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haee-elia · 1 year ago

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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.

#criminal minds #criminalminds #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #dr. spencer reid x reader #spencer reid au #spencer reid fanfic #dr. spencer reid #dr. spencer reid x fem!reader #dr. spencer reid x you #dr. spencer reid

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fandom-imagines-stories · 2 years ago

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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

#criminal minds #dr. spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagines #the in-betweens #dr. spencer reid #aaron hotchner #spencer reid series

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carpenoctxrn · 2 years ago

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Doctor. Doctor. (Spencer Reid x FemReader)

Chapter 9: Prove Myself

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You can find Chapter 8 here.

Previously

“..so gorgeous…” His whispered words made my own chaotic and quite anxious thoughts stop.

Snapping my eyes open I looked at him to see he was staring at my sleeping form.

“Did you say something?” I asked him, feigning my ears deaf to the words he had just spoken.

“The tree’s, they look gorgeous with the amber leaves and the dark night sky,” He spoke as he looked out to my side of the windshield.

Smiling, I looked out and agreed with him through a nod of my head.

He probably said amber leaves are gorgeous because of her hair.

That ugly jealousy came back into the pit of my stomach at my own thought. The feeling traveling up my stomach and latching itself painfully to my heart that I could feel breaking at the weight of the new feeling.

“Do you like amber leaves because they remind you of her?” I questioned him.

“I think I like amber leaves because they remind me of you.” He said with a smile back.

WARNING: Its cute, with a little dirty thoughts, light teasing, talk of trauma. Its just a chapter to focus on the relationship between you and Spencer.

Chapter 9: Pinus Taeda

He said those words as he looked at me. His face was graced with a smile but his eyes were laced with something much more intoxicating.

“Elaborate please?” I asked with a smile and tilt of my head to have a friendly and unbothered look to hide the pounding within my chest that numbed the sound of the car driving to my own ears.

“Well the pinus taeda also most commonly known as Loblolly Pine is an interesting tree to me. In nature it behaves much like a human. Its surroundings determine its growth physically, much like how your surroundings determine your emotion, Dr. Monterey, more than it impacts others.” He explained softly as we began to pull up to the apartment. His words shouldn't have held that much wisdom but for some reason it did.

My heart felt a weight lift itself from it as I smiled at him. His words sent jolts of peace and comfort through my body, warming it up. A positivity I felt myself resound with as I basked in the pleasure I felt. It was different. A sense of validation made itself known to my horny body.

“You see the world through a unique lens, Dr. Reid.” I spoke with a small chuckle as he parked the car right next to my spot.

“Hey you park next to me,” I said, amazed more at the idea his car parks next to me than the idea of how we went the car ride without discussing what happened in the grocery store.

“Yea from this spot I had calculated using pythagorean theorem with a little bit of trigonometry and studying the schematics of the apartments and parking structure that I purchased from the library, from there a little bit of math and some calculations for human error and I figured out that parking in this two spots were much efficient for if my purpose was to walk less. So in conclusion I have mathematically proven the walk from this parking space is shorter.” he spoke as he maneuvered his arm around the space of the car to gather things like my grocery bag, his wallet, keys, phone, and his jacket.

“Huh,” I said, getting his attention, “It just felt short enough for me.” The seriousness of my tone and the surprise on his face created a comedic atmosphere.

It wasn’t long until our faces were grinning like the cheshire cat as we laughed at the situation at hand. I laughed because of what had occurred in the past 4 or so hours; My crush on the man next to me, My past is coming back again, My stupid fling going all rough on me in a store, The creepo EMT.

I could feel my face turning red at the end of our minute or so long laughter session. The chiseled faced doctor next to me also had a red tint on his cheeks. Looking at the time that flashed on my phone from receiving the notifications from Phil I looked up into the warm hazel eyes of Spencer.

“Let’s go home?” I asked the statement in a question.

Receiving a smile and a nod from Spencer I grabbed my phone and purse, as I released myself the belt around my stomach and chest, ready to open the door outside a loud WAIT! came out from the man next to me.

Horrified, I looked at him, trying to understand the source of his abrupt scream. As my wide eyes and gaped mouth looked at him he leaned in. And the time around me stopped.

His body leaned closer and closer to me. Every inch he was closer to me I could feel the heat from him much more prominently. His scent was more prominent also. The light notes of salt were like a scent from the ocean, clashing against the sands. His musky sandalwood scent brought forth vivid images of when he was protective towards me a few minutes ago. His eyes were much darker to me now. His pupils dilated as his lips were dry, making him run his tongue over them. The entire situation at hand made it seem like to me that he was going to kiss me.

“A lady should never open her door.” He spoke with a smirk. A smirk on his face because of the look on my face.

Fuck his a tease. I bet he knew what I was thinking.

“For a second there I thought I might have to punch you,” I said with a smirk on my face and a surprised look on his, “because it’s rude to taste something that doesn’t belong to you.” I spoke as I stepped out of the car.

He was still in the car, staring at my back. Walking to the front of the car I turned my head to look at him. My hair that was now open covered my shoulders to provide a bit of warmth. The hair that framed the front of my face was blowing back softly in the small whispers of wind. I made eye contact with Spencer. He was staring back at me with a smile on his face. I nodded towards the building as if to say let's go inside and he got the hint as he began to step out the car.

“It’s also rude to keep a lady waiting in the cold,” I quipped back at him to make him flush red, but instead he just turned around to me as he opened the door to go inside the less cold building of our apartments.

“Good thing all I saw were pinus taeda,” He spoke as we walked towards the elevator.

“I never knew pinus taeda could be such a tease,” I said with a sly grin on my face as I stepped inside the open elevator door.

“It takes one pinus taeda to know another pinus taeda,” The tall man spoke back, teasing back with a sly grin on his face that matches mine. We held each other's gaze as the elevator door closed. The intensity of our gaze mixed in with the adrenaline and serotonin rushing through our body led into another laughter fest at the ding of the elevator closing.

“I’m glad we are getting to know each other,” sincerely the words left Spencer's mouth as he looked at me.

A lot of men have looked at me, but none could have the intensity that shadows over the orbs that belong to the doctor who towers over me so easily. His stare had left me breathless so many times over the past few hours that the entire encounter felt surreal. It felt fabricated as if it was too good to be true.

“Me too,” I replied back to him as I stared back at him, “I feel better knowing that if anyone breaks into my apartment there’ll be a Glock and a FBI agent available right next to me.” I joked at him.

“Actually, I own a SIG P239. It’s a semiautomatic pistol that has better accuracy when I am unable to factor in wind vector,” He spoke casually as we stepped off the elevator and made up the hallway towards our doors to our apartment, “Not to mention, concealment is easy.”

“Interesting,” I said as I listened to his words but my mind thought about something else.

His body was naked above his waist.

His muscles shone in the reflection of the light from some unknown source.

I wore something that made his skin stick to mine like honey against honey. Sitting in his lap. Grinding on his hard cock in between my thighs.

His skin, so slick with sweat that it coated him like a lubricant. Allowing the nozzle of the black gun to travel from his shoulder blade to his throat.

His hands aren’t tied but he feels so helpless under me. Yet his mouth was moving, like he was in control.

The lewd words that left his pink lips married perfectly amongst the sinful praises he said to me.

“And that’s how I realized that the safety lock on that Glock 22 was not really reliable.” Spencer ended as he stopped in front of my door.

“Huh, that’s a very unique story," I said not truly knowing what else to say as I paid no mind to his words. Just the fantasy that I had burned into my memory with hope that it would become true.

“I know when people pretend to listen to me,” He said as I opened the door to my apartment. Making me halt midstep of me entering the confines of my home. He was hurt as he looked at me and spoke his truth.

“I Am truly sorry for doing that, but in all honesty I was listening to you,” I said to him, pausing to take the bag of groceries from his hand before continuing with my words and my voyage inside the house, “ but I was also thinking of something else,” I said truthfully.

“Thinking of something else whilst staring at my lips?” He said with a tone that I knew he had a smirk on his face without looking at him.

“Would you like to know what I was thinking about, Doctor?” I spoke in a breathless manner as I turned to face him. He was still standing by the door, with one hand in his pants pockets and the other carrying my grocery just by his side.

My words made his eyebrows twitch a bit as his eyes focused on my body, trying to read what I was insinuating.

“I was thinking, how could a dashing young man like Dr. Spencer Reid, who has a woman like Dr. Maeve, not see what I saw,” I said as I dropped my grocery bag on my kitchen counter and sauntered back at him. I knew my smirk, my attitude, and the double meaning intention behind my words were catching him in my own net.

“Would you like to know what I saw Dr. Reid?” I questioned him as I made my way to him at the door. Standing so close in front of him. His eyes were blown with dilated pupils. His breath was caught in his throat. The anxiety from this situation was clearly getting to the man in front of me. I paused as I studied him. Watching his feet twitch a bit, his lips quiver slightly, and his breathing becoming subtly erratic. He was squirming in front of me, and he was trying his best to hide it.

Hide that in this moment I was in control. I wondered if he knew I could see through his little facade and knew what he knew.

I stared at him, waiting for him to break the ice that I layed and created between us. The awkward atmosphere that was making him fidget. I wanted to see how he’d reign control or even if he could.

“And what did you see, Doctor?” He questioned back in a voice low enough to be deep. A new tone of his words that should have been foreign to my ears but were instead familiar.

Looking up at him whilst biting my lips to stop myself from spilling a huge grin at my own “joke”, I stepped a bit closer to him. I got on my tip toys and leaned towards his shoulder. Making sure our bodies were not touching but close enough for it to be uncomfortable.

“Brassica Oleracea,” I said sweetly in a whispered tone. Making sure my breath hit his ears delicately to leave behind goosebumps. Stepping away from him, I observed the confused look he had on his face. It reminded me of someone thinking they knew the truth only for it to be known later to them a lie.

“Broccoli?” he questioned me as his eyes squinted, his mouth opened slightly, and his head tilted slightly towards the side. He stepped further inside my apartment as he closed the door behind him.

“Yea it was stuck in your teeth and before I could point it out you had already gotten to it,” I said casually as I motioned to my own teeth before turning my back to him as I walked to my kitchen area passing my couch and T.V.

I collected my loose open hair in a bundle with my own heads. Touching the threads of cold that was an extension of me, as I pulled my hair to the right side of my body. Baring my naked shoulder at the unsuspecting eyes of Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Did my answer really catch a profiler off guard?” I teased back the confused looking Doctor.

“Truthfully, yea a little bit,” He said with a serious tone. My mischievous smile that was on my faltered as I turned my entire body to face him as I slowly made my way to his figure by the couch. I began to fear that maybe I crossed a boundary or pushed him to a limit.

“It’s just when I first saw you, I didn’t expect you to,” he paused his words as he took a deep breath and sat on the couch. His eyes avoided mine as he fidgeted with his hands. He swallowed deeply, his Adam's apple bobbing painfully.

He became quiet as he fidgeted a bit. It had been a minute passed and he hadn’t said anything. I refused to move in fear of scaring him or making the present situation worse. Another minute passed, and so did another. At this point my skin was crawling with small ant-like jitters. My throat felt dry and my head felt slightly dizzy from standing straight up, as stiff as a board, for as long as I had.

“...didn’t expect me to?” I asked so softly that my own words were deaf to my ears.

“I didn't expect,” he said as he breathed out. His chest exaggerated from such a deep exhalation of air. His face fell on his hands that were placed on his thighs to keep his head up.

“Spencer,” I whimpered out his name. It was meant to come out a small whisper but the anxiety pounding through my body scared me to whimper out his name.

As his name leaves my lips he takes in a sharp inhalation of breath.

“...for you to be so much into Lord of The Ring. I mean the classical version is one thing but actually having a physical disk copy of the extended versions seems a bit too nerdy for someone like Dr. Y/N Monterey.” Smuggly Spoke Spencer.

He relished in the beads of sweat that made itself down my forehead, my wide eyes in anticipation, and my fidgety fingers fidgeting on my laps.

“That's big talk from someone who likes to sing along to despacito in broken Spanish,” I retorted back.

“YOU HEARD THAT!!??” screeched the now tall and red flushed man in front of me.

“Thin walls, Dr. Spencer,” I spoke as I made my way to the wall behind my T.V and Lord of the Rings collection, “Thin walls”, I concluded.

