with you?” he whispered like a lost child.

I tried not to make it obvious how much having to state the obvious aloud hurt me.

“Yes, Spencer. Of course you can stay.”

But despite the invitation of open arms, Spencer rolled onto his side facing me. He maintained the distance between us while simultaneously filling it with an undeniable longing. With fingers twitching for something to grab hold of, he tried and failed to close his eyes. Tears sat on his lashes; they made home in the limbo, too afraid to be forever lost in the aftermath, but too terrified to stay.

“Do you want me to hold you?” I asked before I’d realized what a terrible idea it would turn out to be.

But how was I meant to stop either of us when the light returned to his eyes with a vengeance to exact. Beneath the visage of his relief was a punishment to be sought for the vulnerability we’d stolen from fate, but we didn’t care.

“Will you?” he pleaded.

“Of course,” I answered.

He fell into open arms without hesitation.

From there, Spencer curled in on himself against me like a dying leaf, and he, too, shivered from the cold. It was just a different kind; a kind that my body heat wouldn’t be enough to fix. But I would try, holding him while he wept and pressing gentle kisses to his forehead and stroking loving patterns into his skin, whispering over and over again, “It’s okay, Spencer. You’re safe here. You’re going to be okay.”

I would have done it for hours — for as long as it took — but it hadn’t taken too long before his tortured mind settled into sleep. Even then, I stayed awake, and I held him with that same desperation. We clung to one another in a cruel world and tried to offer to one another what little peace we still had. We found a reason to stay.

His reserves had been exhausted, and I had to try to make it better. Not because it was the right thing to do, but because I loved him.

I had lied to him earlier, and now it was too late to take it back.

I still loved him. All of me would always love him.

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[reid-me-a-story]

Femme Fatale (S.R.)

Request: Unit chief Spencer? + spencer & reader have a fight, he goes to apologize & she’s wearing her sleep clothes so he asks her to change & she gets pissed & and then fluff/smut ensues.

A/N: Two months later I share the enemies to lovers piece that I was originally planning on writing for that challenge! I hope you all enjoy it! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Spider references (only in the first chunk), enemies to lovers, boss/subordinate relationship, jealousy, Reader kisses another man (not cheating), oral sex, unprotected sex, penetrative sex Word Count: 7.8k

MASTERLIST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Jealous’ was another word for the feeling.

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

He tried to please her, but he would ultimately fail. She was not the kind of woman who generally liked to be fawned over. She was the kind who sought out a challenge.

And when she looked at me, she found one. Everything about her changed in a split second. Loose hands wound tightly in the hair of another man, and she used that new grip to pull him closer. Still, she made sure that his lips never met hers. She guided them to more debaucherous places in an obvious attempt to bother me.

It did. Of course, it did. Watching her mouth drop open ever so slightly, to see her alcohol-stained tongue move as she called his name instead of mine. My white-knuckled grip on the glass was not unnoticed by the unfortunately astute profiler.

There was a reason she was on my team.

We both realized it at the same time. Just as she gasped when he kissed her neck, the two of us locked eyes in another, different kind of challenge.

I dared her to kiss him because I knew she didn’t want to. Letting him worship at her altar was one thing, but to share that vulnerability with someone she cared so little about… well, that was another.

Because the redback offers a lesson in surrender. Of throwing yourself at her mercy, of humility, or recognizing the privilege in her fangs against your throat.

The redback kills slowly. She savors the surrender; the falling apart.

I should have expected her to kiss him when I was making such a show out of my begging for her not to. She always could understand my hypocrisy. That was just the kind of woman she was. I knew that I would lose if I got any closer, but the longer that I saw them tangled together in the filth of a foreign bar, the less I cared about the wound to my pride.

I just wanted it to stop. I wanted her to understand that this was more than just a game to me.

When I started to approach the two of them, I noticed that her eyes were following me. Still open, half-lidded and waiting for the challenge she’d wanted to find that night.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” I asked, paying no mind to the man still dedicated to trying to pull her onto his lap.

“Sure thing, boss,” she said with a smile, but made no effort to move.

“In private,” I clarified. The somewhat annoyed timbre was enough to convince her to move. She did not do it quickly, though. She slid from her position, letting her hands linger on his thigh until she couldn’t reach him any longer.

She didn’t look at me. She didn’t follow me, either. She was the one who took charge to find us a nice, empty hall only graced by people who were probably using the hotel for its intended purposes. Or drug deals and prostitutes. That was probably a truer use of its purpose, anyway.

She was the one to break the silence, and it became clear instantaneously that she was feeling significantly less patient now that I’d dragged her away from her prey.

“What can I help you with?”

I wasn’t feeling particularly patient, either.

“You need to stop. Alright?”

“Stop what?” she spat with a hushed voice and her arms crossed tightly over her half-exposed chest.

“You know what you’re doing, and it needs to stop now,” I whispered back. It wasn’t because I was following her lead — I had simply wanted to protect her from the indignity of being scolded by her boss in a cheap hotel hallway. “Just because the case is over doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want. While you are here, you still represent this team and the bureau.”

My mercy was not received well. I should’ve expected as much.

“Oh, cut the shit, Reid!” she scoffed, now at full volume.

“Oh, I’m the one who’s full of shit?”

“Yeah, Spencer, you are!” she yelled.

The echo of her own shrill voice must’ve triggered something inside of her, however, because she cut herself off before she could say what was clearly on her mind.

Instead, she took a deep breath before she explained with relative calm, “If you’re honestly going to sit here and lecture me about professionalism, then you are full of shit. Be honest, if I wasn’t your colleague, wouldn’t you want to kiss me?”

The question hit me with such force that I swore the earth had shifted in its orbit. The dizzying array of hideous wallpaper patterns danced along the peripherals of my vision until I was forced to address the only beautiful thing left.

I looked at her, with her hair slightly disheveled and her lips now clean after having washed the layer of paint away with another man’s mouth. I looked at the woman in front of me and I tried to still a fast-beating heart that begged me to tell her the truth.

But I looked at her. I saw her, and my self-preservation and persistent self-hatred won out in the end.

“I’m not your colleague. I’m your boss,” I corrected, and the second the words left my mouth, I knew they’d been a mistake.

Her body language went from vulnerable to impenetrable within a blink that never happened. I didn’t want to look away, didn’t even want to clear my eyes of frustrated tears and blistering light if it meant that I missed her for even one second. It was exactly that lovesick desperation that drove us here in the first place.

Before she could say a word, to challenge the apparent falsity, I quickly continued, “I’m responsible for you when you’re on the field, and I’m not going to have you out here acting like some… touch starved teenager!”

“Lots of experience with that, huh?” she droned.

“Watch it.”

And that damned infuriating woman smiled. It wasn't long enough for me to comment, but it was enough for me to notice. Although the only reason I noticed was my obsession with deciphering even the smallest wrinkle in her expression, I didn’t care.

I was fine with her watching me because the longer she did, the more that stony facade faded. The longer we were alone together, even in the worst possible circumstances, the easier things seemed to be. I blamed my wishful thinking on the alcohol, even though I hadn’t had nearly enough for her to be affecting me the way she was.

After a firm moment of silence and introspection I would have given anything to hear, she smiled again. This time, it was a small but genuine curve that made me wonder how I could’ve ever raised my voice in the first place.

Then she spoke, and I remembered.

“Take me to my room.”

“What?” I balked, “Why would I do that?”

A heavy burst of air left her, but I would be loath to call it a laugh. It was more like an acceptance of the closest thing to a ‘yes’ that she was going to get.

“Because you’re a gentleman and you want to make sure I get back to my room safely,” she offered, knowing that I couldn’t resist it.

She was right. I didn’t. The same way that I didn’t stop her when she locked her arm in mine. I didn’t even dare to challenge her ability to walk on her own. I knew that she was perfectly capable.

Then again… perhaps her inebriation was more extensive than I’d originally thought. Because no sooner had I slipped from her embrace than she had grabbed me again. Harder that time, she tugged on the sleeve of my shirt until I was sure that it would wrinkle.

I followed her lead, even when it led me to press my body against hers as she remained backed against her own door. I stared into her eyes that seemed dedicated to viewing me as something new in the poor lighting of this wretched place.

“Admit that it’s not just me,” she whispered.

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

She really should’ve expected a lie. It was one of many signs that she was too drunk to even be having this conversation. But that didn’t stop her from continuing, anyway.

“God, you’re insufferable,” she laughed. Then, with more emotion than I’d ever seen her possess, she stated clearly enough to question if she’d actually been stone-cold sober, “I know it’s not just me.”

“Oh?” The single, strained syllable revealed just how far gone I was, too. It provided her the answer that we both knew to be true but were both too afraid to acknowledge until liquid courage was too busy leading all the blood from our brains to other, less helpful places.

Places like her hands as she guided one of my own to her cheek. She pressed my palm against the blistering hot skin and sighed. She felt how my hand still shook under the weight of words and longing gone unsaid for a little too long. She didn’t allow me to waver, to wimp out and regain my senses with my personal space.

She held me there, forced to witness the beauty of her eyes and the slight plump in bruised lips that still called to me, both metaphorically and literally.

“Spencer,” she said with a soft sound that I still wouldn’t dare call a laugh, “if I asked you to take me into this room and fuck me, you would do it. And if I told you to come in here and hold me while I cried, you’d do that, too.”

I wanted to speak, to correct the already indisputable, but I knew if I had tried, more of the truth would follow. I wanted to take my hand back, but only found myself moving closer. Anything to make her stop talking, because I knew if she didn’t stop soon, there would be no going back.

But we were fast approaching another thing I swore we’d never do. A line I’d drawn in a finely crafted web. A line that I was starting to realize was never meant to keep her out, but to keep me away from her. Because every new word from her lips tore away at careful lacework until my patience and my self-restraint were hanging by a single, spindly thread.

“You’re soft… and sweet. Even if you don’t want me to know it.”

And just like that, it snapped.

When I kissed her, it wasn’t to prove her wrong. If anything, it had the exact opposite intention.

My hand already resting against her cheek remained there, but my other slipped behind her neck. I wound my fingers through her hair the same way she’d done to the other man. I kissed her harder than he had, and I hoped that the sheer force behind it wouldn’t shake her. But of course, I should’ve known better than to underestimate her.

Her arms around my neck felt like the only thing keeping me on the earth. I clung to her so desperately that I knew she could feel my heart beating for her. I didn’t care; I wanted as much of her as she would grant me in that brief lapse of our judgment.

I thought of the other man who couldn’t do it right, and I wondered how it could be that he’d been given a chance and didn’t immediately throw himself on the sword for her. Through it all, I found myself begging her over and over, Tell me.

Tell me that I’m better than him.

Tell me that you had wished it were me.

Tell me again that I’m not the only one.

I kissed her, held her, loved her in whatever way I could before she pulled us apart. I knew it would hurt when she did, but I had dramatically underestimated just how badly I would miss her.

She looked at me, spotting the regret, fear, and pain painted over every feature.

And that goddamned infuriating woman… smiled.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” she said.

“Wait—" I called to an already closed door.

Don’t go, I begged, knowing that she couldn’t hear it.

Please, tell me that you love me, too.

—————————————————

The first time I met Spencer Reid, I was surprised with what I found. Contrary to what one might believe, it was not his general build, his floppy hair, or his puppy dog eyes that surprised me.

It was the fact that he was a horrendously terrible liar.

Not much had changed during my months at the BAU. Spencer remained steadfast in his insistence that he did not like me. Not even a little bit.

Normally, I would let it go. I would accept his disinterest as an unfortunate loss for him, and a minor inconvenience for me. It wouldn’t be the first time that my job had cost me a potential partner, although it would be the first time it had been because of my position as a ‘subordinate.’

Regardless of the reason or weight of the misfortune, it didn’t matter. I had accepted that I’d lost the game from the moment we’d started playing it.

And then I had to go and kiss him. Or, rather, let him kiss me. Because really, when it came down to it, he was the one to move. He’d done it so quickly and forcefully that it’d almost caught me by surprise.

Almost. He really was a terrible liar. A petty, vindictive little coward, too.

I wanted to hate him. How much easier it would be, to be able to laugh it all off rather than think about it nonstop as I prepared for bed in this week’s hotel. It seemed impossible not to, really, with his room sharing a wall with my own.

It had been two weeks since we’d kissed, and he hadn’t said a word about it. I couldn’t tell if he was angry at me for having let him do it, or angry at himself for having wanted to in the first place. Again, it didn’t matter. He was a terrible liar, but he was a dedicated one. I fully expected that it was a secret we would both carry to our graves, or in the very least to one of them.

I had planned on carrying that resentment, waiting, and hoping that it would one day turn to regret so that I could hate him the way I had every right to.

But then there was a knock at my hotel door.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, I watched the unmoving opaque back of my own door. Each second of additional silence altered the likelihood of who was standing on the other side until there could be no more doubt.

I waited for him to knock again. I begged him to announce himself. To do anything other than wait for me to be the one to fuck up. I was tired of being the one to blame when things went like they always did with us.

Until it went wrong. It always went wrong.

Naturally, though, Spencer couldn’t hear my silent plea from the hallway. Or, if he could, he simply chose to ignore it like he had every other reasonable request I had made in my time at the BAU. Some days I wondered if he really did hate me. Other days I knew it to be true.

When I opened the door to find him, however, I wasn’t quite sure how to classify what I’d seen.

Spencer Reid was in a state of pure disarray. His normally composed demeanor ran ragged with everything else. Already unruly hair looked as though he’d combed through it hundreds of times before settling in front of my door. His clothing, however, told another story. A story of a man who had gotten undressed and redressed more times than I would while preparing for an outing.

He said nothing. He barely even made eye contact with me before he faced the ground again. And as adorable as the small act of submission was, I was tired and already bored of whatever lecture he’d planned for me.

“What do you want, Spencer?” I sighed.

The sound of his name on my tongue did something to wake him from his reverie because he was quick to answer, “I need to talk to you.”

Then, apparently sensing my displeasure at the way his request sounded more like an order, he appended it with a pathetic plea of, “Please. If that’s alright.”

I wanted to pretend like he hadn’t given me a genuine choice, but he had. In that rare form, I think he might’ve listened when I told him to fuck off and leave me alone. But the truth was that I hadn’t wanted him to. I’d wanted him to join me in the neutral ground of beige colored walls and foreign linens.

I wanted to hear what he had to say, but I wasn’t ready to admit it yet. So, I opened the door and gestured him in without another word. That awkward silence stretched on again. I wondered how long it would take for him to bolt if I stood my ground and refused to speak first.

Luckily for him, the sound of the heater kicking on hid the way his voice cracked.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said…” he muttered once he had noise to hide behind.

“And you’ve finally realized that I’m right?” I joked, only to be completely caught off guard by his honest and immediate reply. The word said with a power, conviction, and confidence that assured me in its utterance alone that he had thought about it enough for a lifetime.

“Yes,” he said.

“Oh.”

I wasn’t sure what else I was meant to say. In fact, even that one syllable felt like it had gotten in the way. That I had somehow ruined the moment I’d been waiting for since I met him. I was torn, stuck while trying to decide if I should take the little validation he offered and tell him to leave… or beg him for more.

