#Dr. spencer reid x reader

[jaidens]

smaller acts — zach bryan

pairing [s] : spencer reid x reader

warning [s] : none!

a/n [s] : requests are open! + my red requests for fall are open for another week or so.!

The Keurig coffee machine stutters and practically shakes as it churns coffee from the spout, filling the air with the delicious smelling coffee pods. Spencer is grabbing two mugs from the cabinet, one with a jack-o'-lantern face on it and the other one had a cat in a pumpkin on it.

Recently, you had gone out to the store for Halloween decorations and other things you ‘needed’ which ended up with hundreds of receipts from Spirit Halloween, the local mall, and Target.

He's stirring in the vanilla half-and-half and sugar into the jack-o'-lantern cup, which was rightly decided to be his, and taps the metal spoon against the corner.

“Hey,” You emerge from the door for you and Spencer’s bedroom wearing a pair of his plaid pants and a tank-top. “Are you making coffee?” He turns to look at you and hands you your cup of coffee, with your preferences of milk and sugar in it.

You take a sip and close your eyes, before letting your feet take you to Spencer's warmth. His arms wrap around your lower back and tuck you in his arms. His kisses your forehead before saying, “Do you wanna go to the farmer's market today? Then we can get that coffee place you love.” You nod into his chest and pull away, giving him a peck against his lips.

Spencer pulls away to take another sip of his coffee. “I love the mugs, honey, very halloween-ey.” He compliments you and you laugh, holding your mug up to show it off to him.

“They were on sale! How could I ever skip up these adorable things?” You laugh again and Spencer picks up a book that was sitting on the counter and you follow him to the couch. You both sit down and cuddle up underneath the crocheted blanket.

The apartment wasn't very good at keeping in the warm air, but while underneath a blanket wrapped up in your boyfriend's arms were enough. “And yes, I wanna go to the farmer's market. We still haven't gotten pumpkins.”

Spencer kisses you again and you close your eyes. “I love you. Thank you for making coffee again. I'll do it tomorrow morning.” You're smiling at him, watching him read his new book he had got at the library.

Bzz. Bzz.

“No way they're calling you on your day off.” Spencer moans and picks up his phone, and nods at you when he reads the caller ID. “Well, bye sweetheart. I have to go shower, I'll see you when you get home.” You hug him, kiss his lips, and walk away. Inherently, you're upset about the fact you can't go to the farmers market even after you had already planned it. You were disappointed about the unexpected call, but it could always be another day.

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 12 - nurse

pairing: nurse!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which your nurse husband panics when you're admitted to the emergency department

word count: 1457

warnings: lead up to pregnancy announcement, talk of hospitals and doctors and nurses, not a very accurate hospital environment

spence-tober masterlist

This was just an entirely embarrassing situation for you, you thought as you laid your head back on the gurney pillow. Not only did you manage to faint in front of your coworkers and boss, now you were being seen by your husband’s coworkers and bosses.

Now, you don’t blame your coworkers for calling 911 for an ambulance for you. After all, you did faint and were unresponsive until the parademics arrived. 

And you don’t exactly blame your husband’s coworkers either. They were just following hospital protocol, doing everything in their power to make sure you’re okay.

You just wish that things hadn’t escalated so much because you know its only some time until your worrywart husband finds out you’ve been admitted into the ED, his place of work.

He must be at lunch, you think. His coworkers, the doctors in the ED and his fellow nurses, would have already tattled on you and told him that you’ve been admitted in any other situation, so he must be busy. 

Being in the medical profession, Spencer was a worrywart. What with his big brain and his capacity to store knowledge easily, it was hard for him not to jump to every possible other conclusion for a fever and cough other than a simple cold.

Luckily, you didn’t have the propension of getting sick or injured, so it Spencer didn’t have much to worry about to worry about in that department. 

But that’s what’s going to make this situation a whole lot worse, you think to yourself, sitting up on the edge of the gurney now, legs hanging off the side. After a few assurances to the nurses, most of whom you’ve met before, you were allowed to remain in your own clothes and could forgo the gown. 

Your boss, once you called and explained the situation to him, had allowed you the rest of the day off so all you were waiting for is for your husband to barge in and to be discharged. 

“Where is she?!”

You heard the panicked voice of your husband from across the Emergency Department of the hospital. In the room you’ve been assigned, there are glass doors with some curtains as an option, an option you’ve decided to pass on as you thought it would add not needed worry for your husband.

In three large pounding steps against the linoleum floor, Spencer appeared from the hallway and rounded the corner, barging into the room.

“Oh my god,” Spencer says, finally being able to look at you. You see tears, welling in the corner of his eyes.

You reach out to him, comfortingly, “I’m okay, Spence,” Spencer dashes into your arms, carefully, “This was just all one big misunderstanding.” You try to explain.

Spencer then holds you at arm’s length, doing a once over and searching for any signs of injury on you.

“You fainted?” He asks, his tone frantic and worried.

You nod, running your fingers through his hair. It’s comforting to him and something that Diana used to do when he was a child. “Yes, but I am okay.”

In the doorway of your room, you see Emily, one of the emergency department doctors, standing there with a small tablet used for records and patient information. 

“How could you know that? Have they run tests yet? What did they say? Did you hit your head? Do you remember when you fainted? Did you blackout? Were you drinking enough water? Was it something at work?” Spencer rambles off, asking you everything his mind could be thinking of, to answer for why his wife was in the hospital.

“Reid,” Dr. Prentiss calls out from behind him, getting his attention, “Why don’t you sit down?” She offers, kindly. 

She sends a smile to both you and your husband. 

Even though you’ve never been admitted to the emergency department or the hospital in general, you have met all of your husband’s colleagues. Some of them became closer to you than others. It started as simple as bringing Spencer his forgotten lunch or perhaps take out to share in the hospital cafeteria. Then, once you got to know them, they would invite you along for girl’s night, baby showers, weddings, and birthday parties. 

There was the Chief of Patient Services, David Rossi. Chief of the Emergency Department, Aaron Hotchner. Emergency Department doctors, Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan. Spencer’s fellow nurse, Jennifer Jareau, and the darling ED receptionist, Penelope Garcia.

These people had seen you and Spencer get engaged and then married. Jennifer even helped Spencer pick out your ring! 

And now, they were also here to see your first admittance into the hospital and how much of a worrier, Spencer can be.

Your husband listens to Emily, but also his eyes zone in on the tablet in her hand, “Are those lab results?” He asks. 

With the look in his eye and if you didn’t know any better, you would think Spencer was about to snatch that tablet out of her hand. Not willing to leave anything to chance, you take his hand in yours and squeeze it tightly, giving him a smile.

You laugh at your husband’s expression, “If you had just let me explain, I would’ve told you that they took blood tests to make sure everything was fine. And it is.”

His head whips back towards you, “How would you know that? The blood tests just came back.” Spencer asks, confused.

Dr. Prentiss looks at you with a knowing smile, you two exchange grins. You know it’s driving Spencer insane that he’s the one on the outs. 

“Would you like to tell him?” She asks, a sly grin on her face.

You shake your head and look at Spencer, who’s looking at the pair of you like you’re insane, “Go ahead and show him.”

Emily walks closer to the two of you and offers the tablet to Spencer who greedily takes it. His eyes scan all the data and information, his fingers scrolling quickly as he speed reads the results.

After a few moments, Spencer looks back at you confused. “I don’t understand.” He says.

His tone is getting a little more frustrated and you pity him a little bit. You weren’t planning on telling him like this and now that you were, you didn’t want him to worry himself to death before understanding what is going on.

“Check the hCG levels,” You inform him. Emily stands off to the side, giving you two a more private moment. Out in the lobby of the ED, you can see Jennifer and Penelope peeking in to see what’s happening. Even Derek has passed your room several times more than needed in the past few minutes. 

“The hCG?” Spencer questions for a moment before you can see the wheels and cogs in his brain finally land on the right solution. 

His eyes widen and he looks at your face and then glances down at your stomach, hidden by your blouse. 

“Really?” He whispers softly. You nod and laugh at his shocked expression, laughing even more when he turns his attention back to the tablet and frantically tries to find where your hCG levels would be recorded.

His finger stops scrolling when he finally finds it. Spencer looks at the level indicator and then back at you which is when you finally see the tears in his eyes. The biggest smile on his face breaks out and he looks at you with adoring eyes.

“Oh my god, you’re pregnant?” Spencer finally says, confirming the diagnosis.

You can’t help when tears of happiness start falling down your face as well, “I took two tests yesterday,” You tell him.

His hands come up to hold your face as you continue, “I had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for later today, but I got pretty dizzy at work and fainted and that’s how I ended up here. I had a sneaking suspicion why I fainted though.” 

You both share a laugh. “I swear, I was gonna tell you as soon as the doctor confirmed it.”

“Guilty.” Emily pipes in, her own eyes have some tears hidden in the corners. 

Spencer laughs and kisses your temple, then again at your cheek, nose, and then finally a sweet kiss full of joy and happiness and excitement.

“You’re pregnant.” Spencer repeats softly as he pulls back from the kiss, still his attention is fully on you.

“We’re pregnant.” You correct, soft eyes looking at the love of your life. Spencer nods in agreement and kisses you again.

“Congratulations, you two.” Emily comments before leaving the room. 

Little did you know, she would be one of the first people to tell you that in another hospital room as Spencer held your daughter, nine months later.

a/n: this might not be for people who don't like pregnancy or mention of children. that's why i put in the warnings that it does talk and lead up to the grand announcement of a pregnancy, for anyone who that might be a sensitive subject for.

[pipsuwu]

The Event of the Season- Part 2

A/N: I got sick and was supposed to post this on January 1st, but my body said no, so, this is a bit late, I apologize. Feel free to let me know if you like it or feel free to let me know if you hate it. Happy late New Years! MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT.

Summary: You and Spencer make a deal.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN! Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Foul Language, dirty talk, marking, biting, Spencer attempting to be a switch, Sub!Spencer, Spencer being clingy, this is more vanilla than I expected it to be, overstimulation.

Word Count: 1,863

When you got to your place, with Spencer trailing behind you like a lost puppy, it didn’t take long for you to make yourself feel… well, like you hadn’t had a rough night out to put it lightly… All your worries from earlier? Pretty much gone. You had a conversation with him that filled you with dread? Yes, you did, feelings are scary, but the scary part is over and done with. You change, get undressed and walk into your living room. 

“Hey Spencer,” You say walking up to him, completely naked, it’s not like you’re going to need your clothes. He looks at you before nearly choking on the water he was drinking. 

“Uh, hey,” Spencer doesn’t know where to look. So he decides to awkwardly shift his eyes around looking at the decor in your living room. You waltz up to him, straddling his lap. 

“Can we pick up where we left off?” You ask, tilting your head while looking in his eyes. He nods, looking up at you while biting his lip.

“Use your words, Hun,” You say softly, causing him to whine slightly in response. 

“Can we please?” He begs.

You drape your arms around his neck, leaning down acting like you’re going to kiss him. He eagerly tries to meet you, but you pull away, chuckling when he whines. You give him a kiss on his cheek. Running your fingers through the soft wavy curls of his hair before gripping them to pull his head back. You lick a stripe up his neck causing his breath to hitch. He holds it, not daring to shift, blink or breathe. He’s staring straight up at your ceiling when you start kissing his neck. Spencer groans as he feels you kiss your way down, taking off his clothes on the way. Cardigan gone. Shirt gone. You release your grip on his hair, he lowers his head to watch your descent down his body. You get on your knees, take off his pants, placing a chaste kiss on his inner thigh while looking up at him. He moans at the sight, a whimper escaping the tail end of it. You bite lightly at his thigh, slowly dragging your teeth back before you get back up to straddle him, returning your attention to his neck. You can hear him gripping the cushions on your couch. You smirk against him, before continuing. He moans softly, you can tell he’s holding back. You blow cold air up his neck, to his ear, teasing him. He moves both his hands abruptly to grip your thighs, letting out a shaky moan as he tries to cut off your access to his neck by tilting his head towards his shoulder. 

“P-Please stop teasing me,” He begs. You caress his cheek with your hand before taking a hold of his chin with your index knuckle and your thumb. You tap your thumb on his chin looking from his lips, to his eyes. Your thumb moves up and runs over his bottom lip. 

“Please, Y/N,” he whispers, looking at you with his big puppy eyes. You drag his bottom lip down with your thumb before releasing it, leaning in closer to his face, but stopping an inch from his face. He goes to lean in, but you pull back. You go back and forth until Spencer gets impatient. Spencer moves his hands from your thighs to your ass, sliding them over and gripping your asscheeks. You let out a moan, resting your forehead against his which doesn’t last long as he turns on the couch with you in his arms, and pushes you into the couch. He’s on top of you, his knee wedges its way between your legs. He leans down barely centimetres from your face. He kisses you, its hesitant, but quickly deepens. One of his hands cups the side of your face, his fingers gripping the hair he can reach. His tongue runs over yours. He moans in your mouth, you grip his hair in your hand, pulling on the strands. You weren’t planning on having him dominate you in any capacity, but the fact that he was challenging you was adorable… so he could certainly try. He finally pulled away panting, while his thumb caressed the side of your cheek. 

“Y’know I am always on top, but this is a nice angle to see you at,” You taunt him, the need to push his buttons is abundant. 

“I figured, you have an obsession with being in control-”

“I do, which is why this won’t last long.”

“O-Oh yeah? What if I disagree?” Spencer’s question is accompanied by him moving the hand that was cupping your face down. He slowly allows his hand to stroke over the dips and curves of your body. Leaning down, he kisses your neck. 

“Spencer, there are plenty of games you could beat my ass in, absolutely destroy my self-esteem, and practically murder what little egotism I have left. However, this is the one thing I will always have the upper hand in,” You reply, moaning lightly as his teeth graze your neck, before he raises his head to look at you, his eyes getting darker by the second. 

“Is it because I haven’t fucked as many people as you?” He asks.

“No, Honey, it’s because I am always on top.” You state firmly, before slipping your hand in his underwear, stroking his cock. He gasps before groaning, biting his lip. 

“Y-You make a compelling argument,” He replies, his hand gripping the couch in desperation as he tries to ground himself. You run your thumb over the tip of his cock, and you genuinely think Spencer is going to cry as he lets out a pathetic whine. 

“You want to switch positions now, big boy?” you ask, he looks at you, panting. You know he’s likely going to be stubborn. He leans down, his head making itself at home tucked into your neck. He plants soft kisses on your neck, moaning into your ear at your ministrations in between kisses.

“You’ve given me a challenge,” He says, continuing to kiss and bite at your neck in between sentences. “ and I d-don’t like to lose”

“I know you don’t,” You reply, stroking his head softly, with the hand that isn’t stroking his cock allowing your fingers to run through his hair.

“But I also know that you wouldn’t really like to give up control, unless…” He whispers the tail end of it trailing off and biting your shoulder. You moan softly. 

“I can practically hear the gears turning in your head, pretty boy.”

He reluctantly removes himself from the comfort of your arms and looks at you.  

“If I’m a-assuming incorrectly, you can feel free to let me know. But I am, one day, going to fuck you and be in control. And I want you to be able to let me take that control-” Spencer stops when he feels your hand release his cock and slip your hand out of his underwear. He winces and you continue to run your hands through his hair, tucking some of it out of his face. 

“That would require putting a lot of trust in you,” You say, smiling softly at him.

“I want you to be able to put that trust in me.”

“I want to be able to put that trust in you,” you reply.

“Do we have a deal?” Spencer asks, his eyes never leave yours. 

“Deal.” 

“I love you,” Spencer says, giving you a quick kiss, “Now get on top.”

“I’m sorry, do you give the commands around here?” You ask, gripping his hair, pulling his head back hard. Drawn out moans leaving his lips in response. You get up, still sitting under him, he straddles your lap. 

“I-Is me giving c-commands irritating?” He asks, a smirk appearing on his face as he maintains eye contact with you, “maybe you should shut m-me up.” 

“You want to be punished?” You ask for tightening your grip on his hair.

“Y-Yes please,” He stutters out, begging you. 

“Not gonna happen,” you utter, turning him around and pushing him into the couch. You get up and yank his underwear off him. He gasps, raising his legs. You push them down and straddle him. “Punishments don’t work on whores who want to be “punished”. Punishments only work if they don’t reinforce your bratty behavior. So you’re not going to get spanked, you’re going to get fucked. I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to cum inside me, and that’s going to be all, do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes,” He nods, moaning slightly as you grind your ass into his cock. You reach behind you and sink down on his cock all the way. Spencer’s mouth falls open silently, his breath is heavy. You don’t pause to adjust, you don’t need to, so you raise your hips and sink them down, slamming your ass on his hips roughly. Spencer’s eyes start watering, his dick twitching inside of you. 

“C-can you hold me?” He begs you, you nod.

“Of course I can, baby,” You reply, and he shifts to where he can put his arms around you. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, you continue to fuck him, and he kisses every part of your skin nearest to him, clinging to you. He moans against your skin and you curse to yourself. You can feel yourself getting close, heat pooling in your stomach. You groan, hugging Spencer tighter the closer you get. Spencer’s hands wrap tighter around you and you feel a wetness on your sternum that almost causes you to halt your pace. Almost. You look down briefly. 

“Look at me please,” You say and Spencer looks up at you, a few tears running down his face. 

“I’m sorry, I’m a little s-sensitive,” He apologizes as his cock twitches inside of you. 

“Don’t apologize,” You reply, bringing a hand up to wipe his tears before you return your arm to its original place practically hugging his neck. “Do you need to c-”

“Yes.” He whines, his hands gripping into your back as you fuck him. Spencer stutters out a moan before cumming inside of you. You slow your pace, allowing him to ride out his high before slowing down, rolling your hips a little. He lets go of you, allowing himself to lay down on the couch.

“You didn’t-”

“I didn’t what?” You ask as you start your pace again, he moans, letting his head fall against the couch. His hands grip at your hips as he aids you in pushing you down on his cock over and over again. His hips buck into you as he whines. You clench against him before cumming, and he follows suit, whining as the oversensitivity flows through him. You lay down on top of him, panting as you come down from your high. 

“I love you, Spencer,” You mumble into his skin. 

“I love you too, Y/N,” He replies, sighing. 

“I’ll feel free to put that trust in you when you’re ready.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready,” Spencer says, “Anyways, can we go cuddle?”

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Months of Moving On

Season Two Premiere 

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader (Aaron Hotchner’s Sister)

Words: 3181

Series Masterlist

Summary: The reader tries to convince everyone she’s fine. Spencer and Aaron worry about her when they’re away on cases. All three face demons of their own. 

Notes: AGHHHHH! It's finally here!! I'm so excited for you all to read season two! As always, let me know what you think! (So much happens in season four, so I want to involve more episode plots in this season.)

Warnings: PTSD, anxiety, mentions of alcoholism 

-

You stood over the stone, lights and voices lining your vision and making your focus fuzzy. The letters were blurred. You wiped your eyes. The tears cleared away long enough for you to read. 

Tabitha Cunningham. 

Loving daughter and friend. 