“It seems like we have materials that would destroy both of our reputation,” He joked. He clearly knew neither me or him cared for what others thought but to pretend we did was a bit exhilarating. The idea that a dirty secret could ruin us made me realize how much I would love for a dirty secret to be between us.

“Then let's keep it a secret,” I whispered as I imagined the only secret we would keep between us is how we taste.

“Anyways, I’m gonna go turn in the paperwork for the accident,” He said as a goodbye as he turned around to walk out.

“WAIT!” I said suddenly as I grabbed his hands. His soft but hard hands was warm and huge in comparison to mine.

“Sorry, sorry,” I said breathlessly as I remembered he had a thing against hands touching his. I quickly grabbed the bottle of sanitizer from my T.V and offered him some. He looked at me with a quirked eyebrow and stared between me and the sanitizer.

“I’m fine, why’d you stop me?” He said in the same breath.

“Paperwork for what accident?” I asked him softly. The mere thought of being involved with the police just brought back a form of phobia that I had always hid. Many times I believed that I am a good citizen because of the anxiety I would feel being close to blue uniformed humans. If I was a normal human being with no trauma associated with the police, I would have been a stone cold criminal by now. Or at least I choose to believe so.

“Don’t worry, I'll handle everything so that legally all you’ll need to provide is a signature.” He said comfortingly. His eyes were starting to become my own fascination. They held emotions so foreign yet so familiar that the only way to describe what it made me feel was captivated.

“Please don’t be so kind to me Doctor Reid,” I whispered as I looked up at him, “it makes it harder for me to expose your slow little secret.” I joked at him. Hating the seriousness created from the first sentence I uttered.

He just smiled at my words and walked out the door as I followed behind him. As he stood outside his door, he paused a moment before entering his own abode.

“Be safe,” He spoke kindly before he stepped in. I Just closed my door and pondered.

I felt content but I also felt deeply confused. I have had crushes in highschool and their basis was the same as it is now. I would see someone and something about them would attract me. I remember Ryan Reigns from 8th grade was kinda like my first crush. I had barely spoken to him but I had a crush on throughout 8th till 12th grade. What attracted me to him was that he was always quiet. It made me wonder a lot about him, and soon he became my crush.

With Spencer I am attracted to his physical being because that is what I have observed the most in the past hours. His tall towering height, his moss colored iris, his curly hair, his stubble cheeks, and his arms. Oh lord does his arm make me want to be entrapped within them as I could feel him behind. But the way we joked in the car, the way he protected me in the grocery store, the way he could mimic my psychological jokes. It made me harder not to be entranced by his being.

Was it wrong? Yes, he had a girlfriend who it looks like is someday going to be his wife. And here I am, fantasizing about him. I want to say that this will start as a silly crush and end as one, but the truth is I fear that it will end in a heartbreak.

A/N: Yo so like if this is tmi but a cornhub audio artist named RedBOxVO came out with the most cutest and fluffiest but also dirty dirty audio, and I am planning on writing a scene inspired from that audio.

Another note is that a bunch of like bot scam woman who have pics in their lingerie are becoming my followers so shoutout to the humans who follow me. I appreciate your interest in my work!

Also college started for me and its making me a clown at how much I am juggling.

Taglist:

@hopelessromantichopefulthinking @lovemesickly @liidiaaag @kodakmack @strangerintheblur @fairydresses @ohnojessicaa @ohnojessica @savi-02 @chaoticevilbakugo @winkev1 @fx666x @fall-myriad @volatile-violet @yourfavoritefangirl @hellooitsrose @ilovereid21

#Spencer reid x reader #spencer reid xreader #Dr. spencer reid x reader #Dr. spencer reid xreader #Spencer reid x y/n #Spencer reid x y/n smut #Spencer reid x female #Criminal Minds #Dr. spencer reid x reader smut #Spencer reid smut.

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magewritesstories · 8 months ago

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just gonna leave this here

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #bau team #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #HANDS #hands #im just a girl #pls #have mercy #he looks so good #this man #who allowed this

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mggslover · 2 months ago

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Angel

In which Spencer sees his girlfriend fresh out of the shower for the first time, you looked angelic, and he was about to ruin you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Girlfriend!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: spencer being horny, reader wears glasses, teasing, fingering, some spanking, p in v sex, facial, soft!dom spencer Word count: 3,8k A/n: this was supposed to be a short, smut no plot fic, but I got a little carried away...

The familiar goodbyes and sorrys were exchanged as you hung up the phone.

What was meant to be a romantic date out of town with your boyfriend had quickly turned into another one of those last-minute cancellations. It wasn’t surprising—Spencer’s work as a profiler came with its own set of unpredictable demands, and you were used to him being pulled away at a moment’s notice. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. You’d been looking forward to spending some time together.

You’d been dating Spencer for about three months, and things had progressed naturally from casual coffee dates to longer dinners and, eventually, a few trips to his place afterwards. As much as you enjoyed those nights, you wished they would last longer. You and Spencer made a habit out of quickies, knowing that at any moment his phone would inevitably buzz with a message or call from his colleague, Garcia. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, serial killers unfortunately didn’t work a nine to five. Spencer hated leaving you as well, making sure he offered you enough apologetic kisses and promises that he’d be back as soon as he could.

He always insisted that you could stay over at his place until he’d be back, but you never felt comfortable enough to do so. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being at his place—you could already picture yourself curled up on the couch with one of his books, or take advantage of his bed, which was a lot bigger and more comfortable than yours. But it wasn’t quite home yet, at least not without him there.

With a resigned sigh, you decided to make the best out of the situation. It had been a long week, and you could use a night of self-care. As you set your phone down on the bathroom counter, you hit play on a playlist you’d made for such occasions—soft, calming melodies that would help you unwind. You pulled your hair back with a headband, took out your contacts, and started removing the makeup that took you half an hour to do earlier.

The bathroom mirror fogged slightly as the warmth of the shower filled the room. You hummed along with the song in the background, while you moved the cotton pads over your skin in a familiar motion.

As you finished, you carefully stepped out of your dress and turned toward the shower. The steam hit your skin as you slid into the stall, closing your eyes for a moment as the water hit your shoulders.

Without realizing, you spent a good hour in the shower. Once comfortably dressed, you let yourself sink into the plush cushions of your couch. A fuzzy blanket was draped across your just shaved legs, and the TV remote was within arm’s reach. You let out a content sigh, almost feeling as satisfied as you would be when being with Spencer.

—

Spencer’s signature melody of knocks broke your focus on the documentary you were watching. You swiftly moved up from the couch and checked the peephole on your door, just to be sure. A smile spread across your face as you saw Spencer rocking back and forth on his feet, plucking at the bouquet in his hands, straightening out each flower to perfection.

You opened the door with a big smile. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought we cancelled tonight.”

He hesitates, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. “You’re right. I finished the case early, and I’ve been thinking about you all day. I just… wanted to see you.” His words came out more nervously than he intended. “I saw the lights were on, so I assumed you were awake.”

“I wasn’t asleep. Don’t worry,” you answered warmly. You glanced down at the bouquet in his hands. “Are these for me?”

“They are,” he replies, his voice softened as he handed them to you. “You said you liked lilies.”

“I do, thank you. They’re beautiful.” You accept the bouquet, moving to your tiptoes to give him a kiss. Having a boyfriend with an eidetic memory really is perfect.

“I’ll put them in water, come in.”

You moved to the open kitchen, so in awe of his sweet gesture that you were completely unaware of the way Spencer’s breath caught the moment you opened the door, how his pupils darkened when he inhaled your sweet scent and noticed the state you were in. Hair still damp from the shower you must’ve taken, wearing only a shirt, and your face bare besides the glasses you were wearing. Fuck… he didn’t even know you wore glasses.

He couldn’t deny how incredibly cute you looked. Spencer has only seen you during or after dates, and he loved how he could tell that you took the time to get yourself ready. Always wearing an outfit that fits you perfectly and having your makeup done in a way that enhances the features of your face. But it felt so intimate seeing how effortlessly beautiful you looked moving around in the comfort of your own home. You were beautiful in a way that seemed almost unfair, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the most captivating version of you he'd ever seen.

Spencer wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you as you walked to the kitchen, your breasts swaying with every step you took. The outline of your nipples were visible, because of the cold that escaped when you opened the door for him. Your bare legs reflected the warm kitchen light. He felt like he was about to lose his mind as you reached up to grab a vase from the top cabinet, the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath the shirt that you're wearing.

He felt guilty for the warmth that was spreading through him. He shook his head slightly, trying to reset his thoughts, but the temptation was there. Your easy grace, the way your bare feet padded across the floor, the gentle hum of the air between you—it all combined into something too alluring for him to ignore.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he moved behind you, placing a careful hand on your hip as he reached out to grab the vase. You turned around with a smile as he placed the vase on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks,” you beamed, and he mumbled a ‘You’re welcome’, though his response came out as more of a soft hum.

Before he could think better of it, he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was slow, deliberate—his lips meeting yours with a tenderness that made his pulse race. His fingers tingle with the desire to pull you closer, but just before his hands slid around you, you pulled away, making him swallow back a groan.

“Ooh! I was watching this documentary that I think you’ll be really into,” you said, quickly putting the flowers in the vase and tugging him by the hand toward the couch. He followed like a stray pup, too caught up in the way you moved to protest.

“Oh, yeah? What’s it about?” He asked, hoping the conversation would steer him away from the other thoughts tugging at him. You settled on the couch beside him, and he instinctively pulled your legs onto his lap, cupping your feet in his hands to warm them.

“It’s about space. The universe, really. It’s fascinating, but honestly terrifying if you think about it for too long.”

Spencer nodded, though his mind was far away. He was more focused on the way that his fingers traced the soft lines of your calves. He gently started kneading the muscles, placing just the right amount of pressure.

“Would you go to space, if NASA invited you?” You asked, eyes still glued to the TV.

“Only if you’d come with me.”

His response made you turn around to look at him. The sincere and loving expression he gave you warmed your face. He squeezed your legs gently, and, just like that, you noticed the hint of desire hidden in his eyes.

“Come here,” he said in a whisper, patting his thigh. In a second you managed to crawl yourself onto his lap, and he held you steady by your hips.

You reached up to remove your glasses, but before your fingers could touch the frames, his hand found yours, halting the movement.

You noticed the slight squint in his eyes. “I can’t properly kiss you with my glasses on,” you explain.

"Then let me handle the kissing," he murmured, voice dropped low.

Before you could register his words, his lips had found your neck. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing along the line of your jaw, holding you close as his tongue licked a firm stripe up your sensitive skin.

“Oh, god,” you shuddered in a breath.

“Shaking already?” he teased, voice laced with amusement as he grinned against your skin.

“No,” you lied.

“Are you sure about that? Then why are you doing it again?” He comments before squeezing your breast, your nipple caught in between his long fingers.

You jumped at his touch, a moan escaping your lips. You shook your head as you saw his satisfied expression. “You’re such a dirty tease.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints so far,” he smirks, making you roll your eyes.

His breath was warm against your skin as his lips found their way back to the soft curve of your neck. Slowly, with a tenderness that sent a shiver through your body, he placed several more kisses to your skin. Once pleased, he bends his head down to capture your clothed nipple in his mouth, his hand still kneading your other breast.

“Fuck, Spence,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. He took his time, his mouth sucking slowly on your nub, savoring the feel of you beneath him. Tonight, he was in no rush—he wanted to taste every inch of you, show you just how much he loves every detail of your body.

You were writhing in his lap as he flicked his tongue against your nipple. Heat forming between your thighs with every stroke of his tongue. He removed his lips from your breast with a pop, and sat back against the couch. His gaze was locked on the now wet, see-through patch on your shirt. He licked his lips, watching you like you were a piece of art he just created himself.

“Beautiful,” he stated.

The compliment sent a rush of warmth straight to your core, your body responding with a soft shiver. Without thinking, you began to grind yourself against his lap, a surge of excitement rushing through you as you felt the firm bulge beneath his pants. Spencer exhaled a deep, satisfied sigh, his warm hands slipping beneath your shirt as he cupped your breasts, squeezing them gently.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he said, his gaze lingering on you.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Oh, so that’s what this is all about, huh?”

His expression softened, “Actually, it’s about all of you.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, turning you almost shy.