I settled for somewhere in the middle. I guess one could call it the truth.

“I wasn’t expecting that.”

So quickly my expectations for him had shifted. I’d thought we were starting to get somewhere, that I might finally get answers for why the fuck he was so hellbent on maintaining this facade.

Then, naturally, he spoke again and reminded me why it was pointless to think something as simple as a kiss could change him.

“Why not?”

“Are you serious?” I scoffed.

“Fine,” he conceded when he felt himself losing grip on me again. He hadn’t touched me yet, and if he knew what was good for him, he would restrain himself until I’d gotten the apology I deserved.

“I admit I’ve been a little… harsh, and cold to you at times, but…”

That wasn’t it.

“A little?” I sneered, “At times?!”

I had almost given up all hope. I was ready to throw my door open and force him out myself. Not because I didn’t desperately want him to understand how hurt I’d become while pretending not to care, but because I hadn’t wanted him to realize just how often I’d cried over that stupid idiot.

My eyes were burning and my already wrecked heart was trying to piece itself back together again when it happened.

When he finally admitted, “I’m sorry.”

And then he stopped. The whole world seemed to follow his lead, and I was left in a maelstrom of emotions that felt suffocating.

Spencer’s eyes fell away from mine, but they didn’t go far. Like they so often did when he’d thought I wasn’t watching, he ogled my body as it was rarely presented to him. I knew him too well to expect anything less than an IQ of 60 when faced with a half-naked woman, but I wasn’t in a forgiving mood. Not yet. Not when his apology was still half-baked and muttered as a near whisper.

“Keep talking. I know you’re capable,” I instructed.

More often than not, people put Spencer on a pedestal. They treated him like a robot or alien that wasn’t vulnerable to the same things as us normal folk. But there he was, stuck staring at my bare legs beneath the hem of my sleep shorts like he’d never see a goddamn thigh before.

“Reid,” I chastised. I had tried to be patient, tried to be understanding of the sexual tension in the air that was thick enough to choke on.

He decided to be neither of those things. He decided to be a man and blame it on me.

“Your clothes are really distracting.”

After a moment of genuine shock and disgust at his behavior, I made my own decision.

“Fine,” I said sweetly.

And then I promptly began taking off my clothes.

The second my pants hit the floor to reveal lacy undergarments, Spencer covered his line of sight with one shaking hand and screamed, “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Taking them off,” I nonchalantly answered.

“Stop it!”

“Why? You said they were distracting,” I explained. For all his feigned chivalry, though, I could see him peeking through his fingers. Just in time to see me unbutton the last barrier. To watch with wonder as I exposed my shoulders and the middle of my chest but didn’t let the fabric fall.

He just stared. He said nothing until I continued, “Or is there another problem, unrelated to the clothing?”

With his frustration painted in red, puffed cheeks, the words burst through his lips hard enough that it made me tense.

“I’m attracted to you!” he shouted, “Alright?! I admit it. Okay? I like you!”

Then we both just looked at each other. We read and analyzed each overt sign of anger and the insecurity it hid. We bit down on our tongues while our eyes begged the other to give in first.

When he spoke, however, it was anything but a surrender.

“Stop staring at me like that.”

It was an order. One I didn’t intend to follow.

Instead, I scoffed, “What, am I meant to apologize that you find me attractive?”

“You are so…” he started, cutting himself off in the midst of his frustration just to finish the sentence louder and more spirited than he’d begun, “You are so goddamn infuriating!”

“What the hell did I do?!”

“You just—!”

With each line, each implied insult that felt like glass in our throats, we raised our voices until they broke. I stopped, ready to tell him to leave once and for all.

But then I saw the way he looked at me. I saw the way he struggled harder than I’d ever seen before. I saw how he’d looked nearly to the point of tears, and how he pressed balled fists against his eyes like he was trying to hide the sight of my naked body because it would make it all too much to bear. Spencer’s voice never stopped cracking, never stopped as he blurted out what he’d needed to say for some time now.

“—You just… You showed up one day and just… God, look at you!”

My voice, now a whisper, muttered, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t understand how I’m supposed to look at you every goddamn dayand…”

Slowly, he uncovered his eyes. He looked at me just like he’d spoken about and saw the way I was curled in on myself in an oxymoronic fashion. He traced the outline of the little clothing still covering me and he landed on my face filled with fear and anger.

“And what?” I asked, terrified of the answer but needing it all the same.

Spencer sighed. His shoulders fell and his mouth curled into a pathetic, regretful smile as he gave me the answer I’d been waiting for.

“And not fall in love with you,” he said.

I tried to laugh, but the noise was too flat to be called any such thing. I just sounded pathetic, exhausted, and scared.

“You don’t love me,” I corrected.

“Maybe not yet,” he conceded immediately only to raise a second challenge.

He took a step forward, and I fought the urge to step back with everything I had left. I stayed rooted in place and begged myself to believe him. We’d fought for so long that my muscle memory was convinced his sweetness would still be laced with poison. But when he did reach me, his touch was too soft for coming from a man with callouses and scars littered over his palms.

“But I want to,” he whispered, “I want to love you. If you’d let me.”

Looking into his eyes, I tried to hide my fondness for him. Even then, with his nose brushing against mine, I stayed committed to the lies that he’d woven. The ones that he had remained so dedicated to. Even with his hands cradling my burning cheeks in his own metaphorical white flag, I tried to find some evidence that he was lying.

I issued one last challenge, and I begged him with my whole heart to accept it.

“Go ahead,” I whispered with a wavering voice, “Do it, then.”

Accept it he did. Cautiously, still. His lips, though tendered, were filled with insecurity. His touch was so light and precarious that I was worried I would lose him before I’d ever had him in the first place. I laced my fingers through his hair and I pulled him hard against me the way he’d done to me before. I tried to recreate that first kiss that had been borne by passion and rage.

But Spencer stopped. He guided my face away until our lips broke apart. My confidence disappeared all at once and was replaced with the burning flame of regret. I was ready to hurt him back, to tell him that this had all been a stupid mistake in a game I didn’t know we were still playing.

He saw each thought as it came to fruition and silenced them with three simple words.

“You have me.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I said nothing. I let my trembling body speak for me. I didn’t hold back the mounting anxiety in the face of softness, nor the way my muscles still tensed, and my hair stood on edge when he drew his hand down my back. Even over the shirt still dangling from my elbows, I could feel the heat burning through weary muscles.

“You don’t have to fight anymore,” he said, even softer than his touch, “Let me take care of you.”

I could only wonder the kind of power he possessed for him to command me so easily to do something so impossible. Before I’d even processed the order — no, the question, the plea — for me to give in, I was practically limp in his arms.

I took in a deep breath of air whose tension had been replaced by lust. When he pulled me closer, I only became greedier. While he helped lift me onto the bed, I was busy burying my face against the crook of his neck and trying to count his heartbeats through his pulse.

My hands tried to go to work. I began clumsily fumbling with buttons on his shirt until his hands came up to grab mine. Not hard, but once again with a tenderness and adoration that made my chest ache.

“Relax,” he said, this time with an airy, genuine laugh.

That time, I tried harder. Although my body was beginning to recognize his touch as gentle, I still found myself tensing. It wasn’t my fault, though. Because from his spot above me on the bed, Spencer grabbed my wrists and placed them down against the pillows.

“Just relax.”

I was trying so hard. Even when he started to draw wet kisses over my pulse, I tried to stay where he’d guided me. I closed my eyes and thought about how often I’d pictured him as the one doing exactly this. How badly I’d craved him and dreamed of him ever since that first moment when I realized I would never have a chance.

But he was there. His mouth was dropping steadily, creating a damp trail of his longing down my sternum. He paused there, taking his time to lavish each pebbled peak of now fully exposed breasts. I saw his arms shaking, struggling not to abandon his position so that he could hold my body in new and more interesting ways.

He settled for running his stubbly jaw against sensitive skin. For now, the gasps and whimpers flowing from me would be enough to sustain him through his journey. He resumed his path, stopping to pepper a flurry of kisses around my belly button to make sure that I would still laugh.

I did. Not only from the feeling of his lips on my stomach, but also from the feeling in my chest. The butterflies swirling and taking over all rational thought. Abandoning the position that he’d put me in, I threaded my fingers through his hair, instead. I hadn’t meant it in a bratty way. I wasn’t trying to disobey him. I just wanted him closer.

Spencer didn’t take it as a slight, either. He just glanced up at me with a smile so pure in its joy that I couldn’t help but return it. I laughed about how happy I was. We both laughed about how I was practically naked while he remained almost fully clothed. I laughed at how, somehow, it still felt like he was the one being vulnerable.

It wasn’t until he sat up and tucked his fingers under my underwear that I realized how close we were to crossing that line we swore we never would. The excitement shifted to panic within seconds. That stupid, brilliant man recognized the hesitance immediately.

He stopped.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked.

I nodded. He went to start again, drawing small, precise patterns against my hip and giving me the time to change my mind. The time to realize that it wasn’t my feelings that I was doubting. He waited, inching the fabric like the loss of the barrier might help me speak more freely.

“A-Are you sure?” I stuttered once the fabric reached my knees. I bit down on my lip immediately, looking up at him through hooded eyes that I tried to make look less guilty.

Spencer was staring back at me. While I was frightened of what I felt, he showed no sign of anything bad. There was only patience, love, and an ungodly amount of lust reflected at me.

It could have been crude if he’d been a lesser man. But he wasn’t. I knew he wasn’t, even before he finally removed the fabric so he could lift one leg. I knew that Spencer was nothing but tender and kind, even before he began laying kisses over the heated skin. That hadn’t meant I didn’t enjoy the way it felt any less, though.

“I’ve wanted this since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he muttered against me. He made sure I felt the vibration in the guttural tone. He’d wanted me to make sure I knew he wasn’t lying. He looked me in the eyes, and he kissed my leg harder before he laid it back down and followed suit.

When he pressed his lips against my lower stomach, I reached for him in the darkness of the shoddy hotel lighting. I wanted to pull him closer, but he was already there before I’d had a chance. Our bodies were already moving in tandem, predicting the needs of the other while simultaneously indulging our own desire.

“Do it,” I ordered curtly when I felt his breath against my heated center, “Take care of me.”

Spencer accepted the permission happily. He wasted no time in pulling my legs over his shoulders and assuming the position he’d been patiently waiting for. He took a moment there, tickling me with kisses that were both too much and too little.

Just before I could resort to begging, he ran his tongue through the folds. That one simple taste turned him ravenous in the same way it made my hands tighten around mousy brown curls atop his head. My body surrounded him; my legs locking behind his head and my back arching and bowing to move to his rhythm.

I couldn’t think of anything to say but the one thing I always thought was impossible. So I said it. I cried it out with a sinful tongue and all the yearning I had suppressed for so long.

“Spencer.”

The same second that he’d heard his name uttered with such love, the man between my legs practically shuddered with need. Moans began spilling from his mouth the same way his name was pouring from my lips. We became lost in the fantasy come to life, overwhelmed like caged animals finally freed. My orgasm began building with a vengeance until I was sobbing, unable to finish even his name.

The slow, rhythmic motion of his tongue against the small pearl at my center was as consistent and dedicated as he had ever been in his hating me. I reveled in the absolute 180, clinging to the passion that we’d felt both ways. When I felt my muscles tense and his moans rumble through me, I thought about how much sweeter it was to be loved by him.

His worship knew no bounds and had no end. I allowed him to clean up the mess he’d made of me even though the stimulation was becoming borderline painful. I wanted to be overcome by the feeling so that I might never forget it.

Eventually, though, he had come to miss me the way I’d missed him. He still took his time tracing the path he’d left behind, but we were both overcome by relief when his mouth found mine again.

There were no words and thoughts beyond the carnal: I want you, I need you.

When the taste of myself on his tongue flooded my senses, I couldn’t help but gasp into his kiss. He took it as an opportunity to deepen the kiss even further until we were those starved animals once more. Until my nails were practically cutting through his back and my own arched to find him.

The second that he did bump against my heat, though, I tensed. His fingers explored the now familiar area with an astounding amount of curiosity. His eyes reflected the same. He was enraptured by every response, measuring and memorizing the ways he could manipulate my body and turn me malleable in his hands.

Spencer kissed me when my eyes fluttered shut and my walls started to pulse around him, trying to grip what wasn’t there. He relented, in a way he rarely did, and lined himself up against the tight entrance.

“Relax,” he said, only to hush my immediate whine. He kissed me again, gently enough that it almost made me want to cry.

I opened my eyes to see him. I hadn’t known what I would find, but I knew it would be beautiful.

And it was. Spencer, with his mussed-up hair and rosy cheeks bunched at the ends of his smile, was absolutely beaming with pride and joy and something else.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he whispered.

The words were almost enough to distract me, but I hadn’t wanted them to. I had wanted to feel the sweetness of when he finally started to push into me. Slowly, cautiously as ever. Once my body allowed him, there was no resistance. The slickness that had formed because of his skillful tongue made everything else effortless.

Just as I’d started to cry out, so had he.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned. It had sounded enough like his usual frustrated grumbling that I couldn’t help but laugh.

That side of him I’d grown so accustomed to returned in the smug little smirk he sported. He looked so positively proud of his position that he hadn’t even tried to hide the playfulness in his eyes when I grabbed his cheeks and brought him closer again.

“Kiss me,” I ordered. Just to show that I was in charge.

He hadn’t even waited until the words were all the way out of my mouth, though. Spencer did exactly as I’d asked, and with even more passion than I’d expected. Like I’d done when I first kissed him, I felt him pouring his heart into each motion. He kissed me hard while he fucked me harder. Each thrust was slow and purposeful, as if he refused to leave me in any way.

Eventually, he dropped from his hands to his forearms. He caged me in against his chest but continued to kiss me between each heaving breath. The only time he would stop was when I was calling his name or providing an instruction.

Harder, Spencer. Please. Please, Spencer. Kiss me. Fuck me.

Love me just like this, I kept to myself.

We were so close. So impossibly close that I could feel every inch of him that was pressed against myself. I felt his presence so much that I noticed his absence even when it was mere centimeters of distance away. The friction was becoming unbearable, and both of our rocking became unstable and staggered until Spencer finally spoke.

“I can’t last much longer,” he admitted, holding me tighter, “Tell me what you need.”

“Inside,” was the one, simple instruction I had to offer. That, and an even simpler beg that I knew he would understand: “Please, Spencer.”

Sure enough, he had heard the desperation and done as asked. Spencer kissed me again, with trembling lips to match the rest of his body as he bottomed out inside of me one last time. Our kiss was broken with desperate, ardent cries of the highest magnitude.

We both closed our eyes, not daring to risk contaminating the memory of how it felt when he finished. Of the way the world felt in that moment when we threw ourselves over that line in favor of each other. I savored the gentle pulsing and thrumming of our heartbeats as they, too, found each other in the darkness.

When Spencer was able to breathe again, he still tried to stop himself from collapsing his full weight onto me. But I craved it so deeply that I hadn’t given him a choice. With all four limbs wrapped around him, I brought him as close as I possibly could.

“Hold me… please,” I whispered.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He punctuated the welcomed praise with a kiss against my temple.

