#I love the loose little curls on Spencer's head

[tobias-hankel]

This is where a pimp works?

Criminal Minds: The Caller, 09x10

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

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

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

SAFE AND SOUND.

spencer reid x fem!reader — smut

word count. 615

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He faintly shakes his head, the motion almost delicate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

[avis-writeshq]

hi! could i request track one with spencer reid where reader gets drunk and needy for spencer 😭 but he denies (cuz yk shes drunk) and just takes care of him please? thank you!

off my face — spencer reid

summary: “i’m off my face in love with you.” in which reader gets drunk and spencer has to nurse her back to health. pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: established relationship, fluff warnings: rated 16+ for allusions to smut, reader gets drunk, reader wears lipstick and a dress, mentions of throwing up [not in detail], spencer being sickeningly perfect, lots of pet names, inspired by that one video of matthew. you know which one i’m talking about. a/n: i er… got carried away because i love this trope 😔 i am in fact obsessed wc: 1.23k

It’s too loud. Granted, it’s a club; it’s supposed to be loud. Spencer cringes a little as the music somehow manages to get even louder and he sips at his coke. He has your purse in his lap and he’s also manning your drink like a guard dog; moving himself to the furthest seat in the booth that is away from the crowd. Your inevitable return is a lot sooner than he expected, and he watches with amusement as you slide into the booth and curl into his side, reaching for your drink. 

“Have fun?” Spencer asks with a soft laugh, one arm wrapping around your shoulders as he presses a kiss to the top of you head. 

“Mm,” you hum in affirmation, eagerly sipping at the sugary concoction in front of you. “Would’ve been funner with you, baby.”

He laughs louder at that, rolling his eyes teasingly and squeezing at the flesh of your waist. “You know it wouldn’t have been.”

“Bet you’d be real sexy with all that sweat dripping off you,” you coo, your voice sickeningly sweet as your fingers move to toy with the buttons of his shirt. 

Your fingers are wet with the condensation from the chilled glass of your cocktail and they brush against the sensitive skin of his collarbone. A shudder runs down his spine at the contact, and his cheeks grow hot. His hand finds your wrist and he holds it firmly, but not enough to hurt. 

“Don’t,” he says, half jokingly half seriously as he moves his head to track your gaze. “How much have you had to drink, angel?”

You ignore the question, moving your fingers upward to brush against a blooming purple mark near his collar. A pout rests on your lips as you gesture to it, a frown forming on your face. “Who gave this to you?”

He bristles, moving the flap of his collar to cover the bruise. “You did. This morning.”

“Oh yeah!” The smile returns to your face awfully fast and a giggle bubbles up from your throat. “You love me.”

“I do,” he agrees, kissing your head again. 

Your expression is all too gleeful as you move your head just at the right time so that he lips would meet yours. He pulls away after a brief moment, about to say something else, when you effectively cut him off by pressing a wet kiss to his cheek. 

“Angel– sweetheart, you’re very drunk,” he says gently, prying your needy fingers away and holding them firmly in his hand. 

“Nuh uh,” you deny, leaning forward again and kissing his neck right where you left a mark earlier that morning. 

He jolts at the contact, pulling away as pink rises to his cheeks. “We’re not doing this while you’re drunk, honey.”

You blatantly ignore him, maneuvering yourself so that you’s practically half on his lap with your arms wrapped loosely around his neck. He doesn’t mind the attention, per se. He just feels incredibly guilty about enjoying it when you’re loopy from all the cocktails you have had. You’re pressing kisses against his cheeks while your hands play with the collar of his shirt, tugging at the purple tie you chose earlier that day and there are lipstick stains all over his skin. He’s well aware of it; bright red with a sticky residue and he will forever not understand how you can wear it all the time. 

His tie has come undone entirely and you pull at his shirt to kiss dangerously close to his collarbone. 

“Okay–” he’s flushing scarlet and he doesn’t dare meet the eyes of anyone in the team. “Okay, baby, that’s enough. Let’s get you home.”

“Ooh,” you giggle, wiggling your eyebrows with insinuation.

“You need sleep.” He says it sternly, although you don’t seem to grasp the concept. 

“What kind of sleep?” You ask, winking. 

He shakes his head, amused and exasperated, as he rebuttons his shirt and reties his tie. “The REM kind. Come on, angel. Say good night to your friends.”

You giggle tiredly, waving goodbye to your friends. Penelope looks absolutely hammered, wiggling her eyebrows at you with an expression full of insinuation. Emily is smirking in your direction, swirling her martini around before taking a sip. JJ looks equally elated, snickering softly as she holds onto Will’s arm. 

Spencer ushers you gently into his car, leaning over the console to open the glove box on your side and brandishing a packet of micellar water wipes. He takes out two for himself before passing the rest of them to you.

“For your makeup,” he explains, wiping the lipstick marks off his cheeks. “I’ll help you with your skincare when we get home, alright?”

You’re in love. It isn’t long before he’s helping you up the stairs of his apartment and sitting you gently on the couch. Your eyes are droopy and it seems like the sugar high from your cocktails is wearing off. Spencer runs his fingers through your hair gently while he holds a glass of cold water to your lips, urging you to drink. You only do it to appease him and once he’s satisfied with your water intake, he’s reaching for the zip of your dress.

“Someone’s needy,” you coo, giggling as he pulls it down to just below your ribcage. “Gonna rough me up?”

“No.” He answers it swiftly, and had you been sober your heart would have split in two. He continues, “I’m going to put you in something more comfortable and then you’re going to sleep.”

“Boring.”

“No, it’s not– it’s not boring,” he flounders, his cheeks growing hotter at your words. He can’t believe he’s arguing with a drunk person. “It’s not boring, baby, it’s safe. Alcohol is a neuro inhibitor. There’s a reason why you can’t drink and drive and it’s because the brain’s neural activity patterns are suppressed or blocked. That’s also the reason why you can’t ask a drunk person for consent; they don’t know or understand what’s going on around them.”

You’ve half fallen asleep at his explanation, the sleeves of your dress falling down your arms and a shiver runs down your spine. “So we’re not going to be partaking in passionate steamy love making?”

“No, we’re not,” he confirms, pulling your favourite pair of cotton pyjamas over your head. It’s a pale pink set with little bows prints all over it and a lacy collar. “Lift your hips for me, angel, I need to get the shorts on you.”

You comply, kicking the dress off into some forbidden corner of the room and Spencer takes this chance to slip the matching shorts onto your legs and up your thighs. The rest of the night is smooth sailing from there– he has successfully applied your skincare in such a way that you would be singing his praises. He has also managed to get you to drink another cup of water, and even though you’re going to wake up complaining about the fact you need to pee. He’d rather you complain about that instead of some raging headache. 

Spencer climbs under the covers next to you, pulling you into his chest and kissing your shoulder. A soft snore leaves your lips and he can’t help but chuckle. Passed out, as expected. 

“Good night, angel,” he murmurs into your ear, holding you tight. “See you in the morning.”

reblogs are always appreciated !!

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[rreids]

Could you possibly write a Spencer x reader who just got a new piercing and maybe he keeps accidentally hitting it and helps her clean it and stuff!!!

PIERCED • S. REID X READER

reader has a belly button piercing (new!) and spencer cleans it; kissing; teasing him about being a doctor; ~600 words

“Spence, ow,” you whine as his hand knocks against your new belly button piercing for what feels like the fifteenth time that day. “You have to stop.”

He pouts at you. “I can’t hug you?” 

Your unimpressed stare that you level at him gives him pause, and then it clicks, his jaw dropping almost comically as his eyes widen.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot.” He kisses your cheek gently and pulls his hands out from under your shirt and away from your waist. “Wait here.”

Spencer pads off and you watch him curiously for a few moments, flitting around your kitchen as he opens cabinets and drawers. He heads to the bathroom next, so you sigh and sink into the plush cushions of the couch. You hadn’t wanted him to stop cuddling you, you just wanted him to not knock the piercing around when it was so new.

He returns with his hands full of medical supplies.

“Baby?”

“I touched the new piercing with my bare hands. That raises your chance of infection so much, and it’d be my fault,” he’s whiny, and your lips twitch into a small smile. “You haven’t cleaned it yet today, have you? Let me.”

You shake your head in response to his question and tug the loose cotton of your tee to rest just a few inches above the piercing. Spencer gently curls the hem before sitting on the rug. He soaks a paper towel with the saline solution he found on your sink, gently dabbing and rubbing the irritated skin, just gentle enough to clean and not disturb the healing. 

He hums softly as he turns the jewelry to clean all parts, diligent and thorough in his attentions. He dries you with a paper towel too, brow furrowing as he tries to ensure nothing remains damp. You think you’re barely breathing, with his face so close and the fingers of his free hand delicately tracing shapes on your ribs. Spencer looks up at you through his lashes and smiles, pulling back and tugging your shirt down gently. 

“All done,” he kisses your knee before rising to stand. “You have to let me know if you think it’s getting infected. You see, I’m a doctor.”

You giggle and tug him down to the couch next to you, rolling him so you can sit atop him and pepper his face with kisses. “I don’t think you’re a medical doctor.”

“I’m full of surprises!” His voice gets high and a little weak before he gives up the charade, grinning under your affection. “I could be.”

“You’re a doctor three times. That’s not enough? So greedy,” you chide, pulling back. Your hands stay on his chest, and you can feel the quickened beat of his heart. It makes you smile.

Spencer nods. “I am greedy. It’s my biggest crime—” you scoff and he smiles fondly. “You know what? I’m greedy for more kisses.”

You oblige, and he carefully keeps his hands far from your piercing when they land on you to keep you close. “Mm. I guess I’m an enabler. I can’t not kiss you.”

He laughs fondly. “That’s good. If you could deny me, I’d be hurt. I can’t say no to you. It has to be even.” 

You knock your nose against his and he melts. “I love you,”

“Love you too, Spence.”

this does not feel like him at All in the dialogue misery

[reiderwriter]

hi i love your writing

could you do something with reid loving that reader is pregnant. fluff or smut or both

A/N Hello! Thanks for the request! Dad!Spencer is the cutest thing on the planet so this is some unapologetic fluff. And now I have baby fever.

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, idiots in love. Loosely based on Haley and Hotch's conversation in 1x1. Very fluffy and probably very cheesy and sentimental too... Sorry, you give me girl dad Spencer and suddenly there isn't an impure thought in my head, I just want to lovingly stare at him like I'm the dead wife in an action movie montage.

My requests are open, check out my masterlist for more 🌸

“Okay, what about Amelia?”

“No, Amelia Dyer, Victorian serial killer. She killed multiple infants over a thirty-year period.”

“Okay, okay, how about, Myra?”

“Myra Hindley, she and her partner Ian Brady abducted and killed five children and teens in the early sixties.”

“God, not that then. There can’t be a psychopathic murderer called Belle, right?”

“You’re making this too easy for me, y’know. Belle Gunness, Hell’s Belle, she’s one of the most prolific female serial killers of all time, even 100 years after her supposed death. It’s fascinating, you know, people think that she actually faked her death - when the doctor who performed the postmortem testified, he noted that the cadaver was about five inches shorter and about fifty pounds lighter than Gunness supposedly was….” You raise a single eyebrow at your wonderful husband, and he immediately shuts up.