“Can I take this off?” he murmured, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. You nodded wordlessly and raised your arms. Spencer pulled the fabric over your head, his eyes tracing the curve of your bare chest. He cursed under his breath, his hands immediately finding you—fingers digging into your skin as he leaned in, nuzzling his face between your tits with a satisfied moan.

A string of giggles and moans spilled from your lips as his curls tickled your skin. His pink lips grazed you gently, pausing to leave sloppy, lingering marks—each one a reminder that you’d carry with you for the following days.

You moved against him, rolling your hips, finding release in the way that your barely covered heat rubbed against the rough material of his pants. Spencer noticed the change in your rhythm, the need in your movements. He guided you with steady hands, his fingers moving to your hips and then sliding lower, finding the curve of your ass, tightening his grip to help you find the pace you craved.

“Can you handle more?” His voice was laced with desire. Without hesitation, you nodded, your body already screaming for more. His long fingers traced your inner thighs, goosebumps forming on your skin, his touch light but electrifying. When his thumb pressed against your covered clit, a jolt of heat shot through you, making you squirm helplessly. You moaned, your body arching toward him.

“You’re always so wet for me, angel.” The word slipped from Spencer's lips. It was the first time he’d called you anything other than your name or a shortened version of it, and somehow, angel felt more fitting than any word he'd ever used. You looked like heaven to him—your soft skin glowing in the light, your eyes sparkling behind the frames of your glasses, and the way you responded to his touch, every small brush of his fingers making your expressions change so delicately.

He slowly tugged the damp fabric of your underwear to the side, savoring the reveal of your glistening pussy. You lifted your hips, giving Spencer the access to slide a finger through your folds, spreading your wetness.

“Feels good,” you breathed out, your voice shaky as his fingers ran back and forth between your lips, each pass teasingly close to your entrance, but never quite slipping inside. The sensation made your hips buck against him. You weren’t used to being teased for this long—Spencer had a way of getting you dripping without even fully touching you. Usually that led straight to sex, which makes his slow touches feel almost torturous.

“Please, Spence,” you moaned.

“Please, what?” he mused, his eyes dark with desire as he watched how your arousal coated his fingers, his gaze never leaving your glistenings folds.

“I need more,” you begged, your voice a whimper.

“You can have more, angel. My fingers are right here,” he hummed.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you shifted, positioning yourself so his fingers were just below your entrance. Spencer’s breath hitched, and his mouth fell open as you sank down onto his fingers, inch by inch, taking him in. Your hand gripped his shoulder tightly for support as you moved, the sensation of fullness making your body tremble.

Spencer was the first to make a sound, his head falling back slightly as you adjusted to him. His moans only spurred you on. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths shaky as he pumped his fingers in a steady, insistent rhythm.

His other hand moved to your ass, fingers spreading across your cheek as he squeezed, pulling you closer to him. You were grateful he was doing most of the work—your legs were already shaking, straining to keep up with the building pleasure.

Spencer’s fingers curled inside you, pressing deeper, and the angle was perfect—hitting spots you never managed to reach on your own. Spencer groaned at the sight. Your body was tightening around him, your slickness coating his fingers, and he couldn’t help but imagine it being his cock filling you up.

The sounds he made drove you crazy. Each deep groan, every stuttered breath, showed you how much he enjoyed making you feel good. His enjoyment only intensified your own pleasure.

You were so close, your nipples hard against his chest, your breath mixing with his as your hair tumbled over his face, the scent of it intoxicating to him.

Your breathing quickened, sharp and shallow, as the pressure built within you, pooling low in your belly. Your vision blurred, the edges of reality dissolving as you neared the brink of your climax.

“Baby…” you breathed, your voice a desperate whisper, barely more than a plea. You locked your eyes with Spencer, hoping—praying—he could see the need in yours, feel the frantic urgency building inside you.

And then, with a nod and a final twist of his fingers, you broke.

A flood of pleasure crashed through you. You gasped, your whole body seizing as your orgasm hit, sending shockwaves of heat through every inch of you. You cried out, unable to hold back the sounds of your release, your hips bucking against his touch, your hands gripping his wrist to anchor you to the world as it spun in a blur.

He withdrew his fingers from your heat, and the sudden absence left you breathless, a soft sound escaping your lips at the loss. When you blinked your eyes open, Spencer’s warm gaze met yours, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You smiled back at him, a little dazed, as he brushed your cheek with his untouched hand.

He carefully took your glasses off, placing them on the armrest of the couch. His thumb tenderly wiped away the tears that had escaped your eyes. He then cupped your chin, pulling you toward him, and kissed you deeply, his lips soft and lingering.

“Thank you,” he murmured, as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“I should be the one thanking you,” you softly laughed.

He shook his head, smiling. “No need for that,” he replied, his voice reassuring.

“But I want to,” you insisted. “Though… I think you’ll find I’m better at showing than telling.” You playfully whispered, as your nails grazed the outline of his dick.

You turned yourself around on his lap, your knees still planted on either side of him, but now with your back facing him. Leaning forward, you braced yourself on the coffee table, your elbows digging into the surface. You arched your back, making Spencer hiss sharply at the sight of your ass displayed before him, your arousal trickling down your thighs. The inviting shake of your hips made him lose his patience, and his fingers fumbled hastily with his belt.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hurriedly pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, the flushed head brushing against the faint line of hair trailing up his abdomen.

He gripped himself firmly, pumping his length a few times before lining himself up with your slick entrance. The weight of his hand settled on your hip as he pressed the tip of his cock against your warmth, teasing you for the briefest moment before you sank down on him.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as he filled you, the new angle making him hit depths you’d never felt before. The stretch was deliciously overwhelming, stealing your breath as your fingers clawed at the table. You shakily tried to lift your hips, but your legs quivered under the strain.

Spencer noticed immediately, his hands finding their place—one on your waist, steadying you, and the other trailing down to your calf. He began guiding you, his strength effortlessly lifting and lowering you along his cock. The room filled with the symphony of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of meeting skin.

“God, look at you,” he rasped, mesmerized by the way your body took him in. His gaze focused on the bounce of your ass, hypnotized by the way it moved with each thrust. On instinct, he brought his hand down in a firm smack against your cheek.

The sudden impact made you jolt, as you let out a sweet, startled cry. The sound sent a surge of need through him, and he swore he felt himself harden further.

“You liked that, huh?” he mused in curiosity. Without waiting for an answer, he did it again, revelling in your shivering response.

Pulling you against him, Spencer adjusted your position until you were seated in his lap, your back pressed flush to his chest. One arm wrapped around your waist to hold you close, while his other hand rose to cup your breast. His hips snapped into you roughly, each thrust pulling an uncontrollable whimper from your throat.

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praised, his voice hoarse as his fingers pinched and rolled your nipple. The combination made your head loll back against his shoulder, surrendering to his touch. He seized the opportunity to claim your lips in a needy, devouring kiss. Tongues tangled messily, swallowing your shared moans.

As your pleasure mounted, your walls began to flutter around him, drawing a strained groan from his throat.

“Are you close again, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper against your lips.

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to form the word. “Spencer… fuck, I’m so close.”

“Then cum around me,” he encouraged. “I know you want it.”

Your breath hitched. “Will you cum inside of me?”

For a heartbeat, he stilled. “I…” His gaze flickered with hesitation, cheeks flushed. “I want to cum on your face.”

Your pupils blew wide, desire sparking anew at his confession. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers dipped between your thighs, circling your clit in rapid, precise motions. The pressure tipped you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you let go.

Barely able to recover, you slid from his lap onto your knees, settling in front of him. Spencer’s breath hitched at the sight of you—flushed and disheveled, your sweat-slick skin glowing in the low light. Your lips, swollen from his kisses, parted expectantly.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked angelic… and he was about to ruin you.

It didn’t take long. His cock twitched, thick ropes of cum spilling over your face and dripping down to your chest. His jaw went slack, his chest heaving as he watched you collect some of his release with your thumb and slip it into your mouth. The sight of you sucking on your finger almost unraveled him all over again.

Unable to bring himself to leave your side, he grabbed his sleeve, using it to gently clean you up. Once satisfied, you leaned forward, resting your head on his thigh, basking in the comfortable silence that followed.

His phone buzzed suddenly on the couch, shattering the moment. Spencer groaned, grabbing the device and quickly silencing it with a flick of his finger.

You laughed softly, your voice tinged with amazement. “What was that about?”

Spencer shrugged, tossing the phone aside without a second glance. “I can be late for one day.”

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alana-reid-2005 · 6 months ago

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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.

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foxy-eva · 3 months ago

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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.

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

#spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff

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pathologicalreid · 3 months ago

Text

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.

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reiderwriter · 2 months ago

Text

☎️ Don't Call Me ☎️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you find accidental comfort in your coworker. With your phone ringing nonstop, you're willing to do whatever it takes to start fresh.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, bug mentions (cockroaches), cheating, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight spanking, mentions of masturbation. Dom! Spencer.

A/N: Haha... hi guys... been a while 😚 Please enjoy the fic I dreamed up over a month ago now, and was finally able to conjure up!

Masterlist

If you were to be asked how you assumed a five-year-long relationship would end, you'd likely say something like irreparable differences. Maybe a difference in lifestyle, growing out of love, or even different plans for the future. Unfortunately, the irreparable difference your boyfriend had chosen at 10 pm on a Thursday evening was being balls deep in an irreparably different woman.

You supposed you should've seen the signs the relationship was drawing to a close and likely you did, but with your job itself being a life or death situation almost daily, you really didn't have much time to worry about the fact that your boyfriend was sowing his oats in other fields. Based on the look of the woman spread across your bed, the oats weren't that great for her either.

Your reaction had been somewhat delayed, but curiously not as much as hers. She'd been wonderfully blasé about the man writhing on top of her before you started screaming and throwing things, and even now you were armed with a vase of flowers (dead - you'd bought them yourself before the case you'd been on for the last two weeks) she still looked slightly bored. But at least her legs were together now, and not gynaecologist level apart.

Your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - managed to regain an ounce of dignity with a scrap of clothing, and did his best to shepard you out of the crime scene as you regained the ability to hold coherent thoughts that weren't about strangling him with his own tie.

“Listen to me, please just for five minutes-”

“Listen? I was just listening! To you moaning into that woman's shoulders with your eyes rolled back in your head!”

It was as if in the last few minutes all the love you'd had for this man, all five years of relationship and comfort, and nights spent together had melted away in an instant. The rage dissipated, and you were surprisingly calm again, though that worried you, too. Surely you should be crying, or at the very least upset. You should be feeling some kind of emotion that wasn't a vague disgust at the man in front of you in full pooh bear mode, trying to tug down the hem of his shirt to cover the crown jewels.

“It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything. She's just - You're gone so long on cases, and I just-”

“So you're saying it's my fault you're cheating on me?”

“Yes! No, wait, no, no, no, no-”

“No, heard loud and clear, I'll try not to save lives in the future, I'm sure the BAU will understand I should be on my back 24 hours a day instead, taking all four inches you have to donate to my worthy cause.”

“Y/N, don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. Whatever he had to be exasperated about, you had no idea. Maybe blue balls.

“Like what?”

“Like a bitch!”

The room went still with silence as you let him sit with the words he'd just spoken, willing him to snap back quickly so you could keep even just a shred of respect for him.

No such apology came.

“I'm leaving now. I expect your things packed and out of here by 12 pm tomorrow, including your thing in the bedroom. Don't bother cleaning the sheets. Just burn them. Lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox when you're done.”

“Y/N, I told you it's not like that, I still love you, come on-”

“Well I don't love you. And please go put some fucking pants on.”

You stepped back over the threshold of your apartment - the lovely, nice apartment you'd been living in for the last eight years, your nice safe space - and you shuddered.

The question wasn't exactly what next, but more like where next. What next was sending a group text in your ex-boyfriends family chat telling them what you'd walked in on, and then leaving the chat before you could get any response. The where would be a harder sell.

From this part of the city, it'd take 2 hours to get to Penelope’s apartment, especially at this time of night without a car. Emily's apartment was similarly far. Going through a list of your coworkers again, you mentally crossed off Tara, who'd been injured on your last case and was resting at her girlfriend's apartment, Luke, who despite the promised comfort of a cute dog, you were absolutely sure didn't have a spare bed, and all members of the team with spouses and/or children. Which left just Spencer and Rossi.

Needless to say, you found your way to Spencer's apartment in only 20 minutes, though you were sure you had disassociated the entire thing.