And then he held me. Spencer Reid kept me in his arms and against his lips until the world stopped spinning and time returned. He didn’t let me go until I let him, and even then, we both did so reluctantly.

The second that he was gone, I felt his absence like the blackest night. I stared down at empty hands that still tingled from touching him. We took our turns cleaning up evidence of one another, and we did so in a slightly more comfortable silence than before.

In the end, it was me seated on the bed, now fully clothed and wondering why he was still staring at me like there was something he’d wanted to say but wouldn’t allow himself to.

I was still so used to what we were that I searched for pain anywhere I might find it.

“It’s alright if you didn’t think this far through. Honestly, I didn’t think we’d ever—" I started, but he stopped me.

“That’s…” He also didn’t get far before his voice cracked and fell away. He looked away, too, as though he could find the courage in the nondescript art. He didn’t dare look in the mirror.

It wasn’t until he looked at me again before he drummed up something resembling courage. I wondered if he’d noticed that, or if it had been a conscious decision. A realization that I deserved to hear the truth, whether it hurts or not.

“That’s not the problem,” he explained, “I actually… have thought about it. A lot. For a very long time.”

Then, he laughed. I joined him, if only because I was uncomfortable and waiting for the hand offered to reveal the knife.

Spencer must’ve seen the apprehension, because he took a step closer and closer until he was on his knees in front of my legs dangling off the bed.

“I uh… I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve wanted this since the moment I met you,” he continued with a more jovial smile.

“Oh,” I returned through my own grin. Not the usual, clever trademark one I usually carried. More of a silly, shy little thing. “Sorry. I didn’t think you were lying or anything, I just…”

That thought, too, was cut off swiftly.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

“What?” I returned, despite my mind screaming and pleading, Yes, yes, yes.

I was still too nervous to trust myself to say it. But for all my hesitance, Spencer held none. With that beautiful brain of his, he took one look at my lopsided smile and saw the answer. For the last time of the night, he showed me mercy. He threw himself on the sword and accepted the reality that we might not — surely wouldn’t — walk away from this unscathed.

“Because I want to,” he gushed, his voice getting quicker but quieter as he offered, “But if you don’t, I will leave right now. We don’t ever have to talk about it again.”

My lips curled higher, my eyes following him as he bounced nervously in the few seconds it took me to answer, “Yeah.”

Followed by a brief second of silence as we both realized that I hadn’t answered the question.

“… which one are you—”

“I want you to stay,” I answered in earnest. I took his hands in mine and allowed myself to acknowledge that there was no threat in the way it felt. Only something pure between our palms. An understanding of how badly I meant it when I begged, “Please, Spencer. Stay.”

And the way it had been anything but a sacrifice when he answered, “Okay. I will.”

——————————————————

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[reid-me-a-story]

Best Friends

SYNOPSIS: Reader goes under cover for a case with Spencer, she was going to tell him something but she gets interrupted. Will reader be able to keep her secret when she’s alone with Spencer?

A/N: this was done for poms NSFW fic swap! I had so much fun so thank you for letting me be included!

This was written for Gabriella! I hope you like it!

Couple: Spencer Reid xFem!reader

Category: smut

Content warning:breeding kink, criminal minds type violence, begging, a lil bit of fluff, let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 2.2k

It seemed like an open and shut case, that was, until we got there. Once we got there everything that could go wrong did. First we couldn’t get any bureau issued SUVs so the three of us had to wait in the longest line ever to get some rentals while the other 4 of us had to wait to get picked up by the precinct. Then when we got there they didn’t have a room for us so we were all huddled at one little desk and a small whiteboard; and that’s just the minor things.

Officers kept messing up with evidence- enough that I was sure at least one of them was involved. Three more people died, but we were so close to saving them. It was like the killer was killing them as soon as he saw the lights.

He was taunting us. Baiting us. And whenever we got close enough he would be three steps ahead of us. I had enough. We had figured out with the help of our wonderful tech goddess that all the people who were dead all disappeared close to or while being at THE JUNCTION, a nightclub right in the heart of the city.

That’s how I got to where I am now. In THE JUNCTION, wired, wearing the tightest dress I could find on short notice, nursing a watered down cranberry juice, just enough to look like a vodka-cran.

I hated doing undercover work. I always felt so exposed, like eyes were all over me. I mean, they were. Emily and JJ were dancing but kept doing turns to look over at me. Hotch and Rossi were nursing non alcoholic beers over at a table, seeming to make conversation but looking up at me every so often. Derek was outside in the surveillance van, watching cameras. Spencer was supposed to be at the bar with me, just a few seats down. Enough that he could hear anything that’s said, but not close enough to draw suspicion.

Knowing he was sitting there made me feel safer but when I glanced down the bar I couldn’t find him. My heart started to race when I felt a body come up behind me, until I heard the familiar voice whisper “relax, it’s just me. I figured maybe if it looked like you were leaving with someone else it would draw the unsub out to make a move.”

“Sure, that’s why you wanted to come over here.” I teased.

“Well no, that’s not why I came over here. I came over here because I’m worried about you” he said.

My cheeks heated. Truthfully, I’ve always had a crush on him. He’s tall, handsome, smart, caring…. The list goes on. There was even a brief time where I thought that he liked me back. But that was a long time ago.

“Don’t be, you’re here” I said honestly. He truly makes me feel safe. I know I don’t have to worry when he’s here because he cares so much about his team.

Now it’s his turn to blush. Coughing a little he turns to face me, taking the time to look into my eyes, searching for the lie. When he doesn’t find one he lifts his hand and cups my cheek. I lean into it slightly, forgetting where I am and what I’m supposed to be doing. But I don’t care. I need him to know. Too many things have gone wrong this week and it’s important he knows how I feel about him.

“Listen Spencer, I need to tell you something-“ It’s not until a gun is pressed against my lower back that I remember where I am. Well fuck, yet another thing that’s gone wrong.

“What are you doing with him? You’re mine!” The man behind me yells in my ear.

Still facing Spencer, I whimper and look around for my teammates. Spencer knows not to grab his gun or else risk me getting shot. “Okay, I’m yours baby. I’ll do anything you want”

Spencer visibly gulped, from nerves or something else I’m not sure. “You’re gonna turn around, slowly stand up , and walk with my to my car.”

“Okay” I can barely talk above a whisper. I know when I get outside Derek will get me out of this, I know that Spencer is thinking about every possible outcome. I know JJ and Emily now have their guns drawn and are telling people to get out. I know hotch and Rossi are getting into position to talk the unsub down. I know Garcia already got us a name to do that. But it doesn’t stop my brain from thinking that I’m not getting out of this alive.

That is until I turn around with the unsub and hotch yells at the unsub to drop his gun. When I look at hotch’s face, I start to tear up. I never got to tell Spencer how I feel about him. While I’m too busy worrying I can hear the unsub yelling back at hotch that he doesn’t plan on letting me go. He plans on killing me and the rest of us. That’s when I hear the gunshot. Just one, and something wet and warm hitting my body and face.

“I’ve got you” and that’s when I crumble into Spencer’s arms.

——

Spencer brought me back to the hotel room immediately. He grabbed my keycard from my purse and unlocked my door, quickly ushering me into the bathroom and sitting me on the lid of the toilet. He grabbed a washcloth and wet it with some warm water and started to clean my face off. “There,” he started, “your face is clean, but you might want to get in the shower for the rest.”

“Thank you Spencer” I whisper back

“Are you alright? I know you were scared”

Suddenly I’ve lost all my courage. I was so worried about not being able to tell him everything but now that I have the chance….

“Yea I'm fine!” I said in an all too high voice, “I’m gonna shower but… uh, could you stay with me please? I don’t want to be alone when I get out…”

Spencer nods, “of course I’ll stay with you.”

——

After a lengthy shower, scrubbing the dried blood off of me until my skin turned pink, I exit the bathroom in my fluffy robe that I always pack. I spot Spencer sitting on my bed flipping through the book I brought. He looks up at me, “I hope you don’t mind, I saw it and was curious”

“Not at all Spence”

“Are you alright? I'm worried about you”

It was then that I decided that it was now or never. “I wanted to talk to you, Spence, but I don’t want to scare you or lose you, because you’re so important to me. We’ve been best friends forever and I’ve been basically in love with you forever and-“

“Wait, what?”

“I have a huge crush on you… just like, the biggest crush” I blurted, and immediately regretted it. Spencer blanched. The look on his face was heart wrenching.

I started again “ it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, I just wanted you to know”

The silence was deafening. At least 30 seconds passed before he stood up and made his way over to me, taking my head in his hands and crashing his lips to mine. Taking a second to understand what’s happening, I threaded my fingers into his curls and tugged, eliciting a groan from Spencer’s throat- awakening something within me. His hands moved from my head to the nape of my neck and my hip, pulling me straight into his body and holding me there.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long” Spencer said when he pulled away for air.

Instead of answering I kissed him again, and again, and again. Going from his mouth to his jaw, his neck, pushing him back towards the bed until he sits. “Please Spence, I want you… I need you. Please”

“Yes, god yes”

I straddle Spencer’s lap as my hands work to unbutton his shirt. The second I can feel his skin I drag my nails down from his collarbone to his waist. His breath catches in his throat and he lets out a deep groan. It’s music to my ears and I let out a whimper in response, grinding down slightly onto Spencer’s growing erection. all the while he’s kissing my neck and jaw, his hands roaming up and down my thighs. My hands run along the waistband of his slacks causing him to whisper “please” and thrusting his hips up to gain some sort of friction.

I pop the button of his pants and pull the zipper down, reaching into his boxers and running my fingers down the warm skin. Spencer whines against my neck and thrusts his hips into my hand. “Patience, baby”

Spencer throws his head back as I wrap my hand fully around the base of him. “Please!”

I slide off Spencer’s lap and help him out of his pants. One I was straddling him again, he flipped me over onto my back, tugging at the waistband of my robe and having it fall loose. Underneath all I had on was a pair of white cotton underwear. Hardly sexy, but Spencer seemed to love it. He paused once he did me of my robe and stared, clearly taking everything in.

“Spencer, please do something” I beg. Spencer only smiles before making his way down my body with little kisses and nips. He stops when he reaches my hips.

“Can I take these off?”

I nod. The second Spencer rids me of my panties he kisses the inside of my thighs. “Fuck spence, I’ve been waiting forever to see what your mouth can do”

He chuckles lightly before slowly licking up my folds. I throw my head back and moan loudly, urging him to continue. He does, and after a few moments he brings his fingers up to my entrance and slowly starts pumping them in while flicking my clit with his tongue. “Fuck, that feels so good Spencer”

He hums and that sends vibrations through me, almost giving me enough to cum hard, but when I start to tense Spencer slows and pulls away. Teasing me… edging me. I whine and lift my hips, searching for his mouth or his fingers but Spencer comes up to my face, kissing me hard before saying, “when you cum for me for the first time, it will be on my cock, not my fingers.”

I whimper at the words, pulling him back down to my lips for another kiss. That’s when I flip him over, shead myself of the robe I'm still wearing, rubbing myself up and down the length of his shaft, bringing out a groan from his chest.

This time you’re teasing him. As much as you want to have him inside of you, he deserves a bit of teasing after edging you like that. “Tell me when you’ve had enough darling, I’ll put you out if your misery then… this is what you wanted right? Me to cum on your cock.”

“Fuck! You know what I mean. I want to be inside of you. Please….please!”

You position him underneath you, and slowly take him in. You know Spencer wants to thrust into you but you’re holding his hips down, taking your time sliding up and down his length. You never would have guessed it would be like this. It’s perfect. You shut your eyes and lean your head back, still sliding up and down his cock. You reach down to rub your clit, slowly chasing your high when Spencer pulls your hand away and does it himself with the perfect pressure and speed. Just as you feel your climax coming you can feel Spencer tensing. He’s close, you can tell. You want to help him finish so bad, and you know the perfect way to do it.

You lean forward to whisper in Spencer’s ear “Come on baby, I know you want to be a daddy some day… why don’t you start now and cum inside of me, huh?”

He leans back to look into your eyes “Don’t tease me…” he warns.

The thought of Spencer cumming inside of you sends shivers down your spine and has all of your nerves on edge. You want this just as much as he does. “Please Spence, cum inside of me. I need it, I want you to… come on, cum for me darling”

That was all he needed. Finding his release and shooting his cum deep inside of you was all you needed to finally find your end.

Panting hard, you lean in for a kiss, light and barely there kisses.

Maybe something good did come out of this week.

[reid-me-a-story]

Best Friends

SYNOPSIS: Reader goes under cover for a case with Spencer, she was going to tell him something but she gets interrupted. Will reader be able to keep her secret when she’s alone with Spencer?

A/N: this was done for poms NSFW fic swap! I had so much fun so thank you for letting me be included!

This was written for Gabriella! I hope you like it!

Couple: Spencer Reid xFem!reader

Category: smut

Content warning:breeding kink, criminal minds type violence, begging, a lil bit of fluff, let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 2.2k

It seemed like an open and shut case, that was, until we got there. Once we got there everything that could go wrong did. First we couldn’t get any bureau issued SUVs so the three of us had to wait in the longest line ever to get some rentals while the other 4 of us had to wait to get picked up by the precinct. Then when we got there they didn’t have a room for us so we were all huddled at one little desk and a small whiteboard; and that’s just the minor things.

Officers kept messing up with evidence- enough that I was sure at least one of them was involved. Three more people died, but we were so close to saving them. It was like the killer was killing them as soon as he saw the lights.

He was taunting us. Baiting us. And whenever we got close enough he would be three steps ahead of us. I had enough. We had figured out with the help of our wonderful tech goddess that all the people who were dead all disappeared close to or while being at THE JUNCTION, a nightclub right in the heart of the city.

That’s how I got to where I am now. In THE JUNCTION, wired, wearing the tightest dress I could find on short notice, nursing a watered down cranberry juice, just enough to look like a vodka-cran.

I hated doing undercover work. I always felt so exposed, like eyes were all over me. I mean, they were. Emily and JJ were dancing but kept doing turns to look over at me. Hotch and Rossi were nursing non alcoholic beers over at a table, seeming to make conversation but looking up at me every so often. Derek was outside in the surveillance van, watching cameras. Spencer was supposed to be at the bar with me, just a few seats down. Enough that he could hear anything that’s said, but not close enough to draw suspicion.

Knowing he was sitting there made me feel safer but when I glanced down the bar I couldn’t find him. My heart started to race when I felt a body come up behind me, until I heard the familiar voice whisper “relax, it’s just me. I figured maybe if it looked like you were leaving with someone else it would draw the unsub out to make a move.”

“Sure, that’s why you wanted to come over here.” I teased.

“Well no, that’s not why I came over here. I came over here because I’m worried about you” he said.

My cheeks heated. Truthfully, I’ve always had a crush on him. He’s tall, handsome, smart, caring…. The list goes on. There was even a brief time where I thought that he liked me back. But that was a long time ago.

“Don’t be, you’re here” I said honestly. He truly makes me feel safe. I know I don’t have to worry when he’s here because he cares so much about his team.

Now it’s his turn to blush. Coughing a little he turns to face me, taking the time to look into my eyes, searching for the lie. When he doesn’t find one he lifts his hand and cups my cheek. I lean into it slightly, forgetting where I am and what I’m supposed to be doing. But I don’t care. I need him to know. Too many things have gone wrong this week and it’s important he knows how I feel about him.