“I’m rambling aren’t I?” He smiled down at you as you sat curled up as much as you could in your favorite spot on the couch, the cosiest part of your shared apartment. You smiled back up at him as he leaned down for a kiss and you gladly craned your neck up in response, meeting his lips for a sweet moment.

“Hotch was right you know,” you joked when the two of you parted. “All of the best baby names have been taken by serial killers.”

“Yeah, you’d think with the ratio of female to male serial killers, a girl would be easier to name.” He leans down to kiss you again before falling into a crouch next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and placing his hand on your stomach.

“How big did you say our little girl is now?”

“Y/N, you asked me that half an hour ago. I know pregnancy messes with your brain a bit, but if you’re that bad we’re going to have to get you back to Dr Patel and see if you’re doing okay.” He was joking of course, but you showed him your little pout anyway, knowing that he loved seeing the silly expression on your face.

“Humor me, Doctor.” He strokes your stomach and moves away, but not too far away, taking up right next to you on the couch, and pulling your legs over his lap.

“At five months, she’s roughly 10 inches long with a weight of about 0.5-1 pound. But that ‘How Big is My Baby’ book would say that she’s roughly one banana in length.” You giggled up at him and he grabbed your hand and just held it, content to have you in his arms in any way, big or small.

“I can’t believe it’s been five months already,” you giggle as he presses another kiss to your hand.

“I get it. It doesn’t feel quite real yet to me, either. I thought for so long that fatherhood just wasn’t in my future, but you’re the gift that keeps on giving I guess. I don't know what I did to deserve you.” Even if the words weren’t so sweet, with all of the hormones, you would’ve started crying at anything. Or at least that’s what you’re going to tell him when he sees the small tears threatening to drop into enormous loving sobs.

“Spencer Reid, I am not a gift. I am simply the woman with the correct combination of sense and foolish luck that got to marry you.” He’d done this before, and you were used to his small habit of self-deprecating talk, but after a year of marriage and three years of dating before that, you’d managed to work him down to the occasional comment.

“Don’t try to argue about this, I’m definitely the one benefitting the most from the situation right now,” he joked with you, and you could see the genuine adoration shining from behind his eyes. It was a little spark that not many got to see, a glimpse of true happiness in someone usually so reserved.

“Spencer, you’ve given me foot rubs everyday this week, you’ve read more pregnancy and parenting books than every OBGYN and midwife in the area combined, and you’ve somehow attended more of my clinical check-ups than me, and I’m the one whose pregnant.”

“And you’re growing our child inside of you, which is itself more impressive than anything I could ever do with a book and some modern acts of chivalry.”

“Yeah, tell your boss that. I think the only thing keeping Emily from pulling her hair out over your constant absences is that she thinks she’s competing for the title of godmother. She thinks Penelope and JJ are trying to corrupt me with parenting advice and all those baby clothes Pen keeps bringing over.”

“She’s going to be crushed when she remembers we’re not religious, right?”

“Devastated,” the two of you shared a laugh on the couch, and it quickly devolved into a giggle fit after Spencer leaned over and tickled your side. You jolted away from his touch, but he was on you again, attacking your sides with small caresses, and you were gasping for breath between laughs.

“Spence stop- ahh!” Your squeals stopped as you cried out in shock. It was small but you felt something tap against your stomach. Spencer stopped immediately upon seeing your expression change, and a serious look settled on him as he assessed you for any damage.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you in pain anywhere, is the baby okay?” He shot out the questions rapidly, one after the other, barely leaving space to catch his own breath from the laughter of earlier.

It happened again and you put a hand to your stomach, finally realising what’s going on.

“I think I just felt her kick. Spencer, I think I just felt the baby kick.” You couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your face, as much as you couldn’t help the tear that dropped from your eye as your hand rested against your belly again, scared to move for fear that the baby wouldn’t communicate with you again.

“What? Now? Can I- Can I try and feel it, too?” His hands hesitated at first but when you enthusiastically nodded and used your other hand to put him close to yours, you could feel his eagerness to feel the small kicks of your daughter as well.

Almost as if she was waiting for him, as soon as his hand was in the right position, your little girl kicked again, almost as if screaming “I’m here mommy and daddy,” for the two of you to hear.

“I think she’s trying to tell us not to have fun without her,” Reid whispered in your ear, kissing your tear streaked cheek, and using his free hand to rub them away from the other side of your face.

“I am so thankful everyday for this gift you have given me. And for the record, the gift isn’t the baby. The gift is the overwhelming happiness you bring to my life, and the beauty you make me see in this world. The fact that you’re going to be the mother of my child gives me the confidence to get up and go to work every morning because I know that there is joy and there is kindness and there are beautiful people in this world, and you are one, and she will be, too.”

His attempts to dry your tears are now completely vanquished as you let your emotions run wild, but you almost laugh when you realise that his eyes are just as glassy as yours, and you both sit there, overwhelmed by the pure, unadulterated joy that a small kick from a child who has yet to be given a name has bought you.

[emmasbrain]

Releasing Tension

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, fem!reader, p in v, blowjob, creampie, no use of protection (don’t be stupid, STDs are bad), idk let me know if there’s more

Synopsis: Spencer is tense and you stumble upon a way to ease his tension. (I don’t know how many times I wrote the word tense in this but it was too many)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

He was always tense. Something about him never seemed to be able to relax, and although he seemed happy sitting up against the armrest of your shared couch, reading a heavy old book - that you couldn’t for the life of you figure the name of since it was printed in russian - you could see his body was slightly rigid, as though he felt he had to be wary. It had always been like that, you’d brought it up to him before and all he said was that “stress is a part of his nature” but that it “didn’t stop him from doing things he enjoyed”.

That seemed to be enough for him. It wasn’t for you, though. “Spence.” You murmured, facing him from the other end of the couch. He glanced up at you, humming his acknowledgement at his name and giving you a small smile. You loved the way even the teeniest of his smiles to you would reach his eyes, making the golden brown almost sparkle.

“Hey, is everything okay?” His soft voice broke you from your thoughts, and you nodded your head.

“Yea I’m fine, was just lookin at you.” He gave a shy smirk at that and tucked a piece of loose hair behind his ear.

“Is that all you wanted? To look at me?” The amusement in his voice was undeniable, and you gave a small shrug to feign nonchalance.

“Mostly just to look at you,” You lifted yourself up and draped yourself over his lap, curling up against him like a cat, “also because I could see how tense you were from the other side of the sofa, and it was agitating me.” You gave a sheepish smile, tucking your head into his chest and he sighed, looking at you as though you’d asked “are we there yet” for the twenty-third time in a half hour trip.

He set his book down on the coffee table and put a hand on your cheek. “I love you baby, you know I do, but you have to understand that I’m just like that. I’m fine, and I know you worry that I’m not okay but it’s just how my body works. It’s how I process stress; from the bau, and from anything else. But I’m okay, and I’m happy. I promise, sweet girl.” His voice was soft and you could hear the steady heartbeat in his chest as he rubbed soothing strokes against your cheekbone with his thumb.

“I love you more.” Is all you replied with, capturing his hand in yours and kissing his palm. You adjusted your position to sit up a little and kiss his cheek, his jaw, his lips. You gave him a peck, both smiling into it like lovesick fools, and resting your foreheads together as you pulled away. This time he leaned back in, connecting your lips, and it was longer, softer.

You moved on his lap again for better access to your kiss, and he sucked in a breath. “Stay still.” He barely got the words out before attaching his lips back onto yours, suddenly feeling much hotter than it was before. You lifted up and moved to straddle him, quickly merging your lips back together. When you fully sat down, Spencer's hips bucked up to meet yours and he let out a breathy groan, tucking his head in your neck and kissing the skin there.

His half hard dick pushed up into you as you sat on him, and the combination of feeling him against your now wet cunt and the way he sucked at the skin just between your neck and shoulder had you letting out a soft whimper. “Doc…”

His hips jumped when he heard you, and he moved his hands to grasp your hips, pushing you down as he rutted himself against your cunt. The wetness that had started to form was now soaking through your pants, the skirt you were wearing pushed up by his hands so he could glance down and see the mess you were making on his trousers.

“Fuck, please… so good baby, feels so good.” His grip on your hips tightened and he gasped into your shoulder, biting down slightly. He was close, and what kind of girlfriend would you be to let him cum in his trousers, when he could cum in your mouth instead?

You lifted yourself to stand, legs wobbly as you had been nearing your own orgasm along with him. He whimpered at the loss of contact, and tried to reach out for you to pull you back, but you just smiled. “Turn around, Doc. I want you facing me.”

Spencer and your’ relationship was normally fairly equal in dynamics. It was all about giving each other pleasure, and so by focusing on each other you both settled into a comfortable situation. If one of you were in the mood to take more control, you would. If you recognised that one of you needed something, you would give it. It was interchangeable, and that was what you enjoyed about it.

A few days before, Spencer had bent you over your kitchen table, fucking into you roughly and leaving marks on your body that you could still faintly see. Now you were giving him a peck on the lips and dropping to your knees, delicately pulling his trousers and boxers down his legs and watching his cock stand against his stomach.

He was very still, eyes wide in anticipation. It looked as though he was trying not to scare you away, and the thought amused you. As you reached to hold him, you raised your eyebrows, silently asking for permission, and he nodded profusely. That encouraged you to wrap your hand around his cock, which was dripping precum, and he hissed as you dragged your hand up and thumbed his head, spreading the precum down his shaft to make it easier to work him.

After you had stroked him a few times, you decided it was probably best to give him what he wanted, so you leaned in and licked from the bottom of his dick to the top, tonguing his slit. His hips involuntarily pushed up, and he leaned his head against the back of the sofa, letting out little breaths as he flexed his fingers against the couch to calm himself.

The sight of him was beautiful, eyes scrunched up, mouth hanging slightly open. You couldn’t help yourself, so you took his head into your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, running your tongue over the sensitive underside of his head. He choked out a groan at the feeling and the noise went straight to your core, soaking your pants even more.

Your clit was throbbing but you refused to pay it any mind as you took him further into your mouth, bobbing your head and stroking what you couldn’t achieve. He was looking down at you now, and when you made eye contact you pushed yourself further down on his cock, making your eyes water.

“‘M not gonna last.. feels too good.” He breathed out, lacing his fingers through your hair and gripping it, but not making a move to control your actions. You moaned around him, mostly just to see his reaction, and you were pleasantly rewarded as he whined, whispering an amalgam of curses and your name.

A tear began to drip down your cheek from taking him so far into your throat, and he lifted the hand that wasn’t in your hair to hold your face and wipe away the tear. Even through the pleasure burning in both his gut and yours, he never failed to do little things that warmed your heart. It gave you the motivation to speed up your motions, bobbing your head faster. The room echoed with the obscene noises of your mouth around him and his little moans that let you know he was ready to cum.

With your free hand, you moved to cup his balls and lightly squeeze and he could barely let out a groan as his breath got caught in his throat.

“I.. I’m-“ He tried to warn you but it was too late, and hot ropes of cum shot into your mouth. His hips stuttered and his grip in your hair tightened, forcing you to groan around his cock as the last ropes of cum filled your mouth until it was dripping down your chin. You carefully suckled his head until he looked satiated, and then pulled away and made sure to look directly into his eyes as you swallowed the mouthful of cum and grinned.

His head dropped to the back of the couch and he grumbled out a “fuck me”, shaking his head and smiling at your display. “C’mere.” He beckoned, helping you to your feet until you re-straddled his lap, centimetres from his still-hard cock.