Knocking on the door, you felt a little bit awkward, but not awkward enough to leave and find a hotel at nearly 11 pm. Your last case hadn't been a pleasant one, hotel-wise, and you weren't exactly eager for another check-in.

Spencer opened the door quickly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he found you there but only for a brief flash before his face brightened up.

“Y/N? Do we have a case again? I thought Hotch said-”

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted, needing to get the words out as quickly as possible before you convinced yourself to walk away.

Spencer took a moment to take in your words, and you took the opportunity to look at him then. He was fully clothed at least, and you were glad to find that his pajamas looked comfortable and clean. A simple plaid cotton pant with a soft-looking white long sleeved shirt pushed up his arms slightly. He'd taken out his contacts and put on his glasses, and you wondered if you'd caught him mid-book.

“Please?” you added in a hopeful voice as he still looked at you slightly confused.

“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing inside. “Is there something wrong with your apartment?” he asked, taking your go-bag from you without question and guiding you into the main living space of his apartment.

“Thank you, yeah. Something like that. Shoes off or on?”

“I have some slippers. You can take them off. What happened?” he said, placing the slippers in front of you and turning back to bolt the door.

“Invasive species?” You said, trying to sound as nonplussed as possible despite now feeling incredibly plussed.

“Oh, bugs? Yeah, I've had a cockroach or two in the apartment before. Did you know that the average female cockroach can produce up to 10,000 offspring in a single year?”

You sat on his couch quietly, trying not to imagine 10,000 cockroaches and failing nearly spectacularly. Unfortunately, the only image that could surpass tiny cockroach babies was of your boyfriend pounding away at another woman. Which was just a brilliant move for your psyche.

“Spencer, I know I've really intruded here tonight, but do…. Do you wanna drink with me?” You asked, hoping to drown at least a memory or two of the last 24 hours. Hopefully, the cheating one, but you'd take cockroach extermination as well.

A slightly worried look settled on Spencer's face, but he said nothing and nodded, walking to his kitchen, grabbing two beers and meeting you back on his loveseat.

“Oh you really have beer here!” You exclaimed, thanking him for the beverage before cracking it open and taking a sip.

“Morgan came over with some to celebrate 6 months out of prison. These are leftovers.”

“Right… right…”

The first few sips were so painfully awkward that you thought about returning back to your apartment and just sleeping on your own couch.

Vaguely, you felt Spencer watching you, taking a sip of his drink for every sip you took of yours.

“So…” you said, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow again, already questioning whatever was about to come out of your mouth.

“So?” he asked. You weren't sure if it was the beer, the look on his face, or the crazy implosion of the last 5 years that had you giggling all of a sudden. You were just glad that when you cracked up, he cracked a smile as well, and a little bit of the tension went away.

“Why are you really here, YN?”

You took a deep breath and looked straight forward at the bookshelves Spencer had lovingly filled. Maybe this had taken him half a decade as well, so he'd understand how your life felt a little bit like a wobbly bookshelf at that second.

“The invasive species I mentioned? It was the woman screwing my boyfriend in my bed. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.”

You heard the intake of breath from Spencer before he put his can down and started thinking of something to say in reply to that.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh… Y/N, I-”

A shrill ringing cut him off, and you were almost glad to not be on the receiving end of whatever pitiful words he was about to push on you, until you checked the caller ID and saw your ex's name.

“Don't pick that up,” Spencer said as you hesitated towards the phone. With a hand over yours, he flipped the phone over, locking eyes with you as he let it ring out.

“He's just going to try it again.”

“Let him.”

You nodded, breaking eye contact and sinking back into Spencer's slightly wilted couch cushions.

“In your bed? Really?” he asked, talking another sup as you took a gulp, letting the beer fizz down your throat before you could answer.

“I told him to expect me tomorrow because of how the case was looking. I guess he wasn't expecting me.”

“I think that was a given. Unless he was into that. Exhibitionism is one of the most common kinks among adult males, and-”

“Oh he was not into exposing himself,” you laughed into your drink, propping your head up on your hand and turning to face Spencer more. He shot another questioning glance but didn't push the issue, so you silently explained as well. By pinching your fingers together to the approximate size of your ex-boyfriend's dick.

“Oh. Well, it's not the size that counts?” He whispered almost ironically as he took another sip, now much closer than before. You'd done your best to distance yourself from your boyfriend even as he'd followed you through your apartment half naked, but you didn't seem to find Spencer's proximity threatening at all.

Maybe because he wasn't having sex with a random woman in your bed 5 seconds before.

“You wanna know the worst part?” You said, leaning closer as if to tell him an even bigger secret. “He didn't even know how to use it. I haven't-”

Another phone call blasted through, and you grabbed your phone and put it behind you.

“He's really great at interrupting conversation when it’s just getting good,” Spencer laughed, but you were slightly disappointed that he'd leaned back away now.

“What was it you were saying?” He asked, taking a swig of beer again, can nearing its close.

“I haven't had an orgasm in almost three years,” you said bluntly, watching the most genuine spit take you’d seen in your life. You pat Spencer's back as he coughed up inhaled beer, bringing your feet up under you into a cosier position.

“Okay now?” you asked as his breathing returned to normal.

“No? Three years, Y/N? Really?”

You shrugged and looked away almost embarrassed to be meeting his eyes now that your sexual history was the topic of the night.

“We had sex. He's just… he's just a really lazy lover. It'd be the same stuff every time. Handjob to some clumsy fingers missing my clit, a few pumps and cum on my face. I wasn't exactly initiating seven days a week in the hopes that this time he'd be able to locate it.”

Spencer was somewhere between horror and trying not to laugh, eyes wide with either alarm or the strain of having to keep it in.

“It's okay, you can laugh,” you said, but he shook his head politely.

“Y/N, I was in prison and still had more orgasms than you this year.”

“Hey, I hear prison is a great place to meet new people. Have new experiences.”

Spencer shot you a quickly horrified look as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Y/N, I was not someone's bitch in prison.”

“Why not? You're pretty enough for it?”

You'd meant the line to come across as teasing, just as you'd expected the finger now twisted in a lock of his hair, playing with him, to come off as teasing as well.

But you felt a definite throb between your legs when he looked at you again, doubly so when his eyes darted down to your lips.

You cleared your throat and tried for a teasing tone once again.

“So you made someone else your bitch?” you smiled, trying to drag his eyes away from your lips before you did something you'd regret.

“No. I… I spent a long time in solitary, and there's… there's really not that much to do.”

“So you did yourself?”

The tips of his ears were scarlet when you finally decided to back off, tucking the curl of hair behind his ear and letting him cool off.

“Why didn't you masturbate then?” he asked, pouting slightly still from your interrogation.

“Excuse me?”

“Your boyfriend couldn't make you cum, but a vibrator probably could. But you still haven't had an orgasm in three years. Why is that?”

It was your turn to feel the heat, the warmth from the beer finally reaching your head.

“He didn't want me to.”

You didn't mean for the words to sound as sad as they did. The fact itself was just incredibly sad. Your boyfriend saw anything vaguely phallic shaped as competition and had encouraged ��organic” coupling instead.

You waited for Spencer to say something else, anything else as you held his gaze, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him to start talking down to you as if you were simply a victim of the worst sex in the world.

Instead, he said “so did that other woman look as miserable as you've been for the last three years?” and the spell was broken.

You laughed so hard, you nearly choked on the beer you'd already finished. This time, it was Spencer's turn to land a hand on your back as you winded yourself with laughter.

“She looked bored! She looked genuinely bored. I almost thought it was just a lifelike doll, she was that unphased,” you kept giggling between gasps, forcing the words out as you threw your head onto Spencer's shoulder, hand landing on his thigh as you finally calmed down.

“I'd be horrified if anyone looked bored while in bed with me,” came Spencer's voice, and a little shiver ran down your spine as the rasp of his whisper rang in your ear.

You looked up from his shoulder and caught his eye immediately. If you wanted to, you could lean up by a centimetre and catch his lips with yours. And you suddenly, very much wanted to do that.

A final shriek of your phone behind you deterred you for a few seconds, and you were about to work yourself up to scooting a little bit away from Spencer when he leaned over you, grabbed the phone, and hung up on your boyfriend.

“Do you want to cum, Y/N?” he asked, as quietly as before as his hands traced over you on their return journey to him. He looked down your body, eyes greedily drinking in your breasts, hips, thighs and legs tucked into his side on his couch.

You didn't know what you were going to respond when your head practically nodded by itself. Enthusiastically.

He doesn't immediately pull you in for a kiss, and you're worried for a beat that he meant that only as a hypothetical and not an invite. A final cry from your phone has you standing in seconds, completely detached from Spencer, and the nearly embarrassing moment you pouncing him would've been.

“I should probably take it this time,” you explained, turning slightly.

But Spencer was faster than you, if not more prepared for what was to come. Wrapping an arm around your waist, Spencer tugged you back, pulling you onto his lap. When you were firmly situated - ass over his now evidently firm cock - he grabbed the phone out of your other hand, hung up and put it in his pocket.

“Spencer, I-I don't think that's a good idea,” you gasped as his hands slowly progressed up to your chest, and his lips dropped to your neck, biting and sucking along whatever flesh was easy for him to access.

“You need to cum. You deserve to cum, Y/N. I'm just here to help. Use me.”

You stifle a sharp, quick moan, biting your lips and thanking God that he couldn't see the face you made when his hips ground his cock up into your ass.

“I'm probably not ready for this,” you stuttered slightly, breath departing your body quicker than it could arrive.

“Probably not.”

“We work together, too. It would be awkward.”

“It might,” he nodded. “But you still want to.”

You couldn't help the moan, finally letting it free as you tossed your head back and clawed at his forearm, wrapped around you.

Your ass had a mind of its own, grinding back into him in circles as his hands found their way under your shirt, inquisitive fingers stroking your nipples through your bra.

“S-Spencer,” you whimpered again, legs spreading apart as you felt that familiar warmth settle between them. He didn't miss the longing in your tone, the shift in your core, pushing one hand down your stomach and trailing it onto your thigh.

It was as close as he could get with your pants still on, tight against your skin. He squeezed your thigh, still licking and sucking at your neck before his hand rose to the clasp of your pants.

It took him a long lime to fumble with them, and you thought of helping multiple times but you let yourself get distracted by the tense definition of his muscles, the rigid line of his body as he strained to please you.

Your mind fogged with lust, and you felt the vibrations from his pocket right under you when your phone rang again. You practically jerked up in shock as pleasure hit you in a wave, Spencer's fingers finally dipping into your panties just as the vibrations hit you. They weren't centred, of course, not anywhere close to where you needed them to be for you to enjoy them the way you would a toy, but that's what Spencer was for.

He let the call ring out, tracing small, slow circles over your clit as you jumped up into his hand, moaning and whimpering the entire time.

“What an idiot. I bet he never touched you like this. Nice and slow.”

“N-no, S-s-”

“I'm so glad I'm right. He didn't deserve this beautiful cunt. You're so wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded and he hummed in response, voice low and making you pulse in his lap.

“That's it, good girl,” he whispered as you worked your cunt up and down his fingers, stilling himself so you could find your own pleasure.

“Spencer… Spencer, fuck-”

With his free hand, he turned your face to the side and finally kissed you properly as you moaned into his mouth. He was quick to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue against the seam of your mouth and enter your mouth, quickly dominating you as you let yourself get more and more excited. Your hips stuttered, out of rhythm and out of practice, and you almost whimpered in frustration that you couldn't get off quicker, that your body wasn't finding the orgasm quick enough despite how good, how perfect this felt.

Sensing your growing frustration, Spencer broke the kiss.

“Come with me,” he said, pulling his hands away from your wet cunt and out of your stupid pants and encouraging your hips up until you were stood and he was stood behind you.

Cock still firmly stood against your ass, he walked you all the way to his bedroom, hands on your hips the entire time, memorising the sway of your walk.

“Strip and get on the bed, please, Y/N,” he said, finally peeling himself away from you as you nodded quickly and listened to him immediately. You weren't sure what to expect, so you hesitated, laying down, crawling up until your head hit the pillows. You were almost disappointed when you finally looked back at Spencer and he was still fully clothed, so sure that he was going to fuck you to your climax.

Instead, he approached the bed, gently slid his arms around your thighs, opened your legs wider, knelt on the floor and brought your cunt to his face.