“Listen Spencer, I need to tell you something-“ It’s not until a gun is pressed against my lower back that I remember where I am. Well fuck, yet another thing that’s gone wrong.

“What are you doing with him? You’re mine!” The man behind me yells in my ear.

Still facing Spencer, I whimper and look around for my teammates. Spencer knows not to grab his gun or else risk me getting shot. “Okay, I’m yours baby. I’ll do anything you want”

Spencer visibly gulped, from nerves or something else I’m not sure. “You’re gonna turn around, slowly stand up , and walk with my to my car.”

“Okay” I can barely talk above a whisper. I know when I get outside Derek will get me out of this, I know that Spencer is thinking about every possible outcome. I know JJ and Emily now have their guns drawn and are telling people to get out. I know hotch and Rossi are getting into position to talk the unsub down. I know Garcia already got us a name to do that. But it doesn’t stop my brain from thinking that I’m not getting out of this alive.

That is until I turn around with the unsub and hotch yells at the unsub to drop his gun. When I look at hotch’s face, I start to tear up. I never got to tell Spencer how I feel about him. While I’m too busy worrying I can hear the unsub yelling back at hotch that he doesn’t plan on letting me go. He plans on killing me and the rest of us. That’s when I hear the gunshot. Just one, and something wet and warm hitting my body and face.

“I’ve got you” and that’s when I crumble into Spencer’s arms.

——

Spencer brought me back to the hotel room immediately. He grabbed my keycard from my purse and unlocked my door, quickly ushering me into the bathroom and sitting me on the lid of the toilet. He grabbed a washcloth and wet it with some warm water and started to clean my face off. “There,” he started, “your face is clean, but you might want to get in the shower for the rest.”

“Thank you Spencer” I whisper back

“Are you alright? I know you were scared”

Suddenly I’ve lost all my courage. I was so worried about not being able to tell him everything but now that I have the chance….

“Yea I'm fine!” I said in an all too high voice, “I’m gonna shower but… uh, could you stay with me please? I don’t want to be alone when I get out…”

Spencer nods, “of course I’ll stay with you.”

——

After a lengthy shower, scrubbing the dried blood off of me until my skin turned pink, I exit the bathroom in my fluffy robe that I always pack. I spot Spencer sitting on my bed flipping through the book I brought. He looks up at me, “I hope you don’t mind, I saw it and was curious”

“Not at all Spence”

“Are you alright? I'm worried about you”

It was then that I decided that it was now or never. “I wanted to talk to you, Spence, but I don’t want to scare you or lose you, because you’re so important to me. We’ve been best friends forever and I’ve been basically in love with you forever and-“

“Wait, what?”

“I have a huge crush on you… just like, the biggest crush” I blurted, and immediately regretted it. Spencer blanched. The look on his face was heart wrenching.

I started again “ it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, I just wanted you to know”

The silence was deafening. At least 30 seconds passed before he stood up and made his way over to me, taking my head in his hands and crashing his lips to mine. Taking a second to understand what’s happening, I threaded my fingers into his curls and tugged, eliciting a groan from Spencer’s throat- awakening something within me. His hands moved from my head to the nape of my neck and my hip, pulling me straight into his body and holding me there.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long” Spencer said when he pulled away for air.

Instead of answering I kissed him again, and again, and again. Going from his mouth to his jaw, his neck, pushing him back towards the bed until he sits. “Please Spence, I want you… I need you. Please”

“Yes, god yes”

I straddle Spencer’s lap as my hands work to unbutton his shirt. The second I can feel his skin I drag my nails down from his collarbone to his waist. His breath catches in his throat and he lets out a deep groan. It’s music to my ears and I let out a whimper in response, grinding down slightly onto Spencer’s growing erection. all the while he’s kissing my neck and jaw, his hands roaming up and down my thighs. My hands run along the waistband of his slacks causing him to whisper “please” and thrusting his hips up to gain some sort of friction.

I pop the button of his pants and pull the zipper down, reaching into his boxers and running my fingers down the warm skin. Spencer whines against my neck and thrusts his hips into my hand. “Patience, baby”

Spencer throws his head back as I wrap my hand fully around the base of him. “Please!”

I slide off Spencer’s lap and help him out of his pants. One I was straddling him again, he flipped me over onto my back, tugging at the waistband of my robe and having it fall loose. Underneath all I had on was a pair of white cotton underwear. Hardly sexy, but Spencer seemed to love it. He paused once he did me of my robe and stared, clearly taking everything in.

“Spencer, please do something” I beg. Spencer only smiles before making his way down my body with little kisses and nips. He stops when he reaches my hips.

“Can I take these off?”

I nod. The second Spencer rids me of my panties he kisses the inside of my thighs. “Fuck spence, I’ve been waiting forever to see what your mouth can do”

He chuckles lightly before slowly licking up my folds. I throw my head back and moan loudly, urging him to continue. He does, and after a few moments he brings his fingers up to my entrance and slowly starts pumping them in while flicking my clit with his tongue. “Fuck, that feels so good Spencer”

He hums and that sends vibrations through me, almost giving me enough to cum hard, but when I start to tense Spencer slows and pulls away. Teasing me… edging me. I whine and lift my hips, searching for his mouth or his fingers but Spencer comes up to my face, kissing me hard before saying, “when you cum for me for the first time, it will be on my cock, not my fingers.”

I whimper at the words, pulling him back down to my lips for another kiss. That’s when I flip him over, shead myself of the robe I'm still wearing, rubbing myself up and down the length of his shaft, bringing out a groan from his chest.

This time you’re teasing him. As much as you want to have him inside of you, he deserves a bit of teasing after edging you like that. “Tell me when you’ve had enough darling, I’ll put you out if your misery then… this is what you wanted right? Me to cum on your cock.”

“Fuck! You know what I mean. I want to be inside of you. Please….please!”

You position him underneath you, and slowly take him in. You know Spencer wants to thrust into you but you’re holding his hips down, taking your time sliding up and down his length. You never would have guessed it would be like this. It’s perfect. You shut your eyes and lean your head back, still sliding up and down his cock. You reach down to rub your clit, slowly chasing your high when Spencer pulls your hand away and does it himself with the perfect pressure and speed. Just as you feel your climax coming you can feel Spencer tensing. He’s close, you can tell. You want to help him finish so bad, and you know the perfect way to do it.

You lean forward to whisper in Spencer’s ear “Come on baby, I know you want to be a daddy some day… why don’t you start now and cum inside of me, huh?”

He leans back to look into your eyes “Don’t tease me…” he warns.

The thought of Spencer cumming inside of you sends shivers down your spine and has all of your nerves on edge. You want this just as much as he does. “Please Spence, cum inside of me. I need it, I want you to… come on, cum for me darling”

That was all he needed. Finding his release and shooting his cum deep inside of you was all you needed to finally find your end.

Panting hard, you lean in for a kiss, light and barely there kisses.

Maybe something good did come out of this week.

[reid-me-a-story]

A Day Without You

A/N: this was done for @imagining-in-the-margins fic swap! I had so much fun so thank you for letting me be included!

This was written for @thesassmisstress ! I hope you enjoy!

Couple: Spencer Reid x GM!reader

Category: fluff

Content warning:tooth aching fluff, mild injury, usual criminal minds case talk

Word count: 1.2k

Spencer had been gone for a few days, and the time seemed to drag on. It always did when he was gone, especially when he couldn’t talk to you that often. You enjoyed a lot of the same things, but also had enough differences to keep things entertaining. He would show you the fastest ways to solve crossword puzzles, you would teach him how to cook.

You mostly enjoyed the days he surprised you with coming home earlier than expected and taking you out to celebrate him coming home safe and sound.

Mostly.

Sometimes he showed up not safe and sound. A shot knee, a shot neck… he needs to stop getting shot honestly.

But whenever he came home to you, if he was alive you were happy.

While you were making a quick lunch, you heard the doorknob twist and the tell tale sounds of keys jingling. You dropped everything and ran to the door, crashing into Spencer the second he opened the door wide enough for you.

You’ve never heard a more cartoon “Oof” sound than at that moment. However the Humor in the situation was fleeting because the second you got a good look at Spencer you saw why he made the noise.

He was covered in bruises and cuts on his face, and his arm was wrapped up and held across his body, holding on to his satchel. The second you let him go he finally winced, followed by a quick and chirpy “hey, babe”

You almost laughed at how unfazed he was by his physical state but you were so bothered by being mad that he didn’t call you and tell you he was hurt. He always did.

“Don’t ‘hey, babe’ me! What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yes I’m okay! Don’t worry!”

“Don’t worry! Spencer! You’re littered in bruises and cuts. What happened!”

He sighs, clearly not wanting to go too deep into it but knowing you wouldn’t budge he went into the story about the most recent unsub, who ended up kidnapping Spencer, and holding him for a few days. Luckily Spencer knows some self defence and the team was able to find out where he was in time. He obviously didn’t leave that situation unhurt.

“Why wouldn’t you call me and tell me this! You always tell me when you’re injured!”

“But I’m fine babe! See! Barely hurts,” he says, while poking the darkest bruise under his eye. And wincing. He’s a terrible liar honestly.

“Come here, Spencer, let me help you.” You say, sighing and shaking your head. You love him but he’s testing your patience right now.

You go into the bathroom and he follows you. You tell him to sit on the edge of the tub while you get the first aid supplies. you catch your reflection in the mirror and almost jump. You don’t look like yourself. You look scared, worried, and disheveled. Your hair is all over the place and your eyes are wide. You can’t let Spencer see you like this. Obviously he’s good at reading people, it’s his job, but you’d rather let him try to guess then play right into his hand.

Pulling out the kit, you first grab some hydrogen peroxide, making sure to clean his cuts really well. You don’t know where he was but you want to make sure they’re cleaned. Of course he winced again but you quell the hurt with a soft kiss to his temple, after which, he smiles softly to himself.

You follow up with some bandaids for the deeper ones that don’t need Stitches, kissing each one after. Changing the gauze on the ones that did need stitches, making sure not to disturb them too much and careful not to hurt Spencer.

When it came to the bruises however, you had to ask him what the best way to care for them were.

“First, Rest the bruised area, that’s if it can be rested of course. Then,I’ve the bruised area for 10-20 minutes, depending on the severity. After 15 minutes remove the ice and repeat that every 20 minutes as often as needed. If there’s swelling, compress the area. And elevate the area if possible. Babe, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine, I swear!”

For the first time you really take a look at Spencer. His eyes are wide, jaw set and clenched. He's scared too. “Spencer, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” He says, all too high.

“You’re lying to me, you never lie to me. What’s wrong?”

He sighs. “I was scared that I would never come home to you. I wanted to call you and tell you everything in the way but I just needed to see you when I told you. To prove to you that I’m okay. I’m better now that I’m home with you.”

You were speechless. You wanted to hold him or be held by him but you didn’t want to hurt him. You settled with sitting in front of him on the floor and holding his hand.

“You know, when I was locked in that basement. All I could think about was what you were doing and how we would celebrate when I came home. I thought maybe dinner, maybe a bookstore, or a movie…. One of the ones you like that way you could enjoy it”

“But then you wouldn’t enjoy it”

“Yes I would, because I would be with you. I kept trying to think of all the things I would do with you when I came home, trying to make this moment perfect, but I can’t wait anymore and I need to know.”

“Spence, what are you talking about?”

“Baby, could you get my satchel? I have something in there for you”

You rush out of the room and into the front hall, grabbing his satchel off the floor and walking back to him. Handing the satchel to him, he opens the top and roots through it for a moment, before pulling out a small box. He reached forward and grabs my hand and you have to steady myself on the counter behind you.

“I stressed over this for months, hoping you didn’t find it before I was ready because I want it to be perfect. You are the best person I have ever met. You’re so beautiful inside and out and I would love to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

You are so stunned that you’re rendered speechless. You can’t speak but you can move. You start nodding your head fast.

“Yeah? You’ll marry me?” He says though a smile.

Finally your brain turns back on. “Yes! Of course I will!”

He slides the ring onto your finger, grabs your face and kisses you softly. “I love you”

“And I love you spencer”

[reid-me-a-story]

Profanities and Polaroids ~ S.R x reader (smut)

Before I say anything else, please reblog my fic if you like it ! Tumblr is hiding my fics so they can only be seen on your dashboard and not in tags and it would help me out a lot ! thank you !

Summary: Y/N lets Spencer in on a fantasy that includes him writing on her with lipstick and taking pictures of it. Obviously, smut ensues. (I suck at summaries but I swear this is hot.)

Wordcount: 3,001

Category: smut. some fluff but mainly smut.

Warnings: soft!dom!Spencer (with switch undertones for both), oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, masturbation (fem), reminder of safeword (not used !), so many pet names, taking nudes with a Polaroid camera, degrading names written on Y/N. I think that's it, let me know if I missed anything !

A/N: This isn't beta read but then again, none of my fics are. Italics are flashbacks. Already started a really short part 2 for this so let me know what you think ! If there's any feedback, I'd love to hear it as long as we all remain civil ! I hope you enjoy this. Likes, comments and reblogs are very welcome ! :D happy reading !

„Hold still, princess. We don’t want any unevenness, do we?”Spencer spoke into her ear.

He kissed the shell of it before continuing his work on her chest.

Just a few days ago, his fiancée had brought up an idea which was now being put into action.

---

“Spence?” her voice timidly rang through their shared living room where Spencer was sat in his reading chair with a book laid in his lap.

“Reading anything good?”

“The chemistry of death by Simon Beckett.” Spencer answered with a soft smile, handing the book to the woman approaching him.

Her eyes lit up in excitement and a big smile appeared on her face, she sat down on the armrest next to him and examinedthe book.

“You finally got around to it!”

“I did, and I really like the wording in this. I think I’m gonna start the second one later today.”

“Yes!” She exclaimed and he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“I think the thing I enjoy most about this is that I can dive into something you enjoy so much. I might even learn something new about my love. After all, ones favourite book says a lot about them.” Spencer whispered into her arm, clad in his favourite red cardigan before pressing a kiss onto.

“Mhm, you just might. But the same goes for t tv shows, cause I still find out little things about you when you’re watching Doctor Who.”

He smiled and perched his chin on her upper arm, her face turning towards his.

“So, are you gonna tell me what brought you to my study?” He asked in a gentle tone.

“A reading chair, a globe and some books hardly makes this corner of the living room a study.” Y/N giggled before kissing his forehead when he forced his lips into a frown.

She rubbed her elbow in contemplation before she spoke, feeling his eyes never leaving her face. He knew something was up, he could always tell. It’s something she loved about him more than she cared to admit.

“Alright, alright. I want to ask you something and I’m a little nervous about your reaction.”

“Okay, well, I promise I’ll be nice about whatever it is.”

“I saw something online and I kinda wanna try it out with you.”

“What kinda something, love?” Spencer asked as he traced soft lines and swirls onto her upper back.

“It’s totally okay if you don’t wanna do it, It’s just that I saw this blogpost and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. But we don’t have to do-.” She rambled before he chuckled and interrupted her.

His voice was playful, calming her building nerves quickly.