“Did you like it?” you asked, daring to look timid now, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

“Like it? Did I like it?” He let out a breath and shook his head, swiping his thumb over the cum on your chin, and before he could do anything you pulled his thumb into your mouth, lightly tonguing the pad of his finger. “You are so perfect.” He pulled his thumb from your mouth and replaced it with his lips. “So perfect. I loved it.” The taste of himself in his mouth felt unusual but mixed with the taste of you he couldn’t complain.

You placed your hands onto his shoulders, squeezing lightly. “Less tense. I’ll take it.” Your remark made him scoff, and he pulled you in for another kiss - to shut you up you presumed. You didn’t much mind though.

As he pulled away, his head dipped down to kiss just under your chin, and then continue his kisses down your neck. It was soft, showing his gratitude, but you couldn’t help the way your walls clenched at the action despite his intention. “Spence..” You warned - though not exactly sure what you were warning him about - but he understood nonetheless.

“Do you want something?” He teased, acting as though a minute ago he wasn’t moaning and mumbling nonsense as he came in your mouth. His little kisses never ceased, although now they were much less little.

“Please.” Your voice came out whiny and needy and the sound he made in response was almost pained.

“When you ask like that I can’t refuse you. I would do anything if you asked just like that.” He lifted his head to your face, hands pulling at either side of your head to crash his lips against yours, He was somehow soft and rough at the same time, making you unable to breath and unable to want to. “Do you want me inside you baby? Can I be inside you?” He was rushing his words between kisses but you heard them perfectly, and it shot straight to your aching clit.

You pulled away momentarily to question, “Can you go again?” You didn’t want to push him, but he seemed overly enthusiastic about fucking you.

“I need it so bad.” He was almost begging, even though he knew he didn’t have to. You needed this just as much as he did, the begging was just an added bonus.

“Fuck me, then.” You said pointedly.

“Fuck you?”

“Fuck me, Doctor Reid. If you don’t I think I’ll go insane.”

And at that he grinned and flipped you both over, now lying across the couch with Spencer between your legs. He made quick work of pulling your pants down and groaned when he saw the wetness glistening on your pussy lips. “So wet for me, sweet girl. I could never get over how wet you get for me.” He was barely audible, speaking more for himself than to you, and he leaned forward, grabbing his cock and giving himself a few short strokes.

When he was back to being fully hard, he pushed his tip between your lips and against your slit, collecting the wetness and dragging it up over your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, but they soon flew open as he roughly pushed into you without warning, filling you until your pelvises pressed together. The broken cry that left your mouth had him rocking into you as he waited to be told he could move.

He was desperate to fuck into you but he needed your permission and it was driving him insane. His face was nuzzled into your neck and he was inhaling slowly, gripping onto your hips bruisingly to ground himself.

“Move.” You uttered the word and he immediately pulled out half way, slamming back into you like his life depended on it. He set a heavy pace and it wasn’t long until you were a moaning mess, grasping at his arms that were now steadying himself on your hip and next to your head.

“Feel so good baby, you’re so perfect. So perfect for me sweet girl.” The nickname sent a bolt through you and you clenched around him. “Ah fuck, you can’t do that to me baby I won’t last.” He warned, but that’s what you wanted, so you laced your fingers through his hair and synonymously pulled at his hair as you tightened around him. The shocked moan he let out sent waves down your spine and you could feel that familiar coil tightening in your gut.

“I need you to cum for me Doc. Cum inside me Spencer.” He couldn’t reply, only whimpering in response as his pace lost its rhythm, sharp thrusts combining with shallow ruts as he began to reach his peak. His hand on your hip trailed over and began to rub small circles on your clit as his hips began to spasm and he warned with small groans that he was close.

Your orgasm sweeped over your body and your thighs tightened around his waist as you whined, white flashing in your eyes as the pleasure overtook you. You gasped and came back down as Spencer stilled, cum spilling deep inside you as his body lightly shook with the pleasure. He stayed like that, hips pushed as far against you as they could go, head rested on your shoulder as he gasped in little breaths of air while he calmed.

When he felt he could move, he pulled out of you and collapsed on top of you, his cum beginning to drip from your spent hole but neither of you moved to clean yourselves up. You lay there for what could have been minutes or hours, not saying a word, until you broke the silence. “Definitely not tense now.” You whispered, and you both couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, I’ll admit to being tense all the time if it ends like that.” He mumbled against your skin, and you chuckled.

“We could always just do that anyway.” You replied, and he hummed in agreement.

He planted a soft kiss to your jaw, unable to lift his head much further, and moved his hand to hold your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Thank you.” He spoke quietly against you.

“Always, Doc.” You turned to kiss his palm and fell back into comfortable silence, almost sure Spencer was falling asleep.

[reids-slut]

An Invisible Locket

Chapter 3: Painted Me Golden

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader // Secret relationship

Description: You work with your best friend and your boyfriend. The only problem is, nobody knows Spencer Reid is your boyfriend of over a year. When you find out that Spencer's getting sent out on a case immediately after getting back to Quantico, impulses take over. (Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI], smut, oral sex (M & F receiving), PIV sex, unprotected sex within an established relationship, unplanned pregnancy, discussions of abortion (in a pro-choice context, though Reader ends up choosing to stay pregnant), minor mentions of alcohol and cancer.

As for the crime subplot, much of it is very canon-typical (referenced child abuse & grooming by an extended family member (non-sexual), violence, blood/gore, drugs. As always, please feel free to let me know if I miss any CWs!

A/N: This fic is obviously heavy on the Spencer and Reader relationship, but it's also got a significant Garcia best friend plot line and crime plot line. This fic also features an unplanned Reader pregnancy. Reader debates abortion and is pro-choice, but ultimately ends up keeping the pregnancy. If any of that isn't up your alley, please feel free to skip this fic!

Names used: Baby, baby girl, good/sweet/pretty girl, daddy, good boy (once), my love.

Words (this chapter): 4.1 K

Words (total): 29.1 K

Pulling up to the FBI Academy for the first time was quite intense. You had only moved to Virginia two days prior, and your apartment consisted of a mattress on the floor and stacks of boxes all over the place. When you pulled them out of the box the night before, deep wrinkles littered your white blouse and black pencil skirt. Thank god you had thought ahead and put an iron and ironing mat in with your box of work clothes. First impressions are important.

Penelope had prepped you on what to expect for your first day. Security was a lot, but knowing what to expect definitely made the process easier. Your new boss was the first one to greet you as you stepped out of the elevator.

“You must be Y/N.” He reached his hand out to shake yours, which you promptly took. His handshake was firm, but not at all aggressive; a fine line that he straddled well. “I’m your Unit Chief, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. Penelope Garcia has told us so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope!”

“Oh, of course. Everyone should be free right now, so I’ll gather them and introduce you.”

Penelope had told you all about every member of the team, both casually, before you got hired, and after, in order to prepare you. It was strange to put faces to the names you had heard so much about. Penelope didn’t have a bad thing to say about anyone, but she did give you some warnings about everyone’s… quirks.

Everyone was very kind as they greeted you, but you couldn’t help but notice the timid guy, about your age, keeping some distance and standing off to the side. Penelope had told you about one, Dr. Spencer Reid, but the image you had crafted of him in your head wasn’t matching up with reality.

Your eyes kept drifting over to him and Derek must have noticed.

“Kid, stop being shy and get over here!” he said to Reid.

To you, he whispered, “I’m not sure if Penelope has told you about our little Einstein, but he gets nervous around pretty ladies.” The way he had said it wasn’t at all flirty towards you; he was slyly ridiculing Spencer.

Spencer put a hand out for you to shake. As he stood in front of you, shaking your hand, what you had been told about him was blending into the reality of him. Nerdy, ‘Boy Genius’ meets attractive FBI agent.

His light brown hair—mostly wavy, besides a few distinct curls—was just at the length where he was having to brush it off his face. His hazel eyes, framed by glasses, appeared to subtly shift in tone as his face moved. He wore a cardigan over his dress shirt and his tie was slightly too loose; not crisp and neat like Hotch’s was.

He wasn’t even physically your type, really. The guys you slept with in college tended to be athletic and more of the douchey frat bro type.

Your high school was small, and you were the lame girl who would spend her lunches hidden away in the computer lab coding. Teenagers can be cruel, and you weren’t exactly the epitome of popular. In senior year, you’d decided that when you got to college, you’d “fake it ‘til you make it” in regard to confidence. Turns out, guys found your confidence hot; they didn’t care what your major was. You never quite “made it” with your confidence, though. You just kept faking. It was tiring.

You never dated in college because you could only keep the façade up for so long, and once you felt yourself becoming invested in a guy and wanting something real, you ran. In therapy, you’ve since worked through a lot of that, thankfully. But meeting Spencer was what got you to delve into that aspect of your past with your therapist—something you only realized later, when you started dating him.

Love at first sight doesn’t exist, but from that first meeting with Spencer, there was some sort of spark. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even lust. You just felt something when he shook your hand.

“Dr. Spencer Reid. Nice to finally meet you,” he said, his eyes avoiding meeting yours.

***

The door to Penelope’s apartment opens and standing before you is your best friend, already in her pajamas and fluffy unicorn slippers. Her face is a bit puffy. She’s been crying.

You lift up the reusable shopping bag you’re carrying to draw attention to it. “You go sit while I put these away and get changed, all right?”

With the ice cream in the freezer, the wine in the fridge, and your pajamas on, you regroup with Penelope in the living room. She’s on the couch, wrapped in one of her many throw blankets. The TV is playing reruns of a show you know she doesn’t even watch, but the background noise is appreciated. You reach down and grab a blanket for yourself from the basket she keeps them in and settle into the opposite end of the couch.

Penelope blankly stares at the TV, making no effort to address you. Knowing your best friend, you’d guess that she wants you to start this conversation. She hates confrontation even more than you do, somehow.

The show on the TV dances across your field-of-view, but you have no clue what’s happening on it. It’s time to put on your big-girl-pants and go for it.

“Please, just spill,” you say. “I can’t stand seeing you like this and I’ve been a nervous wreck all day because of it.” Your words come out soft. “What did I do? I genuinely have no clue what I did wrong.”

Taking a throw pillow from the couch, you hug it to your chest as if it can shield you from whatever she’s going to say.

“You and Reid.”

Shit.

An enormous sigh falls out of you, and you aren’t sure if it’s relief that your secret is finally out of the bag or that you finally know what’s wrong. Regardless, that’s enough confirmation for Penelope.

“How long?” she continues, before you can even start.

The guilt of having hidden this from her for so long has been weighing on you much more than you previously realized, and now it’s all come to a head.

“Fourteen months. A little over a year,” you say, “Penelope I’m so—”

“Stop,” she cuts you off and begins to cry as she continues. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts to find out that your best friend has been lying to you about something this big? And Spencer’s been lying to me, too! Does anyone else know!?”

Seeing her this hurt is killing you. You should have told her sooner. If you had a sister, you probably would have told her a long time ago. You’re an only child and Penelope isn’t super close with her stepbrothers, so you’d determined that you must be twin flames or something like that. Soul sisters, maybe.

“You’re the only person at work that knows. Even outside of work, only his mom and my parents know. When this started, we took things slow. We were casual for like, a month or so and we obviously weren’t going to tell anyone about that. Once we started dating, we thought it made more sense to keep it between us; to avoid comments and eyes on us at work, you know? We kept things entirely professional at work. Neither of us was sure that it was going to last and, if it didn’t, we could navigate working together as exes, but we didn’t want to navigate the entire unit knowing that we were exes.”