The first touch of his to guess to your clit had you almost beside yourself with lust. You'd been sexually active for a handful of years, and this - THIS - was the first time you'd experienced such acute pleasure.

Your hips were unable to stop, thrusting up into his face as you willed his tongue to engulf you, to be a tool in your pleasure.

Again your phone rang, but he grabbed it quickly, pausing only a second to silence it and discard it on the bed beside you, sitting it further up the bed where it would no longer be a distraction to him.

He dove right back in, and you rewarded him with wave after wave of fierce moan, your writhing body only restricted by a hand snaked up onto his stomach. You still pushed against his face, practically fucking it as he flattened out his to guess and let you chase your high.

“Spencer!” You gasped and moaned, voice dripping with lust and desperation, mouth not even properly forming words now you were so close.

You propped yourself up slightly, looking down as Spencer's eye caught your own, his chin slick with your juices, his eyes dripping with lust. You grabbed a handful of his hair and jumped that little bit faster as you felt that long forgotten whisper of pleasure, that all-encompassing explosion of satisfaction, and you came apart on Spencer's tongue.

“Thank you, thank you, Spencer, shit, thank you,” you whimpered, falling back again into the bed as you rode out the high. When you managed to open your bleary eyes again, Spencer was propped up above you, but instead of paying you attention, he'd grabbed your phone and bought it to his ear.

“You heard that? Good. I'm sure you're aware now that she won't be returning your calls tonight. Goodbye.”

His voice, his words, were like a cold bucket of water to your brain as you sat up, reaching for him and finding him as his hips circled your waist.

“Was that-?” He cut you off with a kiss a sweet, soft one.

“Yes.” He kissed you again and you melted into his touch as he pulled you into his lap again.

“H-He-”

“He knows now what a real orgasm sounds like. He knows you're not interested anymore. He knows you're mine now.”

You shivered at the words, your lust addled brain flooding your senses, and your cunt as you reacted to the possessiveness of his words, his tone. Part of you was turned on by the exhibitionism as well. You'd had to walk in on your ex boyfriend completely exposed, and there was satisfaction in kicking him to the curb with a similar fuck you. A fuck you that you'd enjoyed a lot.

You pressed your lips against Spencer's and rocked your hips against him again, tasting yourself on his tongue as he laid you down once more. His cock twitched against your leg as he propped you up on the pillows, and your hands trailed down to show it some attention as your sighed into his kiss.

He eagerly shed his clothes, first his top, sitting up and pulling it over his head, giving you a deliriously enticing shot of his chest and soft stomach before dropping down to cover your body again. You let your hand find the sprinkling of hair on his lower stomach, though, following it down as you encouraged his pants off. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand, and you gladly stroked it as he kissed the plains of your body again. He found the side of your neck that he'd neglected earlier, licking and sucking until it was almost as loved as the first side, before pulling your hand away from his cock.

You pouted and began to protest when he quickly lined his cock up with your cunt, and slid in deep and soft before you could.

“Needed to be in you,” he whispered in your ear, gripping your hips and sliding your legs up and around him as he pushed that little bit deeper. “Keep them nice and wide for me,” he said, dropping one last kiss to your lips, before his chest rose, and his hips pulled away again.

When they snapped back into you, you let out a generous scream of pleasure that almost had you wishing you'd never hung up. He set a quick pace, a furious pace as he too moaned into the contact of your cunt and his cock, two desperate people searching for release.

“So tight, Y/N, you're so tight,” he moaned, flesh hitting flesh as you dug your nails into his arms, already so wet again, you could feel the sheets under you growing damp. His hand left its perch on your hip and found its way to your clit once again, and you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep to this pace without cumming a second time.

“Keep moaning for me baby, show me how much you want it,” his voice begged, almost a rumble with how lustful he sounded. You let your voice carry, each moan a little bit more unrestricted than the last.

“Louder, Y/N, please. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this, you don't know how much I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”

His prayers were answered when he lowered his head back down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth between licks and sucks. You practically screamed his name, pressing your chest up to grant him better access.

You liquefied beneath him, pressure building and building until you felt him rock, lifting his chest as you came. He pulled his cock out, teasing it through your folds as you stuttered around him, your arousal squirting across his cock and sheets as you fell back to the bed, gasping in pleasure. Your hips stuttered against him, and he soothed you gently, still working his cock through your folds gently as your clit went from overwhelmed to calm to quickly overstimulated.

“Spencer,” you whimpered, almost unable to take all the pleasure he was offering you. “Spencer, it-it hurts.”

“Don't you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements for a second as you deliberated your answer. The lack of movement was answer alone, and you shook your head no wanting to feel his cock against you, inside you, one more time.

“Louder, Y/N, tell me what you want.”

“I want to keep going,” you said, as he began slowly rocking his cock against you again, sticky from your cum.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, teasing a nipple with his hand as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Please fill me up again, please I want to cum again.”

“One more time?” He asked.

“Mhmmm… one more… one more, please.”

You were cum drunk, so horny that you couldn't fathom stopping there. He pressed another kiss to your lips and encouraged you to flip over, propping a pillow under your stomach as he pulled your legs into the right position.

You snuggled into the pillows at your head, pushing your ass up for him slightly as he nudged his cock against your entrance once more.

“Where should I cum Y/N?” He asked, reaching under you to slowly circle your clit again.

“H-hmmm…” you said, eyes shut, focused more on the pleasure than the question. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care where he came, just as long as he let you do it, too.

“Y/N, I expect an answer. Where should I put my cum?”

“Anywhere,” you pouted, pressing your hips back into his cock in the hopes that he'd just fuck you again already.

“That's not an answer,” he said, gently slapping your ass as he pulled his cock away.

“On your back?” He asked, fingers still working your clit underneath, but trailing lower until they found your cunt, two entering you to keep you wet and stretched for him.

“You'd need to shower before you could pass out, but I'm happy to help clean you off. They have communal showers in prison, so I'm not shy.” You moaned at the suggestion but couldn't answer further.

“On your stomach? Again we'd have to shower off, but I would love to see your boobs decorated all nicely.” Your moans were whimpers now as he edged you with his fingers, his words gentle in your ear but dripping with so much lust and promise you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to make decisions anymore.

“On your face?”

“Not on my face,” you snapped quickly, and he nodded and stroked your hair, hooking a strand behind your ear as he agreed.

“Okay. Where, Y/N? Be a good girl and tell me.”

“I-Inside. Cum inside me. Please.”

“Of course. Good job.”

He pulled his hand free gently, and quickly replaced it with his thick cock, and you moaned again at the weight of it against your walls, the familiar stretch of it. In this position, he reached deeper somehow, his thrusts slower, more precise as he drew out his own orgasm as long as possible, maximising his ability to pleasure you.

“Good girl,” he muttered against your skin, dropping a kiss to your back. “Good girl.”

“Wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” he confessed with each thrust. “Look at how pretty this pussy is, how wet it is for me. I wish your boyfriend could see it. I wish he could see how well-behaved you are for me. How nicely you take my cock.”

His deep, slow strokes, his words, the kisses he pressed against any inch of your skin he could reach combined to push you over the edge a third and final time. This one wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was a steady shudder of pleasure from your hips and a quiet, satisfied sigh.

You didn't say anything but Spencer knew, he felt it, and he came moments after, cock deep inside as he filled you with his cum.

“You're on birth control, right?”

“IUD. Pill. Yeah.” You say between breathy sighs of contentment.

Muttering something behind you, he pulled out finally, leaving for a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before returning to help you as well.

“What did you mumble?” You asked, as he crawled back into your arms, looking up at him.

“What?” He asked, ears turning slightly pink as you stared at him intently.

“Just now. I told you I was on birth control, and you mumbled something.”

He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze before dropping to kiss you sweetly once again.

“Tell me,” you said, and he kissed you again.

“Spencer, tell me,” you pouted, and he kissed the pout away.

You almost asked again, but he kissed you too quickly, too deeply and you lost your breath again.

“I said,” he started, leaving you panting under him again. “It was good you're on birth control, because I like the sight of my cum dripping out of you.”

The remaining breath left your body as you gasped, your face growing hot. You burrowed your face in his chest and let him hold you as you drifted into sleep, wrapped up in each other.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #reiderslibrary #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #dom spencer reid

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nereidprinc3ss · 9 months ago

Note

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.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic

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chaussetteblanche · 3 months ago

Text

and they were roommates

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : you are Spencer Reid's roommate, the team finds out about you when a case brings them to the university you study at word count : 2.5k warning : canon-typical violence A/N : the university is a random one I picked in Virginia, bear with me because I don't know how US university systems work, thanks :) I think this is a part one, there may be a part two or even more, idk, but tell me what you think !

part 2, part 3, part 4

"I- I'm sorry, what university did you say?" Spencer's frantic tone was immediately noticed by his colleagues. Suddenly, he seemed hyperaware of everything in the room. The loud AC, Derek's pen-clicking and the overwhelming smell of Emily's coffee. "Mary Washington University," JJ answered swiftly, eyes narrowed as she sent Reid a confused glance. The man in question mumbled a few words under his breath and shot up, grabbing his coat and scarf. "We need to go." His tone, unusually urgent, left no space for debate or questioning. He was out the door within seconds, followed closely by Morgan and the others.

When you'd applied for Mary Washington University, you had known you would have to get an apartment. You lived too far away to even consider taking the numerous trains and buses and subways to get there. So, when you had been accepted into your first choice of universities, you'd started apartment hunting. Or roommate-hunting, to be more precise.

To say you had been unlucky would have been quite the understatement. You'd visited four apartments so far and could not even consider living in one of them for a second. The first had been full of frat boys who made your skin crawl, the second was with an old, far right-wing couple, the third had been two sisters who'd yelled at each other for the whole time you were there and the fourth had been so crowded your were certain it was neither sanitary not legal for another person to live there. With the deadline of university starting and having to move all your things, you were starting to get quite anxious. But call it chance or fate, one day you stumbled upon an advertisement for an apartment in a nice neighbourhood with one person who seemed quite normal. This person was a state-employee (which meant a stable salary and that meant you wouldn't have to compensate for rent) who travelled often for work and liked to keep mostly to themselves. Not one for big parties, they preferred a night-in and rarely had people over.

So you'd put on your big-girl pants and had walked over to what you hoped would be your last apartment visit. You hadn't been expecting such a young person to open the door because of the way the advert had been written and because of what it said. "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." You noticed he didn't hold his hand out and mirrored his behaviour. "Hi! I'm here for a visit!" You introduced yourself somewhat shyly, feeling intimidated. This man was at the most five years older than you and he was already a doctor?

He showed you around the apartment, which you liked very much. The rooms smelled like books and tea and everything was kept very clean. On the whole, it was tidy, even if a few books or articles were stacked in some odd places. The bedroom you'd stay in was large and luminous. After the tour, he made you a cup of tea as you discussed formalities.

"Uh, so, you’re a student, right?" he'd asked politely as he added a worrying amount of sugar in his earl grey. You bit back a teasing jest. You hoped maybe one day you'd get to place where you could comment on his daily sugar intake. "Yeah, um, I'm studying English Literature and Cinema." You stirred your tea, looking around the kitchen. Even though it was painted a dark, forest green, it still seemed luminous in the afternoon sun. "Oh, that's super interesting! I’ve always found texts in Middle English particularly insightful! I- I read the Canterbury Tales when I was about 10 years old. It’s fascinating the way in which issues which were already current then are still very present today, like in the Wife of Bath’s tale, for example-“

He cut himself off, leaning back into the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, you probably don’t want me to ramble about what you already know.” “No, I think it’s amazing that you would know that, actually. What else did you like in the Wife of Bath’s tale?” Spencer seemed to brighten up at your words and thus ensued a lengthy discussion of the avant-garde themes evoked by Geoffrey Chaucer. You were fascinated by his knowledge and found his passion especially endearing. Lots of your professors weren’t even that passionate when talking of late 14th century literature.

After discussing rent, which you would afford by waitressing at a local bar, lightly touching upon political subjects (on which you seemed to agree on), he finally told you that he was an FBI agent. "Excuse me?" you spluttered, leaning backwards in shock. "I'm a profiler with the BAU, the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I can show you my badge if you want." He stood up and reached for his bag, but you stopped him in his tracks. "No, no, that's okay, I believe you. I'm just surprised, that's all, sorry." His expansive knowledge of so many things seemed fitting for an agent of the BAU. After realising you were the first person who didn't demand his badge as proof of his profession, Spencer granted you a small smile. "You don't need to apologise. I- I know it can be a bit... off-putting." He sat back down and looked you in the eye. "Is that a problem for you, living with a federal agent?"