“Y/N before you decide for me, can you maybe tell me what’s been causing the ruckus in that pretty head of yours?”

She tried to bite back a smile at the compliment that rolled so casually off her lovers tongue, but failed. “Okay, it was someone talking about wanting their partner to write on them and take pictures of it and stuff.”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in thought before his eyes quickly lit up in understanding, his lips pulling into a smirk.

“Oh, in a sexual setting! Like dirty words?”

She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Like the ones you beg me to call you when you’re all pretty and spread out for me?”

It was like a flip has been switched inside of him when he realised what the woman in his arm desired.

Again, she nodded and looked away in embarrassment.

“Uh-Uh princess, you’re gonna use your words and look at me, where are your manners?”

He chastised while his hand slipped from her back up to her shoulder, rubbing it gently.

She turned her face towards him once more, a warm sensation dancing across her skin.

“Yes, those words. In lipstick, of course, easy to remove.”

“Easy to smudge.” He fantasized loudly, “If you’re sure that you want to try this, I certainly won’t complain, but of course we’re gonna have to sit down and properly speak about it.”

“Spence, I really, really wanna try it.”

---

That’s what brought them here, Spencer straddling his fiancee as he carefully traced letters onto the skin of her chest.

The tip of his tongue poked out through the corner of his mouth and his brows furrowed in concentration while his hands brought the filthy words to life on her skin.

In all honesty, he was really excited. It was around a year into their relationship when they discussed adding name-calling to their bedroom activities.

After all, when Spencer called her a ´beautiful cocksleeve´ in the heat of the moment and Y/N almost came on the spot, it was kind of hard to avoid the topic.

Now, a couple of years later, it was a staple in their sex life. But that didn’t make the situation any less thrilling.

“You’re doing that on purpose!” She wriggled underneath him, almost making him mess up a letter.

“What? I’m just writing!” Spencer exclaimed and held her still, holding the dark red lipstick away from her skin.

Y/N looked up at him and pouted before speaking “How do you expect me to stay still when you’re tickling me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t realise, I’ll be more careful, promise.” He quickly pecked her lips before continuing, “Are you comfortable? This is about your fantasy and your pleasure, gotta make sure you’re enjoying yourself. You can use the safeword at any time.”

“Yes, I know baby. But believe me, I’m enjoying myself. You pinning me down like this while I don’t know what filthy shit you’re writing on my tits? I’m great!” She flashed him a big smile before he scolded her for her choice of words.

“You look beautiful like this, Y/N. Can’t wait to take those Polaroids of you, maybe I’ll take one with my dick stuffed down your throat. Would you like that, baby?” She bucked her hips slightly upwards at that, earning a chuckle from him as he pressed her hips onto the bed again.

“That’s what I thought. Let me finish this really quickly and then you get to look at yourself, okay, angel?”

She nodded and hummed in agreement.

Spencer gently pulled at the skin as he was writing, trying to get the words to look as neat as possible. And considering that his hands were jittery from excitement and he’s never used lipstick and his lovers skin as pen and paper, he was doing a pretty good job.

“Gorgeous, my love. Just perfect. And the words look pretty nice on you too. Wanna see yourself now?” He asked as he stood up from on top of her and put the lid back onto the sleek black packaging.

Y/N nodded and stood up, letting him take her hand and guide her in front of the full-length mirror in their bedroom. “Yes, please.”

“Good girl.” Spencer praised her for her manners before kissing the side of her neck tenderly and moved to stand behind her.

They both stared at the sight in their mirror, mesmerized by it,

There she was, clad in a simple baby blue set of bra and lace panties as to not distract from the real star of the show. He always loved how cute she looked in it, but right then the stark contrast of it compared to the deep red insults on her chest, tops of her breasts and belly did something to him.

“Wow.” She muttered and stepped closer to the mirror, examining the piece he had been working on for the past half hour or so.

Immediately, Spencer moved to stand between her and the mirror, looking at her with concern in his eyes. “Are you alright, is this too much? Love, you know that’s not really how I see you, right? I’d never think that of you.”

Her expression softened, only then did she realise that her tense facial expression and the fact that she only said ´wow´ probably made him assume the worst.

“Spence, I know, I was just admiring myself.” Her hand slid up his arm, spreading a warmth through his skin.

“You’re too good of a man to think that about anyone, but we both know that ´cumdump´ looks pretty good written all over my chest.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, angel. Can you sit down on the bed for me while I take some pictures?” Spencer asked as he pressed kisses all over her face.

With a “Yup!” Y/N was sitting down on their shared bed, beaming at him and pushing her painted chest out as he turned on his Polaroid camera.

“Just pose however you want, okay? I want you to be comfortable, I love you.”

“I am, Spence. I love you more.” She looked past the camera and into his eyes as he muttered “No way.” and snapped the first picture.

He shook it for a second before gently placing it on the dresser behind him, waited for her to strike a new pose and shot another picture of his beautiful angel.

He was mesmerized by her as he kept on taking a few more, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening and his brows from shooting up when she stood up from the bed and got on her knees in front of him.

“Hope you have enough film?” She questioned as she looked up at him.

He quickly nodded, but waited for her to continue.

“Good, take one of me like this and then get a good shot of your work.” Her hand reached out to gently palm his firm erection through his pyjama pants. “Then, you can take as many as you want of me sucking you off. Deal?”

“Fuck.” He gulped, “Deal!”

She giggled and quickly straightened out her back before tilting her head upwards, this time looking directly into the lens with her hands behind her back as he took the photograph.

After that one, he leaned over a little and adjusted her pose to his liking as he took the requested close up.

He quickly placed the developing film next to the other ones and turned back towards her.

She was eager, already pulling at his waistband and pushing his pants and boxers down. She watched as his cock sprung free and bobbed up and down a few times.

All he could do was watch her closely, like she was the only person in the world. However, to him she already was.

Y/N quickly wrapped a hand around it and pumped a few times, tilting her head forward and letting her hot breath make him twitch in her grasp.

“What got you so hard, Spence? Is it the underwear or the dirty words you painted me in? Or maybe it’s both, combined with how good you think I look on my knees?” She asked with big eyes and a sly smile until he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her closer to where he needed her most.

“No teasing, be a good little whore and suck. You think you can do that?” He watched intently for any sign of discomfort on her part but only found her sending him a genuine smile and a nod before she opened her mouth and waited for him to slide in.

After he did, she wrapped her lips around him and pushed her tongue against the underside of his throbbing erection.

“God, princess. Always feels so good when you- Fuck!” He was promptly cut off when she started bobbing up and down slowly at first, but quickly increased her speed.

His hips bucked into her mouth involuntarily as she began sucking, ripping a strangled moan from his throat.

She looked up at him as she let his cock slip out of her mouth before going back to lick and suck harshly at the tip. He fought the urge to take a picture of her right then, deciding to wait until her mascara and liner would inevitably run down her cheeks. She came prepared, not having used waterproof products when she got ready earlier. She knew how much he loved seeing the dark streaks along her face.

He spared a glance at her chest, the words they agreed on a few nights ago sending a rush tough him as his hips bolted forward, pushing himself down her throat. She gagged around him and breathed in sharply through her nose before he quickly pulled himself off of her.

“I’m so sorry, angel, did I hurt you?” he asked with genuine concern and examined her face once more before she huffed out a quick laugh and pumped his slick boner with her hand.

“Spence, It’s fine. You know I love it when you fuck my throat, and I know you love doing it.” Her words mixed with her tight movements forced a moan out of him. “Don’t hold back, I wanna take it.”

He nodded, “Touch yourself while I use your pretty mouth, okay princess? I’m not gonna last long.”

She nodded eagerly and let him enter her mouth again, immediately slipping a hand down to her wet panties, quickly letting her middle finger brush over her sensitive clit, making her moan around the base of his cock.

“That’s it, baby. Play with that messy cunt while I use your throat. Fuck, you’re so pretty. All mine.” His movements picked up and went harsher and until he was fucking into her mouth at a rapid speed, holding her hair in his hands while he pulled her up and down on his dick.

Every now and then, a particularly deep thrust made her gag around him, her fingers moving in fast motions.

Y/N felt like she was floating in not only the pleasure she was giving herself, but also the one he was bringing her. Almost every push of Spencer’s cock down her throat was rewarded by a moan and soon she felt tears run down her cheeks and spit drip down her chin.

He watched her intently, mesmerized by the fact that he was sharing this moment and ultimately his life with the woman he’ll love forever. His emotions bubbled in his chest and made him fuck her face faster.

Soon enough, everything threatened to become too much, so he slowed down for a second in order to tell her his plan and ask for permission.

“I’m so close baby, gonna take that picture now. Make yourself cum for me, I know you can do it. Would you let me cum on your face and take a picture of that, too?”

Her eyes rolled back into her head with a moan, eagerly nodding as her fingers moved faster and finally brought her over the edge right as he was stuffed down her throat. In that exact second, he clicked the button on his camera.

“Fuck, fuck, Y/N I’m- Shit!” He yelled as he started to come undone, shooting a thick ribbon of cum into her mouth before quickly pulling out and landing the rest of it onto her face as he stroked himself at a rapid speed.

Once he calmed down, he took a deep breath and released her hair, gently patting her head. “Gonna take one last picture now and then I’ll run you a nice bubble bath, alright princess? You did so well, my love. Look into the camera for me, please.”

She nodded and smiled at him, slowly but surely getting her breathing under control as he gently brushed his fingers through her hair.

He moved the camera so her face and breasts were in frame, but before he could snap the photo, she opened her mouth and let the first spurt of cum drip down her lips and chin.

He shuddered as his soft cock twitched between his thighs and quickly took the picture.

Immediately afterwards, he pulled her to her feet and quickly helped her lay down on their bed where he began wiping her face clean with the towel they had brought into the room earlier.

“My perfect angel, you did so, so good. God, what did I do to deserve you, my love…” He praised while he pressed gentle kisses to her cheeks and forehead, only pulling away for a second in order to grab the prepared glass of water from his bedside table.

“How are you feeling? Here, drink some water.”

She took she glass and took a couple of sips before setting it down. “I’m feeling pretty good considering I just got my shit rocked.” Her voice was a little hoarse and Spencer couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt in his chest as he wiped the profanities off of her with a couple of wet wipes.

“Did that live up to the expectations of your fantasy, love?”

“It exceeded them, baby. But I know that look, stop feeling guilty. I’m not hurt, I loved it and I know you’ll always make sure I’m safe and comfortable. Now go run me my bath!” He quickly kissed her and caressed her cheek before he left the room.

She heard the water begin to slowly fill the tub and Spencer’s quiet swears when he couldn’t figure out how to unscrew the cap of the bubble solution.

When he came back into their bedroom, she was sitting on the bed, eyes glued to the Polaroid pictures in her hands.

Quickly, he opened the closet door and pulled out an old, big t-shirt of his and her favourite shorts to sleep in. Spencer placed then on the bed next to her so she could put them on after her bath.

“Can I see those too?” He asked as he went to sit next to her, she nodded and handed them to him.

“Oh my god,” he released a shaky breath and pulled her close, immediately she snuggled into his chest as he continued “I will definitely hide the last two in my wallet.”

[reid-me-a-story]

“Do you want me to stay”

You were laughing as Spencer carried you to his bedroom. Your arms linked around his shoulders and your legs around his waist.

With a thunk, he dropped you onto his bed and stood over you.

“Say it,”

You were still laughing and now slightly winded from the fall. You shook your head and bent your knees, letting your dress fall to your hips.

“No,” you teased and laughed even harder as he straddled over you.

He kissed your neck and slithered his hand up your dress at the same time; stroking your stomach.

“Say it,” he whined this time against your neck.

You wrapped your arms around him and turned his face to yours; kissing him gently and lovingly.

He settled between your legs and cupped your face as he kissed you back. The kisses quickly built with passion and your core thumped and heated with anticipation.

You’d both started to grind against each other; moaning and groping at each others bodies; when his phone rang.

He immediately lifted and you tried to pull him back; but that was a downside to dating someone constantly on call.

“Sorry, sorry,” he reached into his trouser pocket and found his phone, but it wasn’t the caller ID he was expecting. “It’s my mom’s hospital.”

You pressed your lips together; “at least it’s not your work.”

“That’ll be the next call.” He lifted into a kneeling position over you and answered; “This is Spencer Reid.”

You watched as he listened to the speaker on the other end and you swear your saw his skin lose all its colour.

You knew it was serious when he climbed off you and stood by the bed; his back to you. You sat up now and leaned on one arm; trying to see his face to source any clues to what he might be hearing. Your stomach sunk with a devastating theory.

He nodded and made short half attempts at forming some kind of response.

He fell silent again and then said, “thanks,” and hung up.

“Baby?”

Slowly, he turned around. “My, um,” he cleared his throat and you could see the tears forming in his eyes but he didn’t look upset. He looked confused, distant, scared. He met your eyes. “My mom just died?”

You stared at him, equally as shocked and confused. Then, you climbed out of the bed and held his arms.

“Oh, my God,” you threw your arms around him.

You expected some kind of resistance, like him pushing you away or trying to get away. But nothing of the sort came. Instead you slowly felt him relax into you and return the hold.

He pulled away after a moment and took a breath.

You returned your hands to his arms and watched him cautiously. “Do you want me to stay?”

He was trying his best not to break, you could tell, but you’d only been dating a few months and this was a huge moment in his life. You fully understood that he may not want you here right now, he may prefer the company of people he knows a lot better or no ones company at all.

“I have to make arrangements,” he said.

“Ok, but not tonight you don’t,” you rubbed his arms. “Can I call someone for you?”

He shook his head with pursed lips. “I just… want to be alone, I think, right now.”

You nodded and started to pull away and were surprised when he caught your arms.

“But don’t leave,” he said; pleading in his eyes. “I don’t want you to go.”

You nodded again and hugged him.

[reid-me-a-story]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 23)

Summary: Spencer and Bunny visit the gun range. A/N: For those who missed it, this series will now be updated every OTHER Thursday. I want to be able to start writing oneshots regularly. I don’t want to force this fic! Thanks eveyrone! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Penetrative sex, unprotected sex, mild allusions to breeding kink, guns (no danger), public sex, teasing/very mild degradation, mentions of age gap Word Count: 6.2k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

—————————————————

White rabbits oft relate to lovers. Their meanings in dreams range from virility to imminent disaster, but among all meanings is a recurring theme of innocence. A peacefulness, coming or going, but always fleeting in its duration. The easily frighted little lagomorph carries the messages to the end and then disappears back through the tunnels whence they came.

I found it odd, then, when their transient nature was so established, but my Bunny always stayed.

Keep reading

[reid-me-a-story]

What is it?: This appreciation week will be a chance to celebrate and shout out the creators of colour in this fandom who; write full-length fics or blurbs, make edits or gifs or just create anything in general!

Why was this created?: I decided to create this appreciation week because I love the cm community here on Tumblr, however fics that are written by the writers of colour in the community get less notes reblogs and appreciation. Even the gifs and fics made about the characters of colour on the show are less liked and their tags are clogged up with their white counterparts. So wanted to be a way to showcase the amazing creators on this app.

