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bbystark · 12 days ago

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♡ soap's little plan ♡

abo!141 x omega!reader

♡ masterlist ♡ request more! ♡

summary: despite having a pack of his own, soap finds himself wanting more. he's grown tired of being the only Omega with 2 unruly Alphas. good thing you showed up, now he can flush those pesky little suppressants and make you theirs.

⚠︎ suggestive themes, soap being a little obsessed, invasions of privacy

a/n: series??? idk where this came from but enjoy

Soap wasn’t an unhappy man. He was talented, knew just how dangerous he was in the field, how many brushes with death he’d skillfully skirted with a big “fuck you” and a bloody smile. He had the respect of his peers and fear of the new recruits. Most importantly, he had a pack he loved. Never went to bed wanting or alone. His inner Omega should be satisfied, all things considering, and yet, he still yearns.

He feels guilty sometimes. When he’s laid out on one of his mate’s beds, sweaty and thrumming with release. He rolls over, pressing wet kisses to damp skin and trying to focus on fingers that ghost over his head. Tries to push out the gnawing subconscious thought of more. He wants to scoff at himself. 3 mates and somehow he still couldn’t help but be greedy.

It’s like Price says in the field (and in the bedroom, funnily enough): “You're a goddamn restless dog ain’t ‘ya? Restless and a dog, indeed.

His words run through Soap’s mind as he stares at you. His dirty little one-sided secret. He’s watched you for months. Smelled you immediately when his eyes first landed on you, an unforgettable mix of vanilla licorice, fruit, and a tang of something earthy, like grass or rain. So unbelievably feminine and soft, he was intoxicated. Couldn’t help but watch as you walked down the hall. You had glanced at him, eyebrows furrowing slightly; he remembered the chill that ran through him when you locked eyes.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

He had immediately sweet talked the Beta receptionist into handing over your file. He had tucked it under his arm and taken it to his room, locking the door and glancing around like he was a teen with a raunchy magazine. Read it front to back. You were smart, specialized in cybersecurity before you joined the military. Now you drifted from team to team, going where you were needed. Helping run covert hops here, a little hacking there. He felt a grin take over his face when he saw that in your last assignment, you acted as a demolition expert. An impressive resume, he faintly wondered why you hadn’t been pinned down by a team yet. Clearly, you were an asset.

He got to your current contract papers, seeing you were brought on to be a floater. You’d help with missions in the unit how they saw fit. He could only pray that he’d be working with you eventually. He closes the file, thumbing the small file photo of you. You were beautiful no doubt, not smiling but still holding a hint of softness.

He pauses when he realizes he didn’t see a presentation in your file. He flips through the pages again, skimming through your medical report. The boxes next to ‘Omega’, ‘Alpha’, and ‘Beta’ are all unmarked. It clicks then, your sweet smell and the lack of presentation in your files. You were an Omega.

Soap wasn’t really supposed to be where he was as an Omega. While there were no rules against it, there were hardly any Omegas here for a reason. It was hard, both physically and mentally. Soap had taken twice the recommended amount of suppressants and nearly went broke buying scent blockers. Put his body through hell and back to prove he was worthy. It was only when he became Lieutenant and had the protection of a pack that he felt comfortable enough to stop hiding his presentation . By then, no one could really say anything about it.

His heart raced. You were an Omega. He had no proof other than being one himself, but he was almost sure of it. It did nothing to curb his growing curiosity.

He should have pushed you out of his mind, but he’s Soap. He’s insistent and can be downright stubborn when it comes down to it. It was just his nature. He formulated a whole plan, get close to you, slowly ease you into meeting his pack, then make you theirs. Plain and simple.

It was not plain and simple.

First of all, the guilt started eating at him. He had everything he’d ever hoped for, a family, a successful career, and here he was. The worst part is that Soap couldn’t help it, he loved his mates, their masculine presence and smell that filled a room. But he secretly can’t help but wish there was another Omega around, someone who could help him ground his Alphas. Gaz did a great job, but he was a beta, and Soap often received the brunt end of Ghost and Prices’ more baser instincts. Not just an Omega, but a woman. Someone with that femininity and power that balances and soothes an entire pack into submission.

Second of all, you didn’t want to give him the time of day.

The first time he approaches you is in the dining hall, your face stoic and focused as you grab an apple and place it on your tray. He takes a few breaths, your muted and yet somehow still overwhelming scent filling his senses.

“New around here bonnie?” He finally gets the courage up to speak. “Names Johnny, but people call me Soap.” He reaches a hand out.

You take it hesitantly, and he revels in the softness. He tries not to get distracted by the way his hand almost completely covers your own.

“Y/n.” you respond curtly, releasing his hand and grabbing your tray. “Transferred a week ago.” You don’t wait for his response, making your way over to one of the many tables littered with people chatting. Soap hastily grabs a banana and his tray, taking long strides to catch up with you.

“So uh, how you likin’ it so far?” He flinches at his own stutter. God, he’s out of practice.

You give him a pointed look.

“S’fine.” You sit, hastily picking up your spoon and taking a bite of oatmeal. It doesn’t deter Soap.

He spends the next 30 minutes talking your ear off, receiving the occasional nod or “mhm” from you. You give up very little about yourself, answering shortly and precisely. It drives him mad.

You cut off his rant on the latest recruits, standing abruptly. “It was nice talking with you Lieutenant MacTavish, but I have to get going.”

He watches as you leave, stunned and frankly a little turned on at how easily you brushed him off. Soap was a sucker for a chase.

He faintly realizes that you knew his rank and last name, and has a feeling that you’re a careful and intelligent woman. It only fuels his growing suspicion of your presentation.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

Soap keeps trying after that, despite the gnawing feeling of guilt and greediness. The less you give him, the more enraptured he becomes. With every eye roll and silent stretch you give him, he falls deeper and deeper into the need to make you his.

It only takes a couple months for it all to come to a head. Soap finds you in a hallway late at night, most people tucked away in their quarters. Your scent is slightly off, soured and citrusy. He loves it.

“Where are you stormin’ off to?”

You don’t answer, which is not unusual, but the way you push past him without so much of a glance, is. “Aye, c’mon love, what’s got you so worked up?”

You turn on your heel, almost crashing into Soap. You didn’t hate him, sometimes you even welcomed the company, even though his jokes were shit. Not that you’d let him know you even remotely liked his presence. You stare him down for a second, teeth gritted.

You had just overheard some particularly nasty and sexist comments about you, not the first time- hell not even the fiftieth time. But it never stung less, that people refused to see your experience and rank simply because you had the misfortune of being born a woman. You regret the words almost as soon as you say them.

“Leave me the fuck alone, MacTavish. I’m not interested in your company, and I sure as shit didn’t ask for it. Go bother your pack, and leave me alone.” You spit the word at him, and you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s a reflection of your own loneliness deep down. You can’t stand the shock on his face, so you turn around and sulk to the kitchen to find a sweet treat to placate you.

Soap watches as you leave, and he’s hurt. How can you not see how perfect you’d be for the pack? Granted, he’s the only one that knows, he still has no idea how to broach the topic with his pack. Would they hate him? Call him selfish, wonder why they weren’t enough for him? His fists clench at his sides as your scent completely fades.

Then it clicks. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. He smiles to himself, no longer upset at your blatant rejection. He almost skips back to his room.

He has it all figured out.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

The next morning he flirts with some nurses, brings them donuts from the place off base. While they’re all distracted and giggling amongst each other, he quietly slips into the record room and grabs your files. His heart beats out of his chest at the little checkmark next to “Omega”.

He knew it. He flips through the files quickly, finding a detailed page tracking your heat cycles. You haven’t had a heat in years, seeing a note that says you denied a doctor's request to go into heat at least once every 3 years. He knew that pain, he couldn’t imagine you putting yourself through that. You shouldn't be putting yourself through that. He’ll make sure that you don’t have to anymore.

He flips a few more pages, going back to when you did have your heats. He finds an entry that notes that you had unusually long and painful heats, along with a prescription of sedatives. The next line states that you usually have them every 3 months, February, May, August and sometimes December. He hears his heartbeat in his ears when he realizes his luck of it being the beginning of December. It was meant to be.

He closes the file quietly, closing his eyes in relief. You’d be his, and his pack’s, soon.