You shrug your shoulders and let out a defeated breath. “Regardless, look at what happened this morning with your meeting. I know that the team wouldn’t let anything happen to me or Spence, but if Strauss wants to play games and threaten someone’s job…?”

You don’t even need to answer that question because Penelope already knows that an intimate workplace relationship would put a target on your back with Erin.

“But you know you can trust me. Why didn’t you trust me?”

“I should have,” you nod. “It’s not that I actively distrusted you, Pen. I swear.” You reach out from your blanket cocoon and grab her hand, which she reciprocates. “I think that, after we decided that we wanted to make an attempt at something serious between us, we wanted to be able to focus on that without any external influence, especially from anyone at work. And it’s definitely been a lot of work. I love him so much, but with our jobs and our schedules…? We’ve both had to fight to find the alone time and the space where we can just be a couple.”

Penelope starts gently rubbing the palm of your hand with her thumb and her face softens with a feeble smile.

“You love our boy wonder?”

You mirror her expression with your own shy smile as you reflect on your partner.

“I love him so much. I mean, you know how amazing he is. I definitely don’t need to tell you that. He’s such an amazing boyfriend, though, too. I always feel happy and safe when I’m with him. He’s always teaching me new things and I know the team just wants him to shut up sometimes when he goes all Professor Reid at work, but I could listen to him talk for hours. When we’re together, sometimes I just let him ramble while I knit. He’s my free audiobook,” you giggle.

The smile on both of your faces has brightened and you’ve slowly shifted closer to each other on the couch throughout the conversation. Penelope grabs your other hand and lovingly squeezes it.

“You know how much I love you and I’m so, so happy that you’re this happy. The Good Doctor has good taste too, it seems.” There’s some wistfulness in her expression as her eyes meet yours again. “I just really wish you had told me, so I didn’t have to find out like this.”

Your demeanor rapidly shifts into perplexity as you remember that Penelope never explained the discovery to you. “Wait, how did you figure it out, anyway!? You never told me!”

An air of pride washes over her. “Well, you may have fooled an entire unit of profilers, but as we both know, my dear Y/N, I’m the divine being from which no secrets can be kept …for longer than one year—give or take.”

You giggle, always pleased by how easily she can make you laugh.

“Okay, now, Miss Divine Being, tell me how it actually happened,” you prod.

She rolls her eyes and begins narrating her version of today’s events to you. “So, I was already back at my desk when I got your text saying that you were going home for lunch. I was so surprised, because I was like, ‘I didn’t know Y/N was leaving! I was going to offer to buy her lunch from her favorite fancy French café down the road as an apology for stressing her out this morning!’”

This woman’s flair for the dramatics is showing, but you can’t even complain because you’re already thoroughly entertained.

She continues, “I didn’t want to text you to ask if you had already left, in case you were on your bike. No distracted cycling for you! So, I checked the security camera that’s in the bike cage of the parking lot, and I saw that your bike was still locked up! Maybe you were still making your way down to your bike, I thought. So I totally didn’t check the very precise geolocation of your work phone, because that would totally be crossing a line and very much against policy, right?”

Your jaw drops open. Are you entirely surprised? No. Disappointed in her? Yes.

“Anyway, I learned that you were up on the 2nd floor of the parking garage. Weird, right? I pull up the 2nd floor parking garage security feed—which, I very much am allowed to do—and what do I see?”

You try extremely hard to hold back a smirk as the full picture of her discovery comes together in your mind.

She claps her hands together. “I see my best friend getting into the car of none other than Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“So, that’s it? You saw me get into Spencer’s car and your Spidey-senses just knew?”

“I put two and two together, Y/N! Well, first, I thought about the reasons you would lie to me about going home for lunch in order to go somewhere with Reid, but I couldn’t figure out where you would want to go with him.”

“Penelope Garcia!” you gasp. “Did you track my work phone all the way to my house?”

“I also tracked Reid’s phone,” she quietly admits. “Both of you sneaking off to your apartment was enough for me to figure out there was some hanky-panky going down.”

“Well, I hadn’t seen him in a week, and he was about to leave again on this case, so we needed—”

She plugs her ears with her fingers. “Nuh, uh! I don’t need to hear any more of that. I’m still processing the dating thing, so please spare me the dirty details!”

You crack open the wine and ice cream you brought while catching up on the Bachelorette, yelling at the screen whenever something outrageous happens (which is often). You skip out on the wine, though, because you’ve got to be able to wake up for work tomorrow. One glass and you’d be zonked.

After getting in bed, you and Penelope lie facing each other. You’ve worked through a lot tonight, but something still feels unsettled for some reason.

You speak in a whisper, breaking the silence. “Pen, I’m sorry I never told you. I wish that I had been the one to tell you versus you finding out like that.”

“My little pumpkin pie, it’s okay.” She gently pinches your cheek. “To be fair, I shouldn’t have tracked your phone. I should have just waited until you got back after lunch and just asked you about it.”

“Yeah, probably,” you laugh. “I’m not telling Hotch, but you know you’ve got to apologize to Spencer later, right? For tracking his phone, too?”

She nods. “I know. I’ll talk to him once you tell him that I know so I can apologize.”

You know she will. She screwed up, but her heart is always in the right place.

“Neither of us are perfect, that’s for sure. Think about it this way, though. Yes, you fucked up, but at least you came clean immediately and didn’t lie to me for over a year, right?” you joke.

Penelope laughs alongside you. “You only lied to protect your relationship. Now that I’ve had a hot minute to process that my best-friend-slash coworker has been secretly dating my other best-friend-slash-coworker,” she pauses to take a breath and you have to pull your lips between your teeth to prevent a giggle, “you know I could never, ever fault you for that.”

Only a beat passes before she continues, asking, “Can you promise me something?”

“Promise you what, Pen?”

“No more secrets,” she says, “for either of us. You’re my best friend in the whole world.” In the faint glow of pink lava lamp light contrasting the pale moonlight shining in through the window, you see the reflection of her eyes becoming glossy. “We got through this, but in the future, let me in. Let me be by your side.”

You feel your face heating as your already dim vision gets blurrier.

“Yeah. Okay. But, now that you know, we need to have more girl’s nights and sleepovers so I can keep you up to date on things. If we talk too much at work, one of us will slip up in front of someone.”

“You mean, I’d slip up, and I totally get that because I would definitely be the one to accidentally spill the beans.”

“And I’m trusting you not to. Think you can do that for me, Pen?”

“You know I can’t promise that with a 100%, money-back guarantee because I’m me,” her gentle smile is faintly illuminated, “but I’ll definitely try my best.”

You know you could never ask for anything more from Penelope. It’s the way her brain works, and you couldn’t ask her to change that without fundamentally changing who she is, and you love her as-is. If she accidentally slipped up, it would suck, but it also wouldn’t be the absolute end of the world or anything.

“Hey, I love you, Pen”

She reaches up and taps the tip of your nose.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

You both roll onto your backs. The air feels lighter.

“So, when are you gonna tell the team?” she asks.

“I’m not too sure, honestly. Things are just so good right now and I’m scared to change too much. I’m also scared to paint that big, bright target on my back, you know? I can’t have Strauss or hell, even Hotch thinking that I’m less competent at my job because of my relationship with Spencer.”

Penelope takes a moment before asking, “What about Spencer? How does he feel about it?”

“Now, I think he’s a bit more ready than I am. In the beginning, he was the one who had more to lose by telling the team, especially before we became official, official. I was still relatively new to the team then, but he had known everyone for years and he didn’t want everyone’s perception of him to change so drastically.”

“Well, whenever you decide to tell the team, you know everyone’s going to be really happy for you, right? You both are a part of the BAU family.”

“Yeah, I know. I think we’ve just gotten so comfortable hiding that the idea of everything being out in the open is scary. Thank you for everything, though, Pen.”

She reaches over and grasps your hand with hers. You squeeze back; your silent reassurance to each other that everything is going to be okay, no matter what.

***

“Dr. Spencer Reid. Nice to finally meet you,” he said.

Every time his eyes flicked back to your face, it felt raw. You had to look away. You felt naked.

After that awkward introduction, the first six or seven months of working at the FBI were uneventful, as far as any sort of relationship between you and Spencer. You primarily only left your cave of an office to go to the bathroom, to make coffee, or for case briefs, anyway.

You did see him a few times outside of work, though. Dave had invited everyone over to his place for dinner a few times, and there were a handful of times that the team got drinks at the bar after work. He didn’t ignore you and you didn’t ignore him per se, but you still didn’t interact a whole lot. You grew closer to the rest of the team over those months, but not to Spencer.

Even with that first flicker of something when you met him, you knew you couldn’t pursue Spencer, even if you wanted to. Even if he were somehow attracted to you, you couldn’t date a coworker, especially not when you had barely been there half-a-year.

You reminded yourself that you were given the chance work with your best friend and to actually make some positive change in the world. You couldn’t willingly choose to fuck that up over some guy, especially when you weren’t even sure how you felt about him. Sure, he was an attractive guy. But being around Spencer felt like looking at a statue behind glass; close in proximity, but entirely untouchable. Entirely unreachable. What did he even feel like?

Everything changed the day you were caught sobbing in the bathroom. That day, the glass shattered before you and you reached out to touch. It was early afternoon and the usual ambiance of the office had quieted, most people out to lunch or heads-down at their desk, enjoying the peace and quiet.

The large pane of mirrored glass spanning the wall above the bathroom sinks made you feel as though you were in a funhouse; you, the clown. You dabbed at the black mascara stains under your eyes as you tried to somewhat-preserve your makeup, but you couldn’t hold back the tears. It turned into whack-a-mole, but with smeared mascara.

There were two quick knocks on the bathroom door before it opened, ever so slightly.

“I’m not coming in,” the male voice declared, clearing his throat, “but, is everything– uh, are you okay… in there?”

You froze. “Reid?”

“Y/N?” he asked in return. “I didn’t know who was in there, but I heard the crying.”

“Shit.” You covered your mouth. “Sorry, I mean, uh–” Fuck. “I didn’t realize I was so loud, sorry. I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay.”

He went quiet for a second and neither of you moved a muscle. It was so awkward and the only noise to fill the silence was the buzz of the fluorescent bathroom lights.

“Do you want me to go find Garcia?” he asked.

“No. She, uh– She left for lunch a few minutes ago.”

“Oh. Well, sorry for… intruding.”

“It’s fine. Thanks for checking on me, Reid.”

“If you need or, uh, if you want someone to talk to, you know where I’ll be.”

He gave a couple seconds before closing the door, his footsteps growing fainter as he walked away.

A few minutes later, you returned to your office to a sticky note on your desk which read:

“Here’s my personal number if you ever need a listening ear. I hope everything’s okay.”

You: “Hi, Spencer. It’s Y/N. Just got your note. Do you have a few minutes to swing by my office?”

You had figured the least you could do was explain and thank him for reaching out. Your text went unanswered, but about a minute later, he knocked on your door.

You explained that you were crying because you overheard two security guards making fun of the way you and Penelope dress. You see those two guards every morning at the security checkpoint on your way in. While you were on your way to grab stuff from the printer, you heard them joking with each other around the corner.

“I know it’s a really stupid thing to cry over. It’s just clothes. I didn’t want to tell Penelope though, obviously.”