How will it work?: This is a week-long event so pick either one day or all of them or just a few and create something based on the prompt for that specific day. To be able to track all the content made tag this account and use the hashtag cmwocappreciationweek

What is this account for?: This account will be used to reblog all content created from the week, after the week is over this account will continue as a hub for all criminal minds fics that have; a person of colour as the OC or a POC coded Y/N. I will also be doing things such as the writer of the week, having a different creator of colour take over the account once a month to show off their content etc. I have many ideas and I can’t wait to share them all with you :)

Who is behind this account?: You probably haven’t seen me on your dash before and if you have it was probably me ranting about y/n fics being more inclusive lmao My main writing account is @ssavanessa22. Although I am the main person running this blog there have been so many creators of colour already giving me support on this idea such as @spencerreidat3am and @fiftyshadesofspencerreid and a huge thank you to @starry-eyed-spence who is helping with this appreciation week.

When will this be happening?: This appreciation week will start on the 8th of November and end on the 15th of November

Rules: No hate is tolerated towards anyone who participates or submits any fan fiction, burbs or content All work is to be fluff as I and @starry-eyed-spence are minors. Overall this is a fun and exciting week to appreciate and celebrate the content made by creators of colour!

Prompts will be released this Friday!

[reid-me-a-story]

Myth or Movie

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Unbeknownst to the two of them, Y/N and Spencer’s children have worked up a plan to get them to meet… Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative/unprotected sex, someone is misgendered (nothing too bad, it’s very brief, and it’s sincerely apologized for by the person who misgenders) Word Count: 4.2k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is my 2nd entry for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) Enemies To Lover’s Writing Challenge! This one was one of the prompts she provided: You and (Character)’s kids don’t get along, so you have to have a talk. Turns out you… really really get along… and I couldn’t wait to tackle it! I believe my exact words were: “I’m gonna Parent Trap these bitches”… So do with that what you will lol

———

“I’m so sorry I’m late!”

Two heads turn to stare at me as I burst through the doors. I’m out of breath from running through the building, something the staff really didn’t seem to appreciate, though their shouts and annoyed glances were the last thing on my mind.

As I try to catch my breath, the two heads stand, and suddenly I feel a lot smaller.

One of them I recognize— Principal Anteros. I’d met with her before over some of Sky’s academic achievements, all positive things, which is why today’s circumstances make being in this office rather uncomfortable.

It’s also why I seem to shrink with embarrassment at my tardiness— and appearance. Waitressing has its benefits, but today’s whirlwind of phone calls and a mention at meeting another parent are not any of them.

Speaking of, the other person in the room is one I’ve never seen before. He’s taller than both Anteros and I, extremely well dressed, and probably the most intimidatingly beautiful human being I’d ever met. I can barely meet his eyes, and so I try not to think about what he’s doing here—to think about having to talk to him.

I shrink even further.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Principal Anteros greets. Thankfully she doesn’t sound too upset given the circumstances. “Please, have a seat.”

I do, brushing off my uniform as if that will somehow help my appearance. The soft leather of the chairs, however comfortable they might be, fail to bring me any comfort at all.

“As I’m sure you’ve guessed already, this is Doctor Reid, Vivian’s father.”

Keep reading

[reid-me-a-story]

Matt Simmons asking the real questions.

[reid-me-a-story]

bau’s resident genius, spencer reid penelope garcia.

[reid-me-a-story]

Starry Starry Night

Summary: On a night out stargazing, Spencer can’t help but wish for just one thing. Little does he know, he might not be the only one.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader

Word Count: 855

A/N: this is based on a lovely request that I have somehow lost since then, so anon if you’re still out there I hope you see this!!

There was something about this night that felt different, but Spencer couldn’t pinpoint what it was, couldn’t quite put a finger on it. It was the same as most any other night, really. The stars were the same, the moon was the same―even the distant din of the traffic was exactly as it had been every night before.

So, truly, there was no reason for it to feel like this. No reason for him to feel as though he could almost forget where he was, forget who he was, forget the things that he had seen.

No reason except for you.

With you things always felt different, better. With you, it felt like there was hope.

Spencer knew he was being ridiculous. What an absolutely absurd thing to think, an astonishingly strange way to view your best friend. He was certain that if you knew what he was thinking at this exact moment, you’d up and run. Either that or you’d give him a good smack.

Those were the only two options. He couldn’t even begin to dream up any other outcome, didn’t even dare to hope for a universe in which you felt the same. In which you loved him too. In which there was a future out there for the two of you: a million more nights like this, watching the stars on a perfectly ordinary night in a perfectly ordinary park. A million more extraordinary moments.

The fear that he would never have a moment like this again felt as though it might just undo him, and Spencer blinked back the sudden tears that threatened to fall.

A shooting star flashed above, so quickly that he almost missed it. Despite his knowledge that it wasn’t even really a shooting star after all, that it was just a tiny speck of dust hurtling through the Earth’s atmosphere, he couldn’t help the intrinsic pull to make a wish, just as he had done so many years ago.

And then you reached out to him, taking his hand in yours easily, like you had done it a thousand times before. Your interlocked hands fell to rest between you on the thinly woven blanket, and Spencer barely remembered to breathe.

“I used to want to live in the stars.”

It had been so long since either of you had spoken that it was almost jarring, this perfectly silent moment so perfectly broken.

“Really?” Spencer turned towards you, instantly taken aback by how the moonlight had illuminated your face, highlighting the slope of your nose, the fullness of your lips, your gaze as it met his. He thought briefly to himself that your eyes were brighter than all of the stars combined. He would, of course, never tell you this.

You nodded, blissfully unaware of his desperate attempts to memorize each and every detail of your face. “Yeah, like in The Little Prince, you know? That way, even after I was long gone, someone out there might still remember me. Like they might look out at the night sky and think of me.”

“I would remember you.”

You arched an eyebrow, lips upturned in a smirk. “Oh, yeah? In this hypothetical universe where you live forever?”

“Mhm.”

“That doesn’t count. You’d remember everything.”

He shook his head. “No. Even if I forgot everything else, I’d remember you. Always.”

The teasing gleam in your eye vanished, replaced with something different―something that looked a lot like hope. You gave his hand a little squeeze, and he thought that his heart just might stop. “You want to know what I wished for?”

Spencer had all but forgotten about the shooting star, but he nodded anyway. He wanted you to tell him anything―anything at all.

He wanted you to tell him everything.

“I wished for you.” You said it so quietly that he almost assumed he had imagined it. The pause that followed it felt as though it echoed, solidifying the fact that this was just one cosmic joke that the universe had decided to play on him, but then you continued, “I wished for a million more nights like this―nights with you. Anything with you.”

It took him longer than it should have to process the words that you had just spoken, but the moment that it clicked, it felt as though everything had suddenly fallen into place in a way that he had been certain it never would.

He let out a laugh, bright and brilliant and so full of joy that he thought he just might burst.

You pulled a dramatic frown, a look of feigned offense flashing across your face before that luminous grin of yours returned. “What’s so funny?”

Spencer shook his head, more to himself than to you, before pulling you into him, your head dropping onto his chest as though it had happened countless times before, as though it would happen countless times more―it would. “I wished for the same thing.”

You pulled yourself back up for just long enough to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Lucky us then. I think we both just might get our wish.”

+++

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[reid-me-a-story]

“ i could propose to you right here and now. “ “ while inside me? “ this is perfect for spencer idk

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: spicy fluff  (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: talking in the middle of sex

Words: 1.3k

A.N.: I’m not sure you wanted a smut blurb but this is what I came up with. I think it’s spicy fluff? I’m not sure but I kind of like it, it’s cute. And it’s definitely something I feel like Spencer would do – I don’t know why. Enjoy x

If you want to join my taglist, click here.

Spencer’s fingers are intertwined with yours, his wrists pushing down on yours as his thrusts slow down. You’re lost in your own pleasure and you don’t notice your boyfriend watching you, admiring your features twisted in that delicious sensation spreading through your body and smiling softly at your complete loss of control.

He knows what he’s doing, he knows where and how to touch you to make sure you can barely keep your eyes open – which means he can look at you, simply admiring your beauty and bring himself closer to the edge as well.

“Fuck, Spence, faster.” you whine

Spencer leans over, capturing your mouth with a kiss. “You feel so good.”

You whimper, dying to move your hands around his neck. You want to pull his hair, you need to scratch his back, you have to release the tension slowly building within your body. You can’t if you’re stuck underneath him.

You don’t mind, of course, but you are so close to your own orgasm that you have to move, you have to do something. He’s driving you crazy and he’s well aware of that.

Spencer leaves a trail of kisses up your throat before reaching your face again and kissing your mouth, making you whine and call out his name once again. A short chuckle escapes from his lips as he gently pulls away, slowing his movements even more without breaking eye-contact with you.

“I could propose to you right here and now.”

You gasp at his words – and at a sudden movement of his hips against yours.

You’ve talked about marriage before, just not in the middle of sex – which is extremely weird, because you are so caught up in your need to come that you can barely think straight.

A part of you is surprised because he threw the topic in at this moment, but another part of you is amused because why was he thinking about marrying you while fucking you into oblivious?

How does his mind work?

You still wonder about that..

Three years together and you haven’t gotten a clue on how his thoughts are processed – one of the reasons why you love him beyond limits.

“While inside me?”

Spencer hums, his nose touching yours. “Yes.”

You can’t help, but let out a short laugh, shaking your head as you close your thighs around his waist. You’re not sure Spencer is saying this because he means it – obviously he wants to marry you and you can’t wait to be his wife, but proposing in the middle of sex is tricky.

What if you’re asking just because you’re overwhelmed with serotonin?

What if whatever hormone is running through your body and filling it up with pleasure right now will fade away, leaving you with the realization of what you had just gotten into?

You don’t want to take that chance.

“If you keep fucking me like this, I will say no.”

Spencer grins, giving you a peck on the lips. “I guess I will have to make you say yes, then.”

Picking up the pace of his thrusts, Spencer presses you against the mattress and you throw your head back. A series of gasps and moans and pleas are rolling off your tongue, the pleasure overthrowing you as you feel him touching every fucking perfect spot there is inside of you.

You slide a hand between your bodies, massaging your clit as Spencer bites and licks the tender skin of your exposed throat. Your eyes are closed, you’re enjoying everything he’s giving you and you can’t do anything but take it,

Take it, take it, take it.

The sound of Spencer’s moans and the wet slapping of his skin against yours fill the room, casually interrupted by your name falling out of his mouth. You know he’s getting closer as well because his body is tensing on top of yours and his mouth is open on your neck, his tongue lazily biting and licking the skin.

“Come for me, doll.” – Spencer whispers, his voice much raspier than before - “Come for me so I can get my answer.”

His thrust became erratic and irregular, the pleasure stabbing you over and over again. Your index is working fast over your clit while Spencer moves his hips faster, finally allowing you to reach that peak.

You come with a loud cry of his name, followed by Spencer grunting and coming as well inside of you. Your hands are still trapped underneath his, your eyes closed and there’s a satisfied expression spreading over your face.

Spencer collapses on top of you, trying to catch his breath. His face is hiding in the crook of your neck and he’s leaving sweet kisses all over your skin, while still pushing you down on the bed.

Wiggling underneath him, you manage to look down at him.

“Baby, you’re crushing me.”

Humming, Spencer rolls off your body and lies beside you in silence.

You turn to your side so that you can stare at him, admiring his side profile. You wonder what he’s thinking about, if he’s in that post-coital phase where he doesn’t know what to do or what to say.

His eyes are closed, his lips are slightly parted and his chest is raising up and down.

Gently, you scoot closer to him and you leave a kiss on his bare shoulder. Spencer smiles at your gesture and turns his head to look at you, blinking lazily while he relaxes his legs over the bed.

“Hey.”

“Hello Doctor Reid.” – you mumble, kissing his shoulder again – “What’s gotten you all smiley?”

He shrugs, finding your hip with his right hand. “Nothing, my girlfriend just accepted to marry me.”

You widen your eyes. “She did? Because she hasn’t heard an actual proposal; she just heard a statement which she didn’t agree with.”

“Oh, really? I thought she said ‘if you keep fucking me like this, I will say no’ so I changed the pace, the movements and...”

You interrupt him, your laughter getting the best of you. He can’t be serious, you would expect something totally different from Spencer – after all, he’s a romantic at heart even if he doesn’t show it.

Did he really propose in the middle of sex? While his cock was inside of you?

That’s not romantic at all.

Or maybe he realised he wanted to marry you because you’re extremely good in bed.

That’s not a really nice reason, but it could be one.

Spencer wouldn’t marry you just for sex, though, so why did he propose now? And why hasn’t he proposed with the real question instead of an insinuation?

“Please, that’s... I can’t believe you’re serious.”

Spencer shrugs again, turning his body to face yours. “I’m dead serious, Y/N. I want to marry you.”

You stay silent, staring at him as if he just stepped over your toes while dancing.

He leans over, giving you another peck on the lips. “I don’t have a ring but I know you hate them; you love sex so I thought I’d just.. propose you in the middle of it.”

In disbelief, you shake your head. “Spencer, I’m...”

“However, you are right: I haven’t officially asked if you wanted to marry me, so let me do it all over again.” Spencer says, clearing his throat and sitting up with his back against the bed headboard

Before he could propose to you with the actual words and the actual question, you immediately sit up and cover his mouth with yours.

Fuck the traditional way of proposing.

This is actually much better – and less nerve-wracking for you.

What if Spencer had proposed to you in front of all your friends? You would’ve probably said no just because you would’ve gotten nervous.

You’re glad he didn’t do that.

“Is that a yes to a question I haven’t even asked you?” Spencer mumbles over your lips

You pull away just to nod your head, giggling. “Yes. Of course I’ll marry you, Spence.”

[reid-me-a-story]

Thermal Energy (S.R.)

Request: Spencer and reader are undercover & they have to pretend to be fucking? reader is straddling reid & hes so turned on but he knows its fake and eventually they talk about it and eventually do fuck?

A/N: This has been sitting half complete forever and it’s finally here! Bon appetit! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Grinding (clothed), kissing, dub con (mutual pining, but one party is unaware), unprotected sex, penetrative sex Word Count: 6.2k

MASTERLIST

——————————————————

According to the U.S. National Library of Medicine, the average normal body temperature is commonly considered to be 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. However, the normal range of adult humans is somewhere between 97 to 99, with younger children having higher averages thanks to a higher surface area relative to their weight a more active metabolism.

Fevers can be good, though. An average adult human needn’t worry about their body temperature until it breaches 103 — well over the 100.4 degree mark that defines a true fever — unless they are also experiencing a number of troubling symptoms. Headache, unusual skin rashes, sensitivity to bright light, stick neck, mental confusion, persistent vomiting, or difficulty breathing and chest pain, to name a few.

This is all to say that I was positive I was going to die.

While I was pretty sure that I was free of viruses and bacterial infections, I still couldn’t help but feel like my brain was melting and my body was on fire. Logically, I knew that fevers usually elicited the opposite sensations, and I should feel cold if my temperature regulation was truly on the fritz, but there was just no ignoring the fact that my head was pounding, my face was flushed, and I felt like I was going to throw up or pass out.

I hadn’t decided which just yet.