That night, while you’re showering in the gym, Soap is breaking into your room. It doesn’t take much effort, he’s in within minutes, stepping into your sacred space. There’s a half assed nest in the corner of your room, your instincts must be strong if you’re still nesting while taking suppressants. He wants to go over and fluff it for you, add his scent covered shirt to the pitiful pile. He shakes his head. He needs to focus on why he’s here.

He rifles through your cabinets, desperately searching. He knows you like long showers, but he’s still on edge. If he gets caught, it’s all over. He tries to be quick without disturbing the placement of your items, but he begins to panic when he can’t find those familiar little pills. He rushes to your bed, looking underneath. He’s about to lose hope when he moves from underneath your bed, cursing when he knocks his head on the frame.

He almost doesn’t hear it. The soft thud of something falling. He looks back under the bed, eyes falling on a tiny box meant for jewelry. He grabs it, slowly opening it and removing the piece of foam on top.

Bingo.

He stares at the tiny pills, the familiar pale blue a contrast against the black of the box. He spills a few in his hand. There were enough for months. You were like he was, handing your health over in exchange for surviving here. His fist closes over pills as he makes his way out of your room. He locks your door behind him, trying not to run to his room. When he makes it there, he’s buzzing with excitement. He goes to his bathroom, opening the toilet lid and fishing the box from his pocket. He doesn’t hesitate in throwing them all into the bowl, and watching as the water swirls when he flushes. The water settles, and your pills are gone.

Omega’s are the most sensitive of the three presentations. Senses more in tune than even the best Alpha. It was in their very biology to be strong in ways Alpha’s were not, to hold a pack together. Your biology would work quickly, work through the artificial hormones you’d been poisoning yourself with in haste. It happened to him, after so long of suppressing his Omega, it came back with a vengeance. You would be no different.

And with Price’s rut- and Ghost’s, coming up soon, they won’t stand a chance against the strong smell of an Omega in heat. He’ll make sure that they find you, that they take care of you.

It was all part of his plan, after all.

#soap x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #141 x reader #poly!141 #tf 141 x reader #abo!141 #alpha!ghost #alpha!price #omega!reader #smut #x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut

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nighttimealone · 2 months ago

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Cw: Nsfw (pt.2 of Dilf Next Door!Ghost)

Simon’s hobby improved to a new level of enjoyment because of you.

He’s at his flat when you open the door with the key he gave you. A simple grey sweatpants hanging low on his waist, faded shirts he owned since the first few years of his service covering his body when you spot him on the couch.

Simon lifts his head from the book as soon as he hears the door creaks open, the black reading glasses still on his face when he lets out a soft grunt to greet you.

“Can give you something to do, princess.” He mutters when you explain that you’re feeling bored, so you come over to see what’s he doing.

He picks up his book again minutes later, now with your trousers toss aside on the floor, panties still on but push aside, allowing his cock to barge in and nestles deeply in your cunt. One of his hand pushing you down to rest your head against his chest, while the other still holding his book, listening to you mewl every time he turns a page and accidentally’ shift his hips, grinding in and out of your now dripping cunny.

“Quit moving, love. Can’t see the words on the book clearly if you keep doing that.” The hand on your rear snaps down to holding your hips against his snuggly, dragging you down onto his cock in a swift move and makes his fat tip nudge against your cervix, making your eyes roll back and creams around his hard dick, walls clenching down tightly and try to milk him, so you can be filled with his white cum again just like last night.

“Can I move? please I want to move, please…” You watery eyes meet his, peppering kisses along his neck in attempt to make him lose control, yet all he does is anchoring your hips with his both hand, the book now lean back against your tits.

“Only few pages left. behave.” He croons, guiding your hips to slowly massage his cock, then unabashedly using your tits as makeshift book stand while he resume reading.

You’re stressed out as your exam day approaches, one hand gripping your hair while another holding the pen, trying to write down again the key points you just went over again, but failed miserably because your exhausted brain can’t operate properly after hours of study.

“Come here.” After probably the 100 times he hears you sigh subconsciously within hours, Simon’s voice pops up, beckoning you to come closer as he lies on your bed.

He’s gonna fuck all those stress out of you, and god, he’s doing such a great job, holding you down and desperately wanting you smother him with your pussy, tongues darts out and lapping at your wet folds, making you scream out his name in pleasure whenever he take your swollen clit in his mouth and gives it a hard suck.

“Use my tongue, sweetheart.” He pats on your thighs—straddling his face and wrapping his head in those soft flesh—encouraging you to ride his face and use it for your own pleasure. Don’t you dare lift your hips from his face before you come, his big palm will immediately lands on your ass cheek and spank you if you do so, before pulling you down so he can lick all the juices from your entrance, groaning contentedly against your pussy at the sweet and intoxicating taste.

“just like that, ride my face, need to feel you come on my tongue.” His praises barely registered as you chase your orgasm, fingers tangled in his hair and head throws back with all those moans—definitely the best music he’ve heard in his entire life—feeling him slurping all the juices eagerly in afraid of losing even a drop when you cry out his name and drench his face with your release.

Little whimpers escape your lips when you move your hips away from Simon’s face, and he reaches up to chase your soaked pussy, pressing a few more kisses—on your cute clit and puffy folds, as if thanking them for drowning him in his best dream.

And when you look down at him, it’s that slight smirk on his face again, the smug expression he has whenever makes you come or even squirt with his tongue only.

“I suppose that’s a way to relieve stress. Now, you still need more ‘stress relief session’, or you gonna go back to read those bloody textbooks?”

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #cod x reader #cod x you #nighttimealone

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casuallyanidiot · 2 months ago

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hi, im going absolutely feral over yandere nerd. part 2, im on my hands and knees here

Thanks lol he's so scummy. I think the thing about him I hate the most is that he like, feels so oddly invincible.

Tw. gross shit, dubcon MDNI

You say things about Yandere nerd, or Marcus (Mark for short if he like had any friends), to anyone who will listen, but it's not like he's actually going to be punished. It's frustrating like, yeah he's a wimpy guy, and yes you could've technically fought him off when his grubby hands started to knead your thighs under the table, but it's not like he's some saint or anything.

It drives you crazy because he seems to get off on the fact that you can't do anything to him, not when he's the industry's next golden boy and the University's next biggest alumni. He's had too much invested in him for any source of authority to care about one whiny student who doesn't have a resume nearly as esteemed. In fact, it's almost like the school has thrown you to him like a chew toy to a dog. Classes that weren't even related to your degree got added to your schedule all because he was in them, and he knows you'll have to rely on him if you don't want your GPA to go down.

Yandere Nerd who cums all over your notes so you can't use them any more. His hot, sticky cum soaks through the pages and gets everything all gross, crusty, and musky smelling. Don't worry though baby, he's got some that he took. You just have to let him into your room and let him get his tongue into that sweet, sweet twitching asshole that you've been denying him from.

He says and does all of this so blatantly that you're genuinely left speechless. You can't do anything other than go along, though.

That's how you end up face down ass up in his bed as he bounces you on his cock, giggling like a maniac as he spanks your ass and has you read out study material aloud to him. You better do your best, baby, it's ten more strikes to your bruised, sore bottom if you get it wrong :)

#my writing #yandere #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere male #x reader #yandere x you #answered asks #yandere nerd

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forhappysake · 11 months ago

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Teach Me

A/N: This is my first smut and it is LONG. Sorry y'all, I love a plot. Also, not totally proofread, xoxo.

Warnings: SMUT, professor!reidxreader, implied age gap, mentions of dementia, loss of virginity, bl0wjob, protected sex, use of nicknames (good girl), sub!reader/dom!spencer if you squint

The fact that you’d managed to get into Dr. Reid’s criminology class was an absolute stroke of luck on your part. You’d stayed up until midnight, eagerly waiting for your round of registration to unlock, and you’d immediately submitted your requests and refreshed the page until you got confirmation. You were elated. You had read so much about the young doctor, only in his mid-30s, who had multiple doctorates and over a decade of FBI experience. You were fully aware that taking his class would elevate your resume, not to mention that he was quite easy on the eyes.

Of course, that last part was just the consensus around campus. He polled “hottest professor” on social media every year since he’d arrived. You stared at his professor profile on the university’s website. The picture was undoubtedly a couple of years old, with brown curls atop his head and a cleanly shaven face. However, you’d heard from lots of the older majors that he’d aged like fine wine. With that in mind, you shut your computer before crawling into bed for the night. This semester can not end fast enough, you thought.