“That’s a completely valid thing to cry over, in my book,” he said, his tone completely free of judgment.

“What, like you ever cry?” you joked.

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he laughed. “You’re good, don’t worry.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for checking up on me and to explain. It was nothing serious. I’m fine.”

As he turned to leave, half in your office and half out, he said something that immediately had you reconsidering how you felt about him. “I’m glad you’re better. If you ever need to chat or something though, you can always text my personal cell. And, for what it’s worth, I think you look great.” His tone was probably more suggestive than he had intended because he panicked a bit as soon as the words left his mouth. “Your outfit, I mean!”

His simple compliment felt like that first flicker; like a spark. This spark went straight into the pit of your stomach, though. When he tried to backpedal, it was like a baby deer, fumbling while trying to walk on ice; adorable.

You and Spencer first began texting that night. The texts rapidly turned into mini-essays back and forth, replying to the numerous topics of the previous lengthy text. Texting turned into nightly phone calls. What started out as a practical shift to save your fingers from falling off turned into your nightly comfort. In contrast to the quick glances you began to give each other at work, his voice, quiet and sleepy coming through the speaker on your phone, felt intimate. You knew you were getting a side of him that nobody else at work was getting. His walls fell down before your very eyes, and it was extremely hot.

Two weeks after the initial text, Spencer was in your apartment. Two hours after that, he was in your bed. Two months later (Spencer would remember exactly how many days) you had the “so what are we to each other?” conversation.

It was never just hooking up though. It had been more than that from the start and you both knew it.

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[ssahotchnerr]

aaron would never admit it, being a man who loves his children equally, but there’s just something about ellie that’s always made him worry more. his career mainly focusing on female homicides certainly doesn’t help, but he swears it’s just something different. something shifted in him the day he held ellie for the first time, an innate desire to shield her from a kind of harm jack wouldn’t have to worry about.

the first time ellie proves her capability to aaron, she’s 9, sat between you two in the principal’s office. her knee is scraped, wild curls springing loose from her french braid, her (aaron’s) brown eyes glaring at her principal analytically, almost as if she’s trying to jumpstart her profiling career in her grass-stained soccer uniform.

the principal explains the severity of why the two of you had been called in—ellie had kicked a boy 5 years her senior in the shins, then had to be pulled off of him by one of the assistant coaches.

“eleanor odette hotchner,” aaron starts, “do you have ANYTHING to say for yourself?”

ellie looks right at him, unwavering.

“he picks on jack all the time. he’s the reason he came home with a bruise the other day. i saw it happen, dad. no one did anything about it, even after jack and i came in and told you.”

you and aaron look at each other, taken aback, and then to the principal as he sputters out an explanation.

“wait,” you interrupt, your own profiling skills kicking in, “is that why you and jack were late that one day coming home?” you look to aaron again, “jack said he hung back to ask a question about his science project.”

ellie shakes her head.

you two look back to the principal again, flushed red at the gaze of two identical sets of brown eyes glaring at him.

“you two have to understand, coach carter is one of the best JV coaches-“

“carter?? as in nathan carter’s dad? the same nathan carter who bullied jack so bad we had to switch classes in the middle of the school year?” you connect the dots, anger rising at the man in front of you.

the principal remains silent, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

ellie leans over to aaron, lowering her voice, as if telling him a secret.

“it’s called nepotism. uncle spencer told me about it.”

when the three of you leave that day, ellie is still suspended for three days, as opposed to the week she had been eyeing originally.

he saves the story till the perfect time arises, only a few days later. it’s a tense moment on the jet, when everyone is exhausted from a long, grueling case.

he starts it with an offhanded comment about how ellie has been on suspension, and 5 sets of eyes and ears perk up.

“ellie? our ellie? what happened?”

he hits the story’s climax right as dave is taking a sip of his whiskey. at the mention of nepotism, he laughs so hard it comes out of his nose.

ellie’s gonna be fine, aaron tells himself. as long as she doesn’t give her old man a heart attack first.

oh my god?????? yes. yes yes yes yes YES

not only does ellie favor aaron’s traits, she’s just as fiercely protective.

plus, aaron and jack have always been coming to her rescue whenever she needs it — her being the ‘baby’ of the family, being more vulnerable in different instances, they love her and want to protect her. so when the time comes for her to do the same, she does not hesitate. it’s what they would’ve done for her.

and of course she knows better — fighting is never the solution, doesn’t solve anything (and the fact she’s now on nathan’s and all his friends radar) — she was not about to be a bystander and let her big brother take a beating. absolutely not. so as she’s sitting in the principal’s office waiting for you and aaron, she’s extremely nervous, but regardless of what follows, she doesn’t regret what she’s done.

and while aaron has to be Dad and not condone fighting, he’s so incredibly proud of her. ellie apprehending a kid who’s twice her size — his little ellie???

it settles a bit of his worries. like, he’ll always be worried due to what he sees everyday, but ellie has proven can defend herself (at just 9 years old) and he has to give her more credit. she’s not some little weakling — she’s a hotchner.

and the bau finding out??? incredibly shocked, but just as aaron and you — proud.

[littlewriterfullofwords]

Happy New Year

Parring: dr. Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Summary: It's a New Year Eve party!

Warnings: fluff I guess

A/N: Happy New Year guys! I had some drinks so excuse any mistakes!

Just like for Christmas Eve, you invited your team from BAU over to celebrate New Year Eve with you.

You decorated the house with some balloons, prepared some food and alcohol. You put on shiny clothes (made shiny make up) and waited for the team to appear by your door.

As always, Penelope was first. Her beautiful smile enlightened the house and her colourful clothes gave colours to the monotonous decor of the living room.

"You make our life a lot better, sweetheart." Said the woman and hugged you again, the third time in 5 minutes.

The next one was Emily. Her dark hair, perfectly composed with black, slightly shiny dress, was tied in a loose bun with free strands on the sides.

JJ wore a red dress and curled her blond hair that had fallen on her back and shoulders.

The men, instead of Gideon was Rossi, the sudden change you didn't expect to happen, came in wearing suits or something quite elegant.

"Who would think we would need your little parties." Joked Morgan, a glass of homemade alcohol in between his fingers.

"We're glad you're with us." Joined him Emily with a smile and a glass of whiskey.

"Sure." You jokingly rolled your eyes then laughed. "You only need my alcohol, nothing more."

"Actually..." Everyone looked at Spencer who was enjoying his one and only vodka. "We all are very fond of you. Me especially."

"Yeah, we know." Agreed Derek with a smile. "We know."

You also smiled. You've never heard Reid being so straightforward with anything except information and facts. What he had said made your stomach turn upside down and the heart to skip a few beats.

You were also very fond of Spencer. As you realized before Christmas Eve, you were fucking in love with him and you were sure nothing could change that any time soon.

After some talking with food along, you all started to dance, sing and drink even more. Those people in your house, they were totally different people from that you worked with. It's not like you were complaining, no. It was just good to know that they were feeling comfortable enough to show their other side to you.

"You know." Quiet tipsy Emily sat by your side on the sofa and pointed at Reid who was singing one of Abba's song with Aaron in the middle of your living room. "The doctor is very fond of you. He looks at you all the time. He talks about you when you're not around. He's kinda obsessed, you know?"

"That's... That's good to know, thank you." You didn't know what to think about the information you just received.

Should you work on that? Or should you leave it as it was? Gods only know.

When all those thoughts were going through your head like F1 cars, your eyes locked with those belonging to Spencer. You both smiled at each other. You felt another heat wave hit your face. You were in love with the guy.

3...

2....

1...

Happy New Year!

The fireworks flew to the sky and exploded with million colours, making the night sky the brightest in the whole year.

"I hope we stay together." Started Penelope and clinked her glass with Derek's. "I really love you guys!"

"We love you too, Pen." You said and kissed her cheek.

Everyone, of course with champagne in their hands, wished everyone happy new year and more. It was a tradition, right?

"Y/N." Before you came back inside behind everyone, Reid stopped you by calling your name and slightly pulling your top.

"Yes, Spenc?" You stopped and looked at the doctor who looked cute with those red cheeks and hazy eyes.

"I wanted to...." His hand hid under his hair as he scratched his neck what, as always, made you smile. "Happy New Year, Y/N."

You opened your mouth to answer but before you even made a sound, Spencer's lips touched yours.

You always knew him as an individual who would rather avoid physical touch yet here he was. His lips on yours, his hands on your cheek and waist, almost no distance between you two. And oh gods, you loved that! You loved that too much.

"Happy New Year." You whispered after you two parted. "I hope you stay with me, Spenc."

"I hope so too, Y/N." One more kiss before coming in, his hand on your lower back and wide smiles on both your faces.

"So...." JJ pushed Emily away from the window and looked at Morgan who was facing the wall.

"Shall we congratulate you, guys?" Asked Aaron.

"I think so." Answered Reid for both of you.

"Happy New Year then!"

[liliumsabyss]

Had a little look through your character list to see if you wrote for Outer banks, the show isn’t there but at the top of your list it says that characters can be requested it’s just not 100% that you will write for them. If you don’t that’s completely ok I’d be happy for you to use this request for my fav Newt or even switch it up and write it for Spencer Reid because I saw him on the list too.

Anyway here’s the thoughts that have been thunk: Jj Maybank from outer banks (happy for someone else if you don’t write him) with a sleepy boyfriend (reader) who has just woken up and Jj isn’t there with him so he just wanders around until he finds hims and pretty much just falls into his arms for cuddles when he does find him and it’s all cute and fluffy.

I mean this with my whole entire mind body and spirit, you are one of my favourite authors and even though I have no idea who you are I love you and your work. I eat it up every time you write one of my requests and it’s just: ✨❤️🤩🏆 all the time, you know? Thank you for existing and sharing your stories they make my day.

All the love ❤️

Sleepyheads

FEM DNI, I SWEAR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Word Count: 0.7k

Tw: Very brief allusions to medical emergencies such as heart attacks, strokes, and other things along those lines but never outwardly stated just the asking of symptoms, Mentions of Cat Adams and Tobias Hankel, Very Fluffy, Spencers adorable stutter and yes he has a stutter, and Unedited

A/n: Hey! Once again thank you so much for the request! Im sorry this took so long I may or may not have gone down a rabbit hole trying to figure out Jj’s personality from OBX only to fail and ask everyone I know who watches the show including my mother for his personality only for them all to not be very helpful and have to go with one of the other characters you stated. I ended up going with Spencer to shake things up and also I love Spencer so much and with the new criminal minds season having him gone I chose to show him some love. Thank you so much for everything it’s such an honor for someone to think of me as their favorite author and to like my work. Also the day I got this request I had a very poor encounter with someone so this just made my day so much! Thank you so much <3

(Y/n) woke up sleepily blinking his eyes open, reaching to his right lazily when he felt a cold empty spot. He sat up quickly looking around confused in the dark room noticing the vacant right side of the bed. The warm light poured under the doorway from the hall of the apartment. The (h/c) haired male swung his legs off the bed slowly standing up as he rubbed his eyes sleepily stumbling to the door of the bedroom. He opened up the door blinking wildly as the light flooded in, hurting his eyes. (Y/n) walked down the hallway to the end which opened up into the large room that was split between the kitchen, living room, and dinning room, across the rood was a set of glass french doors. Looking through the glass doors one could see a man curled over his desk still adorning his plum colored button up shirt and his dark dark blue almost black tie that hung loosely around his neck. His mop of curly brown hair covered many details of his face including his warm umber colored eyes that stared stressfully at the case files scattered across the desk. (Y/n) staggered his way across the large open room of the apartment he shared with his boyfriend who was in fact the man hunched over the desk lost in his work, Spencer Reid. The (h/c) haired male approached the glass doors knocking gently leaning against them for support, tiredly wrapping his arms around himself. The other male turned his head towards the glass doors staring at the other in surprise. He quickly got up rushing over to the glass doors opening the one his lover was not leaning against.