I hadn’t talked to anyone about these thoughts and concerns, but luckily, I didn’t have to. Luke was already staring at me like I’d grown three heads, and I wouldn’t have even questioned that conclusion if it had turned out to be true.

“Are you sure you wanna go through with this?” he asked, but I didn’t answer.

The answer was too complicated to explain in any other way than ‘Yes, and no.’ I certainly wouldn’t be able to expand on that idea in the little bit of time we had left. Instead, I simply covered my face with my hands and let out a frustrated groan, which he accepted as a ‘no,’ and solidified my belief that he wouldn’t understand.

“I can do it. Penelope won’t mind,” he offered, like that would help.

“I’m fine. It’s fine,” I answered with enough cracks in my voice that even the most pothole ridden road would seem pristine in comparison. “Everything is fine. Besides, I’m already here, so...”

My mind was still racing. I knew that Luke was just trying to help, but something about his persistence began to dig at deep-seated insecurities. I had already been close to my breaking point when he spoke again. Nothing but a calm statement of fact.

“Yeah, so am I.”

And I snapped.

“I said I’m fine! Why the hell do you want to do it so bad?!”

An uncomfortable silence took the place of my raised voice, and I realized that I was doing nothing but proving his original point that I was, above all else, not fine.

“Listen, I just…” Luke paused. He considered his words carefully, and then continued, “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. And I know, you’re both adults and professionals but…”

I dared him with my continued silence. I demanded that he just say the truth that we all knew, to rid me of the last bit of hope I had left. To finally grant me the freedom to move on from the woman I’d never be able to love the way I so desperately wanted.

“I know there’s some unresolved feelings between you two and I would hate for it to get even more… complicated.”

But then I thought of her. The already broken parts of my heart began to shatter piece by piece, turning to dust among the deserts of my lungs.

“I’ll be fine, Luke,” I said, sounding so very far away. “This might come as a surprise to you, but it’s not the first time a girl has rejected me, alright?”

That time, it was his turn to say nothing. After a few more uncomfortable seconds, I turned to him to see that look of pity I knew I’d find.

Or at least, I really thought that I would find. Fate, however, had different plans.

“… What are you talking about?” he asked, instead.

The dedication to playing dumb, while flattering in some sick sort of way, just felt like a punch to an already twisted gut.

“I mean that I get it. She doesn’t like me, it’s just for work” I mumbled before waving one final white flag before I let myself be consumed by it all. “I’m saying you don’t need to worry about it.”

I thought of her again. I could see her smile, the soft curves of her body and how they always seemed so inviting. It was nothing crude — she didn’t call to me because of lust alone. It was a safety, a belonging that I felt whenever her hand brushed against mine. The kind that could only undoubtedly become better when the surface area and friction increased.

I can’t do this, I finally admitted to myself.

I almost admitted it to him, too, but when I turned, I found Luke still completely lost. Baffled, really, by whatever the hell was happening in my head.

And for the first time, I realized that we had been having two entirely different conversations.

“Reid… I wasn’t talking about you.”

“What?”

But before I got any more satisfying of an answer, it was too late.

“Reid, we’ve gotta go!” Emily called, and I had to go.

It was meant to be simple. The unsub was an odd and innovative one. It was remarkably easier to catch him than the others. After all, most people didn’t bother using military grade thermal scanning equipment in their serial killer scheme.

All we’d needed was a distraction. It wouldn’t take very long, everyone agreed. Maybe five, ten minutes maximum. There would be no active microphone within the room that the team could hear (upon Penelope’s insistent teasing that she didn’t want to know what happened when the door closed). However, he would hear every word uttered.

Despite the unwelcome guest, it would still just be the two of us in the room. Her and I. Apparently, according to the others, we were an unlikely but somehow perfect pair to play pining lovers.

It was supposed to be simple. I just needed to hold her and pretend that I loved her as much as I actually did. I had somehow let the others convince me that I could do it.

But as soon as she opened the door and I saw her, there was only one thought burning through my mind.

How the fuck am I meant to do this?

“Hey, Spencer.”

“Hi.”

Luckily for me, the dumbstruck nature of my response had several reasonable explanations. For one, this was incredibly awkward regardless of who it was. Secondly, I am not known for my social skills generally.

But most importantly of all, she was practically naked.

The plush hotel robe hid most of the more sensitive areas, and of course, logically I was aware of the fact she’d been wearing a thin set of nude-colored undergarments. Most thermal scanning devices are rudimentary, after all. They wouldn’t be able to see through the robe for the most part, although depending on certain activities or hormones, certain areas of the female anatomy had a tendency to produce… excess heat.

There’s no way I’m going to be able to do this.

Unbeknownst to the war of information and speculation raging on in my head, (y/n) let out a rather dreamy sigh that woke me from my reverie.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” she said, and my heart took the words as a challenge to make its presence known.

When she stepped away from me, I followed without hesitation. My body struggled to be nearer to her. Every part of me sought her out in any way I could without outright grabbing hold of her.

Yet, when it came time for me to start stripping out of my clothes, she was the one who’d touched me. I hadn’t even asked her to— although I certainly hadn’t resented the touch, either. By all accounts, I wanted her to touch me.

My mouth hadn’t quite caught up, though. Or perhaps it was just a testament to how powerful my insecurities were, that they drowned out the desire the second her hand finished the last button on my shirt and slid under the collar.

“Y-You don’t have to…” I blurted out, stopping to clear my throat while the girl froze like a deer in the headlights.

As soon as she tore her hands away from me, I missed them. I craved to feel the pillowy softness of her palm against my throat, to watch her eyes as they roamed the newly revealed skin until I was as bare as her.

“I’ve got it,” I lied to reassure her.

Her response was equal parts charming and childish. Unable to touch me, but also not able to leave, she opted for turning her back to me and clamped her hands over her eyes. From there, she rocked on the balls of her feet like it might make the time pass faster.

If it accomplished anything, though, it made me want to move quicker. To hold her again.

“You’re adorable.” I hadn’t realized that I’d said it until I’d heard my own voice, but once the words were uttered, I hadn’t regretted them. They were true, after all, and she’d deserved to hear them.

Once I was as naked as her, if not more so, considering I didn’t have the excuse to wear a brassiere, I placed a firm hand on her shoulder. She leaned into the touch, turning to face me with eyes darting everywhere but my face.

Adorable was right.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked in the hope she would hear how nervous I was. I wanted our mixed bag of anxieties to be enough to calm her in the least.

Although, with the knowledge that Luke had so kindly dropped on me right before walking into the chaos, I supposed we weren’t ever going to be on equal footing.

Still, she looked so certain when she whispered, “Yeah… I’m ready.”

I didn’t dare question her. Perhaps it was foolish for me to be so willing to believe her when I had been too much of a coward to alert her to just how badly I’d craved her. How many nights I’d spent dreaming of her touching me, even in the most innocent of ways.

The other memories of her, the ones that would mirror this evening, were had more often while I was awake.

As I was awake then, climbing awkwardly onto the middle of the king-sized bed. Even with her joining me, it felt far bigger than necessary. I would never want her to be that far away from me.

She was shaking, but she was careful as she clambered on top of me. I knew she was overthinking — I could see it clear in her eyes. I almost assured her that she had nothing to worry about, that even if she did appear inexperienced or unsure, that would only make her even more breathtaking in my eyes.

But then she shyly asked, “Is this alright?”

And my heart melted to mush. I couldn’t think of anything worth saying, and definitely was unable to turn those thoughts to words. All I could feel was the concentrated heat between her thighs as it came to rest against the quickly growing bulge between mine.

“Yes,” I strained.

She lowered the rest of her weight cautiously, her body finally coming to rest against mine with an undeniable comfort. Her body’s confidence, while not shared by her conscious mind, was well supported by the heavy sigh that flowed from my lips.

Everything about her was soft and warm. Her hands that rested against my chest calmed my fast-beating heart back into a normal rhythm. Of course, that accomplishment was short lived, considering what she did next.

With a sharp inhale of breath, she began grinding our hips together. In only just a few seconds of movement, a breathy, dark moan slipped from her lips and shot straight through me. While I knew that she had been meant to act like she’d been enjoying herself, there was nothing fake about the sound. Especially not when it was paired with quick, pulsing muscles that dragged up and down the length of my erection.

“Does that feel good?” she drawled between whimpers and panting breaths.

My answer, while not entirely straightforward, was arguably understandable.

“Fuck.”

If that hadn’t been clear enough, though, I made sure that she was aware of just how good she felt. My hands abandoned the sheets they’d been patiently resting on and shot straight for her hips. She gasped at the roughness of my contact, and I smoothed over angered skin as gently as I could, given my current, mostly feral state.

“Kiss me,” I ordered, hoping to distract us both from muttering dangerous truths.

She stared at me with a perplexed but pleased look about her. It was adorable, and although I would have gazed upon her in any form forever, I needed her closer.

“Wh—Mmm!” she protested by sounds alone when I pulled her head down for our mouths to meet. She certainly hadn’t done anything to try to stop me. Anything that might’ve been misconstrued as rejection dissipated within milliseconds of me kissing her.

She was the one who deepened the kiss. Her hands came to my cheeks, which pink and burning for her, before she ran her fingers straight into my hair. That was where she found the leverage and courage to begin long, grinding motions against my fully erect dick between her legs.

“That’s it,” I breathlessly and vaguely instructed, “Keep going, pretty girl. Fuck— yeah, just like that.”

There was no way for me to describe to her just how breathtaking she looked from where I was. The sinful image of her using my stationary body to pleasure herself. The obvious desire painted in her eyes.

The sound of it when she whimpered my name.

“Spencer…”

I couldn’t handle it. I pulled her closer because I knew if I had to keep looking into those eyes, I would turn to ash with her at her pyre.

She crumpled so easily against me, though. Even that felt like too much.

“God, you feel amazing,” I cried. Then, because it was true and for no other reason, I muttered, “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

She returned a long, drawn-out whine. A sound that begged me to move with her harder, to drive her over the edge and potentially crash in the oceans below with her. Her hands were completely lost in my hair, her face buried against my neck that burned with her breath pumping between hot, pouted lips.

“Hold me,” she begged.

My arms wrapped around her without hesitation. I had been waiting for her to ask. I pulled her closer while continuing to guide her hips in the rocking motion against me and I thought I might die if we didn’t stop soon.

But then I began to thrust against her. Stars broke out over my vision, the pleasure derived from such simple friction completely overwhelming all else.

I was so close to so many things. But I couldn’t lose control of myself. Or in the very least, I needed her to do it first.

“Please,” I whispered into her ear, “Please come for me, pretty girl.”

She had always been good at following instructions.

Her whole body tensed, trembling and retreating further into me. I tried to keep our bodies sliding against one another even as I felt the tell-tale fluttering of strong, sensitive muscles pressed firmly against me.

“Good girl,” I praised as I rubbed her back with flat palms, trying to secure her position against my chest when the euphoria faded. “That’s my good girl.”

I’d wanted the words to sound more sincere, but they were spoken through exhausted, strained cords. She had reached a satisfying conclusion, but my body was still aching with need for her. To slip past tiny, soaked little panties and feel that sensation again from the inside.

(Y/n) hadn’t moved. She hadn’t spoken a word since it had happened, remaining hidden from me but with our bodies melting together from the heated space between plush bathrobes.

I might’ve been able to get her to talk. I could’ve continued to reassure her, thank her, explain that I was only being weird because I was five seconds away from begging her to let me touch her in even less professional ways.

But before either of us spoke another word, the gunshots resounding through the complex spoke them for us.

She jumped, trying to escape from me but finding my arms holding her tightly in place until we’d heard the magic words.

“All clear.”

I released her, and she nearly fell off the bed in her haste to get away.

Away from me.

“Are you okay?” I asked, and that time I needn’t have worried about it sounding genuine.

She didn’t give me an answer, anyway. She didn’t even look at me before she turned to bolt out of the door with nothing but an unfastened robe and bare feet.

I was still so lost in the chaos of what had just happened, drunk on the feeling of her body as it gave in to me despite the barriers between us. I let her slip away. I sat alone on the bed, dizzy and unsatisfied with how little I’d gotten to hold her in the aftermath.

Luke finally found me, but his attention remained torn between the broken man on the bed and the half-naked woman doing whatever she could to get the hell away from me.

Eventually, he chose me, and a few words that were more bitter than sweet.

“What the hell happened?” he asked.

“I-I… I don’t know.”

——————————————————

There had only been a few times I had considered leaving the BAU. Most of them were things to be expected: emotionally disturbing contact with bodily fluids à la Silence of the Lambs (take your pick of scenes), that time I almost got my finger bitten off by a rogue and very enthusiastic serial cannibal, or when I was forced to sleep next to Rossi’s incredibly loud snoring.

But that day wasn’t like the others. That day was the closest I’d ever come to making that call. It would be easy. Or at least, easier than owning up to what I’d done.

The reality of the situation had barely dawned on me and I was already absolutely miserable. The thought of seeing Spencer again —of looking into those big, beautiful brown eyes— made me so anxious that my brain skipped the racing thoughts and jumped straight into nauseating apathy.

I hadn’t talked to him since it happened. I’d barely talked to anyone. Luke, who had been my confidant in all things Spencer-related, was useless. After his third repetition of the phrase, ‘Just talk to him,’ I had accepted that he must have finally lost his mind. There was no other explanation for such a ridiculous suggestion.

But I would be lying if I pretended like I hadn’t considered the conversations a million times over. I’d rehearsed all the possible ways to apologize for what I’d done, and none of them came out right.

That was why the call was so appealing. Because as I sat there, alone on my couch, I realized that I would eventually have to talk to him again. And the worst part was that I really, really wanted to. Enough so that when I heard someone knocking on my door, I’d almost convinced myself that it would be him on the other side. Of course, I’d luckily talked myself out of that romcom train of thought before I opened the door.

… to find Spencer, staring at me with an equally astonished face.

“Hey—" he tried to say, only to be met with my door slamming shut in his face. Or at least, it tried. But instead of hitting the frame, it hit his foot wedged between. “Ow!”

“Sorry!” I shrieked.

“You actually tried to shut it?!”

The door, stuck between a rock and a hard place, wavered back and forth while I panicked trying to figure out if I’d injured him badly enough that I had to let him in. But when he’d just started hopping awkwardly in place while cursing under his breath, I knew he would be fine.

“I mean, I’m still sort of just waiting for you to move out of the way…” I muttered.

The hopping ceased; replaced with a heavy sigh that dropped his shoulders far enough that I was forced to remember my face buried in the crook of his neck.

“Please, stop being like this. We need to talk about it.”

“About what?” I laughed nervously, “That could mean a lot of things.”

Spencer’s brows jumped in a familiar, friendly challenge as he asked, “You want me to say it? Out here?”

I glanced down each end of the hallway to my apartment building, only to find him staring at me with a knowing smirk that made him look equal parts charming and infuriating.

“… Fine,” I conceded, nonetheless.

I guess the charming half won out in the end.

Spencer had been in my apartment before, but only under conditions where I knew the space reflected the best side of me. But that night, with junk food scattered around the living room and horribly toxic romantic comedies still blasting on the television, my pride was taking the biggest hit I’d faced yet.