*Seven weeks later*

Returning from Christmas break was never easy, but knowing you were going into Dr. Reid’s class made things that much easier. It was your last class of the day, from 3:00 - 4:15, and you knew you’d soak up every minute of it. Though after surviving two other earlier classes and multiple rounds of icebreakers with your new classmates, you were starting to lose your initial excitement at what Dr. Reid’s course may hold.

You walked into the lecture hall, noting an empty seat about three rows from the front. Claiming the seat as your own, you pulled out your new notebook and a red pen, scribbling the date and course number at the top of your page. You checked your watch: 2:58. You couldn’t help but tap your foot impatiently as your fellow students filtered into the room.

After a few more moments passed, the side door in the lecture hall opened, and Dr. Reid walked out in front of the room. He didn’t look up at the students, whose murmuring had gone silent the moment he entered. Instead, he turned his back to the group as he wrote his name and the course number on the whiteboard.

He turned back around, this time scanning the students in the hall before clearing his throat. “Good afternoon, my name is Dr. Reid. I’ll be your professor for this course.” He paced around for a moment before coming to a stop and leaning himself back onto the desk. He looked a bit different from his faculty picture. His brown hair had grown out, allowing you to see more of his curls. His once clean-shaven face had evolved into stubble, and the rings around his eyes looked a bit darker. However, you couldn’t argue, he had aged well.

“First thing’s first, the university requires that I take roll call for the first three weeks of the course.” You waited for him to fumble around on the computer or take up a piece of paper with all of your names on it. Surprisingly, Dr. Reid began calling out names from memory without picking up a roster. “Riley Anderson?”

“Here,” a light-haired boy in the back of the class said, waving his hand.

The back and forth of Dr. Reid calling names and students replying went on for another minute before he came to your name, “Y/N Y/L/N?”

You raised your hand and offered a small smile, “Here.” He looked up at you and smiled back. As you looked away, you could feel his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued, making quick work of the rest of the roll call before starting the course.

The first day’s lecture was relatively tame. Nothing too gruesome was discussed, and thankfully the young doctor didn’t make you play any more icebreaker games. Upon class dismissal, a large line of students eager to make nice with their new professor lined up at his desk. Though you had hoped to meet the doctor personally, you didn’t want to wait around after being on campus all day. You quickly gathered your books and shoved them in your backpack before walking up the stairs and leaving the lecture hall.

As with all semesters, the work began to pile on quickly as you did your best to keep up. Most of your classes began to blend together. However, Dr. Reid’s class was always your first priority. There was something about him that made you feel the urge to make him proud of your work. Maybe it was the way he’d smile thoughtfully as you asked him questions during the lecture or the time he’d made extra office hours for you when you needed help with a paper. It could have even been the morning you’d bumped into him in the campus coffee shop and he’d paid for your drink. As you pondered this, laying in bed the night before your midterm, you couldn’t help but feel a little silly. He did these things for all his students, right? You did your best to quiet your thoughts before forcing yourself to sleep the night before your exam.

The next morning, you walked through campus with a certain confidence in your step. Though you had never been a great test-taker, you were confident that you were going to do well on Dr. Reid’s midterm. He’d even been so kind as to offer you a study guide, which you had been working through over the last week. You were prepared, but as you approached the lecture hall, you could see that your classmates weren’t feeling so confident.

A young boy sat by the door, frantically scanning his handwritten notes in a last-minute attempt to memorise information. Several others followed suit.

Dr. Reid came around the corner, exams in hand. “Good morning, Y/N,” he said with a bright smile. “Are you ready for the exam?”

“Born ready, Doc,” you joked, following him into the lecture hall and settling into your seat. Dr. Reid passed out the exams. Just as you suspected, you finished without a hitch. You dropped the paper on his desk and he offered you a small smile as you turned and left the lecture hall.

You made your way to the library to study for your fifth and final midterm. You chose your typical spot in the corner of the room, hidden behind a large bookshelf. As you settled into study, you put your headphones in. As you dove into your reading, you became oblivious to the world around you. An hour passed, and it was only when you felt a tap on your shoulder that you were pulled from your work.

You turned to face whoever had tapped you, and you failed to hide your surprise when you were met with the dark eyes of Dr. Reid. “Oh, hey!” you said, trying to be casual as you paused your music and took your headphones off. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down at you from his standing position, offering an awkward shrug. “I’m not sure, really. I guess I just thought I might find you here.”

You furrowed your brow. “Is something wrong? Did I mess up on the exam?”

Dr. Reid shook his head, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Goodness, no. You did wonderful. The grade is already in, actually.” “Oh,” you mumbled, smiling a little at his compliment. ��Well then, what’s up?”

He stumbled around for a second, working up the confidence to utter his next sentence. “I was wondering if you were free tonight.”

Your eyebrows raised and you felt your jaw drop a little. Was this happening? “Uh… f-for what?” you asked, trying not to get your hopes up.

He pulled his hands from his pockets, fiddling with his tie as he shook his head. “Ah, you know, this was silly of me. I should go,” he turned to turn from you, but you reached out and grabbed his hand before he could walk away.

“For what?” you asked again, ignoring his previous comment. You locked eyes with him, trying to read his expression.

He stood up a little straighter, your obvious interest seemingly bolstering his confidence. “I’ve been working on an article for a journal publication here at the university. I was wondering if you’d be willing to look it over for me,” he said. There was silence for a moment before he added, “I will also be cooking a new pasta recipe I found, and I would like it if you would stay for dinner after that.”

You felt a small smile creeping on your face, but you tried to contain your excitement. However, you could tell from the blush growing on his cheeks that he noticed. “I would love to do that, Dr. Reid. If you could send the address to my personal email, I would be more than happy to be there in-” you looked down at your watch, “roughly an hour.”

A smile spread over his face, “Great. I’ll do that right away.” He looked around the library for a moment before he seemed to realize where he was, snapping back to reality. “Right, well, I’d better go straighten up my place a bit. I’ll see you soon, Y/N.” With that, Dr. Reid turned from you and headed for the library door. He glanced back at you once, the blush on his cheeks evident as he walked out onto the quad.

—

After Dr. Reid’s departure from the library, you quickly gathered your things and rushed to the parking lot, making quick work of the drive back to your apartment. You jumped in the shower and rinsed the day off yourself before drying off and standing in front of your closet.

You examined your clothing choices. This wasn’t a date, was it? Maybe you should go with business casual… or should you choose something a bit more scandalous? Scandalous seemed to be the winning choice. If anything, you could lie and tell him you were going out after leaving his place. He wouldn’t think anything of it, right?

You settled on a shorter black dress that had a low-cut top. It exposed the tops of your breasts in a way that wasn’t wildly distasteful but wasn’t too subtle, either. You decided to skip on the underwear for the evening, the idea of being exposed underneath your dress enough to excite you. You’d never been with a man before, and you figured tonight wouldn’t necessarily be any different. You might as well have some secret fun of your own.

Checking your watch, you realized you were running short on time. You dashed back out the door to your car. Checking your phone, you saw he’d emailed you as he promised:

From: Spencer Reid Here’s the address you asked for, along with my apartment number. I look forward to seeing you soon. -S.R.

You couldn’t help but smile as you entered the address into your car’s GPS before taking off. The fifteen-minute drive felt like an hour as you tried not to let yourself get too nervous. You entered the lobby of his apartment building, catching the elevator to the fourth floor.

“Apartment 424,” you mumbled to yourself as you stepped off and walked down the aesthetically lit hallway. The carpeted floor was pristine, and the view from the window at the end of the hallway told you that living in this building was not cheap. You shook the thoughts from your head as you reached the last apartment in the hallway, closest to the window. This is it, you thought, don’t fuck it up.

You knocked twice and stopped to listen for any motion on the inside. You swore you could hear the soft lull of classical music from behind the door, and you suddenly heard footsteps fast approaching. The dark wooden door swung open, unveiling the wild curls of Dr. Reid. “Y/N!” he said, a smile spread wide across his face, “I’m so glad you’re here. Please, come in.” He stepped back from the door, ushering you into the room.