Your hand came away from your face red. 

“You have to let the paramedics check that.” 

When did Spencer get here? His hands were on your arms. 

“Please, Y/N, you’re bleeding a lot and you could have a concussion,” he pleaded. His hands were gently guiding you away from the grave towards the ambulance. “Let them help you.” 

“Reid’s right.” 

Aaron was here too?

You let both of them lead you away, but stopped when you saw her. She laid, mangled and broken in the grass, her clothes soaked with blood from the gunshot wound in her chest. People were putting her in a bag. 

“I…” You swallowed. “I did that.” 

Spencer put himself in your line of sight, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Don’t look over there.” 

“But, Spencer, I did that.” 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he soothed. “You’re in shock.” 

“We’ll take her to the hospital-” Aaron started. 

You shook your head, making it pound even more. “But I’m fine.” You looked at him with tired eyes. “I want to go home.” 

“We’ll take you home,” he said. “After they make sure you’re alright.” 

You twisted your body around, pointing to Sarah. “But what about her? Are they helping her?” 

Spencer looked at Aaron. 

He nodded, wrapping his arm around your shoulders a little tighter. “Yeah. Yeah, they’re helping her.” 

She stood in front of you. You don’t know how she got there or when she moved or how she moved, but Sarah Cunningham stared at you with the hole in her chest you made. 

“You don’t deserve to live.” Blood seeped out of her mouth as she talked. She held up her hand. Suffocating powder sat in her palm. She took an impossible breath and blew. 

“Y/N.” 

Your eyes refocused. Blinking, you stared into glasses framed eyes awaiting your answer. 

“I’m sorry. What was the question?” 

Your therapist shifted in her chair, a sympathetic smile crossing her lips.  “I asked you what you’ve been reading.”

“Oh.” You pulled pieces of memory together to cover up the thoughts your mind couldn't keep away. Like layering puzzles on top of each other. “Spencer’s been reading the Narnia series to me.” The thought was able to bring a small smirk to your face. “He thought something lighthearted would be nice.” 

She chuckled, twiddling her pen between her fingers. “I like the way he thinks.” She made a note of something. You tried to analyze her body language. Was she bored? Did she have somewhere to be? Maybe she was just tired of you. “You’re doing it again,” she said, not even looking up from her notebook. 

“Right,” you sighed. “Sorry.” 

Apparently trying to psychoanalyze your therapist was frowned upon in the profession. 

“How is your brother doing?” 

“Explosion has rocked New York tonight…”

“Federal agents critically injured…” 

“Y/N, something happened.” 

“Y/N.” 

Again, you focused back on the woman before you. “He’s keeping himself busy, as always. I try to tell him to take it easy, but he just tells me the same thing. Siblings, you know?” Your attempt at light-heartedness falls flat. She gave you a pity-laugh anyway. 

“It’s hard when you’re both so protective of each other, isn’t it?” 

You nod silently. The clock on the wall ticks away, matching the beat of your heart. The long hand jolts to the twelve. You hopped out of the chair before she even had the chance to speak. 

“Thanks for the talk,” you said hurriedly. “I’ll see you next week.” 

“I actually wanted to…” She let out a low sigh. “It can wait until next week.” 

You didn’t wait for any more dismissal than that. The hallway stretched out before you, longer and longer, keeping you from the fresh air that you desperately needed. When your feet touched the cement of the parking lot, your chest heaved to take in shallow breaths. 

The car closest to you rumbled to life. A smiling face greeted you behind the steering wheel. Haley waved. 

Your shoulders fell. 

He had to leave again. 

“Hey,” she greeted as you climbed into the passenger seat. “The team got called on a case, but Dr. Reid packed a bag for you, so you don’t have to worry about it.” 

You nodded, your face void of any expression. “Great.” 

Haley started the drive to her house. “I think it’s really great that you’re doing this. Getting help, I mean. After everything you’ve been through…” 

“It was Spencer’s idea.” Even your voice was monotone. You watched as houses passed, the neighborhood having gotten more familiar in the past couple of months. 

Haley sighed. “I know that this isn’t ideal, but I want you to know that it really isn’t any trouble. We’re all just trying to make sure you’re safe.” 

“I didn’t know that meant handing me off like a couple of divorced parents,” you muttered. Her hands tensed around the wheel. The fog in your mind cleared and you processed what you said. “God, I sound like a bratty teenager again.”

She laughed, tension easing. “Oh, I remember.”  

“Haley, I’m sorry.” You put a hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re just trying to help.” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said. As you pulled into the driveway she gave you a sisterly smile. “I’m just worried about you. So is Aaron and I’m sure Dr. Reid is too.” 

“I think ‘worried’ might be an understatement with those two.” You opened your door with a laugh. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

“Right,” Haley scoffed. She put an arm around your shoulders. “Hey, when you can convince the team of profilers doting on you of that, then I might actually believe you.” 

You held up your hands in defeat and went inside. 

-

The plane used to be one of his favorite places to think. The hum of the machinery, the anticipation of the case, the energy of determination from the rest of the team. Now, all he wanted to do was get back home. 

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” Morgan called. “You mind joining us?” 

Reid tore his gaze from the window and gave the team a tight-lipped smile. “Sorry.” 

He tried to keep his mind focused as the team shared their possible theories about the case, but every thought kept leading back to you. He hated leaving like this, dropping you off at therapy and then disappearing for days at a time. Especially when you were still pretending like everything was fine. You used to open up to him, used to tell him everything, but now you kept everything caged up inside. 

And he was afraid of what it’ll do to you when it finally breaks out. 

Every minute he wasn’t with you, he worried it would be when you needed him most. 

“He’s tactical with every kill which means he’s probably choosing his victims away from his neighborhood,” Reid said. “We’re most likely looking for someone living in the middle to higher-class districts of the city.” He seemed almost robotic, just taking in information and spitting it back out. 

“Reid, you work on the geographical profile, Morgan and Prentiss talk to the M.E, JJ see what you can learn about the victim’s families, and Dave, you and I will go to the latest crime scenes,” Hotch instructed. 

Everyone got to work looking into the case. Hotch took a seat across from Reid. 

“Haley called. She picked Y/N up and they’re back at her house,” he said. 

Spencer nodded, returning his eyes to the clouds. “That’s good.” 

Hotch sighed. “Reid, I know this hasn’t been easy for the two of you. Haley says that Y/N has been doing better. She hasn’t slept-walked in weeks, she’s acclimating to her new job, and she seems to like the therapist you recommended.” 

He turned to him, eyes burning with frustration. “What do you think?”

“Reid, I-” Hotch started, taken aback by the younger agent’s intensity. 

“Because no offense to Haley, but I think she is seeing what Y/N wants her to see. Y/N is trying to make herself as little of a problem as possible for everyone else’s convenience, even if it means neglecting her health when she is clearly showing signs of PTSD. She isn’t sleep-walking because she isn’t sleeping, she’s using her work to distract her from thinking about what happened, and I have to drive her to therapy to make sure she actually goes. She has yet to open up to her therapist because she doesn’t trust anyone anymore.Y/N could be getting worse, right now, while I’m on a plane to go help strangers when I can’t even help the person I love!” 

He inhaled sharply, having forgotten to breathe. Reid’s outburst caught the attention of everyone on the plane and he could feel their concerned eyes on him. He shrank back in his seat. 

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he gulped. After a round of worried, sympathetic looks, everyone went back to their work. He lowered his voice. “I just really wanted to be with her this week. Especially because tomorrow would have been Tabby Cunningham’s birthday. Her parents used it in one of the crime scenes and I know that she’ll be thinking about it.” 

Hotch leaned over to him. 

“I’m worried about her too, but I know what happened last time,” he said. Now it was his eyes that picked a spot in the rolling white expanse outside the plane. “If we push her now, she’ll retreat even further and-” He took a deep breath. “Well, you know what she’s struggled with in the past.” 

“But if I could just be there for her…” Spencer’s voice was laced with heartbreaking guilt and terror. “Maybe we’ll be okay.” 

Hotch noted his plural use, but decided not to press further. 

He wished he could tell Reid that everything would be okay, that you were strong, and that you’d dealt with this all before, but truthfully, Aaron was just as scared as he was. His whole being ached to help you, but he knew that if they both left work you would have one more thing you blamed yourself for. 

Still, not doing anything was killing him. 

“Maybe when we get back, you could take some vacation time. The two of you could get away for a weekend,” he suggested. “It won’t solve everything, but some time off might be what you both need right now.” He knew the toll this was taking on the young agent and this idea was for his benefit as it was for yours. 

The corner of Spencer’s lips tugged up just a little. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Did somebody say romantic getaway because I have so many ideas saved on my computer!” Garcia chimed from the laptop on the table. 

“I don’t know, Garcia,” Morgan smirked. “I think there’s a Dr. Loooove buried underneath all that brainiac.” 

“Morgan.” 

“Right. Sorry, Hotch.” 

-

“Why do you get to live?” Sarah screamed. Her face hovered over yours. It morphed, her eyes changing to those of your mother.

“Just go to sleep,” she smiled. Her fingers ran through your hair. “Go to sleep, Y/N.” 

“My baby should have lived!” Sarah’s face appeared again. “It would have been her birthday, you know. She should have lived. My baby deserved to live more than you.” 

The two images fought, morphing and merging until both women were an unrecognizable creature. You had to turn your head away. 

“Y/N… help…” Spencer lay next to you, gasping for air as his body turned against him. His arms and legs jerked and painful, breathless cries clawed out of his throat. 

You reached for him, but your arm painfully spasmed away. Your lungs stopped working. Your body died before your mind, so you couldn’t even cry as Spencer stopped moving. His eyes went cold. 

The woman pinning you disappeared, replaced by blue and red lights filling your vision. You tried to cry, to scream, to do anything. Someone placed a hand on your cheek and turned your head. 

Aaron stared down at you, his face not overcome with sadness or grief, but disappointment. 

“There won’t be a need to investigate,” he said to the team behind him. “She killed him.”

You woke up when you ran out of breath, your throat raw from screaming. You fell forward, the night sky spinning over your head. Dizzy, sweating, and breathless, you gasped against the grass. 

Lights from the houses around you switched on one by one as Haley’s neighbors rushed outside to see what happened. 

“Y/N?” Haley saw your crumpled-up form on the lawn and hurried inside to grab a blanket. “Oh my God.” She wrapped you up and helped you to your feet, pulling you back inside.  

You groaned, your head still turning the backyard into a blender. “What happened?”

Haley sighed. “You had another nightmare.” She sat you down on the couch- and temporary bed- and filled a glass of water. She sat down next to you and helped you lift the drink to your lips. “I thought you weren’t sleepwalking anymore? You seemed fine last night.” 

You shrugged your trembling shoulders. 

“Do you need me to get anything? Should I call Aaron?”

“No, I’ll be okay.” You set the glass on the coffee table, unable to bear the terrified panic in her eyes. “Haley, I’m really sorry. You didn’t sign up for this.” 

“That sounds familiar,” she smiled sadly, putting a hand on your knee. “I just want to make sure you’re-”

“Mommy!” Jack cried from upstairs. 

“One-second honey!” 

You jerked your head to the side. “You should go check on him. I’m sure he’s more than a little freaked out.” 

She gave your leg a squeeze and stood up. “I’ll be right back.” 

As she ran up the stairs, you started packing your things. Your hands were still shaking so stuffing everything into your bag took more effort than it should have. Your nephew’s scared cries fueled your movements, slinging your bag over your shoulder and rushing out the front door. 

How many times could you interrupt their lives? Spencer and Aaron saw things like this every day, but Haley and Jack were just trying to lead normal lives. It was part of the reason Haley left your brother. She just couldn’t do it anymore. Now, you were just dragging her back into the darkness. 

You stepped into the night and breathed out the final sob from your nightmare. 

This wasn’t the first time this has happened, but you would make it the last. 

-

All he wanted was to crawl into bed and bury himself in your arms, but the late hour forced him to wait until morning. Spencer scaled the stairs to the apartment with heavy, exhausted footfalls. Just turning the key took an unbelievable amount of energy. 

The apartment door swung open and he tried to welcome the silence within, but now it just felt lonely. 

Spencer crossed the room and set his bag on his desk, rolling his shoulders back to work out some of the soreness from sleeping on the plane.

“I didn’t think you’d be back tonight.” 

The voice in the quiet had him reaching for his gun. It wasn’t until he whipped around and saw you laying on the couch that he could catch his breath. 

“Sorry,” you giggled. Your feet slowly fell to the floor and you slinked towards him. “I’m just happy to see you.” You lifted yourself up to his lips before he really processed what was going on. 

“Wait. Y/N. Hold on,” he muttered in between kisses. He put his hands on either side of your face and held it in front of him. “God, you’re freezing. What are you doing here? I thought you were at Haley’s.” 

You shrugged. “I walked.” 

He swiftly shed his blazer and wrapped it around you. “What do you mean you walked?” Spence exclaimed. 

“Well, I walked until I could get a cab. And then I walked some more because I felt like it.” There was something about your tone, a disassociated dreaminess that frightened him. 

“Have you… been drinking?” 

Your eyes changed and your bubbly demeanor dissipated. He realized there was probably a softer way to broach the subject, but at this point, sugarcoating wasn’t getting either of you anywhere. 

“No.” You didn’t sound defensive. You sounded scared. “But I thought about it.” 

He didn’t say anything. Spencer just nodded and waited for you to fully step into his arms. You closed your eyes, your cheek against his chest, and sighed. 

“I just want to forget. Even if it’s just a little while, I just want to not think about my mom or Sarah Cunningham or…” your voice cracked. “Or Tabby. I want to be me without being afraid for once.” 

Spence kissed the top of your head. “You want to escape.” 

You looked up at him with a small smile. “Yeah. Something like that.” 

“You know,” his nose rubbed sweetly against yours, “Hotch said I could take some vacation time. Do you think you’d be able to get away?” 

“With everything going on, I think my boss would be relieved. She hasn’t let me go on any interviews because she’s worried I’m not stable enough.” 

His face dropped. “You didn’t tell me that.” 

You just shrugged. “I don’t necessarily blame her. One of the toughest things about dealing with the people we deal with is not letting them get in your head. So when you aren’t in a good headspace, things can get messy.” You blew out a long, heartbreakingly frustrated breath. “I’ve just been doing so well lately. I mean, of course, things aren’t great, but today everything just…” 

“I know.” He kicked himself for nothing being able to be here. You could see and hear the struggling guilt inside of him. 

“Maybe we both need to escape.”  

“Then it’s settled,” he said. “For the first time in probably ever, we are going on vacation.” 

“Sounds perfect,” you smiled, once again standing on your tiptoes so your lips could meet his. His arms tightened around you, deepening the kiss. You pulled away. “I should call Haley. I left in a hurry and she’s probably freaking out.” 

He nodded and you scurried off to the bedroom to grab your phone. 

He hadn’t really thought about it until now, but with the exception of visiting his mom, he’d never taken himself anywhere. And now, the idea of going somewhere with you away from the horrors that both of your lives revolved around sounded heavenly. 

And you felt the same. Being here, going over everything in your head over and over until it seemed it would burst was only making things worse. The burn of old cravings lingered in everything you did. Maybe this trip would be what you needed to finally begin to heal.

-

The In-Betweens series: @amywright; shesoperfectt;  hereforsmutbcicantgetenough;  violetbossler;  hyper-half-blood;  i-bitch-you-bitch; xcastawayherosx; preciousbabypeter; @jori21; @sol-48;  @murdermornings

[carpenoctxrn]

Doctor. Doctor. (Spencer Reid x FemReader)

Chapter 6: The DIstraction

Chapter 5 is here

Join my taglist by clicking here so you dont miss my future works.

Warnings: Horny reader, manipulative reader like they actively try to seduce, mentions of fingering reader, mentions of voyeurism, creepy vibe reader like they are obsessed with Spencer Reid.

P.OV: Y/N

Walking to the group outside I didn’t understand how I should behave. These people are profiler’s. The abrupt actions of before could be justified as first time jitters but now, thirty minutes into the party I couldn’t walk away anymore. I had to face my fear, or rather face my crush.

“Here’s a cocktail made for you by a gentleman whose name I learned is Matt Simmons,” I said as I handed Lisa her drink by coming up in front of her on the couch. Across from me sat Phil and Penelope, the couch against the wall had Luke and Lisa, while Spencer sat on the couch opposite of Luke and Lisa.

“Ohh that's a nice sunset colour,” Lisa said excitedly at the orange and yellow hues of the drink.

“Reminds me of the sunsets I saw as a Lonely ranger,” Luke said with a dramatic seldom look on his face as he looked into the distance.

Penelope just stared at him with a Youre fucking crazy Newbie look, whilst Phil and Reid just laughed at his expression. Lisa however was genuinely interested in what more Luke had to say.

Slowly sipping my Cuba Libre I loved the cold drink against my warm flushed cheeks. I listened to the group chatters between the pairs but soon realised it was conversation amongst themselves. I had only the one human that makes me into a stuttering, blabbering, mess to talk to. Taking a bigger sip of my drink I stood up slowly and sat closer to Spencer. This got his attention and he just looked up at me with a smile.

WHY DOES HE LOOK SO CUTE.

“I’m sorry about what I did before,” I apologised as I began seating.

“I have no idea why you’re apologising,” Spencer's words laced with confusion but his eyes held a warmth and concern that made me look deeper into them.

“You know, inside when I abruptly walked away saying I needed water and I most definitely zoned out, and I just didn’t want a rude behaviour like that to go by unapologetically.” I whispered out my words as my eyes left his and focused on my fingers that were playing with the rim of my half full glass.

“Hey I understand,” His comforting words whispered out his lips as his eyes raked my face, hoping to make eye contact. Giving him the opportunity to have my attention my face looked up with a smile.

“Meeting new people at times, especially friends, is a very anxious moment. You act different because you’re feeling different.” He concluded his words with a small smile on his lips.

Biting my lips a wider grin came on my face as I let a small chuckle pass my lips. Breaking eye contact for a moment I looked back at him.

“Thank you.” I simply said with my head sideways a bit and a genuine smile on my face.

I don't know how to explain it but his words had meaning to it that it's hard not to feel its effect on you. Our eyes still held each other's gaze as his face held a small comforting smile.

And now this is the part when he pulls you in for a kiss and says his stupid little girlfriend isn't his love but it's me and he was dating her to get over me.

I couldn’t help the stifled laughter that came out of my mouth. Covering my mouth with my hand I began to profusely apologise.

“I’m sorry I just remembered a memory from long ago,” I said, giggling at my thoughts and now at the memory.

“Is it a special one?” He asked a bit confused and a tad bit angry at me. Which I could understand. I began laughing like an idiot just at random.  

“You tell me,” I said, laughing a bit. Taking in a deep breathe I steadied my laughter and looked back at him.