“ Mh Spence why are you up…” (Y/n) said as he stopped leaning against the doors.

“ I-I had to look more at this case some-something about it doesn’t seem right,” Spencer started rubbing his hand on his forehead before he looked up with his eyebrows pinched.

“ Wait w-why are you u-” 

Spencer began to day but was cut off when the (h/c) haired male collapses towards him catching the other.

“ Woah woah (Y/n)! Are you ok! What’s wrong?! Your pulse seems to be fine. Does your chest hurt? Did you hit your head? Can you put both your hands out and close your eyes for me?” Spencer started to ramble asking various questions related to various medical emergencies. The (h/c) haired male just wrapped his arms tightly around the other snuggling his head into the other male's chest.

“ Spence, I'm fine, can you come to bed please.” (Y/n) said, staring up at Spencer putting on a playful pout. Spencer shook his head, his lips pulling into his wide iconic grin.

“ Ok. Did you know that the human body needs at least se-“ Spencer started to say as the two walked towards their bedroom, his arm around the other's waist. But before the brunette could continue (Y/n) jabbed his elbow into Spencer's side quickly shutting him up understanding the point. The two staggered to their room shutting the white wooden door behind them causing them to be surrounded in dark. The two collapsed on their bed not bothering to climb under the covers. The (h/c) haired male buried his head in the brunette male's chest while Spencer moved his chin on top of the other's head, both holding each other tightly in their arms.

“ I love you Spence…” (Y/n) said drifting off at the warmth that the other radiated.

“ I love you too.” Spencer said, squeezing the other tightly as he closed his eyes. While Spencer often had nightmares due to his occupation and just everything he went through from Cat to Hankel to the victims he was just slightly too late to help even though it wasn’t his fault but with (Y/n) he rarely maybe even never gets them and if he does his lover has always been there by his side after. And so the two drifted off in each others embrace just enjoying the time they had together before the next morning they would each be called to their respective jobs. 

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @dreatine - thanks so much!! ♡

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

Always Been You

It was around 3am when Spencer’s phone awoke him. He recalls it being around 3am rather than a specific time because the sound that greeted him in consciousness was your favourite song, which he had selected as your ringtone, and the fact that you had called him at a time when he had been sleeping meant that he was already far too distracted by thoughts of you to take notice of what the exact time was. For a genius, and for someone who takes as much notice of every little thing as Spencer can, this action alone was enough to give away how head over heels in love with you he was. By the fifth word of the first line of the song, Spencer had answered your call, and before he could utter a word, the sound of your sobs getting caught in your throat caused his entire body to malfunction, reboot, and go on full alert in under a second.

“Spencer...h-he’s gone!” You managed to say before bursting into tears again.

Of course, your best friend on the other end of the phone knew actually who and what you were referring to.

“I’ll be there in five minutes and thirty two seconds, count for me, I’ll stay on the line.” Spencer encouraged as he practically flew out of bed, knowing that his presence and having you count would be two much needed distractions for your state of panic.

“O-Okay.” You answered, while Spencer clumsily shoved his feet into a loose pair of shoes.

“1, 2, 3...” You began, your best friend throwing on a shirt and expertly holding the phone to his ear using his shoulder so that he could hear you, and respond to you immediately if you had any reason to stop counting.

“...9, 10...” And he was out the door, bounding down the hall of his apartment block to the elevator, knowing you needed him more then ever.

“...60, 61, 62...” Spencer had reached his car, and he was reversing out of the parking lot with a determination that made him a force to be reckoned with if any irritable 3am drivers sought to interrupt his journey.

“...116, 117, 118...” He was almost halfway to your apartment and he could hear that your breathing had calmed considerably, your voice quieter in between sniffles.

“Im still here, it’s alright. Keep counting for me, you’ve got this.” Spencer told you, his tone soft as he spoke into the silence left by you pausing your count.

“Thank you.” The words were broken, and so sad, but always grateful, and with that you continued.

Another two minutes passed before Spencer found himself pulling up outside your apartment block. Despite the rush he was in, he did his best to shut his car door quietly, because he knew you liked to have the window open whatever the weather and he didnt want to risk frightening you with a loud noise, even if it was three floors below the room in which you were crying.

“...243, 244, 245...” Your voice spoke in Spencer’s ear as he bounded through the doors of your apartment block.

He stood at the elevator, tapping his foot and jumping on the spit impatiently, before deciding that he couldnt wait the two extra seconds, and he headed for the stairs. By the time he reached your door, Spencer realised that his estimation of how long it would take for him to reach you was a little inaccurate, which again goes to show how much worrying about you really affects him.

“...307, 308, 309...” He was reaching for the spare key hidden on top of your door frame, the one that was reserved just for him.

“...3110, 311, 312, 3-”

And then he was face to face with you, the rest of the number lost to the silence as your eyes met his. Spencer’s gaze focussed only on the image of you, curled up on the floor by the window, wearing a soft pyjama set that he knew to be one of your favourites, in your arms you clutched a picture frame close to your chest, but Spencer couldnt see the picture within it because you had it as near to your heart as you could get it.

Seeing Spencer, you released the picture frame, but it fell against your chest, continuing to conceal whichever photograph you were treasuring. You held your arms out to him, and he knew it was safe for him to run to you without scaring you, so he did just that. Once he was within grabbing distance, you took ahold of his face in your hands, your tearful eyes searching his. Spencer noticed this was something you always did upon being upset in front of him, he never asked why and you never explained, but he realised that in your moments of distress, being able to see that he was alright was reassuring to you, and that warmed his heart. He held your hands against his face, gently tracing his thumbs over your knuckles.

“I overestimated, it only took five minutes and thirteen seconds to get here, Im sorry I made you think it would take longer.” Spencer apologised, his voice careful.

Rather than replying, you simply shook your head, indicating that you saw no reason for him to be sorry, but Spencer was not comforted by your lack of response.

“Talk to me, buttercup.” He used your favourite nickname that only he ever called you, and that was all it took.

Your lip began to tremble, your chin wobbling with it as tears clouded the view of Spencer almost to unrecognisable. Almost. But he knew you so well, and he was quick to assess what you needed as soon as he could; before a single tear fell, you found yourself in his lap, your face in his chest and his arms holding you tightly. You sobbed into his chest, unable to form a single word, and he was smart enough - even when in love - to know that now was not the time to ask questions. Instead, it was the time for comfort, and he was always ready to offer that to you in whatever form you needed. He ran his fingers through your hair, drew patterns on the back of your pyjama shirt with his fingertips, rocked you back and forth in his lap while shushing you gently as your tears soaked through his shirt. It was only then, Spencer glanced around your apartment.

Mess. All he saw was mess. Shelving units had been pushed over, glass ornaments you adored were reduced to shattered pieces in the floor, the wooden table had a hole punched through it and the chairs had been thrown at the walls. If Spencer didnt know enough about the situation already, he would assume that you had been robbed, or someone had attempted to take you. Instead, someone had gotten angry and destroyed the things you worked hard to buy. The ornaments that you never failed to tell Spencer about every time he came over, which all had unique stories of the garage sales or antique auctions you’d found them at. The table and chairs that you had used to treat Spencer to countless homecooked recipes that you had just learnt. Well, you would say countless, Spencer would say 56.

Within the mess, though, Spencer noticed something odd. Not a single picture frame had been taken off the walls, nor had any photograph you displayed on a shelf been damaged. Every picture of you and the man Spencer hated more than anything in the world, was still intact. So what was the photograph that you were still keeping close to your chest?

That wasnt important, not then at least. He needed to get you out of that environment, that was his priority.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight? There’s shattered glass everywhere, it’d take at least another hour to clear it all up until it was safe to walk around, and you need to get some rest.”

All he got in response was a nod against his chest, and that was enough. Without any further questions, Spencer helped you to your feet and then lifted you to carry you bridal style, which he would have done even if you werent barefoot in a room with glass all over the floor. He carried you to your room and gently placed you on the bed, where you sat up and immediately reached for his hand. Squeezing it gently, Spencer gave you a reassuring smile, and you managed the weakest of smiles back. He kept ahold of your hand as he found your over night bag, which he packed with items you would need, each of which he showed you and waited for you to give a nod of approval before he placed them in the bag. Once the bag was packed, Spencer helped you into a pair of shoes and you stood, placing the picture frame face down on your bed while he held out a jacket for you. The photograph was back in your arms as soon as the jacket was on.

On the way back to Spencer’s apartment, he put your playlist on to fill the silence with something he knew you enjoyed, and one of your hands kept ahold of his arm as you stared out of the window in a daze, the picture frame locked under your other arm.

When you arrived at your destination, Spencer opened your door for you and helped you out, sensing that the whole situation had exhausted you substantially. You walked slightly behind him, holding onto his arm, like a child being led back to their room by a grownup after a nightmare, exhausted but kept awake by the fear that loomed over you.

It wasnt the first time you had stayed the night at Spencer’s. Prior to getting into a relationship, sleepovers with your best friend were a regular occurrence, despite spending all day everyday at each other’s sides at work, sometimes that wasnt enough. Sometimes, you both needed your best friend for just a little longer. But that hadnt happened for a long time, for the year and a half you were in a relationship you hadnt visited Spencer at all. He had stayed at your place for dinner multiple times, but you never visited him, always making up an excuse when he tried to invite you over, because unlike you, when Spencer was at your house he had the strength to leave. But as you stepped into his apartment, memories flooded your mind. The countless times you had played boardgames together sat on the floor of his living room, how you’d helped him paint the walls and hang new pictures up, the mass of books he let you borrow from that bookshelf, the dinners and desserts you cooked in that kitchen, and the laughter. The chorus of yours and his laughter sounded faint and distant, but not out of reach.

Spencer led you to his room and opened his closet.

“You can take anything for a change of clothes, and if you’d like to have a shower, it’s all yours. Make yourself at home.”

You smiled weakly. “I’ve missed home.”

Spencer’s face visually fell at the meaning behind your words. This was what you regarded as home, not your own place with your boyfriend of over a year. What Spencer didnt realise was that he had in fact misunderstood you. His apartment want your home, he was.

Once you’d taken a shower, you re-entered Spencer’s room and started flicking through the clothes in his closet. You settled for a shirt that you had seen him wear more times than you could count, it felt the most him, and as soon as you slipped it over your head, his scent enveloped you.