“Thank you, Dr. Reid.” You stepped inside, examining the room around you. It fit his personality wonderfully. The green paint on the walls was accented by large bookshelves and dark furniture. You smiled when you noticed the lack of a television and instead, a record player sat in front of the sofa. “You have a lovely apartment, Dr. Reid,” you whispered, in awe of the way his personality was infused into the design of the place.

He furrowed his brow at you, tucking his large hands into his pants pockets once more. He must be nervous. “I appreciate that. But please, call me Spencer.”

“Spencer,” you said, testing how the name felt in your mouth. “I can do that.” He smiled at you before gesturing to the couch, offering you a place to sit. You followed his lead, sitting on the far end of the couch as he perched in the middle. You felt him watching you closely, so you turned to look at him.

Spencer noticed that you’d caught him staring, so he cleared his throat to diffuse the awkward silence that had fallen over the room. “Here’s that piece I’ve been working on, if you’d still like to look over it.” He leafed through some files on the table before pulling out a thick stack of papers, held together by a large paperclip.

You took the article from him. “Twenty-seven pages front and back? That’s quite the article, Spencer,” you joked, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

He blushed sheepishly. “You don’t have to read it all if you don’t want to. I just thought that-”

You waved your hand, cutting him off. “Of course, I am going to read it all. I’ll get started right away if you want to go work on something else.”

“Actually, I think I’m going to start that recipe I mentioned if you’re still interested in dinner,” he rose from the couch, watching for a sign of your approval.

You looked away from the papers to smile up at him, “Certainly, thank you.”

As he walked away, you continued scanning the papers he had given you. You weren’t sure why he wanted you to review it, you could find no issues. You let out an audible sigh, which Spencer heard from the kitchen.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked.

“Oh, yes! I’m not sure why you wanted me to look over this. It’s flawless,” you said, sounding almost disappointed.

“I would take that as a compliment if you didn’t sound so let down,” he said jokingly, a nervous tinge in his voice.

You shook your head, “I feel that I wasn’t much help.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been a great help on this project. In fact, the questions you asked about the behavior of female abusers in class were what got me thinking about this in the first place.”

A blush spread over your face, “Really?”

He smiled, trying not to make it too obvious that he noticed the blush on your cheeks. “Really. You’re easily my best student. Your drive is unmatched, and your work is some of the best undergraduate writing I have ever seen. You should consider graduate school if you aren’t already.”

I shrugged at his words. “I’m trying not to get ahead of myself. We’ll see where life takes me, I reckon.” Spencer nodded before padding back to the kitchen, checking whatever he had put together in the oven. Almost on cue, a kitchen timer dinged, letting him know creation was complete.

He pulled an oven mitt onto his large hand and pulled the dish out of the oven, setting it carefully on the stovetop before he turned back to you. “If you’d like to come sit at the kitchen table, I’d be happy to serve you.” You did as he requested, picking one of the two seats set at the table. Two glasses of wine were readily poured and thick, black cloth napkins were placed at each chair. You spread the fabric over your lap, noticing the careful vines embroidered along the trim.

“Are these hand-embroidered?” you asked.

Spencer nodded, “My mother used to live with me. She enjoys doing that sort of thing. I came back one day and she’d done these floral patterns around the edges.” He held up his cloth, gently tracing his finger along the vines and flowers.

Despite your evident interest in her handiwork, you couldn’t help but wonder about his mother. “Your mother used to live with you?” you asked. “Where is she now?”

Spencer sighed as he looked down, gently laying his cloth across his lap as you had done moments before. “She stays in a nursing facility where they can give her the attention and care she needs. Between working at the university and consulting on cases for the Bureau, I wasn’t doing enough.” As he looked up at you again, you could hear the implication of his final statement: I wasn’t enough.

You reached for the hand he’d placed back on the table, gently covering it with your own. “I’m sure you did everything you could for her. I’m certain she knows how much you care for her.”

He offered you a sad smile, turning his hand up under yours and gently wrapping his fingers around your hand. “Thank you, Y/N.” Spencer trailed off, seeming to zone out for a minute as his eyes glazed over. You gently pulled your hand away from him, bringing him back to reality.

“Well, uh,” he cleared his throat, rising from the table. “We can’t have dinner without the food, how silly of me.” Spencer gently picked up the dish from the counter, setting it on the table in front of you. You examined the dish of pasta. “May I?” Spencer asked, scooping up a healthy spoonful.

“Sure, thank you,” you picked up your plate, offering it to him. He placed a large helping of food on your plate along with a piece of bread before passing it back to you. You waited for him to serve himself and get reseated before you took a bite. “Oh my god,” you mumbled.

Spencer’s eyes shot up from his plate as he dropped his fork on his placemat. “What’s the matter?”

You shook your head, eyes wide in amazement. “This pasta is incredible. Where did you find this recipe?”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed and he let out a small laugh of relief. “Oh, I got it from a coworker. He’s a true Italian – cooks this sort of thing all the time.”

You lifted the glass of wine he’d set out for you earlier. “Cheers to this mysterious coworker and your ability to replicate authentic Italian cuisine.”

He mirrored your movements, and your glasses gently clinked together. You locked eyes with him as you both took sips of your drinks. Something about the moment was wildly intimate and laced with flirtation.

You forced yourself to look away, examining the cloth on your lap. “So, uh,” you stuttered, “are you looking forward to the end of the semester?”

Spencer took a bite of his pasta, mulling this over for moment. “Well,” he started, “yes and no. How about you?” He looked you over. You wondered if he was trying to profile you based on his careful examination of your body language and facial expressions.

You chose to shrug, “Yes and no.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m not sure. There are some classes I’ll miss. Yours, of course.”

He smiled shyly, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I love your class, but it’s really more than that,” you mumbled, refusing to make eye contact as you fiddled with the hem of your dress.

He quietly rose from the table and approached your side, looking down at you carefully. “Tell me,” he whispered. He leaned down to you, putting a hand under your chin and forcing you to look at him. He placed his large hands on either side of your face, as one of his thumbs gently caressed your cheekbone. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he whispered. His dark eyes scanned your own. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong and we can forget this. We’ll never talk about this again.”

You swallowed nervously. “You’re not reading this wrong,” you answered quietly. You brought one of your hands up to cover one resting on your face.

You rose from your seat and he followed suit. He stood several inches taller than you, adding to the strange power dynamic between the two of you.

He lowered his hands, running them over your shoulders and down your arms until he slipped his hands around your hips, holding you in place in front of him as he looked at you. You could see the way he held himself back from you. He was trying to decide just how far he should go.

You sighed and reached for him. “I’m not made of glass, you know,” you whispered jokingly, hanging your arms loosely from his neck to pull him a bit closer to you. He complied, leaning over you silently as your words hung in the air between you.

“This entire situation is delicate,” he said in a serious tone. “I just don’t want to overstep.”

“Spencer,” you laughed. “I’m standing in your apartment, calling you by your first name. Your hands are wrapped around my hips. I’m hanging off your neck. Don’t you think we’ve already overstepped?”

He considered this for a second, looking around the room. “I suppose. What are you thinking?” he asked genuinely, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“I’m thinking,” you said, pressing your body against his, “that I would love to push some more boundaries with you.”

As much as he tried to deny it, he found himself giving in to you. Spencer closed his eyes, letting the scent of your perfume flood his senses. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” he whispered.

“Tell me,” you pressed a gentle kiss to his neck. He leaned back, allowing you full access.

“Fuck-” he murmured, “I noticed you from the beginning. You…” His words trailed off into a groan as you gently sucked on his neck. He ran a hand down your body, pressing you against him with a large hand on the small of your back. “You’re always so attentive, so eager to learn.”

You hummed in agreement, continuing to trail your lips up and down his neck. “Is there anything else you can teach me?” you whispered dangerously close to his ear.

He pulled away, placing a gentle hand around your waist, guiding you into the hallway of his apartment. “Where are we going?” you asked.

“My bedroom,” he said. His hand tightened around your waist as he reached for the door.

The two of you stumbled inside, unable to keep your hands off each other. You found yourself falling backwards on his bed as he leaned over you, catching your lips in a kiss once again. You ran your hands through his soft curls and thought of all the times you’d berated yourself for imagining this exact moment. This couldn’t be happening.

“I’m not going to go easy on you,” he mumbled against your lips. You felt a tinge of anxiety. Was now the time to tell him you really had no idea what you’re doing? He ran his hands up the back of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress and revealing your lack of underwear to him. “No underwear?” he asked, smile evident on his lips as he leaned over you, leaving your back pressing against his clothed chest.