A profiler misses no clues, so long as they are not about themselves. So, I could only imagine what Spencer saw in my breakdown. Regardless of the nasty truths that he witnessed, however, he still turned to me with a smile, however solemn.

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked when the silence stretched on too long.

It was a dangerous game. There was no way for me to know how he would respond. But of all the potentialities, the one that unfolded before me was the one I expected least of all.

“I didn’t know you liked me.”

Then, there was silence, joined only by the dramatic swell of music from a soundtrack I’d heard a million times before. The kind that should have motivated me into telling the truth, but which instead played as the background music to a pathetic attempt at a denial.

“Whaaaat?” I dragged out with an unconvincing chuckle, “Psh… who… who said that?”

Before I’d even finished, he answered, “Luke told me.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“I didn’t realize. I’m sorry,” he continued despite my protest.

Once it was out in the air, I was surprised to find the words came easier. I figured it was just the practice because it still didn’t sound good enough to me. But I had to say something.

“It’s fine. I knew it — us, we, whatever — wasn’t going to happen. And I’m really, really sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I feel fucking awful about it. I mean, I practically assaulted you while you were just trying to do your job and—”

Spencer raised his hand so quickly that it actually brought my lips to a halt, and I floundered for a few seconds before he balked, “No, you didn’t. What are you talking about?”

Again, I spoke (yelled) without thinking, “Spencer, I wasn’t faking!”

And, for the first time, so did he.

“Neither was I!”

That time when we both froze, I was forced to action by the long, drawn-out confession scene about to play. I hurried to turn the damn thing off, and unknowingly gave us both enough time to process what had just happened.

But when I looked up at him, seeing the laughter and confusion reflected in his eyes, I couldn’t help but laugh when I yelled back, “… what?!”

Through his own laughter, he shouted, “How could you think I was faking?!”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s so stupid!”

“Well, that’s easy for you to say!” I said through a burning face, not from anger, but relief and embarrassment and happiness all rolled into one. “Not all of us are geniuses, you know!”

But with each passing second, filled with laughter that made my lungs burn, I felt the distance closing. It became smaller and small until his arms wrapped around me.

Spencer held me, tighter to his chest than ever before. For what felt like the first time, my body began to adjust to the warmth of his embrace. It felt like the kiss of a bonfire against my feet; the occasional inhale of cedar smoke and the short lived incandescence of sparks on the wind.

I pulled away from him, if only to see the eyes I had been so scared of.

“Hi,” he said with a significantly goofier smile than the previous, charming one.

I smiled, too, although I tried to hide it by chewing on my lips between the elephant in the room.

“What do we do now?”

In a fascinating turn of events, a role reversal smacked into us with full force. The burning heat in my face seemed to transfer to him. From his torso up, Spencer turned red at the question. Even his hands grew tighter from their position on the small of my back, and his tiny whispers were barely intelligible.

But they were enough for me to make out a few unhelpful words.

“I… I mean… We could do nothing, or… we could... You know?”

“No? Know what?” I whispered back, not to tease him but because I genuinely didn’t know.

True to his profiler nature, Spencer seemed to recognize my ignorance at least a little. Enough to grant him the confidence to clear his throat and announce with as much confidence as could be expected from him, “We could… pick up where we left off?”

There was no soundtrack, no confession of love or credits rolling on the screen. The apartment was silent in every way besides our heavy breathing of shared air. When we were close enough that each inhale was recycled, Spencer took the initiative not to wait.

His hands covered my cheeks in a whirlwind of motion. He pulled me forward, closing the distance and claiming my mouth for what still felt like the first time.

Spencer kissed me so hard and fast and full of passion that I’d honestly almost forgotten to kiss him back. But as soon as I knotted my fingers through his unruly curls, all reservations were abandoned. The two of us stumbled over haphazardly discarded shoes, which were quickly joined by whatever clothing got between the two of us. We left a trail of fabric and fear in our wake, led by laughter and something that felt like love.

It felt everything and nothing like the last time. Although our skin still touched the same, the smiles on our face made it all the better. Sure, we could barely kiss because our teeth got in the way, but I couldn’t care. Not when he helped me onto the bed only to quickly crawl on top of me.

Out of instinct, I covered my chest the second he’d removed my bra. We had finally crossed the line, leaving me barer before him than he’d ever seen. Although I should’ve seen it coming from a mile away, I still shied away when he sighed with adoration in every particle of breath.

“Don’t do that. Please,” he begged quietly, “You are so unbelievably beautiful. There isn’t a single thing about you that I would change.”

His hand traced my jaw, and his eyes stayed with his knuckles as they dragged over my cheek. I focused on the softness of it all, rather than the hardness I could feel pressed against my leg.

Eventually, I caved, admitting sheepishly, “I’m embarrassed.”

Without any hesitation, Spencer replied with a laugh, “I especially wouldn’t change that. Makes me feel better about being nervous, too.”

“You shouldn’t be nervous,” I muttered with an ungraceful snort that he didn’t seem to mind, “Unlike me, you’ve already successfully managed to get me off.”

“Hmmm… We’ll just have to change that,” he suggested through the side of his mouth, “But… I will warn you that I can get a bit competitive…”

I giggled in response, which the man above me clearly took as a challenge to his word.

So, without any further ado, his hand slipped past the final defense of my underwear. My gasp made him pause, but only until my legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer. With that implicit consent, he continued. Lithe fingers teased my entrance for a few seconds, gathering already abundant wetness that brought a smile to his face.

“How about you do it again for me, pretty girl?” he cooed just as one finger entered me, quickly joined by another.

I wanted to talk, to cry his name or assure him that I would do anything he told me to if it meant that I could be with him longer. But the thought of him wanting me was too overwhelming, too earth-shattering of a realization to focus on anything.

All I could feel was him. I felt his breath getting heavier and more desperate the louder my whines became. I watched as his pupils swallowed amber fire irises that still burned around the blackness. More than everything else, though, I basked in the slippery friction of our bodies as they coated in sweat and anticipation.

His fingers were too fast to keep track of, so I didn’t. I relaxed as much as my body would allow, and instead focused on how he inspected each of my responses to his actions. Each time he was rewarded, he would try it again. He treated me like his favorite project; a mystical, mythical thing for him to memorize and learn to master.

I could barely keep my eyes open, but I wanted to. I wanted him to see the way he made me feel so that he could understand that I was his, without reservation.

For the second time in a matter of minutes, Spencer interpreted that look as a challenge. He kissed me again, although the force behind it felt more like a plea than a demand. His tongue tangled with mine at the same time his finger started to draw small, tight circles around the tiny bundle of nerves.

“Come for me,” he panted, “Please.”

How was I meant to say no?

He hadn’t waited for an answer. He kissed me again, almost like the act was more vital than breathing. Even when my jaw dropped open and I sang his praise, he stayed as close as could be. He smiled against my cheek, and I swore the relief flooded him the same time my whole body tensed beneath him.

“Good girl,” he whispered, “That’s my pretty girl.”

The world continued to rock throughout the impossibly long peak. It seemed to get worse when it was over. I was left drunk on him and yet still craving more. I wanted to be nothing but a disaster made of the both of us; inseparable. Together.

I pulled his hand away, suddenly overstimulated and not wanting to fall apart again just yet.

“Are you alright?” he asked with all the concern in the world before offering, “We can stop.”

Even that was too sweet to refuse. I hadn’t wanted to, anyway.

“No, don’t stop,” I urged.

When he didn’t buy the desperation in my voice as anything more than post-orgasm bliss, I used my legs around his waist to pull his hips to mine. I soaked in the power I felt when his eyes started to roll to the back of his head just from feeling the warmth against his erection.

“Are you sure?” he struggled, still. The concern and insecurity from the other day bled through his words.

It made me all the surer of something I was already certain about.

“I want you, Spencer,” I said with a smile, “Please.”

The bashful glance he gave me told me everything I needed to know. I had never felt so safe in someone’s arms. So at home in the heat of our bodies finally meeting in the middle. Even when he pressed forward, I felt no pain. Just a recognition of him as another part of myself.

Spencer entered me slowly, seeming to savor every new sensation as he came to rest inside of me. His breath came harder, and I could feel his pulse beating against my nose as I buried my face in his neck.

No words were necessary. Our bodies started to move in tandem, rocking against one another in perfect harmony. His thrusts slowly gained momentum until I was forced to come to a stop. From there, he scrambled from his position to stretch my arms over my head so that he could interlock our fingers. Closer and closer we came until there was nowhere else to go. Nowhere to escape the euphoria of our body colliding.

I tried to kiss him, but the action was thwarted by his name falling from my lips.

“Spencer…”

“Is this what you were picturing when you were sitting on my lap?” he shot back, taking my bottom lip between his teeth just to show me how much he was holding back. “You could feel how hard I was for you. How badly I wanted to fuck you.”

The memories hit me with full force, and it all reminded me of how I swore this would never happen. But now he was inside of me, bringing me to the heights of passion for the third time despite my having never returned the favor.

“Please, Spencer,” I begged, but he did not relent.

“You have no idea how close I came to tearing off those little panties and just — Fuck!” he cried with a particularly brutal thrust. He held himself there, grinding harder against me just to feel how it made my powerless body squirm underneath him.

I should’ve known he’d see it as a challenge.

He brought our faces just close enough that he could see the sparks of desire in my eyes turn to fire as he teased, “I could feel how much you wanted it. I could feel every tight little muscle tensing and twitching. Begging to be fucked.”

“Fuck me, Spencer!” I sobbed, rocking my hips against the unbelievable hardness still resting at my deepest point.

There was only one mercy granted, a brief reprieve of his retreat before he filled me again all at once. But I couldn’t blame him for wanting to be closer when his thrusts were so off-beat and his body had started to shake under the weight of it all.

In a plea for my own form of mercy, and a moment of honest self-reflection, Spencer gave another nervous, but happy chuckle as he said, “I’m gonna do more than just fuck you.”

He didn’t need to say the rest for me to understand, but he did it, anyway. He said it so I could hear it, and never, ever doubt that it was true.

“I’m never going to let you go again.”

I wrestled my hands back from under his grip. He let them go, our bodies still matching rhythm as I threw every limb around him in a final embrace. We came together in a moment of blinding bliss and pure chaos. Forcing himself to the hilt inside of me, Spencer called my name one last time before I felt it. The gentle thrum of his warmth filling me, his body trembling while he tried to get impossibly closer.

I pulled his face forward to kiss me, surprised to find he still had the coordination to do that. Even after he collapsed against me, he tried to keep our lips connected until the very last second.

Eventually, we gave in to the powers of physics that required us to remain as two separate beings. He rested his weight atop me, and I welcomed his heaving chest by drawing loose patterns across his back.

Our bodies were drenched in sweat and other bodily fluids that seemed less daunting than usual. In fact, I quite enjoyed the way that friction was non-existent. I basked in the rays of sunshine in the form of Spencer, and I held him tighter, knowing that I might burn but loving the way it felt, nonetheless.

“You’re so warm,” I mumbled sleepily against his cheek.

“I can move if you want,” he offered to no avail.

Because I remembered the distance from before and decided, “No. I like it better this way.”

——————————————————

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[reid-me-a-story]

Would u consider doing a smut blurb where reader has never cum before (or like rarely/has trouble on her own) or like hasn’t really masturbated that much so Spencer decides to help her (basically just some innocent kink or like first real orgasm). It doesn’t need to be that specific just that vibe

Girl's night brought up an uncomfortable conversation for her. "so when are you going to admit that you're sleeping with spencer?"

"what?"

just the look alone let them know she was serious. "you're really not sleeping together?" Penelope asks again.

"no? oh my god?" she's so confused. "we're best friends? I've never even slept with anyone before..."

Emily gasps, "but you masturbate, right? you've experienced an orgasm right? please don't tell me you've been deprived your whole life."

she laughs, "of course I have..."

"oh my god?" Penelope and Emily respond at the same time.

"it's fine! stop looking at me like that!" she feels so self-conscious. "I've tried I just can't?"

"have you talked to your doctor?" Emily asks.

"no I haven't talked to a doctor about how I don't know if I can orgasm, it's not a medical issue it's an intimacy issue..."

"so maybe you should ask spencer?" Penelope suggested but she's immediately met with Y/N's terrified face. "I'm just saying he knows a lot of things and he really wouldn't judge you."

"and he's a doctor so he counts," Emily teases. "and then you two will finally get together."

"what?" Y/N can't process all that information at once. "how did you know I like him?"

"Oh please," Penelope laughs. "the whole FBI knows you two are obsessed with each other. just bang him already!"

so now she's here, in Spencer's room sitting beside him while they watch a movie but she can't focus. shes cuddled into his side, arm wrapped around his and her head on his shoulder. and all she can think about is her crush on him and what Penelope said. he wouldn't judge, he probably has the answers.

"if I ask you something do you promise to not laugh at me?" she whispers up at him.

"I would never," he teases with a smirk. "what's bothering you?"

"at girl's night... the topic of orgasms came up and I admitted that I've never had one and they suggested that maybe I could ask you if you knew of a reason why that could be?"

"Are you asking to have sex with me? because-"

"would you if I asked?"

he nods, "absolutely but if not, um... there are multiple different kinds of orgasms and just because you haven't been able to have one doesn't mean there aren't options."

she smirks, biting the inside of her lip to try and stop it but she's just so fond of him she can't help it. "show me what you mean?"

his eyes almost leave his head with how wide they go. he can't believe that she just asked that. "here? in a hotel in Florida of all places?"

“Yes, I want to have sex with you here what isn’t clear?”

“But why now?” He shouldn’t look this sad for a man being asked if he wants to have sex.

"because Penelope and Emily helped me realize I like you too much to keep pretending I don't, and I want to cum but I want you to be the one who makes me."

his hand is on her cheek then, pulling her in for a kiss that shocks her. she doesn't close her eyes right away, staring at him before settling. when her eyes close, her hands reached behind his neck to play with his hair and his free hand grabs her leg to hoist it over him so that she can straddle him now.

she grinds against him as they make out, and it's the closest she's felt in a long time. the pure adrenaline, the not knowing what comes next, the fact it's spencer's cock under her that she's grinding against... it's all amazing.

their clothes come off, a condom goes on and then she's back in the same position as before. lowering herself onto him, his thumb rubs her clit as she takes him all, tossing her head back as he sucks one of her nipples into her mouth. it's so much all at once, she bucks her hips as she bottoms out and makes him whine.

"fuck, Spence," she breathes out, completely wrecked already as she starts to ride him. "god you feel fucking huge."

he smirks against her skin, "yeah? never had someone this deep inside of you before?"

she shakes her head with a whimper as she wraps her arms around his neck and grinds against him. it feels so good, he's hitting a spot inside of her that she never even knew existed and it feels like she's about to explode. it's so new, so exhilarating, she chases it. bouncing on him as he thumbs her clit, moaning into the air without a care in the world that their team will hear them.

when she comes it's with a gasp and a tremble, shaking as she lets the pleasure run through her, barely able to appreciate how spencer sounds when he cums as his hips still and he cums with a grunt. she just sits there, with him still inside and her head on his shoulder, breathing in deeply to catch her breath but she's too tired to do anything else.

"wow..."

"anytime you need one," Spencer teases. "you know where to find me."