“I was 14 years old, in 10th grade and my mom was pregnant. Because of her pregnancy she would get these cravings of certain indian food from specific stores. So this particular day she got a severe craving for Chicken Biryani from the Indian store not too far from us. My father, mother, and my cousin sister who was living with us that year, picked me up from school. Now because of homework, obligations in clubs and home made my sleep schedule become really messed up, so this day I remember being awake till 3am and waking up at 6am to catch the 7am bus. Anyways in my sleep deprived state at the restaurant I made the mistake of drinking soda and since I would skip lunch to talk with my friends I was starving. I became so deliriously giddy like I saw this fork with three spikes and I went crazy. I began - I- oh..” I stopped with the story as my stomach began hurting from remembering that fork and the familiar delirious laughing feeling came back.

“Oh my god I can't, I just can’t.” I said covering my mouth as I continued laughing with tears in my eyes.

“I'm sorry. It's just I remembered how much the fork looked like a trident and I was imagining someone replacing the trident with the fork and how ridiculous it would be,” I said sniffling and wiping tears as I felt myself calming down.

“You don’t have to apologise. By any chance were you diagnosed with iron deficiency?” He asked casually.

“The very next day in fact.” I stated, looking at him with amazement but also just to admire him.

He was speaking about how he concluded that, and I smiled and nodded and added comments but none that I could remember. At this moment I was studying him. His eyebrows would furrow as she would make eye contact when he is stating facts from memory. When his eyes evaded mine his eyebrows would become less furrowed but his forehead would be a bit scrunched as he continued citing facts from memory.

His eyes would hold a glee to them as he shared his knowledge as he purposely tried to keep a normal tone to his voice but the pace he talks is giving away his excitement. And when I would say I read that work from that article or met the scientist behind that article his eyes would widen in surprise. His mouth would form a smile and he would ask me if I liked the scientist, the work, and any question he didn't have an answer to.

I truly couldn't look away from him. He was just so perfect in my eyes. My breath mimicked his as my face couldn’t stop the smile, the laughter, the giggle that would come out of it due to his comments, jab, or him apologising for possibly offending me due to his strong words against a person's theory.

“Hey guys, it’s dinner time.” Jennifer came to announce as she held a bottle of water in her hand. 

I still sat on the couch letting the two other couples pass us slowly. Then I stood up and so did Spencer Reid.

“After you,” He said politely with a small smile. 

I knew I should see him as a friend and I shouldn't do anything that would make things weird between us but the emptied glass of Cuba Libre gave me liquor and sugar courage. As I was walking in front of him I made sure to talk a bit fast for enough distance for me to pull my stunt. Fortunately for me he turned back to grab his phone that fell from his pocket so I quickly had the opportunity to “twist” my ankle. Letting out a small “Oh fuck” before I “limped” to a stool close to me. I placed my “right” leg a bit high on the stool making sure to cover it in order to keep the scene as innocent as possible before my whorish display.

“Y/N are you okay?” Spencer asked as he planted his tall body behind me. Both of his hands unconsciously ghosting my hips.

“Yea- I think I just twisted it a bit. Let me check.” My wavering and “oh so in pain” voice said.

He didn’t say anything but as I began slowly removing the slit of my dress I revealed my thighs and my bare legs to hom. I could hear Spencer take a deep breath in and as I grabbed my thighs in an effort to “massage” away the “pain” he let it out at a wavering pace. My body bent forward a bit more to reach my ankle and as I was reaching for my ankles my upper turned back a bit to look at the sunken eyes of Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Why don’t you go ahead and sit? I’ll be in shortly.” I said with a small smile on my face. I let my fingers knead at my flesh, to leave small marks of my hand behind. I was shamelessly displaying how easily I can be marked and I knew he was shamefully enjoying it. 

“It’s okay, if something goes wrong it’ll be handy to have a doctor near by.” His joking words left his mouth breathlessly. Clearing his throat he came beside me and squatted in a position to get a closer look of my ankles.

“From here I don’t see any visible bruising or anything serious,” I stated my observation as I allowed him to inspect my legs.

“I agree,” He said as his eyes trailed my legs before making contact with mine, “Why don’t you try walking just to make sure.” He said with a firm close lipped smile.

“Good Idea Doctor Reid.” I teased back with a smile that he so dashingly reciprocated.

As I removed my right leg from the stool I planted weight on it. Looking at him I nodded as if to say it doesn’t hurt. Then I took a step with my left leg and sighed. Looking back at the Spencer who now was standing up, his hands in his pocket his eyes focused on what I am assuming is my leg but it could’ve been my back, my ass, my figure to be honest. Knowing I had his attention made my mind spin with confidence that boosted my ego. I felt like I could control his thoughts, his behaviour towards me.

“It’s not hurting,” I said with a sheepish smile to hide my own maleficent thoughts.

Stepping forward with my right leg with confidence, my eyes clouded with ego embarrassingly didn't see the elevated step in front of me. The front of my half of my feet were on the tile but the other half were in the air, in slow motion I felt myself beginning to fall back. My mouth took in a huge gasp of air to subdue the panic that fueled my widened eyes. My body felt cold in that second as I was falling backwards. But a familiar warmth surrounded me.

Spencer had planted half his body behind me. His left hand held on to my clothed left hip. Whilst, his right hands went around my waist and gripped my thighs. His hands held onto the flesh that was exposed. His hands were warm. They felt calloused but soft at the same time. His hands couldn't go around my thighs completely but they did cover half of it effortlessly making me conclude that this man behind me is feeding into my big hand kink. 

“Are you alright Doctor?” He whispered in my left ear, in a low and comforting voice. He placed his face right on my left shoulders as he crouched to come at level with my ears.

I knew I shouldn’t turn my face, I knew that if I did it could be awkward. But I couldn’t help myself. Slowly I turned myself a bit. My eyes lowered on purpose so I could study his face slowly to savour how handsome he is before I look into those deep coffee hued eyes. Those eyes that I stare into right now held so much care in them but their dilated pupil looked so feral. Like a pool of good sex that will make my hips bruised and my throat raspy from shouting out

“I- um- I think so.” I admitted as I let out a breathless giggle to show my surprise at this turnout and to the thought that was running in mind.

The very thoughts that made his hands on my naked thighs much more prominent. I could mentally picture where each one of his fingers are, how long they are, and how thick they are. 

Imagine his fingers, that are so damn close to my freshly shaven and now wet cunt, beginning to rub me through this dresses thin material. 

Imagine him rubbing my sweet swollen clit with his fingers, allowing the shivers of pleasure derived from that one spot travel up my spine. Making me whine, moan, and arch against his figure.

Imagine one of his long fingers sliding over a little bit more of fabric of the dress and a little bit of the fabric of my slutty panties before pushing in his long finger. Making me feel full.

Imagine, my back arched as his finger is curled and set in a pace to make me cum, the only mission they seem to know. 

Imagine staring into his eyes as his hands crept closer and closer to that one spot except….

I didn't have to imagine it was happening right now. And it wasn't creeping closer, it was slipping away. Clearing his throat Spencer removed his fingers from my thighs and hips.

“Excuse me, I have to go call my girlfriend, she said she will be joining us for dinner so I am just going to notify her.” He spoke without looking at me as he was facing down looking at his phone as he texted and walked away from me at the same time.

Damn. Did I take it too far?

Not knowing how to react to this I decided to just go to dinner. The commotion of utensils and people chatting were my guide to this villa of a house. At the table people sat down respective to the name cards that were placed on the huge oak table. A group of three waitering staff was apparently hired and would serve us our dinner. 

“Y/N over here,” Said the sweet voice of Penelope Garcia.

“Hi again,” I said as I took a sit between Penelope and Luke.

“Sorry I switched out our seats, you can have it back anytime you want though,” she said kindly.

“No it’s okay. It’ll give me a chance to judge this one.” I whispered to Penelope as I eyed Luke’s figure behind me.

“Wait so I’m being scrutinised?” Luke said in disbelief as he had heard what I was saying to Penelope.

“Clearly we need to work on respecting others' privacy.” I said with a fake tone of seriousness. 

“Agreed.” Penelope popped her head in and said.

“Second, that.” Added on Matt.

“Oh stay out of it.” Groaned poor Luke at everyone ganging up on him.

A small fit of laughter spread around the table. As everyone basked at the serenity and a sense of comfort in the air. A feeling that was perfect. A feeling that resembled a calm before the storm. Something deep in me clearly said that this sense of comfort is just a distraction from the true reality.

“Hey, where’s Spence?” Asked Jennifer who was seated next to her husband and Matt’s wife. She spoke as she gestured the two empty seats across from me directly.

“We’re right here,” He said as he walked in with a woman in his arms. 

“Hello Everyone.” A quiet but loud enough voice said.

“Maeve!” Exclaimed Emily, Jennifer, Penelope, and Krystall as they basically jumped out of their chairs to go greet the woman.

And there’s the storm.

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR MY WHORES! I LOVE YOU ALL FOR THE LOVE AND SUPPORT AND FOR THE REBLOGGING! And yes in this Maeve doesn't die. We are pretending the bullet missed her because she like yanked her head back and was able to get away from the creepy killer. And to clarify this will not be, I repeat will not be a cheating trope, it's more complicated than that.

Next chapter is here

Taglist: @hopelessromantichopefulthinking @lovemesickly @liidiaaag @kodakmack @strangerintheblur @fairydresses @ohnojessica @ohnojessicaa @savi-0r because savi-02 doesnt exist

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 7 - baker

pairing: baker!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which your husband keeps you nourished while you're pregnant

word count: 1304

warnings: pregnancy, baby talk, food descriptions, fluff

spence-tober masterlist

It was dark. The metal beneath your fingers was cold. Your bare feet touched the concrete floor and you were desperate.

Your fingertips were almost there, if you could just stretch a bit further, you would get exactly what you needed. 

“What are you doing, honey?”

A voice rang out behind you. You don’t bother looking to see who it was, there was only one person it could be. Your husband.

The overhead lights of the bakery’s industrial kitchen turned on and illuminated the space around you. Now that you could see, it was indeed much easier to get the prize you coveted.

The rack of almond croissants sitting just nearly too high for you to reach it. Of course, there was a small step stool off to the side of the large double fridge just a few steps away from you, but now in your state, your husband didn’t even like you going off a foot and a half off the ground.

“I want an almond croissant.” You accounce, your face determined and your eyebrows furrowed in frustration and focus.

Spencer chuckles at you and you would to if you could see you now. In your pajamas with no footwear in the kitchen reaching for a baking sheet of pastries just so out of your reach.

You felt his presence right behind you, his arms reaching around your middle and caressing the bump of your stomach. 

You and Spencer are currently 7 months pregnant. More you than him as you were currently growing your baby. 

Your entire pregnancy you had craved the sweets from the bakery. So much so that Spencer would joke that he couldn’t even keep with with your demand of sweets and pastries and desserts. Although both of you knew that he secretly loved it. Being able to make and create something that satisfied your cravings and helping you grow your baby.

In your first trimester, his savory desserts were the only thing you could keep down without throwing up. Spencer got creative with making sure you were getting your greens, proteins, and fibers for the baby’s growth in what he made. 

In your second trimester, you were finally able to eat normal food, but still enjoyed a sweet treat every now and then. And now, nearing into the end of your pregnancy in the third trimester, you were violently craving pastries.

Right now, the current craving was an almond croissant. A craving you were desperately in need and want for.

“Are you going to help me or not?” You ask, pouting slightly. With your belly being quite large now, it was hard to manouver and reach things up high or down low.

A grin grew on your face as you saw your husband’s long arm reach up for the baking sheet and bring it down for you.

“You really should be getting rest, honey.” Spencer says as you greedily grab a croissant, already biting into it as he talks.

“I’m hungry.” You say through a mouthful of pastry. 

“You can eat in the morning.” He tells you. You look at him with betrayal in your eyes. 

“Or not.” He takes back. Spencer plants a kiss at your temple and removes his arms around you, taking a few steps back and opening the fridge.

“What are you doing?” You ask as you watch him move around the kitchen. You’ve just finished your first croissant and debate not eating another before giving in and grabbing another.

Spencer smiles at you and grabs a clean bowl from beneath a metal table and then gestures to the clock on the wall, “I was coming down here to get started for the day.” 

You looked at the clock. It was 5 a.m. and indeed usually when Spencer got up and started making his signatures desserts that are refreshed daily for the front window displays. 

“Well we already have a bun in the oven!” You quip with a large smile on your face. 

Ever since you found out you were pregnant, it was one of your favorite phrases to reiterate since Spencer, your husband, was a baker and owned his own bakery.

Spencer’s bakery was something he had always wanted, even as a child. When he was younger he would bake desserts with his mother, Diana, and when she entered into a care facility for her schizophrenia, Spencer would often visit with baked goods. It always put a smile on her face and Spencer often remarked that it helped with her memory.

When Spencer had finally saved enough money to open his dream bakery, you were selling an old family storefront that you had inherited from your grandparents. He was looking to buy the place and you insisted on meeting everyone interested in the space. That was how you first met and life had happened from there. 

You had started dating and you helped renovate the space into the bakery. 

Then you got engaged and celebrated with the grand opening of the bakery.

Spencer hired his first employee when you were about to get married and go off on your honeymoon.

And now, Spencer was baking for you who were carrying the next generation of Reids. 

“And how many more times are you gonna say that?” Spencer jokes, as he preheats the large industrial ovens.

“Right until I pop.” You answer with some flaky pastry crumbs at the corners of your mouth. 

Spencer sees as you go to reach for another croissant, “If you wait until morning, you can have some fresh ones.” He offers.

You narrow your eyes and debate the pros and cons in your head before retracting your hand. Content with waiting right now.

“What are you making?” You ask, moving to your designated chair in the kitchen, out of the way of everything.

You’ve had some trouble sleeping through the night with your pregnancy and had woken up quite a few times when Spencer was working in the morning. With how common the occurrence had gotten, Spencer had moved a comfy chair in the corner of the room for you to sit and watch and keep him company. 

It was away from the deep freeze so you could say warm, but far enough from the ovens so you didn’t get hot. You weren’t in the way of anything that Spencer might need and were close enough to the swinging door where the main storefront was located in case you needed to help a customer. 

“Some cookies. Key lime cupcakes, double chocolate chip muffins, madelines, and mini apple tarts.” Spencer listed as he moved gracefully, grabbing ingredients and adding them to various mixers. With his eidetic memory, Spencer could easily memorize all of his recipes despite making them only once. It certainly helped speed up the process.

The menu of the bakery changed often, keeping some signature desserts and pastries on the rotation constantly with some other fun creations. They’ve become more fun as you craved different foods throughout your pregnancy.

“Hmm,” You hum, sinking into your chair. The quiet sounds of the mixers, cracking eggs, the sifting of flour, all filled your ears as you kept your husband company, talking every now and then but mostly just watching as he worked.

You hadn’t realized that you had nodded off in the chair until Spencer gently put his hand on your knee, rubbing it to waken you again.

He’s crouched down right in front of you and lightly brushes some hair out from in front of your face. 

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed, sweetheart.” He says to you, gesturing his hands to get you up.

You groggily wipe your eyes and stand up, letting your husband lead you back to the door up to your apartment over the bakery.

“Croissant later?” You mumble. Your husband laughs and nods.

“Croissant later.”

a/n: this one i really like. i tried to keep the details of pregnancy vague enough medically and make it mostly about cravings and such, not as much as descriptors.

[alana-reid-2005]

we all joke about and objectify this man, but do we stop to think how sad his story is? he grew up friendless and ruthlessly bullied for being a literal genius. constantly picked on by his coworkers, and he’s never in on the joke. he’s always being laughed at, never laughed with because no one understands his existentialist humor. he never has plans or places to go on the weekend after work. he goes to work then goes to his lonely home with all his books to keep him company. on occasion, he haunts the chess table at the park or meets with an old professor. no one takes the time to appreciate his weird little quirks. no one took the time to ask him if he was okay after the several traumatic incidents he endured. no one takes care of him because everyone’s too busy leaving. he could be a male model, yet he’s never thought of himself as attractive. when he does find love, he’s brutally stripped of it before he can blink. spencer reid, the lonely genius who learned of love too late and loss too soon.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

How Do You Know It's Worth It?

Season Two Episode Eight

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader (Aaron Hotchner’s Sister)

Words: 4031

Series Masterlist

Summary: While the reader works on returning to the more intense part of her job, Spencer struggles with the break and their current case. Aaron faces a fight of his own. 

Notes: This is another episode where I had planned to have more of the actual episode worked in, but I’m happy with how it turned out this way. It does jump around (surprise surprise) so just be aware of that. And I finally get to introduce the plot of The Reaper, which is such a great one in the show. However, that means we all know what’s coming… (And yes, I am making a Bones crossover. He may or may not make an appearance, along with anyone else from the show. I don’t care if it’s cliche, I’m excited)

-

Five Months Later

The crying shouts echoed down the hall. Tired eyes peered into the dark, a nightmare fading slowly into reality. With a few steps towards the sound, terrified words grew clearer. 

“Take… the… deal.” The voice was broken and desperate. “Take the deal.” 

You turned on a lamp in the living room and found his shaking form on the couch. He was still wearing his work clothes, his tie loosened around his neck. 

“I could have stopped him.” 

“Aaron?” 

His head jerked at the sound, but his eyes remained screwed shut. “Stop hunting me, I’ll stop hunting them. Stop hunting me, I’ll stop hunting them.” 

You let out a low sigh. It wasn’t the first time you’d woken up to those words. 

You knelt beside the couch and put a hand on his arm. “Aaron, wake up.” 

“He escaped… Foyet… hunt…” 

“He isn’t here.” You shook his arm gently. “Aaron, The Reaper isn’t here. You’re home. Wake up.” His shoulders thrashed. You shook harder and raised your voice. “Wake up.” 

He shot up so fast he almost hit you. His arm yanked away from your hand, propelling you backward into the coffee table. Papers scattered to the floor. 

“Foyet,” he breathed, his chest heaving. 

You sat up. “It was just a nightmare, Aaron. You’re home.” 

His dark eyes found yours and you watched him come back to himself. Aaron ran his hand down his face, swinging his legs over the side of the couch to sit. He held out a hand to help you up. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” You brushed yourself off and stood. “I thought we talked about you sleeping out here.” You noted the files spread over the coffee table. All had something to do with George Foyet. Phone records. Witness reports. Anything that could connect to that man. “And working so late.” 

He sighed. “I didn’t realize what time it was and I closed my eyes for a second.” He looked up at you with guilt. “I’m sorry I woke you.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” You gave him a reassuring nod. “Between the two of our nightmare records, we should start keeping count.” He shook his head and, beneath his harried expression, you thought you caught a glimpse of a smile. 

The two of you ended up at the kitchen table with spoons and the secret tub of ice cream he sometimes had to hide from Jack between you. 

“You,” he took another spoonful, “should be getting your rest. You have a big week starting tomorrow.” 

You let the cool dessert dissolve on your tongue. “Dr. Sweets thinks it’ll be a good thing. Getting out from behind a desk and back to real research again could be just what I need.” 

“If I had known he’d be encouraging you to sit across from killers, I might not have recommended him,” Aaron said. 