You blushed, trying not to let on that you’d secretly been praying for this to happen all evening. Of course, Spencer already knew that. You were putty in his hands.

He lifted himself off of you, and you rolled over to face him as he stood over you. “Stand up,” he said. You did as you were told, rising in front of him. You stayed still as he circled you a moment, almost as if you were some kind of prey. Spencer found the zipper to your dress. He rested his hand on it for a moment, leaning forward to offer you a soft kiss on the cheek. You took it as his way of asking for your consent, so you nodded, to which he immediately began unzipping the back of your dress.

The black material fell from your shoulders and soon laid limply at your feet. Spencer let out a quiet moan as he turned you around to face him. You were completely bare before him. “My god, Y/N,” he mumbled.

His lips attacked yours as he pushed you back on to the bed, your dress forgotten on the floor as his hands explored your body. He placed both his hands around your breasts, squeezing them gently as he began kissing down your neck. Spencer’s descent down your body continued with the utmost purpose, as you saw him lowering himself off the bed and down on to his knees in front of you.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked nervously.

Spencer looked up from your body to meet your eyes. “I want to taste you,” he said, matter of factly.

As hot as the statement was, you couldn’t overcome the insecurity and anxiety that had seeped into your mind. In one flash, the confession fell from your lips. “I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

Spencer stopped immediately, completely removing his gaze from your naked figure to focus on your face. He rose from his knees and sat himself on the edge of his bed. “You’ve never had sex before?” Spencer asked gently, looking you in the eyes the entire time.

You nodded, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable in front of him. “I probably should have disclosed that sooner. I’m sorry, I know it’s a major turn off,” you started to sit up, reaching for your dress on the floor. As you did, Spencer grabbed your wrist, forcing you to stop and look at him.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he said.

You furrowed your brow at him. “Really?”

He cupped your face with his hands, gently tracing the edge of your jaw with his thumbs. “I know our situation isn’t the most conventional, but if you let me, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

You bit your lip in anticipation. “Okay,” you nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I want you to lay back for me, and I’ll make you feel good.”

You couldn’t help but trust him as you laid back on to the bed. He dropped to his knees once more, running his hands over your thighs before pulling them apart, exposing you to him. Spencer lunged forward, licking an experimental stripe up your slit to gauge your reaction. You’d never felt anything like it before, and you couldn’t help but moan as he continued his movements, focusing his attention on your clit.

“Spencer,” you groaned. Your hand found its way to his mess of curls, tugging sharply. He moaned into your center, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge. “I-I’m close,” you whined, continuing to hold the back of his head.

You heard him speak from between your legs, “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.” Spencer dove back into your core, wrapping his lips around your clit.

A sudden intrusion caused your legs to jerk, and you realized he’d inserted a finger into you. The mixture of the wonderful pressure he was placing on your bundle of nerves and the new sensation of his finger thrusting inside you sent you over the edge. You came hard, loosing your grip on the back of his head as you did.

Spencer remained on his knees, lapping up what he could of you release before he rose to meet you on the bed. “You’re such a good girl,” he said, placing a soft kiss on your forehead as he laid next to you.

You hummed in satisfaction, forcing yourself to open your eyes. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face. You couldn’t help but notice the sinful amount of clothes that were still on his body. You expressed this by tugging gently on his tie, “Why am I the only one who’s naked?”

Spencer chuckled. “We can fix that,” he said, rising from the bed. He made quick work of his tie, and undid the buttons on his dress shirt as you watched in awe. As Spencer shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, you took in his physique. Though thin and tall, his muscles were pronounced. You noted a few scars scattered about his figure, and wondered if you could get him to tell the stories behind them. His voice brought you out of your thoughts. “You’re staring,” he said as he slowly undid his belt.

You shrugged from your position on the bed, “I like what I see.”

He let out a quiet laugh as he discarded his belt on the floor next to the bed, the hard leather hitting the floor with a loud thunk. Spencer peeled his pants off his legs, neatly folding them and setting them on a dresser next to the door. You couldn’t help but notice the large tent in his boxers, and found yourself wondering what exactly he was hiding under there.

Before you could stop yourself, you slid off the bed and stood in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at you, indicating his confusion as you dropped to your knees in front of him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he said with a tinge of humor in his voice.

“Returning the favor,” you said shyly, not wanting to meet his gaze.

A large hand came to rest gently on your head as he ran his fingers through your hair, “You don’t have to do this, you know. This is about you.”

You shook your head, finally mustering up the courage to look up at him. “I want to. I want you to teach me,” you whispered.

That statement was enough to bring an end to his objections. Spencer smiled down at you with a sigh, “Pretty girl. Go ahead.” You smiled happily at the compliment and the permission to continue. You placed a few simple kissed above the hem of his boxers before locking your fingers under the seam and pulling them down completely. Spencer assisted by stepping out of his boxers, and he stood completely bare in front of you. You stared at his figure once more, eyes wide at the sight of him. His length was intimidating, especially for someone as inexperienced as yourself. You were unsure of how to proceed.

Spencer leant down quietly and took your hand from his thigh, moving it to wrap around the base of his cock. “Now, just move your hand back and forth until you find a rhythm,” he encouraged. Like a student eager to please, you followed his instructions. After a moment he spoke again, “You’re doing so good, pretty girl.”

You weren’t sure if it was your need to praise him or the flash of unadulterated lust you felt at that moment, but you leaned forward and slid the tip of his dick into your mouth. Spencer looked down at you through hooded eyes, the silent act urging you to continue. You opened your throat the best you could, sliding him further into your mouth until you couldn’t anymore. You wrapped your hand around the rest of him and, in time with the bobs of your head, stroked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Y/N,” Spencer groaned from above, placing an encouraging hand on the back of your head. He held your hair tightly. “Relax, baby,” he murmured. You slowed your movements so that he could fuck your throat at his own pace. You could tell he was holding himself back for your sake, and your heart swelled at how gentle he was trying to be during such a filthy act.

You closed your eyes, becoming accustomed to the feeling of him hitting the back of your throat, timing your breaths to the thrust of his hips. Suddenly, you felt the hold on the back of your head let up as Spencer pulled completely out of your mouth. “I’d love to keep doing that,” he said, out of breath, “but there are other places I’d like to finish tonight.”

You blushed at the implication of his words. He reached a hand out to you, helping you stand up from the ground and pulling you into a passionate kiss. Spencer’s tongue entered your mouth as he moaned into the kiss, hands exploring your figure as he pushed you back towards the bed. You let yourself fall, the soft mattress greeting you as Spencer continued kissing you.

He reached a hand down between the two of you, taking a hold of one of your thighs and spreading your legs open for him. Spencer pulled away from the kiss, meeting your eyes. “Do you still want to do this?” he asked.

You nodded. “I want to do this with you, Spencer.”

“You have to be vocal,” he said, continuing to look down at you. “I want you to tell me what you feel and what you need.” You agreed.

He kissed you gently once more before guiding his hand in between your legs, pushing a single finger into your opening. Spencer thrusted the digit in and out of you slowly, allowing you to get used to the feeling. “Do you think you can take another one?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, “Yes.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you, the next intrusion stretching you more than the last. He worked his index and middle fingers in and out of your opening as you moaned under him.

After another minute, he pulled away from you. “You’re doing so good,” Spencer encouraged. He gave himself a couple quick strokes as he reached over to his side table, pulling a condom out of the drawer. He slid the condom over himself and positioned both your legs on either side of his body, lining himself up with your entrance. “Remember, you have to tell me what you’re feeling. Okay?”

He rubbed soothing circles on your thigh with one hand as he gently rubbed his cock up and down your folds, collecting your wetness. You whimpered as Spencer pressed his tip into your entrance, body jerking inadvertantly as he continued to enter you. He peppered your collar with kisses as he continued. There was a small tinge of pain which brought tears to the corner of your eyes, but the pleasure was overriding the minor discomfort you felt. After fully entering you, he paused, allowing you to adjust.

“How does it feel?” he asked. Your eyes, which had been squeezed shut, fluttered open at his voice.