You thought about it for a second. As a general rule, you weren't a big fan of cops. Even more generally, you didn't believe in the structure of today's society. But that was a big topic. Plus, a profiler wasn't really a cop, was he? "No, that's not a problem for me."

You'd moved in a month and a half later. Things had been slightly awkward at first and you'd had to figure out what kind of dynamic Spencer and you had. But eventually, you’d found your rhythm.

When Spencer left for work, you took care of his plants and sent him pictures of Geoffrey. Geoffrey was the cat you’d found on the street and taken in. He was named after Geoffrey Chaucer, author of the Canterbury Tales, your first common point of interest. Spencer had been reluctant at first, but you’d taken him to the vet, where he was tested and vaccinated, and the man had finally accepted him into your shared space. Now, he loved the little creature. Sometimes, you’d call him to ask how he was doing and whether he was safe. He’d always reply that yes, he was doing fine and no, he wasn’t in any danger, don’t you worry. He’d ask how you were doing and if you were staying on top of uni work and if you’d eaten and if Geoffrey wasn't being too annoying. As an orange cat, he had his particular tendencies.

When Spencer was at home, you'd always look forward to getting back from class. There was always that sense of comfort and ease when he was around. You had found a lovely routine quite easily. You'd both work or study, then cook, eat together and afterwards maybe you'd watch a movie or something. You were at a point where you could comment on his daily sugar intake, which he's started correcting since meeting you. He loved the Big Bang Theory and though you weren't such a fan, you loved the little laughs he let out and all the corrections he'd make. In general, you liked when he talked. Even more generally, you liked him. You also liked Friends and though Ross got on Spencer's nerves, he enjoyed being able to discuss it with you afterwards. The two of you got very close without even noticing.

Sometimes, you'd remember he wasn't just your roommate, but also a man. He'd make you a cup of tea and you'd stare at his hands a little too long while he stirred the honey in. Or he'd help you reach for a cup with his impressive height, his front just skimming your back with a shiver. He'd tell you to breathe and sit down when you were upset about something. A few times, he drove you home from a night out with your friends and laid his hand on your knee. He was the only one who remembered how you'd told him you wanted to kiss him.

With you, Spencer discovered many things he had never experienced before. A healthy, comforting and peaceful routine. A supporting, non-judgemental, healthy friendship. Easy laughter in the middle of the night and tired "good morning"s at dawn. Butterflies in his stomach whenever you touched him. A budding romance which kept him awake at night.

So when that was threatened, he just about lost it.

"Oh my God." "I can't believe this." "Is this a prank?" "Did someone call 911?" "What about her parents?" "Oh, that's sick."

Voices swarmed around your head, making you dizzy. Your hand rested over your mouth as you stared at the body strewn on the lawn. Much of the student body stood next to you, just as shocked. Mary Goldman had been her name. You'd crossed her just this morning in the main hall and had exchanged small smiles. You had thought that she looked really pretty today, but hadn't told her. You regretted that now. At the moment, her mascara had run down her cheeks and dried and her lipstick and been smudged. Bruises and cuts decorated her bare arms and legs and a big red stain sat on the side of her stomach. The contrast between her dead body and the green, thriving grass beneath her was haunting.

You turned away, feeling sick. You felt your friend's hand on your shoulder, a small source of comfort anchoring you to reality. Facing the road as you turned, you were surprised to see three big black SUVs speeding towards the crowd. You'd been expecting an ambulance, or cops. Not whoever these guys were. They screeched to a stop, drawing everyone's attention. A small dozen of people stormed out, all dressed differently though they all held the same aura of importance, knowledge and authority. You turned back to your friends. "Who are these-"

You stopped mid-sentence when you heard your name being called out urgently. You'd have recognised his voice amidst a thousand others. He spoke your name like no other. You frantically looked around, pushing your way to the large vehicles. When you finally spotted him, tears started pricking your eyes. "Spencer," you breathed in a half-sob. His eyes ran you over once, twice, assessing any damage. When he saw there was no physical wound, his shoulders sank in relief. He opened his arms and you rushed inside his warm embrace almost reflexively. Neither of you noticed the numerous pair of curious eyes observing your intimate exchange.

"Oh my God, Spence- What- What are you doing here?" you'd cried into his cardigan. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent he always bore. He wrapped an arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, holding the back of your head in a consoling manner. "We're- We're taking this on as a case, sweets. Are you all right?" He knew it was a stupid question but all the emotions and tension were barely wearing off and he didn't know what else to say. You pulled away but he kept you at arm's length, holding your cold, shaking hands in his warm, steady ones. "I- Yeah, it's just- I- I saw her this morning! How could she- Why would someone do this to her? To- to anyone?!" Spencer cooed and pulled you into another tight hug as you continued to ramble through your tears. When you'd eventually calmed down thanks to his words of reassurance, he pulled away softly.

Spencer understood what you meant perhaps more than anyone. The sadness, the shock, the anger, the need to understand. He gently wiped away the mascara under your eyes with his thumb. "I know, I- It's- Even I don't always understand, sweetheart, so don't- Why don't you go home? I'd come with you but-" You nodded, biting your lower lip. He gave you a sad smile. "I promise I'll join you as soon as this is over. You- you can make yourself a cup of tea and process all this and pet Geoffrey, okay? Classes are going to be cancelled either way." "I don't want to-" The look in his eyes kept you from arguing further. You nodded, giving him another hug. Before you left, an older man came over to you.

"I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm Agent David Rossi. I just had a question-" "Rossi," interrupted Spencer with a stern tone you'd never heard before. The older Agent raised an eyebrow at him. "Just one question." He turned back to you. "At what time did you say you saw the victim?" You inhaled shakily, running a hand over your face. "Uh, it must have been around quarter to eleven. I think- Yeah, somewhere between ten thirty and eleven." "Thank you, miss." You didn't miss the glance shared between the two men before Rossi retreated.

"Who was that?" asked Emily as soon as you'd left and Spencer had joined them behind the police tape. "No one," Spencer brushed her off as he kneeled next to the victim. Strangely, he hated the idea of someone who knew you dying. It felt too close to home. "C'mon, man, you lost your shit this morning, a girl you clearly know very well runs into your arms, you snap at Rossi and you expect us to believe you?" Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the rest of the team. All were staring at him patiently. He stood up, swallowing.

"That was my roommate." He informed the team of your name and of how you'd been living together for a few years now. "Spencer, you've been living with a woman for years and you've never told us?!" Derek was all but hysteric. Hotch reminded him that everyone was entitled to a private life. "So, are you dating or something?" Emily prodded again. Spencer hesitated a second before answering. "No." Derek scoffed, appalled. "You mean to tell me you've been living with a beautiful woman like that for years and nothing's ever happened?!" "Not everyone is like you, Morgan," Emily reminded with a teasing smirk. Derek sent her an unimpressed look. "Look, let's all grill Spencer later, we have a case to focus on right now." Rossi, ever the voice of reason, directed everyone's attention back to the corpse laying next to them.

Needless to say, the BAU team did not need to interrogate Spencer or attack him with incessant questions to find much out. They'd seen by his behaviour that very morning how much he cared about you. They'd seen how relieved he had been when he'd seen you safe and sound. They'd noticed you'd only started crying when you'd seen him, a big sign of trust. They had never heard him call another by pet names such as "sweets" or "sweetheart". They'd read both of your body languages like a children's book and translated it easily.

Love. Comfort. Peace. Ease.

#Spencer reid #Spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds x you #criminal minds

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haee-elia · 1 year ago

Text

spence-tober: day 5 - street racer/mechanic

pairing: street racer/mechanic!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you find out a little secret about the mechanic you've been seeing

word count: 1929

warning: mention of illegal activities (street racing), mentions of alcohol, fluffy

spence-tober masterlist

To be honest, you don’t even know why you’re here, standing in the middle of the street next to your best friend, late into the evening.

“It’s okay, just relax.” Your best friend said.

No, you think to yourself, everything was in fact not okay. But before you could voice your thoughts, she found her current boyfriend of three days and ran off to him, leaving you standing awkwardly at the curb of the street.

For a random dead end street on a Tuesday night, the street was pretty busy. Not with traffic, with people.

Groups and cliques of people were standing around in the street with you, dressed in either tank tops and shorts or in full leather. You don’t know how the aren’t freezing their asses off compared to you who came in your nice jeans (no holes in them), a cute long sleeve turtleneck, and some heeled boots that come up to your calf, and are STILL freezing your ass off.

You cannot believe you let your friend talk you into coming here tonight and it was a severe lapse in judgement, but you were bored with no plans for the night and she easily shoved you out of the door. Especially when she picked the guilt card and told you that you hadn’t really hung out together since you’ve been seeing ‘that mechanic’ as she put it.

It was true, you suppose. It was only two weeks ago when you had your car towed into a random mechanic’s garage because two of your tires popped a flat and you only had one spare. You hadn’t expected to meet the cute mechanic wearing his work overalls covered in grease. His hair, which somehow avoided being as messy as his clothes, was brushed to the side in a way you found extremely hot.

Not only did you get your tires changed out that day, you had also gotten Spencer’s, the cute mechanic who worked on your car, number. From then on, you had gone out a few more times. To dinner, to get a cup of coffee before going to work in the morning, a walk in the park, and so on. Just yesterday in fact, you had gotten take out and brought it to the garage he worked at to spend lunch together.

You weren’t officially dating, no labels had been used yet, but you were really excited for any single time you could see him.

Which was part of the reason you weren’t really into whatever your friend got the both of you involved in tonight.

You had originally wanted to go out to dinner or invite Spencer to your apartment for dinner, but he had bashfully admitted at lunch yesterday that he had plans for tonight that he was already committed to. You understood, of course, but you were a little disappointed and are currently counting all the different things you could be doing other than this right now.

What can you say, you were an introvert at heart.

And now, not only were you dragged to this random ass street, your friend was also incredibly busy swapping saliva with her new boyfriend. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it was incredibly pathetic how your friend and her new guy were already official while you and Spencer were still to have yet to put a label on your relationship.

You sigh and condemn yourself to trying to enjoy the night your friend dragged you along with, walking in small strides over to your friend and her boyfriend. He was a nice guy, at least, you thought to yourself while introducing yourself to him. He was making your friend happy, which you liked, especially since she went through a nasty breakup recently.

“So, um,” You say, having finished introductions and small talk, “What’s exactly going on tonight?”

Despite the crowd in the street nearly all having a beer or some form of alcohol in hand, you couldn’t quite hear any conversations, especially one’s pertaining to why everyone was gathered in the street.

You looked towards the new couple, your friend under her boyfriend’s arm.

“There’s a race tonight, baby.” He says, a goofy grin on his face, “Should be a good matchup!”

Your eyebrowss furrow in confusion, you look over to your friend, “A race?”

She nods, “A streetrace. Everyone’s been talking about this showoff for the past week.”

“You brought me to a streetrace?” You scoff at her. “This is highly illegal,” You say, stunned.

She escapes her boyfriend’s arms and takes your hands in hers, swinging them playfully, “Come on, please,” She says, “Just trust me on this? Let’s hang out and if you still don’t wanna stick around by the time the race starts, you can leave. I promise.”

She takes one of her hands and draws a small ‘x’ over her heart, sealing the promise. You sigh and close your eyes, but nod your head and accept your fate for tonight.

“Okay, I’ll stay for a little bit,” You resign.

She squeals in delight and you try to relax your shoulders a little bit, settling into mingling with the small group your best friend and her boyfriend are communicating with. You say no to any offer of alcohol or otherwise, wishing to stay sober in case you want to leave (and in case the police, do in fact show up).

Despite the cool air and the dimly lit streets, you are having a decently good time conversing with your friend and her new guy. Soon enough, there’s some noisy whispers through the street and your friend’s boyfriend points through the throng of people further down the street.

“There’s the racers coming in now.”

Your gaze switches to where he points. Suddenly, bright headlights illuminates the streets and the noise of engines revving up fills the alleyway street. You think to yourself that its a wonder that no police have shown up to these races yet.