Your best friend knocked on the door lightly, and you called to him to come in, which he did, a small smile on his face. That smile grew exponentially when he saw you wearing his shirt, despite him expecting the sight, nothing could have prepared him for it. Spencer noticed the picture frame that you had left face down on his bed, and he frowned curiously, walking over to it without looking at you. The sound of your heartbeat filled your ears, and as he lifted the frame to turn it over in his hands and see the picture it held, you froze in place. Spencer had expected to see a picture of you and your ex, assuming that you were clinging to a happy memory. The latter was correct, but the happy memory you were clinging to was Spencer’s 27th birthday, three years ago, which consisted solely of a sleepover at your place, bundled up in blankets, just the two of you. It was at the end of the first movie that you pulled out a disposable camera you had bought for the occasion, and the two of you smiled together, laughing slightly at your effort to hide the disposable camera all that time. You had gotten the picture printed large enough to fill a picture frame, which Spencer now held in his hands, staring down at the picture, slightly distorted by the broken glass that sat in front of it. He was about to ask why you had treasured that photograph in particular, but before he could, he heard you sniffle, and Spencer forgot any question he had.

“H-He broke it! Everything that involved you! All of it! E-Everything that made me feel at home.” You blurted out hurriedly, stumbling over your words as tears stung your eyes.

Spencer took two quick strides to reach you and pull you into his arms.

“Why did he do that?” He asked, not understanding why your ex would destroy things that meant so much to you that all specifically linked to him.

“B-Because he knew, he f-figured it out!” You cried, the tears falling freely from your stinging eyes. Spencer gently moves you to his bed and keeps you in his arms as you both lower yourselves to sit on the edge of it, with the photograph on Spencer’s lap. He carefully pulled away from you, just enough to see your face, and the pain on your countenance as you cried broke his heart.

“What did he figure out?” He asked quietly, his curiosity eating him alive.

At first, you didnt answer, you couldnt, the words were too heavy, too full of a meaning that scared you so much. But you knew it was time. The truth had been suffocating you for far too long, and after attempting to distance yourself from it in the hopes it would simply evaporate, you knew the truth was sticking around. So, in the quietest, most vulnerable voice that had ever passed your lips, you told him.

“It’s always been you.”

Spencer’s mind went blank. He was a smart man, a genius, and his extensive knowledge on everything included the art of what it means when things are left unsaid, the weight such short phrases can have. If he had heard this as an outsider, if he wasnt directly involved, he would know exactly what those words meant. But it was you, it was him, and he could not believe that you had intended to say the words he’d been dying to hear.

“What do you mean?”

His question was innocent and curious, but you couldnt help laughing. Of course his mind would short circuit at the one time you didnt want to elaborate. Spencer couldnt help but notice the conflict in his heart at seeing you chuckle through your tears.

“Since the start, it’s always been you. I thought it was simple at first, something I’d just get over, but everyday I got to know you better, everyday I learnt more amazing things from you and about you. You became my favourite person in less than a day, stole my heart the second you introduced yourself, and you had the audacity to hold onto it for all these years. When I met him and there was a shred of a spark, I threw myself at it, desperate to find something that wasnt as doomed as my feelings for you. But it was never going to work. Keeping myself away from you as much as I did only hurt me more, the feelings I had no longer brought excitement and butterflies, instead painful sadness because I was even less likely to have your heart in return for giving you mine. H-He figured it out, he accused me of being in love with you, and when I couldnt deny it... he, he lost it, to say the least. Broke e-everything that reminded him of you. I-I didnt mean to hurt him Spencer, I did love him, I did, but not enough, I could never love anyone else, because it’s you. It’s always been you.”

By the end of your speech, your tears had slowed, and Spencer understood that talking about him in any capacity was enough to calm you, which warmed his heart. Your words were sinking in, slowly, and he processed them so quickly his head was spinning.

“Why did you think your feelings for me were hopeless?” Spencer questioned, that particular sentence not making sense to him.

You shook your head and met his eyes “Really, Spencer? Do you honestly think Im delusional enough to believe I had even a fraction of a chance with you? You’re a perfect genius, and Im just...me.”

It was Spencer’s turn to chuckle. “The only correct thing you just said is that you are you. The only person that laughs at my stupid jokes, the only person to smile and encourage my rants and fact-explosions, the only person to actually like me enough for me to believe it, the only person who makes me light up at the mention of her name, the only person I have ever felt safe enough to give me heart to. You are you, and you, (Y/N), are everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and so, so much more.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Or did it stop completely? You couldnt tell, you were too busy floating up into the clouds, ready to take your place among the stars, because you were glowing just like them. You stared at Spencer, fresh tears filling your eyes, but this time there was no pain in sight. Instead, a wide grin spread across your face, which Spencer reflected back at you. Soon enough, the two of you were laughing, unable to comprehend how ridiculous you had both been to hide your feelings for so long, to go to such extents to distance yourselves, to not just say it. Once you had quietened down, a question hung in the air, an uncertainty regarding what was going to happen next, and you locked eyes, waiting, until...

“So, wanna go on a date sometime?”

[thedancingcostumeyoungadult]

Solstice - S.R.

Chapter 7 - Devotion

Masterlist 

Word count ~1900

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, descriptions of violence, PTSD, and illness.

You didn’t dream the next night, but then again, you didn’t make it to bed. Just as you were finishing dinner, you were called away to assist a midwife with a potentially difficult birth down in the city. The labor was long, slants of early afternoon sunlight lighting your way by the time you drag yourself to your door. Inside, Spencer is seated at your desk, a file open before him. He is a welcome sight, springing from the chair to fold you in his embrace. You lean into him with a weary sigh, letting your tired eyes flutter shut as relief washes over you. You’re home at last.

“The baby?” He murmurs into your hair and you can feel him subconsciously brace for the worst. Your reply is soft and weary, your face pressed against his shirt.

“Twins, girls. They’ll all be okay.” Spencer relaxes, letting out a small sigh. He kisses your hair, his hand coming to rest at the nape of your neck.

“You’re in my room.”

“I wanted to be here when you got back, in case you needed anything.” Gratitude wells in your chest at the simple gesture of care. It wasn’t something you were used to before Spencer, but he never missed an opportunity to remind you that he cared. Notes, flowers tucked behind your ear, sweet words, little moments of devotion scattered throughout the day. And you responded in kind, with little drawings slipped between pages of a book, steaming mugs of coffee, stolen kisses, and lingering touches. You hugged him tighter, squishing your face slightly as you whispered around the lump in your throat.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, my love.” A fresh wave of exhaustion breaks across your body, more than a day without rest weighing on your bones.

“I need a bath.” You grumble and Spencer chuckles, kissing your forehead as you extract yourself from his arms.

“I can make that happen. Hey.” He catches your lips in a soft kiss before leaning back to meet your gaze.

“Welcome home.”

Spencer disappears into the bathroom and you hear running water as you strip out of your clothes. After depositing them in the hamper, you set to work pulling the pins from your hair, letting it spill down around your shoulders. You let out a sigh of relief, massaging your tingling scalp as you sink into the chair by your vanity. In the mirror, steam begins to curl from the doorway as you run a comb through your hair and after a moment Spencer reappears. He leans on the door jam, smiling at you through the reflection. You return the smile as he approaches you, turning to face him. He kneels and slides one arm around your back, the other looping under your knees as he lifts you gently into his arms. You laugh, your arms coming to rest around his neck as he stands and carries you into the bathroom.

The large claw-foot tub is filled with gently steaming water, flowers dusting the surface. Lavender and camomile lie in snowy nests of bubbles, the scent of rosemary oil mingling with the lighter florals. Spencer sets you gingerly on your feet and helps you climb into the tub. You have to stifle a moan as you sink into the silky water, the heat bringing immediate relief to your aching muscles. He sits on a stool next to you, his hand carding through your hair tenderly. You turn your head into the touch, your eyes meeting his.

“Have I told you that I love you, Spencer Reid?” His perfect lips quirk into an amused smile.

“Once or twice.”

“Well I’m telling you again. I love you, Spencer Reid.”

“I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.”

When the water begins to cool and your eyelids grow heavy, Spencer helps you out of the tub, wrapping you in a soft towel and deftly twisting your hair into a loose braid. As he works, he clears his throat.

“I know you said you usually don’t celebrate the Equinox, but Rossi is having a small party and I was wondering if you would accompany me? I would love to have you there.”

“Would it be okay with him if I came?” He chuckles, tying the end of the braid with a ribbon then sliding his arms around your waist, drawing your back against his chest.

“I actually think I’d be met with violence if I didn’t invite you. I think Morgan’s words were that he’d ‘slap me silly.’” You can’t help but giggle at the image, secretly blushing with joy that the team wanted your presence that badly. They are Spencer’s family and their opinion matters a great deal to you.

“Well then, it would be my honor.” He spins you in his arms and peppers kisses across your face.

“The honor is all mine.” His lips don't leave your skin as he speaks and you squirm as his stubble tickles you, trapping his face between your hands, you turn your head and catch his mouth in a quick kiss.

He goes to get you something to wear as you moisturize your skin, returning just as you apply the last of the lotion. Setting the clothes on the stool, he catches your wrist in both hands. Strong, gentle fingers work the rich liquid into your forearm and hand. When he’s finished, he presses a delicate kiss to the inside of your wrist before releasing you. Slipping into the warm flannel shift he brought you, you follow him back into your room and crawl with him into your bed. He wraps you in his arms and you lay your head on his chest, warm feelings of content wrapping around you like a quilt and bringing another wave of drowsiness with it. Within minutes your eyes fall shut and you finally drift to sleep.

-

You’re putting your earrings in at the mirror when Spencer slips into the room, an appreciative smile immediately spreading across his face as he looks you up and down. He saunters up behind you, looking particularly dashing in a sleek black three-piece suit, his jacket slung over one arm and the other hand coming to rest on your lower back as he lets out a low whistle.

“Wow, look at you.” He bends and presses a soft kiss to your temple as he lays his jacket over the back of a chair. You grin back at him and make a show of turning slowly to give him a better view.

“You like it?” You can practically feel his eyes as they traverse your form, draped in a long sleeve, off the shoulder dress of dusky purple velvet that falls to your knees.

“I love it. You look stunning.” He catches your hand and kisses your knuckles. You step forward, brushing your free hand across his face with a smile.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Doctor Reid.” He leans down to kiss you and as your lips meet you feel him slip something into your hand. You pull back, shooting him a confused look before turning to inspect the box.

“Spencer, what’s this?” The box is black velvet, small but not a ring box. He shrugs, his body language becoming shy and he turns his face away from you, clearing his throat.

“I know it’s not your birthday yet, but it’s a special occasion and I just, uh, well I wanted to get you something.” He gestures at the box. “Open it.” Oh he is so cute when he’s nervous it makes your heart flutter. Before you open the box, you pop onto your tiptoes and kiss his cheek, earning you a quick grin. Slowly, you lift the lid and your jaw drops. Nestled on indigo satin, the necklace glints in the light, miniature plates of silver filigree no bigger than your pinky nail strung together with impossibly fine silver chains. In the center of each is set a tiny amethyst cabochon, polished to a glasslike finish.

“Spencer,” you gasp softly, “it’s… oh it’s beautiful, I don’t know what to say.” He lights up at your excitement, reaching eagerly for the jewelry.

“May I?” You nod quickly, handing him the box and sweeping your hair off your neck as you turn back to the mirror. He lifts the necklace from the box, his eyes locked on your reflection as he settles it around your neck. It’s so delicate you barely feel it, sitting perfectly at the base of your throat, but as he fastens it you feel a calm sense of surety. It's not a ring, but it feels like a symbol of devotion. Spencer watches you in the mirror as you release your hair, his fingers still lingering on the clasp as his eyes remain trained on your throat. His hand slides over your shoulder, his fingers trailing slowly over the links before coming to rest at the base of your throat.