“Spencer-” you stuttered, “m-move. Please.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling himself back and entering you slowly once again.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groaned above you. You couldn’t respond, too focused on the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you to begin to form a reply. “I wish you could see yourself right now,” he whispered, peppering your cheeks with kisses, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You moaned at his praise, and you felt yourself tightening around his cock. “You like it when I tell you how good you’re doing?” Spencer asked, a mischievous smirk rising to his lips. “You’re such a good girl, Y/N. You’re taking me so well,” he punctuated the final two words with sharp thrusts of his hips.

Between the words coming out of his mouth and the consistent movement of his hips, you knew you wouldn’t last long. You moaned, dragging your fingernails down his chest in an attempt to let him know. “Words, baby,” he encouraged.

“I-” you groaned, “I’m gonna cum.”

Spencer nodded, lifting himself up on his right arm to create some distance between you. “Hold on for me, one second.” He snaked a single hand down your torso, reaching your clit. He began drawing tight circles on your clit, causing your legs to shake as you tightened around him. Spencer leaned down to you and pressed his body against yours, “Let go, I’ve got you.”

With his permission, your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks. Your back arched off the bed as you squeezed your eyes shut, Spencer’s name falling off your lips. Driven by the feeling of you constricting around his cock, Spencer drove one final thrust into you, pushing himself in to the hilt.

You felt an unfamiliar sensation as he finished into the condom inside of you, lips parted in a silent groan as he held himself above you, staring deep into your eyes. “Good girl,” he whispered one more time as he collapsed on top of you. You both laid there for a second in a futile attempt to catch your breath. He leaned up, placing a soft kiss on your lips before he pulled out of you, causing you to moan at the sensation. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

You heard him exit his bedroom, and the sound of water running drew your attention to the bathroom. A moment later, Spencer reentered the bedroom. “Come on, baby. Let’s get cleaned up.” It was then you became aware of the amount of sweat coating your body, as well as the wetness coating your inner thighs. You accepted his outstretched hand as he lead you to his bathroom, allowing you to sink into the bathtub before he followed suit. He climbed in behind you, allowing you to lean back against him. “How do you feel?” he asked.

You turned your head to look at him, “I feel great.” You sat in silence for a second, a smile spreading across your face.

“What?” Spencer asked.

You shook your head, covering your face before letting out a small giggle.

Spencer’s smile mirrored your own. “C’mon now, what is it?”

“I guess you did have a lot to teach me, Dr. Reid.” You turned to look at him, eyes meeting for the first time since entering the bathtub.

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, lips dangerously close to your ear. “Believe me, there’s lots for you to learn, if you’re interested.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you asking me on a date, Doc?”

He sighed, leaning back against the bathtub. “Sure am.”

“Maybe next time, we’ll actually make it through dinner and get to dessert,” you said with a laugh.

“I don’t know,” he said, leaning around to look at you. He lowered his voice, “Now that I know what you taste like, you’re my favorite dessert.”

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benevolentbones · 5 months ago

Note

Part two to the clumsy au?

clumsy | spencer reid x reader part 2

part 1 | part 3

warnings: clumsiness (obviously) just fluff

word count: 1.2k

a/n: thank you for your support on part 1! i hope you enjoy<3 maybe i’ll write a part 3!

spencer released his hold on you, making sure you had your footing before the two of you scrambled onto the jet. everyone was seated for takeoff so you quickly plopped yourself down on the couch, spencer taking a seat beside you.

the flight was around three and a half hours give or take, and as the team were already fully briefed, there was no work to be done on the plane. spencer pulled out a book from his to go bag and began scanning the pages.

you took this as an opportunity to get some well needed sleep, you shifted your position on the couch, kicking off your shoes and stretching your legs over spencer’s lap. the hazel eyed man didn’t even flinch, he turned another page in his book before letting his hand rest against your calf.

you cuddled down into the couch, hooking one of the cushions under your arm and within five minutes you were out like a light.

spencer continued flicking through his book, every so often casting his hazel eyes on your sleeping form as you stirred slightly.

you shifted in your sleep, adjusting your position so that now your feet were once where your head was, and your head rested gently against spencer’s lap.

how you managed to do this and not wake up was beyond spencer.

“i need to get a picture of this.” morgan chuckled out, the tall male now standing in front of the couch with his phone in hand.

spencer had migrated his arm to rest on your shoulder, in a protective manner, his book still secure in his other hand.

his eyes met with derek and he gave the older man a sarcastic smile.

“don’t worry pretty boy, i’ll send it to you.” he winked before snapping a photo and shuffling to the other end of the jet.

once the plane landed you began to wake up, rubbing your eyes to escape the sleep, spencer was still at your side and he shot you a small smile, closing his book.

“good morning sleeping beauty, ready to do some work?” you heard derek call out from across the jet, as the team began to assemble their respective belongings before exiting the plane.

your cheeks flushed as you got up, slipping your shoes back on.

“thanks for letting me sleep on you, you’re very comfortable.”

“was no problem.” spencer replied, walking out of the jet.

it was cold. that’s all you could think about as the team worked into the night. everyone had set up in the local police station, running through case files and attempting to put a profile together for the unsub.

hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows furrowing as he scanned page after page. it was nearing one in the morning and he could tell the team was starting to lose focus.

“alright, let’s head to the hotel. we can resume in the morning.” he announced, earning nods from everyone.

the team piled into a car which drove to the nearest hotel, hotch handed out keycards to the rooms and everyone said their goodnights.

you shuffled down the hall, to go bag slung over your shoulder with spencer following beside you.

derek was about ten doors down and emily, hotch and jj were one floor up. and as it turned out, spencer and you were one room apart.

spencer came to a stop outside his door, leaning against the wooden frame as you stumbled with your keycard.

“i’ll see you in the morning, y/n. sleep well.” he mumbled in a hushed tone as to not wake up people in nearby rooms.

“night spence.” you whispered back, finally pushing your door open and walking into your room.

spencer ran a hand through his dark locks, letting out a small sigh before retreating into his room.

you adjusted the bag strap on your shoulder, looking around the room. it was nice, there was a double bed positioned in the centre of the room, the oakwood headboard pressed snug against the wallpaper. there was a small desk to the right which was made of the same wood as the bed frame, and a tv mounted on the wall.

there was another door to your right, which you assumed to be the bathroom.

“mm a shower would be great right now.” you mumbled to yourself, walking into the bathroom. you switched the light on, dropping your to go bag at your feet and turned on the shower to let the water heat up.

spencer had collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. in all honesty, he missed you. he enjoyed being around you, he liked that you felt comfortable enough around him to sleep on him during the flight. and in the last few weeks of knowing you, he had fallen for you.

he shook the thoughts of you from his mind, rolling over in his bed attempting to get some sleep. he was just drifting off until rhythmic knocking caught his attention.

spencer sat up, running a hand over his face before ambling over to the door. the door creaked open, revealing no other than you.

you muttered out a small “hi” folding your arms around your torso. you were drenched, head to toe, still in your clothes from earlier. your shirt practically stuck to your skin, droplets of water hung from your face.

“y/n- what happened?” concern lacing spencer’s voice.

“the pipe broke…in the shower.” you paused running a hand through your wet hair. “all the towels and my bag- got wet.” you gave him an awkward smile, rocking back and forth on your feet.

without another word spencer ushered you into his hotel room, you stood in the doorway as you watched him get a fresh towel from the bathroom.

you had never seen him look so, casual, but then again he was wearing his pyjamas. these consisted of a plain black tshirt and grey sweatpants.

“here, you can go into the bathroom and dry off, i’ll give you something to wear.” he mumbled, averting your gaze as he didn’t want to stare too long at how form fitting your clothes became when wet.

“thanks.”

spencer walked over to his bag, digging around for a spare set of anything you could wear. he opted for a rather baggy hoodie and his spare pj pants.

“i’m leaving them by the door, y/n. come out when you’re ready.” he affirmed, going back to sit on his bed.

a few minutes later you emerged from the bathroom, your hair was still a little damp and the hoodie came down to your mid thigh.

“sorry about all of this, i know i’m a bit of a handful.” you let out a shy chuckle, wandering over to spencer’s bed and taking a seat beside the taller man.

“no it’s no problem really… i actually like the hoodie on you.” he gave you a smile which made your face heat up.

“anyway…i don’t mean to be keeping you up so i’ll see you in the morning.” you mumbled out, beginning to stand up.

words flooded out of spencer’s mouth before he could even think.