The crowd of people clear to the sides of the street and allow the cars to cruise through. One of the cars is exactly what you’d think a street racing car would look like. Its a fire engine red with an ombre flame on the sides of it. A souped up engine and large front shiny silver looking grill. Its loud and you cringe at the sight of it and the bald, white tank top wearing driver in the front seat. He has the demeanor of a moose.

The other car is a purple in color, but is dark enough that it could pass as a navy or eggplant color. There’s no artwork on the sides and has the aura of a vintage car. It holds some aspects of some vintage cars as well. It’s shiny, but more in cleanliness than look.

The headlights from both cars are way too bright for you to see the driver for the second car, but in your mind, anybody would look better than the beefed up driver of the first.

The cars come to a stop right where you are guessing the start of the race will take place, and the headlights finally dim as the drivers turn off their cars for now. The race has not yet begun and by the looks of the people crowding around the cars, they’ll talk to the audience and their fanbases before racing.

A familiar mop of styled boyband-ish, brown hair appears in your vision. The head of the second driver popping up from him exiting the driver’s side door is easily recognizable, even if you hadn’t known the person for very long.

“Spencer?” You call out, both in confusion and shock. You’re confident in your ability to spot him, even in the not very well lit street.

The call of his name makes him turn around, the only barrier between you and him is the car he just exited. His car. His race car.

Spencer, you know it’s him now with his face in clear vision, calls out your name as well and then hurriedly makes his way around the front of his car and towards you.

You still stand with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth in surprise, “Y-you-”

He nods shyly, running a hand through his messy yet perfectly kept hair, “I race, yeah.”

“I-I had no idea,” You say, not sure what else to in your stunned state.

Spencer shook his head, “I didn’t tell you. You couldn’t have known.”

“I race sometimes at nights after working at the garage. I was going to tell you, I promise. It’s just-” He trys to explain, but trails off at the end of his sentence.

“Illegal?” You try to finish for him. Your tone isn’t accusing, more in curiosity.

And in all your time spent with him, dinners, movies, coffee dates, and more, you would have never guessed that the shy and cute man who worked on your car and gave you his own employee discount on your two replaced tires would be spending his free time fixing up a car for street racing.

Spencer looks down at his feet, bashful, “Yeah, that.” He responds. “But also I just didn’t want to scare you away. I really like you.” He admits. “I didn’t know how you would react and I was scared you wouldn’t want to go out anymore.”

Before you can say anything, the bald faced moose energy man calls out from being surrounded by his fans, “Hey, Crash! Ready to do this or not?”

Spencer hollers back that he just needs a few minutes and then turns his attention back to you. He still has the aura of how you met him in the garage, but there’s also some confidence in his stride and how he carries himself on this street.

“Crash?” You question.

“My, uh, race name.” He clarifies.

You smile slightly, “Like your childhood nickname your mother gave you, right?” You ask, although you’re rather confident. “Because you would always run into things when you were a kid.”

Spencer confirms, nodding. It was one of the first fun little facts you learned about Spencer during your first date. Some would find it weird, but you found it endearing that he brought up how much his mother meant to him. You smile at the fact he uses the old childhood nickname bestowed upon him by his mother for his secret nightlife hobby.

“Listen,” Spencer says a little nervous, “I understand if you’re upset that I didn’t tell you this and if you don’t want to be my girlfriend anymor-”

“I’m your girlfriend?” You interrupt him, your cheeks taking on a pinky blush tint.

Spencer clears his throat, “I, uh, I hope so.” He says in a small tone. “Like I said, I, um, really like you-”

The other racer calls for him again, this time louder and more challenging. Spencer groans at your conversation being interrupted once again.

“You need to go,” You speak first before Spencer. You nod your head off in the direction of the cars and the muscle tank man.

Spencer hesitates and goes to say something, but you put your hand on his arm stopping him. You feel as though you can hear his heart beating and his blood pumping in suspence with your words. Your own heart and blood aren’t far off from his.

“We can talk more about this later. Promise.” You assure him.

You press a small peck to his cheek and a small grin grows on your lips.

“Besides, you’ve got a race to win.”

a/n: would spencer actually participate in illegal activity? probably not. also ignore that reader aka you, are also participating in illegal activity because apparently spectating a street race on an empty public street is also illegal and can get you fined.

#criminal minds #criminalminds #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #dr. spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid au #spencer reid alternate universe

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fandom-imagines-stories · 2 years ago

Text

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.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #dr. spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi #dr. spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #the in betweens

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carpenoctxrn · 2 years ago

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Doctor. Doctor. (Spencer Reid x FemReader)

Chapter 8: Prove Myself

You can find Chapter 7 here.

.....so lovely shadow-banned this chapter for having explicit contents but the Warnings are properly labeled so this is a repost!

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

Warning: Cussing, blxod, lowkey manhandled by creeps, borderline s*exuall offense, badass woman beating the crap out of creeps, EMTs, Cops, Reader not liking Maeve, s*xual contents such as mentions of Vxyeurism, bxndage, dxm/ sxb relationships, oral s*x.

P.O.V: Y/N

His eyes held my gaze, as my lips buried itself inside my mouth and in between my teeth on my ride side. I didn’t understand what to do or how to act so I just let out a breath of air that had entrapped itself within me.

“Right this way Doctor,” He spoke as he nodded the direction we must walk in.

I just smiled and nodded yes as I followed pursuit.

My own consciences will not betray me. I will have to prove myself better than the relationship that woman had pursued with my father.

With a new vigor and new motivation behind my steps I began walking towards the door. I was going to stand strong. I wasn’t going to let anything make me trip into my conscious words to seduce a taken man.

As I was walking behind him I began to observe that he was maneuvering his arms to take off his vest suit.

OH NO!

His physique wasn’t fueled with muscle but they still held a structure to them that just called out my hands to run through them. To feel his skin underneath mine. Maybe to feel him shiver at my touch. To beg for me to touch him more. In the silence of our little journey to his car all I did was gawk at him.

More like you wanna gawk gawk his Di-

“I hope this isn’t too uncomfortable for you.” Spencer spoke allowing my thoughts to break off at the right time.

“Why should it be? It's not like my friendship just got rejected.” I spoke as his car came into view from the open doors of David’s home.

He stopped in his tracks at the end of my words but I passed by him. Not really wanting to talk to him but in reality I craved anything I could get from him. As I reached the threshold that passed outside, my skin rose to goosebumps from the cold air that surrounded the night sky. I felt a small smile form on my lips as a feeling of momentary peace came upon me.

“I wasn’t rejecting your friendship.” Spencer calmly states as he walks by me.

“Than clearly you weren’t part of the same conversation as I was.” I silently said as I followed his lead to his car. Standing behind him all I did was marvel at the man despite the sadness I felt creeping in my head, that I had no right to feel.

“I was part of the same conversation as you but before I could say Your friendship wouldn’t be something I need or want but I will value it and cherish it just the same, you kind off walked away. '' His words came out of his mouth like he was holding a breath. A sign of relief washed over his back as he turned around to the open door of his. The smile of his face seemed to be the signature awkward smile although this time it seemed smug. Smug probably at my red embarrassed face.

“I swear I’m an understanding human being who doesn’t leave people mid-conversation abruptly,” My apologetic tone made him look at me with a sincere emotion in his eyes.

“I know.” He said as he gestured to open the passenger door to his car.

“Thank you,” I softly spoke with a nervous tone.

My bottom lip was pulled between my teeths again. I began biting on it in my embarrassing state of mind. Watching Spencer as he made his way around the car slowly. Not doing anything but walking one step at a time as he stared at the stars. His hands in his black pants, but at some point in his small walk to the driver's side of the car from his passenger side of the car he took his hands out to do that mind numbing action that makes my ovaries burst, my knees weak, and my mouth water.

His long fingers were rolling up his black fabric to reveal the porcelain skin adorned with his veiny arms. After rolling up the right sleeve to his elbow he moved to work on the cloth that entrapped his left hand.

Why did he have to do that?

The only thought that rang sensibly through my mind as I ogled at my crush doing the most hottest thing known to humankind.

“Is it okay if we make a stop at the grocery store, I need to get some stuff for date night with Maeve tomorrow and I won’t have time after class to run to the store and cook.” Spencer spoke rhetorically as the engine started and he began to back out the driveway. But not like a normal human being, no. Spencer placed a hand on the top part of my seat as he leaned his body and turned his body backwards a bit.

My breath was caught in my chest and a familiar throb came back to my body. Some blood rushed all through my body as hormones making horny, whilst the others went straight to my face to heat it up. His figure was so lean but it held so much prowess in being seductive.

“Sorry, for some reason I still can’t back up using a mirror.” He said and I just nodded at his words.

Deciding to help myself I began to observe the car we were in, which was a Mercedes. The interior was slick wooden with black leather seats. It smelled like sandalwood and cinnamon inside. The car from the outside was all black as well, for some reason I believe black makes him look hot. Although any other color would have probably made him look cute.

“Usually I prefer the quiet,” Spencer said as he drove with his left hand on his steering wheel and his right hand on the gear shift, “but that's because usually I drive by myself.”

“I apologize, I’m always used to listening to music as I speed down the highway at 3 in the morning. the cars outside look so foreign and intriguing to me at this time,” I said with a small smile on my face as I looked out the window. When I turned my head to look at him, his face held a confused look.

“For example, that car over there looks like it's a red toyota SUV released in the early 2000’s, the back of the number plate has a university logo on it, so I would say that this is the mom’s car.” I said as I put two and two together.

“What makes you say they have a child?” He said, looking at me intently.

“Because the kid in the back seat was making faces at you while you were driving.” I said to him with a very serious tone.

“Oh, I thought it was a funny looking dog or something,” He said seriously as stared deeply into the windows on the car.

“SPENCER!” I shouted out faking offense at his comparison as I began to laugh at the image in my head of a funny looking dog.

He just laughed with me as he stared at me. I looked at him and finally found the courage to swallow a lump down my throat.

“So what are you making her?” I asked him as I stared at his driving figure. He still had his tie on but the goddamn sleeve was still up.

He looked like one of those professors from the steamy novels. The one where you would go under his desk and just play with his dick while he sits in his chair in a classroom full of students. God, the forbidden voyeurism just pushes my buttons in all the right way.

“It’s nothing complex but baked salmon with some szechuan peppers and honey glaze, with her favorite mexican style salad.” He spoke with a pride smile on his face.

“That’s so sweet, so is it date night or is it a special special date night?” I asked as I emphasized the two specials.

“Umm.. all of our date nights are special and symbolic to us in many ways, like the last date night collided with the day she first saw my brain scans, so Maeve planned a movie date night in her office.” He explained with a sweet and love sick in his eyes.

A sudden wave of guilt washed over me. I clearly couldn’t get his attention in the way I want, and for now it would be better for me to just admire him from afar until my stupid crush-like feelings goes away.

“Aww, that's so adorable,” I said as we stopped at a red light.

The silver truck next to me was familiar, making me do a double take.

OH NO

It was a guy that I had a regular hook up at the bar with a few months ago. Unfortunately for me he looked straight at me. For some dumb reason he just looked angry, so I just turned my gaze away from him, trying to hide.

“Is something wrong?” Asked a very confused Spencer.

“Not if I can help it,” I spoke. The light turned green and we calmly turned towards the Nuggets Market close to our apartments.

As we pulled into a parking lot no silver truck was in sight. The wave of relief that washed over me made me bask in it with happiness.

“Would you like to come with or stay in the car? Cause I am fine with both,” He rambled slightly as he asked what I would be comfortable doing.

“I’ll come with you,” I spoke as I opened my door and walked with him inside the overpriced market. I usually went to the small-family owned grocery store near my work to do shopping but I guess I could splurge on some “healthy” highly processed junk food.

Forget junk food, you need groceries for actual food, you starving whore.

My thoughts reminded me.

Spencer grabbed a cart and walked away to another side of the store, whilst I grabbed a basket and walked straight to the bakery part of nuggets. As I eyed the different cakes, muffins, pastries I was reminded of Gavin. I didn’t like him as a friend, and I couldn’t fuck him, but I could invite him out for drinks and force him to be my wingman.

I smiled at my thoughts as I walked towards the bread and grabbed two packs of french roll bread, a baguette, and some expensive mozzarella, white cheddar, parmesan, and a small serving of brie cheese. Walking out of the bread and cheese aisle I looked for the aisle with some hot sauces. My sriracha was close to running out and I needed more.