A few months back, when it was clear the therapist you’d been seeing wasn’t working out, Aaron told you about a psychiatrist at the FBI. He was young, but Aaron had heard really good things about him. And, even though he usually only treated agents, he was more than happy to do the BAU unit chief a favor. 

While you were closed off at first, you’d come to think of Dr. Sweets as almost a friend as much as a therapist. There was something about his youthful excitement that just made you think of someone else you knew. 

“And I wasn’t just talking about work,” Aaron added, taking another scoop of the mint chip. He eyed you from across the table. “Are you sure you’re ready?” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve seen him since…” You cleared your throat. “Since I started staying here.” 

“But it’s the first time you’ve called it a date,” he said. 

He was right. While you’d seen Spencer here and there over the past few months for coffee and check-ins and the occasional awkward lunch, it was the first time you’d let yourself call a meal with him a date. Unpredictable schedule permitting, he was cooking for you at the apartment in a few days. Even just thinking about it almost gave you those butterflies you hadn’t felt since you first started seeing each other. 

You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“Don’t let Reid hear you say that,” Aaron chuckled. Frankly, he was a troubling mix of excited and worried for you. And for Reid. The younger agent had seemed anxious ever since you’d made the plans. But between staying with him and staying with Haley, he could tell the loneliness was starting to take a toll on you. “Just don’t try and rush into something you aren’t ready for.” 

You snorted and raised a brow at his wording. “I think we’re a little past the point for that kind of talk, don’t you think?”

“Y/N,” he groaned. “I have one rule.” 

“Come on, you walked into that one.” 

“Every joke, every comment you make about…” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it, making you laugh even harder. “I can’t ever unhear that!” 

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” 

The two of you looked at each other for a moment before you both burst out laughing, any memory of either of your nightmares pushed to the back of your mind. 

You’d come so far. You had to believe there would be a point where you could start to feel like… well, you again. You only hoped that point was now. 

-

You packed everything into your messenger bag except for the journal on your nightstand- aka, Aaron’s desk. It was a light-colored leather with a silver clasp and a message on the inside cover. You knew it by heart. 

“In the journal I do not just express myself more openly than I could to any person; I create myself.” Susan Sontag. 

I hope you find a way to create a you that’s happy. 

Merry Christmas, Y/N.

Love, Spencer. 

You took it with you everywhere. Dr. Sweets thought it was a good idea for you to write down your feelings. That way, you wouldn’t just keep them inside. You thought it was unnecessary, but since it was a Christmas present from Spencer, you tried it anyway. 

You hated that they were both right. It wasn’t a magical solution, but, to some extent, it helped. Spencer may not have said the words ‘I told you so’ when you told him about it, but you could tell he was struggling not to. It made you smile. Really smile. 

You picked it up from the desk and carried it out with you. Today, you were going to need it. Sonia was letting you dip your toe into interview work again as part of a study on arsonists. You figured she’d tried to pick something as disconnected from your past as possible and fire was the best option. 

Still, it was better than the desk work you’d been stuck with ever since you’d been approved to come back to work after the weeks of rehab Aaron had you go to.

Your brother was gone before you left, but you knew he wouldn’t be there to wish you good luck, having woken up to a text saying he’d been called on a case. You had to pack a bag, since you’d be staying with Haley.

That was something else you were looking forward to with work. It was nice to be trusted again. 

Everything was set when you got to the office. The person you’d be interviewing was in a nearby prison, so you wouldn’t have too far of a drive. Sonia was going with you, but she’d let you be in charge of the interview itself. It was pretty customary to bring a partner and you were glad it’d be her. 

Despite what you’d told your brother, you could barely contain how nervous you were. 

When your phone started to ring, it wasn’t the voice you expected on the other line. 

“Aaron, I already told you I’ll be fine,” you answered with a roll of your eyes. 

There was a slight chuckle. “I’m sure you will be.” 

You stopped in your tracks. “Spencer, hey. Sorry, I figured you were my brother checking in.”

“Yeah, he seems a little more pensive than usual,” he said. You imagined the little turn of the corner of his lips. “I was just calling about this week. Maybe we can plan for whenever we get back from this case?” 

“Sounds good.” You could only hope you didn’t sound as nervous as you felt, but knew he’d be able to tell anyway. He always could. 

A moment of awkward, empty static passed before either of you said anything again. 

“I guess I should probably go,” he said. 

“Me too. Big day.” 

He blew out a breath. “Don’t push yourself too hard, okay? If you start to feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable, I’m sure your boss would let you step back again.” 

“I don’t want to step back,” you sighed. “I want to feel… normal again. Or as normal as either of our lives allow us to be.” He inhaled, preparing his argument, but you cut him off. “I’ll see you when you get back. Be safe, Spence.” 

Spencer closed his eyes and sighed. “Yeah. You too. I’ll see you soon.” He left off the final three words in his mind. Since you broke things off and started staying with your brother, he was terrified of pushing you. As much as he wanted to remind you how much he loved you- even after all this time apart, after everything that happened- he didn’t want to make it too much. So he kept everything to himself, which had been eating at him for months. Still, the words burned on his tongue. 

I love you. 

“Hey,” JJ said, taking him out of his thoughts. “Everything okay?” 

“Y/N’s doing her first interview since she got back,” he explained. “I just wanted to check in on her before she goes.” 

“I don’t know how you guys do it.” JJ shook her head. “Sitting in a locked cell with people who have done such horrible things. Just thinking about it gives me the willies.” She noticed the nervous expression on the younger agent's face and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure Y/N will be fine. She wouldn’t be doing it unless she was ready.” 

He gave her a small smile. “I know.” Her words stayed in his mind as Hotch briefed the team on their new case in South Padre Island. Was Y/N asking him on a date a sign that she was ready to go back to the way things were? 

No. Things would never really go back to what they were before. It didn’t take a genius to realize that, but still. The small sliver of hope wouldn’t go away, no matter how much his logical brain tried to dispel it. 

Reid did his best to shake any thought of you and tried to focus on the case. No matter how hard he tried, your voice was still there, whispering ideas and theories about the murders.  It was going to be a long couple of days. 

-

You couldn’t stop shaking, though the interview had been done for an hour. Your fingers tapped diligently away at your computer, filling out the report for your findings. It wasn’t that the inmate frightened you. Training and years of detaching had prepared you well to face the monsters behind tragedies. 

It was the look in his eyes. 

The same one you saw in the mirror every morning. Just for a glimpse- a blink- but you still caught it. 

You wondered if it would ever go away. 

“You did well today,” Sonia said from your doorway. She gave you a reassuring smile. “Really well.” 

“Thanks.” You paused, thinking. “It means a lot that you’ve let me stay on here, Sonia. After, well, everything that happened.” 

“Are you kidding?” she said. “I don’t think I could afford to lose that brilliant mind of yours.”  She lingered for a moment to brief you on the next set of interviews she had planned for a study on the psychology of hitmen as serial murderers before leaving you alone again. 

You jumped when your phone rang, this time checking the number before you answered. 

“Penelope?” You said. Your heart dropped. “Wait, did something happen? Is everything okay? What happened?” 

“Relax, Wonder Woman,” she teased. “Everything is fine. I just wanted to know how your first day went. Hotch mentioned it was your first time doing the creepy interview thingy and I wanted to see how you were.” Clearly not well, judging by your immediate reaction, but she didn’t say anything about it. 

“Oh,” you blew out a sigh of relief. “It went… well about as well as it could have, given the task.” 

“How you all do that kind of thing, I’ll never understand,” Penelope shuddered. “I will stick to the safety of my screens, thank you.” 

You chuckled. “Fair enough.” Holding the phone between your ear and shoulder, you turned to face your window. The sky was gray and the clouds were heavy with the rain that was supposed to start later that evening. “Listen, Penelope, I know I’m not supposed to ask-”

“They’re okay,” she interrupted and you could hear the smile in her voice. “You could just call him, you know.”

“I don’t like to bother Aaron when he’s on cases. He likes to keep his private life separate-”

Her bubbly tone stops you again. “I wasn’t exactly talking about Hotch.” 

You groan. “Penelope, you know that we-”

“Aren’t together, I know, and you know how much that breaks my heart. Even though I support you in your decision and I’m here for you every step of the way-”

“Penelope,” you laughed, stopping her before she freaked herself out. “Thanks for checking in on me. We’ll get together soon, yeah?” 

She finally takes a breath. “Yeah. Okay. See you then.” She almost sounds disappointed. When she’s done talking to you, it’s back to death and gore. “Lots of love, Garcia out.”  

You laid your phone face down on your desk, trading it for your journal. 

“Think about the progress you’ve made.” You could practically hear Dr. Sweets’ encouragement as you picked up a pen. And you wanted to think about the day in a positive light. A step in the right direction. But the words that flowed from your hand cast a different spell. 

Today I saw the eyes of a killer and thought I saw a reflection of me in them. I know that what I did was in self-defense and I know that I probably saved more than just me… but will I ever stop feeling like this? 

Your phone rang as you dotted the last ‘i.’ 

“Penelope-” You started, having not looked at the number.

“Wrong again.” 

Spencer stood at the window of his hotel room, looking out at the ocean with his phone on speaker and information for the case laid out in front of him. He’d been staring at pages and photos for the past hour, but something one of the witnesses said had stuck with him. It made him think of you. 

“Spence.” You sat up in your chair. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no it’s not that,” he said. 

“You sound upset, what is it?”

“It’s nothing, I swear…” he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

“But you did, so obviously it must be important.” You packed your journal in your bag, putting the phone to your ear as you locked up your office. “Talk to me.” 

He picked up the phone and opened the door to his balcony. The cool evening breeze greeted him, along with the sound of music from the multiple parties going on. He held the phone to his ear and sighed. 

“We talked to one of the workers of the hotel today,” he explained. “He’d found the body and was up on the roof smoking when Morgan and I found him. It’s just… he said something that stuck with me I guess. I don’t know, it made me think of you and-and me and the things we’ve both been through.” 

You inhaled sharply. “What did he say?” 

“He asked if I had seen ‘bad stuff,’” Spencer said. “And then he asked how long before you can close your eyes without it being there.” He held the cell in one hand and gripped the metal railing with the other. “I told him I still don’t know.” 

You closed your eyes, as if to prove a point. 

Sure enough, Sarah stayed like a photograph that hadn’t quite faded in time. 

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” You asked. 

“I don’t know.” Spencer took a deep breath. “I hope so.” 

You didn’t say anything and he just took a moment to listen to the sounds of you leaving your office and getting to your car. Going to Haley’s, he already knew. He wished he could be there to talk to you in person. To see your eyes again and to sit in silence and just hear each other’s breath. 

“Again, sorry for calling,” he said. “I actually don’t know why I did. I don’t know why I felt like I needed to tell you that.”

“You never have to apologize for calling me, Spence.” You closed your car door and waited to start the ignition. “I’ll see you when you get back, okay?” You closed your eyes again, only this time you imagined him instead. His messy hair. His smile. The little crinkle above his nose when he was thinking. “I love you.” 

He held the railing a little tighter. 

“I love you too.” 

“Call me when you get back.”

“I will.” 

“Goodnight, Spence.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.” 

You hung up first but you both held the phones for a little while longer, as if you were holding onto each other’s words. 

-

He’d arrived back after everybody else, but didn’t tell you why. He hadn’t even called you when he returned. Instead, he’d been talking on the phone with Aaron for the past twenty minutes, though what about, you had no idea. 

Whatever happened in South Padre Island had affected him more than anyone else on the team. 

While you waited in Aaron’s office/your bedroom, your brother paced across his room with Reid’s rattling off facts on the other end of the line. From the sounds of it, Adam Jackson wasn’t ‘coming back’ anytime soon. 

“How do you know it’s worth it?” Reid asked. He said it so quickly and so in line with his other words, Hotch almost didn’t catch it. 

“What?” 

“This job,” the younger agent sighed. “How do you know it’s worth it?” 

Hotch stopped in his tracks. 

Spencer, who’d also been pacing for the entirety of their conversation, had stopped as well. He stared blankly at your desk. While you hadn’t used it in months, he’d always tried to make sure to keep it clean, but now there was a thin layer of dust on the surface. He must have been too busy with work to notice. 

He’d been too busy with work to notice a lot of things. 

Hotch sighed, pulling Reid’s thoughts back to their conversation. 

“I don’t think I can answer that for you,” Hotch said. He opened his door slightly, catching a glimpse of you in the other room. “You have to decide that for yourself.” 

Aaron couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he’d made the right decision. 

“Thanks, Hotch,” Reid said. He turned away from the desk, facing the kitchen. “I should go. I have to start dinner.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I can tell Y/N-”

“No, I want to see her,” Reid said, his tone betraying the return of his nerves. “I’ll text her to come over. I just hope I can put something together in time.” 

Hotch wanted to play the protective older brother and tell the younger man that a date was the last thing Reid needed after such a harrowing case. But maybe being with someone other than the team, especially someone as close to him as you, would be better for him. Better for both of you. 

“I’ll let her know.” 

“Thanks.”

“And Reid.”

Spencer gulped. “Yeah?”

“Maybe it’d be okay to just get takeout tonight,” Hotch suggested. “Wouldn’t want you burning down the apartment before she gets there.” 

Reid laughed anxiously. “I’ll figure something out. Bye, Hotch.” 

This time, he was the first to hang up. 

But as he felt the exhaustion make his limbs and eyelids heavy, he picked up his phone again.

And ordered a pizza. 

-

With an empty box and not a word spoken between you, you were starting to wonder if you should leave. Aaron had warned you that Spence had had a rough time on the last case, but there was something else hanging in the silence. 

“How did the interview go?” He asked, finally breaking the agonizing minutes of quiet. 

“I think it went well. Sonia seems to think I’m ready for more, so that’s exciting,” you said. “I’m glad to be away from my desk after the past few weeks.”

“Yeah, you seemed a little stir-crazy,” he smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, you saw a hesitance in his hazel gaze. Setting your crust aside, you put a hand on his arm.

“Spencer, what is it?” Your fingers traced a wrinkle in his sleeve. “What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?” 

“Do you think I should quit the BAU?” He blurted. 

You coughed, wrapping your head around his words to make sure you understood him correctly. 

“What?” 

“I just…” He blew out a breath. “Sometimes it's just hard to see the point. I mean, take this case, for example. We arrested the victim and let the abuser go free. And now, there’s a scared man trapped so far into his own mind because his alternate personality won’t let him out. And you know what Morgan told me? He said ‘You’re going to have to accept the fact that sometimes we can’t save everyone.’” Spencer stood up, running a hand through his hair. “Then what’s the point? If we can’t save Tobias-” 

He stopped, the last name dying on his lips. You said nothing, giving him a moment to process before he continued. 

“Just think about Hotch. Even he was going to transfer, and when he didn’t, the other side of his life fell apart.” Spence shook his head. “I spend so much time trying to save everyone that I-” He took a shaking breath. “That I didn’t know you were the one that needed me the most.” Spencer turned back to you with tearful eyes. “I can’t be yours in this job.” 

“No, Spencer,” you said, shaking your head and standing up to take his face in your hands. “You are everything I need you to be.” Tucking a hair behind his ear, you looked into his eyes with more assurance than you’d felt in a long time. “Your dedication to your job is just one of the things I love. And, believe me, you weren’t the first person in my life I’ve had to share with the BAU.”

The corner of his lips tugged up into a crooked smile. 

You kept going. “You love your work, even though it’s dark and terrifying and messy. You save people. And no, you can’t save everyone, but that doesn’t mean you stop trying.” You leaned closer. “You saved me.” 

He nodded, still holding back tears. 

Eyes still searching his, you closed the space between you and kissed him as if for the first time. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you as close as he could while his lips moved against yours with a sigh of relief in his chest. 

Time slowed. 

You both forgot about the week you’d had and let the relaxing familiarity of each other’s embrace coax your stresses away. 

For the first time in months, you slept in your own bed.

-

The In-Betweens series: @amywright; shesoperfectt;  hereforsmutbcicantgetenough;  violetbossler;  hyper-half-blood;  i-bitch-you-bitch; xcastawayherosx; preciousbabypeter; @jori21; @sol-48;  @murdermornings ; @ staygoldsquatchling02; @ ara-a-bird

[carpenoctxrn]

Doctor. Doctor. (Spencer Reid x FemReader)

Chapter 7: The Storm at the Party

You can find Chapter 6 here

Join my taglist by clicking here so you dont miss my future works.

Warning: Mentions killing, talk of anxiety, cheating parent figure, reader being jealous towards Maeve and like hating her, Reader liking Spencer, mentions of arousal, like conscience being a menace and imploring the reader to tease Spencer.

P.O.V: Y/N

Jealousy. 

A ugly human emotion that contorted the mind through the manipulation of the heart. And right now at this moment, I was succumbing to Jealousy. My heart felt broken and my mind angry. I just looked at the woman being fawned over by others. And what I saw made my stomach sick.

His hands intertwined with her fingers as they talked to each other. It seemed as if everyone was talking to each other while my eyes were trained on the two hands that held each other tightly. My stomach felt sick because of what I was doing not even 5 minutes ago. Trying to seduce a man who is already taken. I am desperate but actively trying to seduce a man into cheating was a feeling of disgust that washed over me. 

I’ve felt this feeling before. Every Time I saw my father with his new wife the feeling would come back. I despised that woman so I refuse to do anything resembling her. The sight of the two hands before me began to blur as tears formed. 

“Hey I’m just going to use the bathroom.” I spoke to Luke and Lisa disrupting their conversation with Matt and his wife who were discussing the best gangster flick of all time.

“Yea it’s right past that doorway.” Lisa spoke, gesturing in a direction that would make me pass by them.

Standing up slowly I kept a normal pace as I walked around the table and towards the doorway to go to the bathroom. I prayed and hoped no one would stop me for an introduction but alas my wishes were left unheard as Krystall said my name. Gesturing me to come to them.

“And Doctors this is Dr. Y/N Monterey,” She said as she comfortingly held my waist with her left arm and her right arm was placed on my right shoulders.

“It's great to meet you,” I said, putting my hands forward to shake.

“ I’m Dr. Maeve Donovan,” she said as she eyed my hands, “I don’t shake hands. It’s a germ thing.” She spoke uncomfortably.

“No wonder you’re so compatible with Dr. Reid,” I said using his words in this sense, “He wouldn’t bite his nails, he’d pick them because he didn’t bring hand sanitizer. I observed it a few times when you were bashing Dr. Tucholsky theory.” I laughed.

He looked confused but it seems as if he brushed it off to continue a sense of normalcy and light hearted notes to my sentences. 

“Anyways, please excuse me I have to use the bathroom,” I said, exempting myself from the group.

I briskly walked towards the bathroom. Opening the door I saw that it was a full bath in a mid-century colour theme. A grand mirror, brown tiles, fake plants and outstanding warm lights were placed. 

I stared at my figure. I looked just as I did when I arrived at the party but something in me changed. I felt different. Flashbacks from my family's past began haunting me. I felt my thoughts spiralling out of my own control as if they had an intention of their own. 