“why don’t you stay here, with me?” immediately his face flushed a bright shade of pink. “or-like you can go it’s- you don’t have to.”

a small giggle escaped your lips, you placed a hand on spencer’s forearm.

“i’d like that spence.”

taglist: @0108s22m

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction

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hoshifighting · 5 months ago

Text

— Synopsis: Jihoon, a shy guy, really wants to talk to you一the new pretty neighbor一but finds it a difficult mission. To help him out, he send his robot friend, Beep Boop, to make the connection as he watches through his window. Surprisingly, you adored Beep Boop, and his creator, Jihoon. — WC: 3.3k — WARNINGS: Fluff, social anxiety, isolation, potential overthinking, Beep Boop is a great buddy! [Issue Club Serie] — This is part 1 of Shy!Woozi. Check the Part 2

Jihoon stretched out on the bed, hearing the telltale beep of a reversing truck. The driver seemed less than careful, and the sound grated on Jihoon's nerves, pulling him out of his drowsy state. With a sigh, he finally opened the window, curious to see what the commotion was about. His eyes widened in surprise when he noticed the window next door, previously closed for months, was now open. A moving truck was pulling away, leaving behind an air of change.

Jihoon’s mind wandered back to the previous resident, Miss Kim, who used to play the piano beautifully. He remembered the rainy nights when he was alone at home and Ahjussi would bring him kimchi, the warm, spicy smell filling the room. It had been a shame to see Ahjussi move to the countryside.

Curious about the new occupants, Jihoon went about his day, keeping an eye on the movement next door. The cool day felt refreshing, and the sunlight streaming through his window warmed his room. He picked up a poetry book, one he had started but never finished, and sat on his soft bed, losing track of time as he leafed through the pages.

Before he knew it, he was holding the last page of the book. "Yeah, it looks like I'm going to have to read it all again," he murmured to himself. Why were poetry books always so short? He didn't even understand most of what he had read.

But he knew the reason for his distraction. The open window in his room gave a clear view of the house next door. He could see newspapers scattered on the floor, evidence of a fresh start, and a newly painted wall. And then, there was you.

Your hair fell insistently over your face as you painted, your hands methodically rolling the paint onto the wall. Jihoon watched, intrigued. You seemed so focused, so immersed in your task.

Jihoon bit his lip, the internal struggle playing out on his face. Should he say something? Should he offer you help? From his window, you could clearly see or hear him if he did. He wished he had more social skills, the confidence to simply say, 'Hi, if you need help, I'm Jihoon, your new neighbor.' But no, striking up a conversation with someone he had never seen before, especially a girl, felt impossible. What if you thought he was weird? Or worse, what if you thought he was coming on too strong?

Feeling stupid for not being able to start a simple conversation, he sighed. After all, the architecture of the old houses in this neighborhood meant the windows were ridiculously large. You could see practically everything in your neighbor's life if you didn't have good curtains.

Jihoon was pulled out of his self-banter when you turned around, facing his window. He quickly hid himself against the wall, leaving your line of sight. You frowned, confused, then resumed your painting. But in his hasty movement, Jihoon noticed a treasure—his robot, a project he had worked on for college. A big friend that could help him interact with his new neighbor, at least as a conversation starter.

Meanwhile, you were in the kitchen, putting supplies on the counter, when you heard a bell—not your doorbell, but some kind of chime. You frowned and opened your front door, only to be met by a robot with a humanoid shape, dressed in a big pink hoodie. Instead of a head, it had a large tablet displaying cute, animated emotions.

You looked around, unsure if you should talk to this... thing, or if it might explode if you said a word. Tentatively, you spoke, "Hi, big friend... how can I help you?"

The screen on the robot’s head displayed the word 'Welcome' and then a cute basket extended from its torso. Hesitant, you picked it up. As soon as you did, the robot turned around and rolled away on its wheels, heading towards the sidewalk. You stood there, paralyzed in your doorway, clutching the basket and trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"Um, thank you?" you called after it, not knowing if it could hear you.

The basket was filled with cookies一cookies that you can easily find in the market, but the intention is cute一, a small note tucked among them. You opened the note, which read:

"Hi! I'm your neighbor. I hope you enjoy these cookies. Welcome to the neighborhood! - Jihoon"

Jihoon doesn't know how many times he wrote and rewrote this, trying to make it beautiful and presentable for you to read.

You looked back at the robot, now waiting patiently at the sidewalk. Smiling to yourself, you felt a warm sense of welcome.

Back in his room, Jihoon watched anxiously from the window, biting his lip again. This time, though, it was out of nervous anticipation. He saw you reading the note and, after a moment, a smile spread across your face. He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, feeling a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders.

Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.

The house was coming together nicely, and installing a few essentials was a breeze. Some furniture would come with time, but you had to admit, you were struggling to put together this wooden bench for your backyard. The sun was beating down on your skin, and you had already rebuilt the bench a couple of times, each time more frustrating than the last.

Beep beep

You heard the now-familiar sound. Glancing up, you saw the robot again, its tablet head showing a curious expression. You scoffed, feeling almost embarrassed that even the robot was witnessing your struggle with the instruction manual.

Before you could say anything, the screen changed, displaying a tutorial on how to assemble the exact wooden bench. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Wow, this would help a lot. Thanks, buddy," you said, genuinely appreciative. But then you glanced up at the scorching sun. "But the sun is brutal today. I hope you don't overheat or something."

You quickly opened the umbrella and positioned it over the robot, casting a nice shadow. "There you go, some shade for you. Now, let's get this bench sorted out."

Following the tutorial step by step, you began assembling the bench correctly this time. The robot beeped encouragingly, its screen displaying a thumbs-up emoji.

"Okay, piece A connects to piece B, and then this screw goes here..." you muttered to yourself, feeling more confident with each step. "This is actually going pretty well."

The robot beeped again, displaying a smiley face.

"Thanks for the help. I don't know what I'd do without you," you said, wiping some sweat from your forehead. "I guess I should also thank Jihoon, right? He really knows how to make a good first impression."

The robot nodded, or at least it looked like a nod, with the screen displaying an animated head bobbing up and down.

You laughed again, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie with the machine. "Tell Jihoon I said thanks, okay?"

The robot beeped once more, its screen now displaying a "You're Welcome" message before it turned and rolled back towards Jihoon's house.

You wondered who was controlling this super kind robot. Jihoon must have seen you struggling with the bench all morning and sent the robot to help. You chuckled at the thought; he probably wasn't the best with assemblies himself. But it was endearing how you found yourself listening attentively to the robot, even asking if it could replay part of the video. When Jihoon replayed the part, your impressed face was priceless. You couldn't help but laugh at yourself, and Jihoon laughed too, watching from his window.

The umbrella part? That was pure instinct. You just didn't want the poor robot to overheat in the sun. Jihoon found that incredibly thoughtful. He mused that it was something only a woman would think of, a gentle touch he always admired. He wondered if you would do the same for him, considering his pale skin burned easily under the sun, but he brushed the thought aside, not wanting to dwell on it.

Days passed, and you missed your robot friend. After a particularly rough week, you found yourself sitting in your front yard, on your now fully assembled bench, drinking a cola. The night was calm, the neighborhood quiet. Then you saw it—a cute pixeled face approaching.

Beep beep, it sounded.

You couldn't help but smile. Tonight, the robot was dressed in a tiny blazer with a red tie.

You laughed, "Well, don't you look elegant tonight! Any special occasion?"

"I'm curious to know the person behind you, buddy," you continued, "all dressed up and everything."

To your amazement, the robot spoke. With a robotic yet clear voice, it said, "Hello, I am here to keep you company. Jihoon thought you might like that."

Your eyes widened in surprise.

"You can talk!" you exclaimed, still processing the surprise.

“Yes, technology is getting scary, isn’t it?” the robot replied in a robotic voice, but with a hint of playfulness.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re too cute to be scary. I think you need a name.”

The robot made a giggling sound, a funny robotized laugh that made you chuckle.

“How about… Beep Boop?” You suggest.

“Beep Boop,” the robot repeated, its screen showing a happy face. “I like it.”

As you sat on the bench with Beep Boop, you couldn't help but wonder. "So, Beep Boop, why did Jihoon send you to talk to me?"

Beep Boop's screen flashed a thoughtful emoji before responding. "Jihoon thinks you look cool. But... he's weird."