My eyes caught a glimpse of the white box that boldly had Sriracha written on it with the familiar font. As I made my way to the box disappointment rose inside of me. The box was empty but luckily I spotted a few bottles on the very very top shelf. Putting the basket that I carried on my left elbow on the ground I held a part of the shelf for stability as I rose on my tippy toes again to reach the top of the shelf.

Why is everything placed on the top shelf today?

Is it hate short people in heels day?

My thoughts occupied half of my focus as the other half went into getting the sriracha but not falling. A hand from behind me picked it up. A presence behind was known. I quickly turned around to apologize for being in the way for the person behind and to ask them if they could help me. Only for my voice to be caught in my throat. This dumbass that I saw on the road a few minutes ago followed me to the grocery store.

Wanting to avoid an altercation with my used to be four or five time fling, I picked up my basket and began walking towards the cashier. Knowing that in the back where we stood currently hardly anyone was around, allowing him the perfect opportunity to pry. But in the front he would most definitely be on his best behavior. As I began walking away from him a harsh yank of my elbow pulled me back.

My hair had already begun to loosen sometime at David’s house and now with the sudden and strong force it had come out. My clip fell to the floor with a thud before the sound of it being crushed by a foot resounded amongst the empty back aisle.

“And where do you think you’re going?” The slimy douchebag asked.

“What do you want?” I asked instead, not in the mood to answer this asshole's question. He looked average for someone who is bald. He had muscles and tattoos of naked women, patriotism, guns, and dates. Yeah he wasn’t my best pull at the bar but he was able to put me in an upside position that just made me squirt like crazy and I was addicted to that feeling.

He however was addicted to showing himself off due to him having this ego to him. He was a carpenter but he acted like he was the god of house building. Always critiquing the structure of the bar or something else.

“Isn’t it obvious, I want you.” He said through gritted teeth as his elbow pulled me closer to his body. Literally leaving no space between us, as he grinded his stupid boner on my hips. Instead of arousal the overwhelming feeling of disgust and bile ripped through my body at his gesture.

“Well I don’t want you, so let me go.” I spoke as I tried not to squirm, not wanting to feel his stupid boner on me. With some strong force I was able to yank my arms away from him and I turned around to stand my ground against him.

“Are you sure baby?” He spoke in a low voice trying to be seductive as he came close trying to be gentle with his touch on the same elbow.

“Yes, now please leave me alone,” I said as I took a deep breathe and walked away from but not before saying “next time you pull this stunt I fucking promise you I will break your nose.” I spoke with gritted teeth as I turned around with a strong grip on my bucket.

“Oh you motherfucking Bitch,” As his words left his mouth he gripped both my shoulders and pressed me with force against the aisle of cans. My stomach hit the isle of cans as I felt my mouth collide with the edge of something dull but hard. The force sending some things over the shelf on the other side, the sound of cans hitting the floor was loud.

“Let go of me.” I said with anger.

“Or what?” He asked smugly.

“Your death asshole,” I breathed out as I kicked him in the nuts using my heels to advantage, making him let me go as he crouched down holding his damn nuts.

“Fuck you asshole,” I spat at him as I walked out to the cashier to cash out my stuff. It was an old lady who was working at the speed of a snail.

I put my stuff on the cash register as I waited patiently to see Spencer somewhere so we could leave before the asshole stood up and came after me more pissed than ever. Eventually I did see Spencer but not before seeing the big ass man behind him. My eyes widened as the asshole pushed Spencer aside and he just stood there looking confused. The big man made his way to me looking fucking pissed.

“You’re dead you bitch,” He said as he pulled his hands back to punch me, which I avoided by leaning to the side making him stumble a bit forward.

“It's rude to hit a lady,” I said as I grabbed his thick head and kneed him in the face. Knowingly angling my knee right at his nose to break it.

He screamed in pain as he kept on mumbling slurs at me. Although his figure was holding his face in a crouched position like before as he spinned around knocking somethings on the stand nearby. Until he stopped spinning and just stood with his back against the refrigerator.

“Oh gosh sweetheart do you want me to call the police?” Asked the old lady by the register as she trembled a bit at the sight of the tall man with his broken nose who had slumped down to the floor from the anguish he was feeling.

“No, it’s fine. He won't be any trouble to anyone. Will you asshat?” I asked him as I kicked him with my feet, to which he just groaned.

“Plastic or paper?” she asked sweetly.

“Paper please.” I said as I took my phone and paid for my groceries through apple pay.

“Are you okay? Who is that?” Spencer asked me frantically as he turned me to face him by gently gripping my arm and pulling me towards him. His gaze studied me cautiously at a panicked pace.

“Call 911,” Spencer demanded the cashier who did what he said as he flashed her his FBI badge.

“Wait no,” I said, gripping Spencer’s arm as he turned to look at me confused.

“I handled him, and I am not in the mood of going through a police interrogation, I’ve been through it before and I’d rather not relieve those feelings,” I pleaded to the FBI agent in front of me.

He looked at me as his hands slowly but surely made their way to my face. He cupped my face as his thumb ran over my lips. The interaction between us had brought an obvious blush on my face as my mouth parted and my eyes widened at his actions. The warmth from his hands radiated on my skin, comforting my frantic heartbeat. I gulped as I stared at him not knowing if I should move or if I should say something.

“...you’re bleeding y/n,” he whispered so quietly as his hand left my face to show the crimson secretion which evaded my skin from the passed out jerks action and now he had accumulated on his thumb.

His caring nature made me oblivious to my own feelings, to my own anxiety. His concern had brought a sense of love and distraught within me that I just succumbed to his words, his gestures, and his suggestions. He had a hold on me as if I was 16 again with a crush. I felt stupid but I felt helplessly infatuated with him.

I looked up to his eyes and nodded at him. Not saying a word. He just smiled back at him and told the cashier to call 911 and an ambulance.

“Will you stay by my side please.” I plead with him again. Looking at him with wide eyes and a small bit of tears.

“Ofcourse,” He said as he led me to the side of the store. Sirens could be heard in the distance.

As we stood there silently he was observing my body. Looking at me intently. Trying to find where else that orge had hurt me. I took his hands which made him look at me in shock at the nature of my actions.

“I’m fine. All I have is this busted lip and probably some bruises,” I said as I held my wrist that was aching.

“What happened wasn’t fine.” He stated quietly as he took the wrist I was holding. He gently lifted my sleeve to reveal a light red handprint mark being formed.

“In his defense I bruise quite easily,” I joked trying to segue the conversation into a different topic.

“I’m making sure he never gets anywhere near you.” He said to himself more than me as his eyes were trained on my bruise.

He lightly touched it only for me to take in a small sharp breath. To many the action would have gone unnoticed but for the FBI profiler in front of me, it said enough. It said I was threatened. That I was fragile. Even though I can protect myself, I still am endangered. His eyes were like a tsunami of chaos swirling. His mind was thinking of something as his body became jittery as if he was having an argument inside his head.

“Ma’am are you okay?” Called out an EMT from behind me. He was followed by the old woman cashier.

“I’m-” Before I could complete my sentence Spencer cut in front of me. His rude actions were abrupt but his calm tone of words made him seem in control.

“He busted her lip when he pushed her against the shelf. She also had some bruising due to the utter force he was using whilst he was committing the series of offenses.” He so calmly and authoritatively said.

“Well another ambulance is making its way here and those paramedics will get a check up done on her, we are just going to take the dude that's bleeding to the closest hospital.” The tall tan-skinned man spoke gently as he casually explained the plan to Spencer rather than me.

“Thank you, we’ll wait for them here.” Spencer spoke for me again. I didn't understand why I didn’t stop him from talking for me until I came upon this realization.

Men who have spoken for me, have done so pretending they were making a better choice for me. When Spencer spoke for me, it was to ensure I wasn’t neglecting myself like I was about to do a few seconds ago. He truly put me first in his words and thoughts.

“Thank you,” I said looking up at him due to how close he was standing to me. His arms were radiating heat, and for some reason the comfort I seeked.

“Yeah no, it’s no problem. I know how easy it is to push yourself away,” He spoke as he straightened his posture and made his way to stand in front of me whilst having his hands in his pocket.

All I did was smile at him whilst I muttered a small yeah as I nodded my head.

“Good thing you have a friend like me.” He joked leaning in close to me. His forehead is so close to my own.

I looked up at him and saw how close his eyes were. The harsh shapes and flecks of gold were so obvious against the dull green of his iris. His eyelashes were short but full whilst his eyebrows were bushy but thin.

“And here is your knight in shining armor,” Said a voice from right beside us.

It was an EMT that I had worked with on a few of the patients he brought in. He always flirted and I always smiled. If he was a stranger in a bar I would’ve been all over him, but I make it a point to keep my work life away from my sex life. Mark Sloan was an inspiration not because he was hot but because of his lifestyle that I did not want.

“Hey there Dr. Heartbreaker,” Flirted the EMT who’s name I didn’t even bother knowing, “I hope you don’t mind your rejection doing some check up on you.” He said as he flashed me with his flashlight at the nod of my head.

His words were making me uncomfortable. For some reason his behavior made me worried about what Spencer may think of me. I looked at Spencer as I smiled at him reassuringly, wanting a positive reaction back from him. But his eyes were trained on the EMT in front of him. His eyes linger on the EMT’s hands as he holds my wrist to examine.

“Where is your glove?” Spencer asked straight up at the EMT who clearly wasn’t wearing any gloves.

“There was a hole in it, so I threw it and didn’t get a chance to get a new one,” The EMT said as he continued looking at my hands. Both of his hands were caressing my fingers in an intimate way, making me flinch at the feeling.

Spencer flashed the EMT his badge.

“Get away from her right now before I arrest you for medical misconduct.” Spencer said as he came closer to the EMT whilst blocking me from him. The creep's hands are no longer touching mine.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, or rather I couldn’t focus on what they were saying. As I was massaging away the feeling of that man’s hand on mine, I was staring at Spencer. His shoulders weren’t too broad or too small. They were perfectly in proportion to his skinny waist. His upper body was definitely big, he had this skinny lean muscle physique to him that made me stare at him harder. I could imagine it.

His body was tall and all tied up on the bed.

The sweat from his skin is the only sensation that he feels as I suffocate his head between my legs.

Allowing him to taste me while he allows me to ruin him.

“..Fine. I’m taking her to the hospital,” Spencer’s angry shouts broke me out of my little day dream.

“Wait, no.” I spoke as I grabbed Spencer’s shoulder.

He turned around at my touch and I slowly removed my hand as I nodded no to him.

“It’s getting late, and I am so exhausted that I just want to sleep. Please.” I said to Spencer.

He smiled at me sweetly as he whispered a small sure, before walking out the store with me, my grocery bag in his hands. As we passed the doors of the store I gasped and stopped. Making the tall man crouch down in front of me in worry.

“What? What is it?” He has questioned.

“Your groceries,” I whispered in a small voice as I let worry and guilt wash over my face.

“I can order it tomorrow, it's no trouble,” He spoke as he took my hand to lead me to the car, “Really.” He stated as we were about to cross the street and make it to his car.

As I sat in the car my body felt heavy and my thoughts were weighing on me too. The thoughts of running my hand through this man's hair. The thought of him using a handcuff on me or me using one on him. The thought of me taking off my seatbelt and grabbing this man's face and kissing was the big one.

His protective demeanor was one thing. But his authoritative tone made me lose some form of self respect I had for myself.

As we drove back to the apartment Spencer was quiet. The atmosphere around me was unknowing. Like I couldn't understand what it felt like. In my thoughts I closed my eyes. My breath gained a slow and peaceful pace as some light violin music played in the background. It had been playing the entirety of the ride since we left David’s house but I didn’t focus on it until now.

In my thoughts the only thing that I wanted to think about was the man driving me home. The same man who had occupied every breathing second and thought for the past four hours of my life. The damn man has made me into a mess without even saying anything relative to sexy to me and yet I’ve had fantasies that are so sinful that holy water wouldn't be enough to quench its thirst.

I don’t know if I am fetishizing Spencer because of his height but I do know that even if he was 5 '4 and acted the same way he acted now, I would have mounted him.

It’s an aura to him that lulls me towards him. And I genuinely don’t know what else to say.