I grasped the cool material of the white basin. My fingers held on tightly as I put my entire weight on my hands to elevate the pressure my feet felt. I couldn’t look up at the mirror right now because I knew I would cry. I knew I would lose my composure. So I didn't bother looking at myself again. 

The buzz of my phone against the tile brought my attention back. 

Doctor: I know you work at the Saint Mother of Mary’s Hospital, drive a dodge hellcat, don’t have official social media handles, but you have an unofficial instagram account which you use to like posts about nature, cars, motorbikes, and quotes from Nikita Gill.

Doctor: oh and also that you have a thing for being tied up.

Y/N: I know my instagram didn’t reflect anything that would showcase I loved being tied.

Doctor: No. But Nikita Gill’s quote does.

Y/N: Gee doctor are you a profiler or something.

Doctor:...What if I was?

My mind felt blank as my heart raced at the possibility of this man being a profiler. It felt like a joke so the chuckle that left my lips were justified.

Y/N: I wouldn’t ask for a date at the bar if we met. 

Y/N: I want hot sex, not a therapy session.

Doctor: So you were going to ask me out to a date if we met in a bar?

Y/N: Yes as long as your version of a date means going back to my place and leaving in the morning before I wake up.

Doctor: Didn’t expect you to be that kind of a girl.

Y/N: No one does.

Doctor: Realistically I can’t find your address. 

Y/N: Are you admitting defeat Doctor?

Doctor: Never. Although I am asking for help.

Y/N: How may I be of service to you?

Doctor: Keep on talking like that gorgeous. It makes me more restless to meet you.

Doctor: What state and city do you live in?

Y/N: Virginia, in between Quantico and Centreville. I hope that help’s Doctor.

Doctor: See you soon gorgeous.

Smiling to myself I felt more like me. I looked into the mirror and I saw me with that familiar prowling look in my eyes. I was ready to go back to the dinner but not to flirt with Spencer, but to prove to myself I am better. I will not let my own inhibitions break my morals and ethics.

A whore with morals. That's comedic.

An eye roll to my thought, my hands opened the door to go back to the party much stronger and better.

I was gone for about ten minutes so I expected everyone to be prepping for food but it seemed that everyone was still talking. The group of people were still there standing and talking. It seemed as if nothing had changed except the topic of conversations.

“Anyways so I changed my approach using your advice and the next thing you know three names popped up on my screen. Seriously Maeve you’re a lifesaver. Literally.” Penelope praised Maeve.

The familiar feeling of jealousy came back as I heard those words when approaching the group to pass by them. 

“Oh hey Y/N, come join us.” Motioned Emily as she handed me a glass of champagne she picked up from the tray near her.

“Who are we celebrating?'' I asked, eyeing the wine in my hand.  

“Maeve and her advice on our missions. She helped us solve cases faster and save more lives than we could ever tell her.” Jennifer added.

“To Maeve!” Penelope said and everyone quietly joined in before sipping, or downing it like a shot in Penelope’s case.

 Maeve just took a sip of her Champagne as she uttered thank you’s.

“So Dr. Y/N is that an MD or PHD?” She asked me politely.

“Both. I got my MD two years ago and that's when I began working at the hospital. I got my PHD in Neurobiology when I was two years in graduate school, so close to eight years ago. What about you?” I asked as I sipped the champagne.

“Oh my focus was and has been genetics. I truly love the complexity and bonds…” Her voice droned out in my ears.

Even Though I was looking at her I could see Spencer behind her. His hands around her waist loosely clung to her red fitted dress. Her red hair was let down and I could Spencer focus on her word. Everything about this situation was making me feel pitiful at my own circumstance.

“...I was so driven that I finished my graduate program by the time I was 24.” She said enthusiastically. Spencer just smiled and praised her.

“I guess that’s why you’re so good at what you do.” He said to her.

“Speaking of geniuses who completed college in their early 20’s, a little knight told me Dr. Y/N had her Neurobiology doctorate at 22 while she was an intern for a surgeon at the local hospital in Sacramento County.” Spoke Penelope as she stumbled a bit.

“Wow, that's young. Spence had two PhDs by that time,” Maeve added in. Her voice was like an annoying chihuahua that was barking at nothing to me.

Be nice Y/N. She is being friendly and you should follow her lead.

I didn’t know what to say so I just smiled and took a sip of my drink as Emily advised us to sit back, which we so graciously did. Seating down Phil and Penelope switched seats since she just had to seat closer to David to tell him a secret. As I sat down I observed that right across from me was none other than Spencer Reid. As he sat down we made eye contact. His soft stubble was more than attracting me to stare whilst his lips were parted open to allow his pink tongue to run over them. Moisturising them. 

I just smiled at him when he returned back to me, allowing my heart to pick up its pace as a small hue of pink began to form. I didn’t want for others to see me blushing at the sight of Spencer so I took another sip of my champagne. 

“I hope you all have space for some pan fried Italian Chicken with potatoes and peppers. And for the delectable Penelope Garcia we have vegan pasta and gnocchi.” David spoke as the servers began placing our dishes and one of them refilled my unintentionally empty glass of empty wine. My plate looked like it was out of a gourmet channel.

“So enjoy and just know I know how good the food is so please be sure to tell me.” David added on as he sat down.

Clinking of utensils were met with groans of praise of how delicious the food was. I sliced a piece of chicken and brought it up to my mouth to taste the chicken. The chicken flavour was enhanced with dried rosemary, dill, and oregano. The taste made my tongue search for more.

“It’s good isn't it.” Phil whispered as he praised the chicken he just ate.

“It’s so good that I want to marry it.” I whispered as I took another bite. My comment making him and I both chuckle.

“I think that’s why the chicken is dead before you could ask.” Phil Jabbed back at me making me gasp and punch his shoulder lightly before he laughed at my reaction.

“So Dr. Y/N, why don’t you tell us about yourself?” David asked as he was eating his chicken, allowing many to silence their words to listen to me.

“Oh- Okay. So I came to Virginia two years ago from Sacramento, California. I didn’t want to leave but I had to. I have a younger brother who is three years old and every birthday he has celebrated here with me in Virginia.” I said very briefly, ending it with a smile.

“Oh you’re willing to spend two months with toddlers?” Asked Krystal Simmons with a joking tone to her question.

“What can I say, the heart is a complex mechanism when it comes to emotions.” I said looking at Krystall who just touched her heart shaped locket as she nodded at my words.

“Well if you’re ever up for babysitting let us know.” Matt adds on which makes him receive a small slap to his pec from his wife.

“I would love to babysit but I am not so sure if my schedule is reliable for it. But I do get weekends off after every two weekends. So this weekend I am free.” I said offering up my availability.

“That’s good to know.” Krystall said, which made her receive a small slap on her shoulder from Matt with a look that said seriously.

The attention on me died down as everyone began eating the delicious dish in front of them. As I was picking up a potato with my fork I felt something hit my legs. Thinking nothing of it I was about to continue with my action only for me to feel something brush past my legs again. Making me stop my actions. I looked up at the person across from me. The only logical deductions as to whom it could be that my legs were being brushed past. Dr. Spencer Reid. 

He just sat there eating his food as his girlfriend conversed with everyone around her. He sat there quietly picking his food as he would smile and nod at times to what his girlfriend was saying. He felt me staring at him and looked up to meet my gaze. I offered a small smile to which he just acknowledged by sending one back to me.

Unfortunately Maeve caught wind of our little interaction and stopped her talking abruptly. Her sudden lack of words made Spencer look up as she just stared at me. Not knowing what to do I offered her the same smile I offered Spencer, just a bit more shorter. She apologised for taking a break and she continued on droning about what she couldn’t keep inside her mouth.

It's not that I hated Maeve. With the limited interactions I had with her today I actually think she would make a great friend or a colleague at least. It’s the jealousy I feel towards her for having someone like Spencer Reid. Maybe this feeling is temporary and will dissipate in a few short days, but for now it was the only prominent feeling that worked its way through my body. 

I hated how Maeve seemed so perfect for Spencer. First of all she is gorgeous with her porcelain skin, amber hair, and seafoam shaded eyes. Secondly, she is so intelligent that I envy her brain. Thirdly she is so insightful that a group of people who have been doing this work for years ask her for input to solve cases, to help save lives. I was jealous of her, and I hated myself even more for feeling such way.

In my thoughts I had finished the food in front of me at the same pace as others around me. The server’s came up and took the plates away before I had the chance to take my plate away. Once everyone’s plate was cleared David stood up from his place at the head of the table and clinked his glass of scotch on the rocks.

“Thank you everyone for coming, and showering me with praises for the wonderful meal I had prepared. I want to propose a toast to the new friends we made today and may our future continue blessing us with wonderful people who bring delicious cupcakes.” David ended the toast as he looked sincerely at me and nodded. A nod I returned back with a smile. 

The time was now close to 9pm and everyone had moved from the dining room to the backyard. Since couples were dancing, others were talking, and some were playing poker. Spencer was talking with Maeve whilst seated on the couch, I on the other hand had decided to just sit and enjoy another Cuba Libre as I took in the different scene before me. I was waiting on Krystal since she said she had an album of her daughter that she wanted to show me. She was so excited that I couldn't refuse if I wanted to.

In a few minutes she was sitting next to me, sipping on her own Margarita as she opened the big brown leather book. It was adorned by pictures of a blonde little girl who was doing various activities with tid bits of pictures of David’s grandson. The pictures surely showed a beautiful family who loved each other despite the years they haven't known each other. 

My eyes caught on a picture with a figure that seemed familiar. It resembled my father. With furrowed eyebrows and confusion lacing my voice I slowly asked Krystal.

“Who is this man?” I questioned softly, genuinely scared at the answer.

“Oh, that’s so weird I don’t remember. David, honey,” Krsytall called over David from the poker game he refused to play but he stood to observe.

“Who’s this?” Krystall asked on behalf of me. 

My eyes were tracing the familiar figure as my ears were intently listening to the next words that would come out of David’s mouth;.

“That’s my good friend from college, Alvin Pricely. He is a successful businessman now but when that Photo was taken his family was going through a stalker problem that came with wealth. His 8 year old daughter was being stalked by a high school boy, Alex Patrivicsky. It was a heartbreaking case, Alex stalked the girl thinking she looked like her baby sister he lost a year ago but he was killed by a group of mercenaries when they kidnapped Pricely’s daughter. She was found alive with minor bruises here and there but she wouldn’t say how she got them. I sometimes wondered what happened there to her?” David said as he stared at the picture.

Throughout the story I felt my eyes clouded with tears. The overwhelming feeling of being trapped washed over my body, paralyzing my limbs. My mine went into a state of blankness to avoid any impulsive actions to occur during this moment. Every Word that David said brought back a memory to the surface that I had drowned through years of therapy and achievements. At the end of his story those therapy sessions and those achievements were not enough to make the memory’s return back to the depths of my mind.

“After they kidnapped her, they put a knife to her throat and said if she screamed or didn’t do what they asked her they would kill her. So the 8 year old was quiet and she didn’t even cry. They took her to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Bakersville where they locked her in a room with a camera in the corner. She was so scared that she stayed exactly where they had pushed into the room. After a few hours a man came in, with a knife. He began to tell her how he loved cutting people but this would be his first time cutting a little girl. The scared girl didn’t know what to do so when the man went eye level to her and placed the knife right by her face, she snatched it and stabbed him in the neck with it. She watched as she cried as the man bled out in front of her until she saw the door to the room was open. When she ran out of the warehouse she would unconsciously trip over that man’s dead body. Hallucinating, he was following her.” I ended my own saga with a sorrowful look.

“Oh it’s you. You’re Pricely’s daughter.” Exclaimed Krystal as she pulled me into a hug, “Oh you brave little soul.” Her praise continued.

“Your father did say you changed your name to your grandma’s maiden name.” David spoke as he took a sip of his drink as he sat on the couch in front of me.

“She used to complain about how the Montgomery name will die with her, so when I turned 18 I changed my name and she made me my first Cuba Libre.” I said with a smile as I looked at David.

“It’s good to know you succeeded in life,” David said as he stood up from his spot on the couch, “How is your father anyways?” He asked me curiously.

“I wish I had an answer to that.” I responded kindly back to him as my true words did nothing to hide my pain.

He just smiled sadly and went back to his Poker game whilst Krystal told me how brave I was to do what I had done at eight years old. She praised me for defending myself and she comforted me. After years of not having the love and blessing of a mother Krystal was a heaven sent to my heart. Krystal slowly stood up and told me she was going to go put this back and finish up some payments with the server’s before she will join me back. I just smiled and nodded at what she said.

My figure was left alone at the party with nothing but my own thoughts and the taste of rum mixed with coke would provide me comfort. That was until my eyes made contact from across the patio with Spencer. He was looking at my figure in a way that was hard to describe. His face held no emotions. His girlfriend seemed to have excused herself to dance with Penelope or rather Penelope excused his girlfriend to dance with her. He stood up slowly and made his way to me.

Every step he took the closer he came to me. With every inch he was closer the faster my heart beated. He had such an influence on my being from just his walking, no wonder his words have such a tantalizing effect on me. We made eye contact as he was walking but I broke away from the gaze to observe the condensing glass of my liquor.

“Are you okay Y/N?” He asked with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed together.

“Maybe.” I said honestly as I looked back into his eyes.

“Is there something I can do?” He asked genuinely concerned.

You could hold me and tell me that everything is alright.

“Maybe you could just talk?” I questioned even though I meant it as a statement.

“Well you’re in luck, cause I love talking,” Added Spencer before he began talking.

I didn’t really pay attention to the topic that he was talking about. I was lost in the sound of his voice that came out as a whisper. His enticing voice had hypnotized my senses into focusing on him and only him. Every word he spoke made my heart swell from knowing it was meant for me. Only me. 

“I feel like we’ve been saying this a lot to each other but I’m sorry for brushing past that memory you told me. About the trident looking fork.” He spoke awkwardly as he brought up the memory in an effort to make me laugh. In which he succeeded.

“We have been apologizing a lot to each other, but I guess that's always the first step into the threshold of friendship.” I added my two cents as I sipped on my half empty drink, enjoying the slight tingle my felt at the cold liquid running down the esophagus. 

“Friends. I never really have friends outside of work. Never wanted or needed them,” he clarified. His words were no less than a bullet to my wounded heart, I felt myself turning red at the embarrassing notion that had just occurred.

Spencer Reid rejected my friendship.

I unintentionally broke our eye contact as I took my drink and downed it all in one gulp.

“I’m gonna go get a refill,” I said as I quickly spoke, not giving him the chance to soften his words for me.

I stood up making my way to the drinks table only to find Phil struggling with a very Drunk Penelope. Maeve was there helping Phil trying to get her to walk to his car apparently from what I gathered from their tone of words.

“Hey Y/N, is it okay if I take Penelope home first then come back to pick you?” Phil asked politely regardless of troubled manner right now.

“It’s okay, I’ll get a uber you just drive safe and get her home safe.” I spoke, coming closer to him in order to  help the three figure out. 

“Are you sure?” He asked with concern, probably hating the idea of me getting in a car with a stranger.

“Yes, I’ll text you when I leave and when I arrive home.” I said softly.

“BUH- Byeee MAeveee and Dr. Y/N’s and Pretty pretty boyy.” Slurred out a very drunk Penelope.

“I can take it from here Maeve,” Said the shy but comforting voice of Spencer Reid.

As the three walked away from us I was left with none other than Maeve. I felt bad for taking away his boyfriend’s attention and felt much like Penelope.

“I’m sorry, I know I’ve been talking with Spencer and that must have gotten in between you two.” I said trying to feign guilt but in reality the only thing I felt was happiness.

“Oh no it’s okay, the move has been making it hard for us to talk without making a storm of the smallest of issues, so a little bit of distance is nice.” She said as she sipped a pink drink in her hand that looked like lemonade. 

“Sorry to hear that,” I said, “so are you guys moving to a house somewhere?” I asked quietly with a heavy heart.

I didn’t know the answer but I did know that I hated the idea of not having Spencer as my neighbor. Yes he technically didn't accept my friendship but like I said. I have friends. What I want is mind numbingly good sex.

“His apartment. It’s closer to my work, his work, so before we make a permanent purchase we decided to pursue a trial of living together.” She explained.

I didn’t know what to feel except that maybe I wouldn’t have minded him living away from the apartment. Because now there is a chance that I will be running into him as his hands are laced with hers when I come back from work. Or I will see them exchanging spit as I am sweaty from a workout. Each image of them living a domestic life was nothing but a cut to my own heart. 

“That’s a very logical and calculated step to take. I hope you both find paths written in your destiny.” My words carried off my silent wishes of having Spencer Reid to myself.

“Thank you,” she muttered before leaving me alone in the small space of the house.

Looking at the time I felt myself slowly coming in grasp with my own limitations as I saw the time that clearly showed the time to be 9:47pm. Luckily I didn’t work tomorrow due to my hectic schedule the past two days, but I still felt emotionally exhausted. A lot happened at this party. Spencer Reid had become my crush, I tried to seduce him albeit knowing he had a girlfriend, met his girlfriend, tried to pursue a friendship with Spencer, which he rejected. And then there is the matter of my trauma that I had buried for so long that just came out tonight. And all in the span of less than 2 hours.

Quickly I grabbed my purse from the kitchen counter and made my way to the group of people in the back to say bye. Everyone was a bit drunk so they were equally open to hugging me goodbye. I started off with Krystall, then the Simmons, then the La-Montagne’s, and I found Emily and David in the corner talking. 

“Heading out?” Asked Emily as she opened her arm for a goodbye deeming her question rhetorically.

“Yes, my body needs more rest than I thought,” I replied back with a chuckle.

“Well it was good to meet you. You know I heard from Gracia that you are a fein when it comes to shopping, wanna go next weekend when you are off?” Emily asked excitedly.

“The obvious answer is yes!” I exclaimed to her as I pulled in another hug matching her enthusiasm.

Jennifer called Emily over and she said bye to me before leaving me alone with David. It seemed like a drink in his hand was natural. I looked at him and smiled.

“Thank you for inviting me over. It was nice to drink with people my own age and not have them puke all over me.” I said chuckling.

“Yea when you get older, this becomes much closer to your heart than strangers,” He said fondly, “and I meant it, you did do better. You know your father had you profiled, right?” He questioned, knowing I was aware of the answer.

“An Obsessive psychopath, that was the diagnosis.” I replied back in a flash.

“Which you clearly are but used for your education it seems.” David stated so keenly.

“Don’t worry the dead bodies I touched were cadavers,” I joked to him which earned me a wry chuckle from him.

“Anyways, I’ll be leaving now, thank you seriously for having me over,” I said as he leaned in for an Italian style goodbye hug plus kiss combo.

“How will you get to your home?” David asked, concerned.

“Oh I’ll just Uber,” I said, waving my phone at him.

“I don’t like that idea. Didn't like cabs before and dont like em now, it always made you an easy target.” He spoke with a fatherly concern and tone to his words.

“Regardless of popular belief most people get abducted while waiting for their vehicle or taxi not in them.” Spencer added with a knowing tone.