You frowned, tilting your head slightly. "Weird? How so?"

Jihoon, watching through the robot's camera, felt a sense of anxiety.

Beep Boop continued, "He finds it hard to talk to people. Especially girls."

Your expression softened. "Oh, I see. Well, everyone has their quirks. He's kind to send you over, though."

Beep Boop's screen displayed a nodding emoji. "Jihoon says he likes watching you build things. He thought you might need a friend."

You smiled, feeling empathy. "That's really sweet of him. You can tell him he can come over whenever he feels ready. I'm not the type of person who's going to judge."

Jihoon, on the other end, felt a rush of relief.

"Do you think Jihoon likes cola?" you asked.

"Yes, Jihoon likes cola," Beep Boop replied.

You stood up, grabbing a plastic bag from inside and placing a few cans of cola in it. Tying the bag to Beep Boop, you patted the robot's head. "Here, take these to him. Maybe it'll help him feel more comfortable."

"Thank you," Beep Boop said, the screen displaying a happy face.

"You're welcome, Beep Boop. Tell Jihoon I appreciate him sending you over and that he can come by anytime."

As Beep Boop rolled away with the bag of cola, you watched with a smile.

[...]

You affirmed that everything was fine, but a part of you couldn't help but find the whole "Beep Boop" thing slightly funny. But honestly, you found the idea rather adorable. It was intelligent of him to create such a robot—amazing, actually.

Even though you hadn't seen Jihoon face-to-face, you thought he was pretty cool. From the glimpses you'd caught of him through the window, he looked quite handsome. And through Beep Boop, you learned that he liked music, had finished college, and worked remotely, which explained why he rarely left his house.

On the other side, Jihoon had been mentally preparing himself. You had been so kind with Beep Boop, and he couldn't imagine you hurting a mosquito. You were careful with the robot, even hugged it sometimes, and the little pats on its electronic head and the goodies you sent through it—Jihoon appreciated every gesture.

Why should he hide himself any longer?

He saw you arriving home today, your bag slung over your shoulder as you entered your house. He waited for a moment, then saw you in your bedroom after your bath. Breathing deeply, he opened his window.

"Psst!" he called out, trying to get your attention.

You turned towards his window, seeing Jihoon there, ready to talk, for the first time. His skin glowed softly under the moonlight, his blonde hair swaying gently in the breeze. His elbows rested on the windowsill, and you noticed his cheeks were blushing. You smiled and approached your window, leaning on it.

"Jihoon?" you asked, and he nodded shyly.

"Nice to meet you, Jihoon," you said, tilting your head.

Jihoon's feet were shaking anxiously where you couldn't see, but he managed to speak. "I, um, wanted to say hi in person. You've been really nice to Beep Boop and... and me."

You chuckled softly. "It's nice to finally meet the person behind Beep Boop. You're pretty amazing, you know? Creating such a robot."

Jihoon blushed deeper. “I hope Beep Boop wasn’t too weird. I just... I didn’t know how to introduce myself.”

“Beep Boop was great. Very helpful, actually. And pretty entertaining.”

"Thank you. It was a college project, but I'm glad it's been useful. I just wanted to make things a bit easier. And maybe... I thought it would be a way to talk to you.”

You both lapsed into a comfortable silence, just looking at each other. Jihoon started to feel the anxiety creep back in, wondering if he should close the window and hide away again. But then you broke the silence.

“You’re so pretty, Jihoon,” you said softly.

Jihoon’s eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat. “R-really? Thank you. You’re... you’re pretty too.”

You smiled warmly, feeling a flutter in your chest. "You know, you can come over anytime. You don't have to send Beep Boop every time. I promise I don't bite."

Jihoon laughed nervously. "I’ll keep that in mind. And thank you for the cola. It was really thoughtful."

"You're welcome," you said, your smile widening. "It's the least I could do for my new friend."

Jihoon’s heart swelled with warmth. He felt a sense of relief and happiness he hadn't felt in a long time. "I'm glad we're friends."

"Me too," you replied, feeling the same warmth. "Goodnight, Jihoon."

"Goodnight," he said, and as he closed his window, he couldn't stop smiling.

You watched him disappear behind the curtains, and you were happy that he felt comfortable talking with you, even if it was only for a few minutes.

You decided to take things slow, making sure Jihoon never felt pressured. The next day, as you watered your plants in the garden, Beep Boop appeared once again. Seeing an opportunity, you approached the robot with a smile.

"Hey, Beep Boop," you said warmly, "can you tell Jihoon something for me?"

Beep Boop's screen displayed a curious emoji. "Sure, what do you want me to tell him?"

You leaned in a bit closer, knowing Jihoon was likely watching through the camera. "Give him my number," you said, reciting it carefully. "Tell him he can text me anytime."

Beep Boop's screen showed a thumbs-up emoji, and you glanced up at Jihoon's window, giving a thumbs-up yourself. Almost immediately, you felt your phone buzz with a notification. Smiling to yourself, you knew it was Jihoon.

From that point on, you made an effort to bring out the best in Jihoon, genuinely wanting to hear more about him. The idea turned out to be a great success. Jihoon slowly began opening up, and now he would even give you a good morning through the window when you both opened the wooden shutters at the same time.

Of course, it took courage for Jihoon to start with the Beep Boop thing, but your kindness had helped him more than he could ever express. Now, you found yourselves often in each other's company, albeit separated by the window.

Today, you were reading a book while Jihoon wrote letters for his songs. You both leaned on your respective windows, the quiet filled with the sounds of children playing in the street and birds singing. Occasionally, you would steal a glance at each other, sharing brief smiles. The windows were close enough to allow for light conversation without any problem.

"What's your book about today?" Jihoon asked softly, not wanting to break the serene atmosphere.

"It's a collection of poems," you replied, looking up from the pages. "They’re really beautiful, but sometimes I get lost in the metaphors."

Jihoon nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I know what you mean. Sometimes, when I'm writing lyrics, I have to take a step back to make sure they actually make sense."

You chuckled. "I'd love to hear some of your songs someday."

"Maybe one day," Jihoon said, his cheeks reddening a bit. "When I’m ready."

You both fell back into a comfortable silence. The connection you were building felt natural and unforced. Every now and then, your eyes would meet, and it felt like you were communicating more through those glances than words ever could.

After weeks of talking through windows, exchanging messages, and of course, through Beep Boop, it didn't take much time for the inevitable to happen.

You found yourself standing face to face with Jihoon at your door right now. There was no robot this time, just Jihoon nervously holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"Jihoon, you came!" you exclaimed, feeling a rush of happiness to see him standing so close to you.

Jihoon chuckled nervously, handing you the bouquet. "I, uh, brought these for you. I wanted to say thank you for being so patient with me."

You took the bouquet, the sweet scent of flowers filling the air. "Thank you, Jihoon. You didn't have to bring flowers, but I appreciate them." Stepping aside, you gestured for him to come in. "Come on in."

Jihoon hesitated for a moment before stepping into your home, his eyes scanning the interior briefly. "Your place is nice," he commented softly.

"Thanks," you replied, closing the door behind him. "Can I get you something to drink? Maybe some cola?" you added playfully, remembering how you had often sent cola through Beep Boop.

Jihoon chuckled again, a bit more relaxed now. "Sure, cola sounds great."

You led Jihoon to the living room, where you offered him a seat on the comfortable couch. As you fetched two cans of cola from the fridge, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. It was surreal to have Jihoon in your home after all the conversations and moments shared through windows and messages.

Handing him a can of cola, you sat down beside him. "So, what made you finally decide to come over today?" you asked curiously.

Jihoon took a sip of his drink, gathering his thoughts. "I... I wanted to see you face-to-face. It's different, you know? Talking through windows and messages is nice, but... being here with you feels... real."

You smiled warmly at him. "I feel the same way, Jihoon."

He nodded, looking down at his cola can for a moment before meeting your gaze again. "I know I've been a bit... hesitant. But I really enjoy talking to you, and I want to get to know you better."

"I'm glad you came," you said sincerely, reaching out to gently touch his hand. "I've enjoyed getting to know you too, Jihoon."

He smiled shyly, his cheeks turning pink. "Thanks for being patient with me."

"You're worth the wait," you assured him softly.

Jihoon's smile widened, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of confidence in his eyes.

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