“And your point is?” David urged on, almost threatening him to give a better reason for interrupting him, whilst I shamelessly inhaled Dr. Reid’s scent.

“I can drop her off,” He said calmly whilst offering me a smile.

I didn’t know why but his words caught me like a deer in the headlights. I stared up at him not knowing what to do. Gulping, I looked back down at my feet admiring nothing in particular. 

“Oh yeah, Penelope mentioned something about you two living together,” David said with a sly smirk on his face.

“Neighbors,” Spencer clarified, “We are neighbors.” He stated so plainly that it hurt just as he had rejected my friendship.

“It’s okay an uber will be less hassle anyways and I am leaving right now, I’m sure you would like to spend time with Maeve, seeing as I had stolen the majority of it tonight.” I reasoned with Spencer as I looked straight at David.

“Maeve brought her own car and she lives closer to Penelope’s apartment than ours. Besides, I have an early lecture tomorrow to get to so turning in for the night now isn't a bad decision.” He explained so simply, clarifying that it would be the best for me to go with him.

“I like the idea of you two being together,” David said as he took a sip of his whiskey but not before I could see a very obvious smirk forming on his lips.

“You mean leaving together not being together?” I clarified the two words he had said.

“Isn’t that what I said?” David spoke feigning confusion. “Must be the whiskey.” He added on as he swirled the liquid in his hands.

“Or old age,” Said Spencer quietly, making me chuckle at his words.

“What did you say?” David asked curtly and obviously had heard what he said.

“Nothing.” Spencer replied smugly with a calm demeanor to his childish behavior.

“Anyways,” David said whilst eyeing Spencer, “I will feel safer knowing you are with someone I can track down easily if something were to happen to you.” He spoke as his words had humor but concern to them.

“Okay, I will leave with Dr. Spencer Reid then,” I said as I turned to look at the doctor waiting for him to signal if he would like to go now or in a bit.

“Yea let’s go, I already said my goodbyes,” Spencer Spoke as he opened his phone to look at something before looking up at David and shaking his hand as a means of a goodbye.

I heard Emily call out a bye so I turned around and waved at the group one last time. In the seconds as I waved bye to them I knew I was stalling. I already feel so strongly for Spencer and I have already tried teasing him with people around us. How would I act when he will be sitting right next to me with no one there but me and him?

I guess you just have to tease him a bit harder.

My malicious conscience conspired in my head. As I turned around and was met with the tall and hovering frame of Spencer, his eyes were gazing down at me. Judging me as if he had heard what my intentions were with him. And for some reason I loved that he was judging me. I loved how dirty it made my body feel. I loved how his unspoken judging gaze was causing me to feel my arousal lubricating me.

A/N: Hi lovelies, whores, sluts, and any other term you find endearing. Thank you for reading my work. I just felt like I should come clean and state I have general idea of a "plot" but that's it. I don't know how to get there but I will some how. And I will say this again this will not be a cheating trope because I would say it's wayyy out of character for Spencer to cheat, although I love those stories a lot. Also Happy New Year! I hope you guys get dilf crushes, good money, good grades, and good relationship!

Next chapter here

Taglist:

@hopelessromantichopefulthinking @lovemesickly @liidiaaagg g @kodakmack @strangerintheblur @fairydresses @ohnojessicaa @ohnojessicaa @savi-02 @chaoticevilbakugo @winkev1 @fx666x @fall-myriad @volatile-violetet

[nereidprinc3ss]

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

[briefkittenearthquake]

I like my men smart

[pathologicalreid]

a love song for lady earth | s.r.

in which reader has her first experience with munch!spencer

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: oral (fem receiving), munch!spencer, a little bit of overstim, d/s dynamics if you spin in circles and then squint, pwp, cumming untouched, fingering, dirty talk, a little praise word count: 2.16k a/n: this one goes out to everyone who's ever gotten shitty head from shitty guys. also to people who like their men a little pathetic.

“What are you doing?” Your voice comes out higher than you anticipated. The slight panic in your tone sets your boyfriend on high alert, his eyebrows rising in curiosity as he hovers over you.

Spencer pulls himself up until you meet his eyes, concern and lust fusing together to create nothing short of confusion. He studies your expression, investigating your interruption with the kind of delicacy that he always has when approaching intimacy, “Baby,” he starts, “Have you ever received oral sex before?”

Your lips part in surprise, wondering why that’s the conclusion he comes to, “I have,” you respond hesitantly. “I just—” you falter, “You don’t have to.”

His confusion deepens, “I don’t have to what?”

“You don’t have to give me head,” you answer timidly, “Because it’s not— you just don’t have to.”

Languidly, Spencer drags his fingertips up and down your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “It’s not what? Now you have to tell me.”

You groan in frustration, looking up at the ceiling fan while you search for words that won’t set your cheeks ablaze, “I don’t like it, and I know guys don’t like it. So, you just… we can skip that part.”

“Just out of curiosity, what about it don’t you like?” Spencer asks, sitting up fully between your legs, one hand resting on your knee, keeping your legs parted.

Looking down at him, you chew on the inside of your lip, knowing you have his undivided attention when you speak up, “I just don’t get any pleasure out of a guy trying to French with my vagina while I fake moan.”

“Ah,” Spencer breathes, “So, you’ve never received good oral sex before,” he amends his previous question.

Propping yourself up on your hands, you raise your eyebrows doubtfully, “I’m not entirely convinced there is such a thing, and will you please stop calling it oral sex? It sounds so clinical.”

He crawls over to you, putting his face right in front of yours, “Do you trust me?”

You frown, “Of course I do, what does that have to do with any of this?”

“Would you be willing to let me go down on you?” The earnestness in his tone catches you by surprise. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wants to eat you out.

Humming affectionately, you tilt your head at him, “Do you really want to? I always thought guys hated doing it.”

Spencer raises his eyebrows, “Then I guess that demographic doesn’t apply to me.”

“Oh,” you breathe, “You can… We can try,” you offer. Nerves twist in your lower belly as his eyes widen ever so slightly, your eyes fall shut as he leans his head forward, pressing his lips to yours while his hand starts to pull at the waistband of your panties.

Your boyfriend’s lips are almost unfairly soft against your own as his hands continue to undress you, pushing your t-shirt up around your waist and pulling down your underwear to the middle of your thighs. Pressing his forehead against yours, Spencer pulls away ever so slightly, “You can always tell me if you want me to stop, alright?”

Nodding, you can’t help but be curious about his plan. You find yourself questioning every partner you’ve had in the past, or maybe Spencer just has a special talent with his mouth—he certainly was good at running it. “Yes,” you say, kissing him again before he moves his head down.

“Thank you,” he mutters, bringing his head back down to where it was before you’d stopped him. Spencer lazily drags your panties down your legs, flinging them across the room to be found later before dropping his head between your knees, littering small, slow kisses along the insides of your thighs. “Pretty girl,” he hums, inspecting your glistening sex with peaked interest.

Your cunt clenches around nothing at his words, earning a chuckle from Spencer as he set on top of your mound, pulling the skin taut before blowing cool air on you. You jump in response, looking down at where he’s smirking from between your legs. Admittedly, you’d never felt so dizzy at the prospect of having a man go down on you, he just looks so pretty.

He hums absentmindedly, “Just making sure you’re paying attention,” he teases.

There could be an air raid siren going off and you’d still be too focused on him to take cover. His movements are calculated as he exposes your clit to the air, leaning his head down and pressing his tongue flat against your folds, licking a stripe before readjusting himself on the bed.

A constellation of feather-light kisses is left everywhere, your inner thighs, up toward your hip bone—everywhere except where you really need him. Your clit aches with need as he continues to tease you, the pad of his thumb skimming ever so slightly over the sensitive bud, relieving only a fraction of the pressure that’s building up. “Spence,” you breathe.

“Are you enjoying this?” He asks, lifting his head up and looking at you curiously.

You nod once, “Are you?” You challenge.

His head drops again, and your breath hitches when he answers, “Immensely.”

Spencer continues but doesn’t move on, studying your anatomy so intently that it only serves to turn you on even more. His hand ghosts over your folds, running a finger over your slit and chuckling when your hips buck up in response to the stimulation.

He could’ve gotten you to beg, had that been his goal, you would’ve babbled please so incessantly that the word no longer held any meaning, but that wasn’t what Spencer wanted. He wanted you to enjoy receiving pleasure in a way that no man had ever wanted before.

“You’re just so fucking perfect,” he murmurs, watching you intently.

Before you had a chance to reply, his mouth was on you again, his tongue deftly slipping between your folds and poking at your entrance. Other than working you up, you didn’t feel any different than you had previously. You give a gentle hum of encouragement—at least he tried, and at least you’d be wet enough for sex.

Spencer curls his tongue, dragging your slick up to your clit, and that’s where he finally got you. His tongue pressed firmly against the bundle of nerves as you squirm beneath him, your body moving faster than your brain as your hips move away from his mouth, “Shh,” Spencer coos, “It’s okay, baby. I know it’s a lot. I’ve got you.”

Taking a deep shuddering breath, you nod. You open your mouth to form a reply, but the only thing that comes out is a breathy sigh.

Carefully, Spencer moves your legs, placing your thighs on top of his shoulders, giving you one more glance before diving back in, kitten-licking your clit while you try to catch your breath.

“Spence,” you cry, feeling an orgasm that you previously hadn’t thought was possible building in your lower belly. A swarm of nerves and aches of pleasure thrumming through your body like electricity.

He readjusts, lifting his head more so that his lips can wrap around the sensitive nub, his mouth gently suckling on it.

At a loss for what to do with your hand, they find their way down to his head, weaving your fingers through his hair as his ministrations drive you closer and closer to an orgasm. Tugging at the soft curls earns a groan from him, the vibrations on your clit causing you to cry out, “Oh my god.”

He drops one of your legs, moving his hand up to grab one of yours before you cum, squeezing his hand as he gently nips at your clit, further encouraging your orgasm.

“I’m— ah, please,” you babble nervously, inhaling sharply as your orgasm washes over you, cunt clenching around nothing as Spencer’s mouth continues working at you, licking softly as your back arches off of the bed, sweat causing the sheets to stick to your skin.

Your thighs are trembling by the time Spencer comes back up, his mouth shining with your arousal as he breathes as heavily as you. His hand cups your sensitive sex when he leans forward, leaning in to kiss your lips.

The taste of yourself on his lips doesn’t even cross your mind as you cup the back of his head and pull his mouth to yours. The tang of your own cunt on your tongue draws a moan from the back of your throat, and you jump when one of Spencer’s fingers gently teases your interest, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm making your head spin.

“Can I go back?” Spencer asks, looking down at his hand briefly before returning to your eyes for permission.

Your mouth gapes, “You want more?”

He groans in response, “Angel, I’d spend all day between your thighs if you’d let me.”

Your stomach flips, mourning the fact that you had plans in the afternoon, “I might just take you up on that someday.”

Lifting your body from the pillows, Spencer tugs your t-shirt the rest of the way off your body, leaving you fully nude in front of him, “Fuck,” he groans, gently guiding your back to the mattress as he attaches his lips to your neck, leaving your fingers clawing at his back.

His head moves lower, nipping and sucking at your collarbones, leaving light marks as he makes his way down to your chest. His lips scatter kisses all along your breasts as he moves down, down, down. Right until he’s right where you want him, and right where he wants to be. “Oh,” you whimper, taking in a shaky breath while he tentatively presses his index finger into your wet hole.

“Poor baby,” Spencer coos at your sensitivity, “You’re doing so well, letting me fuck you with my mouth. All you needed was someone to suck your clit.”

You sigh dazedly in response, every thought in your mind evacuating as his mouth drops to your pussy again, languidly lapping at your cunt while his finger eases into you, “You’re so good at this.”

He hums against you in response, the vibrations causing your body to shudder and your hands to return to their home in his hair. The feeling of his mouth gently sucking on that little bundle of nerves and his finger starting to thrust makes your walls clench.

A strangled moan escapes your mouth when he adds a second finger, his second and third fingers driving into you with a steady rhythm as his tongue flicks your clit in calculated movements. The recognition of your impending orgasm hits you, “’m close,” you breathe, gasping as his movements don’t relent, tears prick at your eyes as you chase that high.

Spencer pushes your legs further apart with his spare hand, keeping your thighs from closing around his head as he moans against your cunt. You pull on his hair, eliciting another groan from him that sends you hurtling into your second orgasm, crying out his name like a prayer as he tapers off his ministrations.

His hand slows first, gently working you through your orgasm as his tongue laps at your clit, gentle movements soothing the hypersensitive spot as you catch your breath, tears trickling down your cheeks as you smooth out the hair on his head. He pulls away from you, releasing your trembling thighs and letting them fall around him as he tiredly rests his head on your abdomen. “Spence,” you whisper, combing your fingers through his hair, causing him to rest his chin on you, meeting your eyes as he wipes your slick from his mouth.

He hums a response, “My love,” he murmurs, eyes closing as he enjoys the feeling of you playing with his hair.

You chew on the inside of your lip nervously, “Do… do you need me?” Your question was tentative, unsure if he wants you to reciprocate.

“Uh,” he says, equally as unsure, “That’s not necessary.”

You raise your eyebrows, “It’s not like I feel inclined to, but I’d like to… to return the favor.”

Spencer shakes his head, “No, I mean I’m taken care of. I already…” his voice trails off, leaving you to fill in the blanks.

“Oh,” you breathe, “Oh.” Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, hiding your smile, “Well I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Desperately. You were trying desperately not to laugh at the prospect of your boyfriend cumming in his briefs.

He rolls his eyes in response, clearly unbothered. He seems almost proud, and you suppose it’s not often that a man finishes from giving head. “So,” he starts, moving his hand and using his fingertips to draw stars across your bare skin, “Did you enjoy it?”

You huff in response, the answer is obvious, but he just wants the victory of knowing he’s changed your mind. Who are you to refuse him of that? “Immensely,” you answer.

[misserabella]

sick love

spencer reid x fem! reader

pt2!!

synopsis;;

you catch your best friend spencer touching himself and far from being embarrassed, it only turns him on even more. if only you knew he had been dreaming about this moment for his entire fucking life and that he has even planned for it to happen…

cw;; (let’s act as if spencer and reader are the same age (consensual 18) in high school

really perv!spencer, dark themes, spencer uses readers body without implicit consent (i don’t know if it counts as cnc since later we find out she doesn’t mind), somnophilia (if you squint), INDECENT use of cum, stalker behavior, use of masculine sex toys, breeding kink, mommy and daddy kink, praise kink, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f receiving), sub and dom spencer, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, cream pie, masturbation (m), voyeurism (?), dacryphilia, violence (not towards reader), dirty talking, hair pulling, blood… MINORS DNI OR I’LL COME FOR YOU!

@cafekitsune ‘s separators

Spencer was obsessed with you. Not in a lovely kind of obsessed —that too— but in a really perverted way. His sick infatuation commenced a warm summer, when you and him, best friends since freshman year, had ended up staying up late in your house for a movie night. Your parents were no where to be seen, and being scared of spending the night alone, you invited Spencer for a sleep over.

Everything was perfect. Little snacks, the newest film in D.C in tape and a cozy sofa in which the two of you silently rested as you stared at the tv. That was until you had fallen sleep on the other end of the sofa, loose and extremely short pijama pants letting your lace panties show and nipples erect due to the coldness of the night underneath your tight and white tank top. He found himself stating for far too long, instead of bringing up on your body the blanket that you both had been shared, his eyes taking in just how beautifully exposed you were.

Full honesty? He didn’t even remember how his dick had gotten that hard nor how it had ended on one of his hands, palm slick in precum as he thrusted in it, bottom lip in between his teeth and soft moans and groans scaping his lips. But he didn’t care. He came so hard that night that he swore he saw stars on your living room’s ceiling.

After that, he of course felt awkward and embarrassed of himself around you. Masturbating to his sleeping best friend, and just mere inches away from you? Jesus Christ. Though that remorse quickly went away when he found himself sinking deeper in that sickness under your name.

He relished in that pretty tears of yours when you cried about another stupid boy being mean to you and dumping you against his neck, your tits fully pressed to his chest and whimpers making his cock push against his jeans, even more when that same guys were the ones crying and begging for him to stop as he beat the shit out of them.

He liked to see you cry, but if it wasn’t because of him, he wouldn’t have it. He sent a couple of them to the ER, but they were too scared to get a couple more bones broken if they ever spoke up,— and also, who would believe them if they said that the slender nerd of their class was the one that beat them up— so he always got away with it. In no time, the guys were fucking terrified of even glancing at you, leaving you all to himself. Like it had to be. You were his, or you’ll be.

You were always complaining about things of yours disappearing, “Fuck! I cant found my chapstick.” him shrugging even when he knew that he was, in fact, the thug. Then, he’d go back to his house and open the last drawer of his desk — which he had under key— and take the same chapstick out of his pocket to push it inside along with the other things he had stolen from you: lipgloss, necklaces, bracelets… Panties.

He loved them. He almost had a collection of them, of all types; cotton, lace, thongs… He loved the ones that he stole from the dirty laundry the most, which’s crotch he could push against his nose and lick as he fucked his fist. Getting to taste and smell your slick always drove him crazy.

Another thing Spencer loved to do was take photos of you. He had albums and albums of polaroids for the two of you, being both on the pictures or just you. He loved to watch them from time to time: you smiling, you singing, you dancing, you blowing a kiss to the camera, jumping in the pool, petting a stray cat… Being simply you.

But he also had some photos that were exceptionally and just for him. Some of them were flashes of your body in those little and pretty bikinis you always wore in the warm summers, some other of your naked body —facing away from the door of your bathroom— when you changed, you eating ice cream with cheeks, lips and tongue stained in the vanilla treat, some of you sleeping, some others of the panties and little skirts that you’d wear. He even had one of you resting asleep on his lap, lips parted and against his hard cock. He saved some of them on his wallet in case he ever had to take care of a boner when he hung out with you.

He was in love with you. Sickly in love. Sickly enough to take some of those photos of yours and cut out your face just to tape them to his porn magazines. Some of the pages had even stuck together due to his cum.

And you were just so unbelievably oblivious of his infatuation that you always left the window to your room unlocked in case he ever wanted to sneak in in the middle of the night to stay with you if he ever felt lonely in his empty house. At first, before his infatuation appeared, he would sneak in from time to time when the loneliness became too strong for him to handle, cuddling with you and leaving first hour in the morning. Now? Now he snuck in almost every goddamn night. To cuddle, to watch you sleep, to be able to hold you close and even to take advantage of your heavy slumber. He had licked his cum out of your fingers when he had used your hand to masturbate, having to hold in his moans and whimpers. Other nights, he would get under your covers and part your thighs just to push his head in between them, face against your clothed cunt as his hips buckled against the duvet, tongue flattening against your heat and moaning when your thighs would unconsciously squish his head.

He loved it when you played with his hair, groaning when you’d pull from it when he’d tickle you, and laughing when you’d scream at him for using your good conditioner after a pool day. He was obsessed with your little lotions and expensive shampoos, using them as lube to fuck his hand while he showered in your house, using then his cum to fill the tubes, evening out the difference.

He would steal food from you in the cafeteria, using your own fork or spoons just to be able to have your spit in his mouth. You’d always whine about it, but he never stopped, so you eventually stopped caring, giving him full access to it when you were full.

Spencer considered himself to be a man with clear tastes when it came to sexual preferences. He would love to fuck you to his liking, to sink you into submission and to get you to call him daddy. He thought of himself as a dominant kind of person rather than a submissive one, but that changed when in one of his numerous wet dreams it was you the one who choked him and fucked him, using him like you’d use a fucking toy. He had woke up with a raging orgasm as from his lips fell the word ‘mommy’.

Was he a pervert? Absolutely. Would he ever speak up about his feelings for you? Absolutely not.

He’d prefer to die with a boner than ever telling you he loved you. He was just terrified of the thought of you pushing him away or ever hurting your friendship.

So after a day full of what he thought of ‘teasing’, since it always involved you dressing in one of those incredibly short skirts or staring at him for too long as you sucked on one of the lollipops that he always bought you, he would come to his house and enter his room with a full tent in between his thighs. He would pull out of the back of his closet his fleshlight and spray one of his pillows with those little bottles of your perfume that came as gifts with the bigger version just to bend his other one and push the fleshlight in it, fully lubed and ready for his cock to fuck into, just like that pretty pussy of yours. And that’s what he’d do, fuck his stupid little toy with his face fully buried on the perfumed one as he imagined you under him, ass up and chest pushed against his bedsheets. His pace was needy, harsh and deep, from his mouth, dirty talking spilling. ‘Yeah, take my cock you slut, fucking take it.’ ‘That’s a good girl for daddy.’ Those were always the best orgasms, making him fill the toy to the brim when he couldn’t found himself to stop. Too pussy drunk even when it wasn’t your pussy what he fucked in between whimpers.

He sometimes would leave his house’s and bedroom door open with the dream of you someday catching him red handed.

But they were all just dreams, they weren’t supposed to fucking happen in real life. Yet, there he was, and so were you.

That day he had come with a really painful bonner in between his thighs. You’d been sitting on his lap for a whole goddamn hour since your classmates from class B had borrowed most of your chairs to hang prom signals, leaving you without a place to sit and using your best friend as a chair. The problem was not only that, it was the fact that you’d be adjusting every five minutes and the fact that he had found himself being completely ignored by you as you talked with your best friends, laughing with them and jumping on his lap when the jokes were too good. Well, he was not being completely ignored, since one of your hands, had found his hair and slowly massaged his scalp, every now and then pulling at his hair when you played with his locks, his hands trembling on your thighs —which spread sideways across from his — thumbs circling your soft skin.

The fact that you were using him. The fact that he felt used by you and only you, was what had him gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to buckle against your ass. But Spencer was a good boy, so he just stood sit and went through that delirious torture with not a word coming out of his mouth. He felt like breathing once again when you got up from his lap when the bell rang, notifying the students that the day had ended, but still choking when he no longer could smell your cologne or felt you flush against him.

“Fuck…” he whimpered when he plopped on his bed, his palm pushing hardly against his pulsing and leaking cock, precum staining his jeans and underwear. He had pulled out from his closet his fleshlight, since he felt that his hand would not be enough today. He had to fuck himself. “Please, fuck me, please…” he was a babbling mess when his tip pushed inside the lubed toy. “Use my cock, baby… Use me…” he found himself whimpering at his mind scenario, in which you would ride him relentlessly, his dick reaching deep enough to hit that sweet spot that you’d torture to make yourself cum all over his cock. “Fuck, mommy, fuck, feels so good… Ah, faster.” he was a babbling mess, his hips rutting upwards against his hand movements to fuck his cock deeper in his toy.

“Spence!!!” you had called from downstairs as you opened his unlocked front door. Spencer always left it that way for you to come and go as you pleased. You were smiling, in between your hands a copy of a book he had been dying to read for months and for which he had cried after finding out that it had been sold out. After seeing just how badly he wanted it, you had been fighting with sharp nails to get a hold on one of the limited edition copies that had gone on sale in the city’s center, where you had rushed just as classes finished and where you had killed your savings in the dib. “I have a surprise for you!!” you chanted, locking the door behind you and jumping excitedly, frowning when you didn’t hear and answer from him. “Spencer?” you called out again, the soft sound of his voice reaching you from upstairs. You took off your shoes, a smirk growing on your lips when the idea of giving him a scare came to mind. Up the staircase, you were like a ghost, slowly approaching his room and mumbling, though you froze when a moan got to your ears. Your skin went pale and your cheeks heated up when needy whimpers followed up right after, as if all the blood under your skin had ended up pooling there.

“Fuck, just like that. Faster, please…” was he with someone? Your chest heaved at the thought of Spencer fucking with some random girl that wasn’t you. You’ve liked him for years on end, since the first time that he held you as you cried your heart out after your first breakup. But he never seemed to look at you in any other way that wasn’t friendly, so, at the end, —being too scared to speak up about your feelings in fear that it would break your friendship— you had decided to bury them as deep as you could inside you, believing that he had to be just what he was; your best friend.

Even though you knew it was wrong, you slowly approached his slightly open door, peeking in in need to see who was he fucking, promising yourself that you’d leave once you’ve taken a glance. But all that went to hell when you found out he was not fucking anyone but himself, back against the mattress, bare chest rising and lowering slowly as his hips fucked upwards, inside his clear flesh light. Your eyes widened and your legs trembled when from his lips new groans and moans fell. Spencer was fucking touching himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck… You needed to get away from there. Yeah, that’s what you’d do. You’d go back to your house and forget all about it… Or that’s what you thought, instead finding your feet glued to the floor as you watched.

He looked so hot and pretty all needy… Eyes closed shut and mouth agape in gasps, glasses crooked, eyebrows pushed together as his head fell back against his pillow, hair messy all over it. His hand was slow, pushing the toy down on his cock in deep and harsh strokes. You could almost perfectly see his long and thick dick, his thrusts making the lube’s wet sounds fill the room. “Ah, fuck…” his voice was low and so broken you felt your panties damp in your slick, you were so turned on that your free hand cupped your cunt, making you almost moan if you hadn’t bit down on your bottom lip.

Your fingers had started to push against the lace of your panties underneath your plaid skirt, freezing on your clit when a new babble came from inside the room and your best friend’s lips. “Fuck, y/n…, mommy…, please, fuck, fuck, fuck…” your eyes widened, not only because…, fuck, Spencer was fucking that goddamn fleshlight with you in mind doing so, but because he had called you mommy too. Surprisingly enough that only turned you on even more, a needy moan tearing your throat before you could push it down to your chest. Spencer’s movements stopped, his gaze moving to his opening door just to see you standing there, flushed cheeks, heavy breathing and book in hand.

He quickly pushed away the toy, cursing under his breath when he sat up, a pillow hiding his hard and leaking cock, which was twitching at the sight of your trembling legs. “Fuck, y/n, I…” he didn’t even know what to say. You had caught him, caught him fucking himself with his goddamn fleshlight, and even worse, caught him moaning your name. He felt sick to the stomach, but at the same, so turned on too. You had caught him… Finally. And who knows how much time you had been listening and peeking at him while he pleasured himself. He had to hold back a whimper at the thought of it. “How much did you hear?” he cursed when you didn’t answer, cheeks reddening and cock twitching under the pillow, leaking against his thigh.

“Mommy.” you said, making his head snap back to you, a frown on his face, eyes widening when you let the book fall from your hands as you stepped in, closer to his bed.

“W…What?” fuck.

“ ‘Mommy’. That’s what you called me.” you smirked, eyes falling to his lap when he pushed the pillow further down. “Who would think that Spencer, the Genius Spencer Reid, would be so goddamn dirty to even leave the door unlocked for anyone to see as he fucks himself. And even worse, have a mommy kink.” he stuttered as he shook his head.

“It’s not what it seems like, I…”

“You what?” you pushed, thumb and index gripping his chin so his eyes would find yours. “Are you gonna deny that you were touching yourself while thinking about me? That you were calling me mommy and whimpering for me to fuck you faster?” he moaned at your words, half-lidded eyes full of lust staring at your full and rosy lips. “Mmh? Answer me.” you ordered and he whimpered, your pussy clenching when he shook his head and cried out a ‘no’. “ ‘No’ what?” your lips brushed against his, teasing him to get out of him what you wanted.

“No, mommy.” you pulled his hair when he tried to kiss you, making him groan against your lips as you clicked your tongue. “Please…” he pleaded, hands rocking the pillow on his lap.

“Only good boys get a kiss, Spence.”

“I’m a good boy…” he was so gone that you almost laughed, so needy for pussy…

“Oh yeah?” he nodded, his tongue dampening his lips, hips thrusting upwards towards the pillow that covered his naked body. “The why don’t you show me?” he shivered when your lips latched to his neck, your tongue pressing against his skin in open mouth kisses that led to his ear. “Why don’t you show me how good you are and let me watch you fuck that pretty toy of yours, hm?” he moaned, muttering a ‘fuck’ as he nodded, making you smirk. “Then go ahead, baby, let me see.” you pulled away as he pushed the pillow off his lap, dick twitching below a pool of precum that dripped from his tip.

In the state he was… He would do anything for you. He would even fuck himself stupid if you said the word. Anything you asked, anything you wanted. Anything for you.

He moaned when you sat down on his desk’s chair, skirt rolling up and letting more of your soft and beautiful thighs show. His hands were shaking when his fingers gripped around the clear silicone or his toy, whimpering when he noticed your eyes on his twitching dick.

You had seen dicks before, but none of them was as beautiful as Spencer’s. It was big, with a great large and just the perfect girth, large and thick enough to have you limping for a few days after a good fuck. And you knew he could give it to you, that he would fuck your hard and needy, deep enough to have you drooling over yourself as you came over and over again. You would love to drool and choke on it too, outline the veins on his shaft with your tongue and take him so deep on your throat you’d need to swallow when he came in your mouth. “Aw, poor Spence…” you cooed at his twitching cock, red tip and tight balls. “Caught about to cum. It must really hurt, doesn’t it baby?” he nodded, tears on his eyes due to your teasing, chest rising in heavy breaths. “Are you gonna cum on that cup for me to drink, hm? Want me to drink your cum, Spencer?” he moaned a breathy gasp, and you smirked to his reaction. He liked that.

Dirty talking. Mommy kink. Praise kink. Notes taken.

“Yes, yes, yes…” he muttered, almost begging for it. The thought of you swallowing his cum making him go crazy. He whined when his leaking tip brushed against the artificial hole, his lip being tortured by his teeth when you parted your thighs, panties exposed and damped lace for him to see. “Fuck…” he cursed, bottoming out into the wetness of the fleshlight in a deep and large stroke, almost cumming at the sight. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” your hands came down your body, your left resting on your breasts— hard nipples pushing against your shirt, which you pulled and pinched in between your fingers— and your right sneaking in between your thighs and below your underwear, whining when you felt just how wet you were. “Shit, y/n.”

His dick was twitching like crazy with every new and fast thrust of his hips, pleads falling of his lips. ‘I need you. Need you so bad…’ ‘Please mommy…’ ‘I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum…’

“Oh yeah? You gonna cum?” You clicked your tongue when he nodded, chuckling at his behavior. “Look at how pathetic you look.” he whimpered when you had made your way back to his side, standing in front of him and making his head fall backwards when you harshly pulled on his hair, making his hips stutter and breathy whines rip his throat. “Hold it. I haven’t even told you where to cum yet.” he cried when you pushed down your thighs your panties. “Fuck, you are too fucking loud.” you said and he had to squeeze his dick to not come when you pushed your damped panties into his mouth, slicked crotch flat against his tongue. His muffled begging only made your pussy wetter, his eyes full of tears that seemed about to fall when he could take a taste on just how sweet you were. He choked on the lace when you startled his legs. His eyes fell just as your free hand did, straight to your core, where your fingers dug on your wet folds and parted them for him to see thin strips of slick connect them and just how swollen your little pink bud was, hidden under its hood. “Here. Cum on my pussy.” you said, leaning on the skin of his neck to suck a hard hickey on his flesh.

You didn’t even had to say it twice, his hand quickly throwing away the fleshlight to cum all over your folds and clit, muffled groans and moans filling the room when his white and heavy gropes painted your core in white, his mind all foggy and pussy drunk just by the simple contact of your cunt on his tip. You hummed as you stroked his hair, open mouth kisses being splattered across his chest. He was still fucking hard. “Good boy…” you cooed, loving just how fucked out he seemed, moaning when you sat on his cock, his length in between your wet folds and his tip bumping against your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….” he cried out with your panties on his mouth when you rocked your hips against his. That’s all it took for him to cum for a second time, right after his first orgasm.

You moaned, feeling his dick twitch and nails dig on your ass, your pussy sliding too easy due to the amount of his cum that coated it. “You came again, baby?” he nodded, his cock quickly getting hard again to your humping. “Fuck, Spencer…” you pulled your panties away from his mouth, wanting to hear his groans. “Look at you, making a mess of my cunt.”

“Fuck, y/n…” your name sounded so wonderful falling from his lips… “Please, can I… Can I clean it for you? Let me clean it for you, pleasepleaseplease. I’ll make you feel good, I promise, I’ll be good…” you pulled his bottom lip with your thumb, warm skin under your fingertips. “I promise. I promise mommy…” your thumb brushed your own lips when he leaned in, pupils blown and need on his hazel thin irises. He looked high. And he was, high on his favorite drug: you.

You nodded, giving in, and gasped when he had your back pressed against the mattress in just a matter of seconds, lips all over the skin of your neck and exposed collarbones, his hands leaving your hips to bump against the bottom of your tank top, fingers so desperate to see your tits that dug too hard on the piece of clothing enough to tear it up. You moaned when you felt the fabric give out, his hands cupping your exposed breast and biting hickeys on its flesh in between groans, muttering a ‘The prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, fuck.’. You were tugging on his hair as he played with your tits, biting your nipples and teasing you for a couple of minutes before slowly lowering his lips further down on your stomach, bumping with your skirt, which he quickly discarded it away on his bedroom floor. He pulled away to look to your fully naked body, hair messily spread on his pillow —the same he had fucked multiple times while thinking about you—, lips swollen due to constant biting, half-lidded eyes and flushed skin. He moaned, dick twitching, ‘cause you were so goddamn perfect. Perfect for him.

He didn’t waste time in parting your thighs —which he took his time with, and of course he would, he had been dreaming about making them bleed for years now—, leaving open mouth kisses and sucking hard on the skin, making you whimper and tug on his hair. “Spencer…” you whined when he bit down on your flesh, making your back arch at the incredible pleasure the pain inflicted made you feel. He was so drunk on your skin… He could spend his whole life kissing it that he would never get fucking tired of it. But his teasing was making your pussy clench and tingle. You needed his mouth on it now. And he seemed to get it when you pushed him further against it, his hands taking your now fully marked thighs to pull them above his shoulders as he sunk on the mattress, stomach flat against it and fingers gripping at your flesh. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when his tongue pushed in between your covered in cum folds, flattening in a long strip and bumping against your clit. Both of you moaned, him due to just how much he had dreamed about the taste of your pussy —which he had tasted before, but only clothed— and you to how many times you had touched yourself with his mouth in mind. His name falling off your lips on a whimper had his hips rocking against the duvet as he ate you out sweet and slow.

It was only when his fingers found their way to your entrance that he started to eat you just like you needed and he always dreamed of: rough, needy and hungry. You were screaming his name when his fingers pushed inside you, quickly fucking the shit out of you and curving to hit your g spot as his tongue circled your clit. Spencer knew how to use it, really well. So well that he had you tipping the edge in less than ten minutes. He was like a starved man, burying his face in between your thighs unable to get enough of you and your sweet taste, of the mix of the two of you in his tongue. “Fuck, Spencer, I…” you babbled, thighs twitching as you pulled harder on his hair. He knew you were close by how moans fell of those pretty lips of yours over and over again. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum…” you cried out, Spencer crushing your sweet spot with every harsh thrust of his fingers.

He moaned, begging for it. “Please cum on my mouth, mommy. Please, let me have it, please mommy, please…” you whined when his tongue gave just one last stroke to your clit, dissolving in the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had, whimpers against your cunt as Spencer drank every last drop of it all, helping you ride out your orgasm as your sweet moans filled his bedroom.

You mewled when once you’ve come down from your high, his tongue licking you clean as hips rutted on his wet sheets, seconds away from coming when you called from him. He whimpered when you tugged on his hair, pulling him away from your pussy as you sat up. He looked completely gone. Half-lidded eyes unfocused, messy hair due to your tugging, swollen lips and wet chin. “Please, just a little bit more, mommy…” he begged, needing to go back in between your thighs. Needing to taste you and make you cum again on his mouth. “Please, I need it…” your eyes fell to his twitching and leaking cock, and then, to the dampness of the sheets where he had been rocking against. You clicked your tongue as you took him in your hand, making him gasp.

“I’ll let you choose where to cum next, Spencer.” you said, your other hand coming to his cheek to rub the flush on his skin. “I could let you eat me out again and let you cum all over the sheets all by yourself…” his balls tightened to the thought of it, feeling cold when the hand that cupped his face left him to fall in between your thighs, spreading you open for him to see. “Or you could cum inside of me.” his eyes rolled to the back of his head, hips thrusting into your hand in anticipation. “What do you say, Spence? Where do you want to cum, baby?” he was almost hyperventilating, whimpers falling of his lips as he leaned on you, eyes on your own.

“Inside.” he found himself to mutter, unable to think, not when you were offering him the chance to fuck you raw and fill you up. Just the thought of it had him reeling.

“Oh yeah?” you whispered against his lips, him nodding slightly, bewitched by your minty breath connecting with his own. “You wanna cum inside, hm? Gonna let me use your cock too?” you gave him a sweet smile when he moaned, furiously nodding. Leaving a little peck on the corner of his mouth, you fell backwards on your back once again. “Then come here, Spence.” he was fast to top you, your thighs parting to receive him there, hands on his neck when he leaned in, eyes asking for permission to kiss you, which he didn’t even need since you were now entering your tongue in his mouth, making him groan. Fuck, he could come just with that. With your tongue on his mouth, your body against him and the thought that you were only letting him fuck you to seek your own release. He moaned on your open mouth when you took his dick to align it with your entrance, which twitched at the feeling of his tip. You needed him, and you needed him now. “Fuck, baby, please fuck me Spencer, please, please…” you whimpered, and he didn’t wait to push inside in a deep and fast stroke. You both moaned, foreheads against the other’s as he bottomed out.

“Fuck, so tight, mommy, so tight… Shit. I’m gonna cum.” your head had fallen backwards in gasps, giving him full access to your neck, which he kissed and sucked, leaving new marks. He was so big you felt like splitting in half, but not in a painful way. His stretch had you delirious, his tip brushing against that sweet spot that would make you come in a matter of seconds. Your nails dug on the skin of his back, making him groan. The two of you were taking your time, him getting used to the feeling of your tight and warm walls trying to milk his twitching dick and you to the feeling of his heavy and big cock sitting inside your wet cunt, spreading you to edges you’d only dreamed of getting to. He groaned against your neck when you started to unconsciously rock against him. “Please y/n, can I fuck you now? Let me fuck you mommy, please? I need to… I need to…”

“Go ahead, baby. Be a good boy for me and let me use your cock, alright?” he whimpered at your words, and in less than one second he had you gripping to his back for dear life and losing yourself in between moans. “Oh fuck, yeah Spencer, just like that baby, shit, fuck me, fuck me…”

He was just feral. Thrusting in you with just cumming in mind. His hips were pushing against yours in a hurry, hitting that spot inside of you that had you whimpering as you thrusted yourself on his cock, just as desperate as him. He was too pussy drunk to even kiss you straight, spit dripping down your chin at the messy made out. “Fuck, y/n, mommy, shit, so good, feels so good, fuck, I love it, love your pussy, ah shit, love you mommy, loveyouloveyouloveyou…” he was a mess. Both of you were. His thrusts had you drooling on the pillow, back arched and eyes squeezed shut, too lost in the pleasure, in him. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release with every new deep and harsh thrust, making your nails dig up on his back, probably leaving marks.

“Fuck, Spencer, fuck, I’m close, shit, I’m gonna cum…” you whimpered on his ear, making him fuck you harder.

“Cum on my cock, mommy, please, please… Use me. Use me…” he begged, and then you could only feel yourself cumming over and over again. It was all too much, but too good at the same time. So good that had your soaked cunt gushing all over his dick as he fucked you dumb, his hands pulling on your nipples and teeth digging so hard on your neck that draw blood. You were seeing fucking stars in the ceiling.

The only thing that you seemed able to coherently form was his name, which you chanted like you sang your favorite summer song. “Spencer, Spencer, Spencer…”

“Shit, Imma cum, I’m cumming so fucking hard… Gonna fill your pussy mommy, gonna…, fuck!” his thrusts became sloppier. “Im gonna cum, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming.”hips thrusted one, two, three more times before his dick twitched inside of you, filling you so full you choked on air, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when some of it spilled out. He was whimpering ‘mommy’ over and over again in between cries against your neck, thick gropes of cum painting your insides in the purest white.

“Shit, fuck, Spencer. So good…” you moaned, rolling your hips at the feeling of fullness. You were fucked out, brain dead on the cock that had just gave the best sex of your life. You were trying really hard to come down from your high and calm down your breathing. “Spencer!” Though you really couldn’t even do that, since you found your head being hardly pushed against his pillows and back arched with your chest against the duvet when he pulled you up from your ass, his newly hard cock ramming inside of your full of cum pussy. You cried out when his hand came down on one of your cheeks in a hard spank that had you whimpering.

“You didn’t think I was done with you, were you, ‘mommy’?” you could hear the teasing in his voice. “I’m sure you really enjoyed having your way with me, didn’t you?” you couldn’t really comprehend how his mentality had switched so drastically fast, but you were no one to whine about it. If a submissive Spencer had you cumming so hard on his cock, how would a dominant fuck you out? You felt your pussy clench around his dick in anticipation. “Well, I hope you did, ‘cause now is my fucking turn.”

-

i needed to.

[magewritesstories]

just gonna leave this here

[foxy-eva]

Drunk on You

Summary: Spencer is completely and utterly infatuated with you

Request: Pussy drunk Spencer where it’s the first time they sleep together and he’s completely obsessed with being inside her and eating her out (initially requested to @imagining-in-the-margins) 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut 

Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, oral (fem receiving), protected penetrative sex, slight overstimulation

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

Maybe it was a bit cliché to invite Spencer into your apartment for coffee after your date. The ulterior motive was obvious but there was no elegant way of telling him what you really wanted. He didn’t seem to mind when he accepted your offer with a grin on his face. 

The tension between the two of you was palpable once you stepped through your door. The warm amber of Spencer’s irises shone even brighter under the lighting of your living room. It was mesmerizing to look at him, so much so that you quickly forgot about the coffee. 

Spencer couldn’t care less. It was obvious that he knew a hot beverage wasn’t exactly what you craved right then. The way he licked his lips as he looked at you gave away that he was longing for something else, too. 

Stepping closer, you left barely any space between the two of you. The warmth he radiated penetrated your skin and spread through your body. You breathed in his scent, a pleasant mix of his cologne and laundry detergent. 

“So,” you teased as you leaned closer. “Are you gonna kiss me now or what?” 

“Gladly,” he chuckled. 

To your surprise, he took his time with you. His fingers found your jaw, gently brushing along your skin before slightly tilting your head. His other hand made contact with your waist to pull you even closer. Then, unhurriedly and with a precise motion, he finally leaned in to close the distance. 

Once your mouths made contact there was no more holding back, though. His lips were soft yet demanding and he didn’t waste any time to deepen the kiss. Tasting you broke any resistance Spencer had and he couldn’t keep up his demeanor anymore. 

His fingertips dug into your waist before you felt them trembling against your body. His tongue brushed over yours as if you had finally granted him the first taste of water after a life-long drought. When your hands found the nape of his neck to playfully tug at his curls, he unabashedly moaned against your lips. 

Spencer was desperate to make you his and he had no intention of hiding that from you. His lips only left yours to gasp for air before kissing you some more. When you wanted to lean back to look at him, he chased your mouth and immediately closed the distance again.

His enthusiasm made you smile into the kiss and he noticed. That was when he finally slowed down, leaving a few more feather-light pecks on your mouth before leaning back. 

“Sorry,” he awkwardly laughed. “I’ve been waiting so long to do this.” 

“Don't apologize,” you breathed. “I like how eager you are.” 

To prove your words, you took his hand in yours to lead him into your bedroom. Spencer wasn’t the only one who had been waiting too long for this to finally happen. You had no intention of acting shy with him when it was clear how much the both of you yearned for each other’s nearness. 

Right beside your bed you came to a halt and turned to him. Patiently he watched as you undid the buttons of his dress shirt and brushed the fabric over his shoulders. Once the shirt dropped to the floor, your hands wandered along the waistband of his pants. 

Your eyes followed the movements of your fingers and you couldn’t ignore the outline of his hardness straining against his trousers. You looked at the man in front of you and found him staring at you with the utmost adoration in his eyes. 

“Can I touch you?” You asked and he nodded. 

Your palm carefully made contact with his clothed cock and a sigh immediately escaped Spencer’s throat. He leaned into your touch and twitched against the fabric of his confines. You decided to free him as you undid his pants and slowly pulled them down together with his underwear. 

As you took your time to admire the beauty of your lover, you completely forgot your surroundings. Only Spencer’s hand brushing along your arm brought you back to reality. You locked eyes with him again and felt your cheeks heating up. 

“You’re so handsome,” you mumbled. 

His hand found the fabric of your shirt and tugged on it as he cooed, “I want to see you, too.”

Together you got rid of the remaining pieces of clothing until both of you were completely bare. You lay down on the mattress to continue kissing without any barriers between your bodies. 

Spencer hovered over you when he began kissing down your neck. He left sweet pecks on your skin before biting down on your pulse point, drawing a whine from your lips. To soothe the angry skin, he carefully licked along it before moving further down your body. 

“You smell so good,” he groaned as he kissed your breasts. “I can’t get enough of you.” 

He took one of your hardened peaks into his mouth while his hand found the other, teasing it with his fingers until you couldn’t hold back your moans. When he heard your hymn of praise, he hummed into your skin. 

Hungry lips found one another once more. “You are marvelous,” Spencer mumbled into the kiss. 

While he was distracted with his mouth on yours, a curious hand made its way down his body to wrap around his erection. It made him whimper against your lips. Your fingers brushed over velvety skin until they found the weeping tip to spread his arousal over it. 

“Fuck!” he hissed as he looked down his body to watch your hand caressing him. 

“Do you like that?” you teased as you kept stroking him a little harder. 

His hand found your wrist to stop your movements. “Yeah, a little too much,” he confessed and his words made you smile. 

You let go of him and watched as his fingertips danced along your chest and down your stomach until they reached their destination between your legs. Tentatively, he let one finger glide along your slit before spreading your folds apart. When he found you already dripping with desire, he groaned, “So wet for me.” 

He collected your dew on his fingertips and dragged it along your folds before circling your most sensitive spot. The sounds of your pleasure only spurred him further on, caressing you some more before he breached your entrance with two digits, finding little resistance from your body. 

Spencer kissed along your neck as he curled his fingers inside you, pressing against a spot that made you light-headed and let your walls flutter around him. He seemed to relish feeling your body like this, taking his time to explore your core before settling on a steady pace. It didn’t take long for you to dance along the edge of euphoria. 

His lips brushed along your ear as he whispered, “I can’t wait to fuck you.” 

That was all it took for your undoing. Spencer groaned as he felt you pulsing around his fingers, your entire body writhing as you found relief. You were still panting when he withdrew his fingers, making you whine at the loss of contact. 

With a playful smirk spread over his face, he brought his hand to his mouth to lick your release from his fingers, savoring the taste of your cunt on his tongue. 

“You taste so good,” he breathed before moving down your body. “I need more.”

Before he could settle down between your thighs, you grabbed his shoulders. The feeling of being empty was overwhelming and you yearned to be filled out by him. Even though the prospect of having his mouth on you was exciting, it was not what you needed then. 

“I need you inside me now,” you whimpered. “Please, Spencer.” 

He kneeled between your legs when he chuckled, “How could I say no to that?” 

Hurriedly and with little grace you reached over to your nightstand to get a condom from the drawer. Spencer didn’t waste any more time when he took the wrapper from your hands to put the condom on. As he leaned over you, you watched him closing his eyes for a moment before he aligned his cock at your entrance. 

Then, after locking eyes with you, he began pushing his hips against yours. He hissed a curse at the sensation of slowly stretching you open one inch at the time. When he dared to look down between your bodies, he got so overwhelmed at the sight of his cock entering you that he almost came on the spot. 

Quickly, he averted his sight to get his composure back. Your walls fluttered around him and you felt him twitch in response. Once he had filled you up to the hilt, he took a moment to feel your heartbeat deep inside you. 

“Spencer,” you whined as you began rocking your hips against his. “Please!” 

He didn’t mean to tease you or test your patience. He just wanted to fully savor this moment. Feeling you tightly wrapped around him made his head spin. He felt inebriated when he began moving and started to think you had cast some kind of spell on him. 

“You feel so good,” he breathed when he began moving. “So tight for me.” 

Pure magic was the only explanation for what you made him feel. Spencer struggled to wrap his head around the fact that this was reality. Nothing else mattered other than being right there with you, making you his as he fucked you against the mattress. 

“Harder!” you cried and Spencer obliged. 

It proved to be a mistake, though. As he watched you quiver underneath him, the bedframe shaking with his forceful thrusts, he struggled to delay his downfall. Feeling you getting even tighter around him made it impossible to not fully indulge in this sensation. 

With his whole body trembling, he tried but failed to slow himself down. Desperation was written over his face as he attempted to prolong the feeling of being inside you. Of course you noticed it, too. Seeing him fall apart on top of you as pleasure overcame him was exhilarating and you had no intention of slowing him down.  

“Come for me,” you murmured and Spencer’s eyes widened at your words. 

Then, with a particularly hard thrust, he did. Trembling and groaning, the built-up tension was released as his climax washed over him. 

Before you had a chance to wrap your arms around him to welcome him inside your embrace, he pulled out of you and quickly moved down your body. With your head still spinning, it took you several seconds to realize what he was doing. 

Only when you felt his tongue glide through your folds did you comprehend that he had found his new home between your legs. 

“Oh fuck, Spencer!” You hissed at the feeling of his mouth caressing your sensitive center. 

Like a man starved he collected your honeyed wetness on his tongue, moaning into your skin as he tasted your heady aroma. The vibrations he created sent shockwaves through your body, prompting you to buck your hips against his face.

Seemingly unfazed by your reaction, he wrapped his arms around your legs to keep you in place as he continued pleasuring you with his tongue and mouth. 

“So good,” he whispered against your heat. 

Despite his effort to hold you securely against his mouth, you were sure you might start floating at any moment. Two of his fingers found their way into you, adding more pressure and bringing you closer to your undoing. 

It only took a few more seconds until ecstasy overcame you. Your thighs trembled as you rode out your high, rocking gently against Spencer’s face. He didn't let go of you, though. Almost in a trance-like state he kept caressing you, licking up your release as you writhed underneath him. 

Your chest was heaving when you looked at him, eyes closed and half of his face buried between your legs. Spencer didn't even consider stopping, not when you tasted so heavenly, even more so after you came. Drunk on your taste and scent, he would have been more than happy to spend the rest of his night right there. 

It became too overwhelming for you, though. The constant stimulation was too much to bear and almost became uncomfortable, so your hands found his curls to pull on them. “Enough,” you murmured.

In an instant, he removed his mouth from your core to litter your inner thighs with little kisses. Then he looked up at you, a wicked grin painted on his glistening face. He wiped himself clean with the back of his hand before plopping down beside you. 

“Sorry, uh…” he muttered. “I got a little carried away.” 

You placed a kiss on his lips, noticing your own scent still lingered on them. 

“I’m not complaining,” you purred. “I just need a little break. We can continue later.” 

The glimmer in his eyes at your words must have been akin to someone witnessing a miracle. Content with the prospect of doing all of this again, he wrapped you into his arms. 

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[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 28 - baseball player

pairing: baseball player!spencer reid x fem!singer!reader

summary: in which your pro baseball boyfriend and you, an international sensation, navigate your newly public relationship

word count: 1207

warnings: yes this is travis kelce and taylor swift coded

spence-tober masterlist

You find Spencer on his phone when you join him for a quick break. He’s been sitting in this back room, your dressing room, since you left him there. You told him he could go out and explore, but he seemed eager to instead wait for you in your own space. You can’t blame him either. 

Even in the inner walls of the stadium arena, you can still hear faint cheers and girlish giggles from your fans outside waiting in the parking lots for a singular glimpse of you. Or better yet, you and Spencer together.

Since the news had broke that you two are dating, fans and paparazzi alike have been staking out where you’ve been last seen for some juicy photos of the two of you holding hands or getting into a car together. Anything to confirm the news of your new relationship.

“Hi, babe!” You say, greeting Spencer and getting his attention as you walk into the room. Your hand holds a towel and you wipe the sweat off your brow.

Instead of any of your elaborate gowns or costumes for the show, you simply wear a basic graphic tee and some comfortable biker shorts. 

Spencer smiles at your entrance into the room, “Hi, sweety.” He greets you as well.

As you walk towards him, he takes you into his long and muscular arms, wrapping them around your waist and pulling you into his lap. His phone long forgotten.

“Tech issued a break to get everything organized. Do you wanna go for lunch?” You ask as you bury your head into his embrace. He does the same.

There’s a bit of hesitation and you know the cause of it. “What if we ordered in?” Spencer inquires instead.

You nod, “That could work too.”

It’s the constant presence of all your fans outside that deter the two of you from going out for lunch somewhere in the city. Not only are a bunch of your fans in the city because of your six nights straight of shows, but it would take a lot to coordinate a simple lunch.

There would be transportation, clearing out of a restaurant, being able to have security be around you all, and that still didn’t guarantee a peaceful dinner. You both knew by the time you made it back there would already be pictures being posted by Twitter and it would be making it’s way onto every gossip site.

“Do you still have practice tonight?” You ask Spencer. 

He nods, “Yeah, late night practice. Sorry I can’t make it to the show.” He apologizes.

His arms rub your back soothingly. The muscles along his arm are pronounced and chiseled from the years of baseball practice and playing. 

Moments like these are scarce. Spencer playing during the long baseball season in the MLB and you touring around the country and eventually the world, singing to millions of adoring fans. 

Six months of game playing and then more of conditioning and practices make it hard for Spencer to be able to fly out and visit you wherever you currently are. It’s just beginning his season, which means it will be a while until he can fly out and join you for the rest of your tour. 

You shake your head, “It’s okay. Hopefully you can make it to one of them while I’m here.” You say.

Spencer nods, but he can’t make any promises. Baseball does have a schedule, but it can take one injured player or a bad loss game for the coach and team to devise more practices.

Contrary to the publics belief, you and Spencer had been dating for much longer than they thought. They only now just caught on when the two of you decided before his upcoming season to softlaunch your relationship by you watching his game, sitting up in the VIP box with Diana and a few of Spencer’s friends.

In reality, during the off season Spencer had connected with you and the two of you started to tentatively date. You had been in the midst of planning your tour and Spencer’s spare time wasn’t spent conditioning or honing his skills. It was the perfect amount of time for the two of you to start building your relationship, getting to know each other, and start dating.

Now, with your tour about to set off and his long season about to start, you and Spencer felt like the two of you were about to enter trials testing your relationship. The time change, the distance, it would all culminate and strain the bond you’ve formed. 

“How long do you have for your break?” Spencer asks as he rests his forehead against yours, intimately. 

“An hour, maybe two.” You answer him, whispering with how close you are. “Why?” 

You pull away from him to get your phone out of your pocket in your shorts and issue a short text order for lunch for you and Spencer.

“I just wanna hold you.” Spencer says simply.

You understand what he means. When both of you weren’t performing or playing and in your off seasons, you had all the time in the world together. It’s already been hard on the two of you, being touch starved and on a time crunch.

“Well, I ordered some lunch and then after, you can hold me as long as you can. Until they come to pull me out of your arms. Promise.” You assure Spencer, while still sitting in his lap.

“That sounds good.” Spencer mumbles, wrapping his arms around you even tighter. 

“Are we doomed?” You think outloud. There’s no doubt about what you might be speaking about. 

Spencer sighs. The thought had been clearly on his mind as well. 

“Well, the season’s gonna be long. But after, I can come join you. We can call every day and if we’re in the same city we can see each other.” Spencer plans outloud.

You nod, “We can. I just-”

He knows. “I’m scared too.” He finishes your thought. His hands grip around your waist and his fingers rub your hips in comfort. “But what would we be if we didn’t try, right?”

“Right,” You confirm, a wisp of a smile on your lips. 

Spencer always knew exactly what to say. You hadn’t followed baseball before you met Spencer, but when you were getting to know each other you were searching up every interview, every game, everything that had him in it. Later he would admit to doing the same. 

But he was the one who convinced you to give dating a try. Even though you’re a popstar who performs for a living, you are incredibly shy and wasn’t sure if getting into a relationship with someone who was as busy as you are was a good thing or not.

“You know, there’s supposed to be some rain tomorrow.” You comment offhandedly. Spencer gives you a look, unsure of where you are going with this. 

“My team told me we might have to delay the show tomorrow night. You think you might get rained out?” You ask tentatively. “We might get some more time together.”

Spencer smiles and lays his head back on the couch.  “I’ve never wished for rain so much in my life.”

a/n: this one if you couldn't guess is heavily inspired by travis kelce and taylor swift. the news broke about their relationship when i was originally planning out all of these drabbles for october.