The energy shift is palpable as his long, slender fingers encircle your throat, resting atop the necklace. Your stomach twists into an excited little knot, warm and heavy in your core. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds you lightly as you watch his eyes darken. It’s not anger in his gaze, not entirely lust either, so it’s… ohh, oh. He’s possessive, that’s no secret, but this is an intensity you’ve only seen glimpses of. And you love it. You love the idea of being visibly his, your devotion proudly displayed around your neck. Your eye catches a glint as his sleeve shifts, revealing a length of chain, identical to the one sitting around your throat, encircling his wrist. You bring your hand up to rest on his, brushing your fingers along the bracelet to tell him you saw it. His eyes find yours, burning with a silent question.

“Say it.” As the words leave your lips he pulls your back flush against his chest, his fingers putting only the barest pressure on your throat, but it’s enough to make your head go fuzzy.

“Mine.” He growls, the rough tone sending goosebumps up your arms as you lean against him, your head falling back to rest against his shoulder.

“Yours.” You sigh in agreement, sliding your index finger under his bracelet. His gaze softens and he nuzzles his nose against your neck, his lips brushing the skin just below your ear as he whispers.

“Yours.”

“Mine.” You turn and catch his lips with yours, immediately swept away in a heated kiss. His hands are all over you, pressing you impossibly close as you practically devour each other. You’re putty in his hands and before you register that he’s picked you up, he sets you on the edge of the desk, knocking a stray book to the floor. The clatter brings you back to your senses somewhat, the sunlight already tinged with gold as it streams in through the windows.

“I don’t want to be late.” You murmur into another kiss. “They’ll be waiting.”

“Let them.” Laughing lightly at his eagerness, you reluctantly extract yourself from him and slide off the desk. He pouts adorably at you, his beautiful, pleading eyes almost breaking your resolve. You take pity on him and give him a peck on the cheek.

“When we get back, I’m all yours, Spencer.” Immediately, a bright grin breaks across his face and he takes your hand, kissing your wrist.

“Now take me to dinner, Doctor Reid.”  

*please like and reblog if you enjoyed!*

[reidscowgirl]

Wet Dreams- Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Summary: Spencer has a wet dream about Y/N

Warnings: smut, idk what else but enjoy

___

Spencer’s POV

I couldn’t help the way my mind traveled to ungodly thoughts of Y/N. Thinking of her writhing underneath me. Thinking of her lips in only the most inappropriate places. I wanted her so bad. I wanted to make her look at us in the mirror as I fuck her from behind.

I began dozing off, images of what could be flashing through my mind. Her arch deep and moans almost pornographic. Her neck and back full of love bites.

“Spencer please don’t tease me.” She cried out as I moved my fingers painfully slow in and out of her. My lips connected to her thigh, sucking at her velvety skin. I inch close to her core, curling my fingers slowly. “Please Spence .” My name leaving her lips sounded more angelic than usual.

I licked a stripe from her entrance to her clit. Her muscles tensed feeling the warmth of my tongue against her heat. “Oh my god, yes.” She moaned as I began to pick up the pace. Her her dainty fingers interlocking with my hair. The noises she made were so pretty.

“Harder please.” She begged. I began to push my fingers into her with a little more force. Her little whimpers turning into loud cries. “God, fuck Spencer please make me cum.” She pleaded. Her hands tugging at my hair gently. A groan emitted from my throat feeling the light sting of my hair being pulled. Her cunt began to pulse around my fingers and her thighs began to squeeze with my head still buried between them.

“Holy fuck!” She whimpered, her hips bucking involuntarily. Her juices oozing out of her pulsing snatch. A smile formed on my face as we locked eyes.

___

I couldn’t believe she was able to take me that far down her throat. I loved the feeling of her lips wrapped around me. God I love the way she’d look at me when she’d take me as far as she could.

“Fucking take it Y/N, holy shit. I’m so close.” I was starting to loose balance. My whimpers escaping as I came close to the edge. My vision spotty.

“I’m cumming, fuck.” I pushed her head back as her lips suck on the tip. My juices spurting all over.

___

Her arch was deep allowing me to hit spots deep inside her. Her whimpers echoing through the dark room. “You like that princess?” I whisper just below her ear. Her fists balled up in the sheets.

She moaned out an ‘mhm’ before my hands found their way to her chest.

“Aww come on baby use your words.” My hips came to a halt. I wanted nothing more than to hear her wails of pleasure. She ground her hips against mine, trying to get herself to her high.

“Please Spencer, please move.” I did as asked, fucking myself into her at a quick pace. I pushed her face deep into the mattress. Her screams loud and satisfying. Her body shaking rapidly and her back arching up as she squirmed under me.

“Fuck, Yes.” She whimpered dragging the ‘s’ a look of satisfaction written on her face. She was completely spent under me and I just enjoyed the tired smile spreading on her face. Her walls still fluttering from her release, squeezing me each time. My hips came to a stop letting my high take over my body.

“Holy fuck.” I groaned out collapsing next to her.

“Spencer! Spence wake up.”

[reidjumpers]

would you ever write something along the line of the minimal loss episode reimagined. so instead of emily being in the ep it’s the reader and spence has the biggest crush on her. it kills him knowing that she’s getting hit and bruised. yeah i don’t know if you would do it but i love that idea.

GUESS WHAT I really love this idea too so I tried to rewrite Minimal Loss reimagined. Please emphasize on tried.

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?”

Spencer could feel his blood run cold at the question Benjamin Cyrus fired at him and you. He subtly glanced towards your direction, pressing his lips and tried his best to maintain his composure. He watched you shift on your seat a little bit, eyeing the gun on Cyrus’s hand intensely.

“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in faux confusion.

“God will forgive me for what I must do,” Cyrus said calmly. Too calmly. Spencer gulped as he heard the clicking sound of his gun. He caught the sight of you gaping and eyes widened in horror as a gun aimed against his head.

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

“One of you does. Who is it?”

“Me,” your voice was firm, slicing through the thick tension. Spencer slowly turned his head towards you with a wide eye. You glared at him with an eye that screamed don’t you dare at him, determination and fear swirled together in your eyes made him shiver. He could feel dread and helplessness slowly sinking in. “It was me.”

Cyrus lowered his gun that aimed at Spencer, slowly turned his direction towards you. Spencer shot you a glare and silently demanded you for explanation at your stupid sacrifice. You had just deflated your own fear and bargained for your safety in order to save him. There was a bitter taste curled and overwhelmed him at the tip of his tongue upon knowing he couldn’t do anything to diffuse the situation.

Spencer let his shoulder sink a little bit as Cyrus silently holstered his gun into his pants, allowing himself a brief relief upon knowing that he didn’t have to watch your demise today. It took everything inside him not to jump and inserted himself in between you and Cyrus as he yanked you to the ground by hair and a sound of your pained whimper filled the room. He couldn’t even bring himself to flinch when a rifle aimed towards him as his eyes fixated on the sight of you being dragged across the room.

“I told you not to put me in this position!” Cyrus snarked, releasing his hold on you and slammed you to the concrete floor. Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks and could feel the tip of his fingertips go frozen as dread and fear pumped rapidly into his system.

The sound of you being slapped filled the room made him flinch a little bit. He glanced briefly towards the rifle against him, giving him a brief break from the horrifying sight before him. Spencer could feel anger and disappointment filled him with the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything besides watching you being beaten mercilessly by Cyrus. It was supposed to be him. It was supposed to be him who took all the beating instead of you. You were everything good left in the world and you are a living reminder that there are lights and hope in life despite all the horror and worst face of humanity he was constantly being contaminated with.

What would he do if you were gone then? The brief horrifying thought flashed before his eyes as he watched Cyrus slammed your defenseless body into the ground again. He could feel hot tears prickling in his eyes at the thought of living his life in void and helplessness if you ceased to exist before his eyes. Spencer collapsed his balled fist into his lap as the realization that he couldn’t live without you washed through him.

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut as your body was slammed against the wall and hit the mirror, refusing to picture the sharp shard of glass cutting your skin.

“Proverb 23rd tells us that bloods and wounds cleanse out evil,” Cyrus recited as he yanked you by the collar again and slammed you against the wall. Spencer could feel anger and disdain boiled inside him as he watched your body helplessly fall into the floor after the impact of your collision with the wall.

“I can take it,” you said with a firm voice. Spencer caught your eyes briefly as your eyes flickered in between him and Cyrus that stood in between you and him.

His heart fell into the bottom of his stomach like a heavy sandbag. He knew what you meant from your firm stares alone. You only said that to reassure him and signal the team outside not to come in a rush. It was a minimal loss situation, Spencer had concluded. He drew a sharp breath as he mentally prepared himself for a situation where he couldn’t possibly save everyone and had to accept however many people he could save while others perished.

Spencer glanced up to meet your eyes again before Cyrus moved to block his sight. He furrowed his eyebrows at the sight of your eyes screaming I’m fine, I’m okay at him with blood flowing freely from your broken nose. Dread settled painfully in his bones that the possibility of the team having to choose between your life or his was too close than he liked.

He blinked his eyes to shoo away the tears that threatened to fall. He couldn’t afford it. He couldn’t risk blowing up another cover that guaranteed his life when you had sacrificed yours for him.

Cyrus beat and slapped you for another round with disdain painted clearly on his face. “Pride comes before the fall,” he said as he punched your stomach and slammed you to the floor, thinking you were antagonizing him as you repeatedly said you could take it. Spencer let out a relieved sigh as Cyrus took a step back from you and left you shaking with pain on the ground, instructed Cristopher to tie you up and took you upstairs.

Not today, he reassured himself. Forcing himself to be satisfied and grateful for your spared life. Not today.

***

Spencer had just successfully coaxed Cyrus into testing the negotiator for the FBI and proving them that they were not a liar and ensuring your safety. Disgust and anger brewing at the pit of his stomach every time Cyrus glanced his eyes towards him. He somewhat marveled at the plain trust Cyrus gave him effortlessly. The memory of him beating you hadn’t left his mind, still painted fresh and clear as if it still happened before his eyes. He had to mentally restrain himself from glaring in disgust at the thought of Cyrus molesting a child and beating you up until bloody and bruised.

“What is it, Christopher?” Cyrus addressed his man that had been trying to shot down Spencer’s suggestion regarding the situation. Only then Spencer turned his attention fully at him who had been pacing around in agitation repeatedly.

“Some of them had been talking about leaving,” he sighed.

“Leaving?” Cyrus pressed his lips together as Christopher affirmed his question. Spencer balled his fist and hid it inside the pocket of his pants as he waited in antagonizing anticipation with whatever next step Cyrus would take. “Wake the baby. Let’s get them meet the orphan that they made.”

Spencer nodded mutely at Cyrus’s decision. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding this whole time, letting himself loose a little bit and allowed himself to feel relief washed through him. Cyrus had taken the big bait and he had ensured your safety with his lies and negotiation skill. It was the least thing he could do after what you did for him.

He knew he would be damned if he couldn’t get you out of his god forsaken place alive. For now he just has to give and surrender with whatever fate is waiting for him into the hands of the team waiting outside. He took one longing glance outside from the window, wishing that he would be staring into the starless sky with you right now.

***

Spencer watched from the back silently as the members of the cult filled the empty chair inside the chapel one by one. What was once an empty and quiet chapel now buzzing with life and the air was stale and raked with fear. The negotiation test went as smoothly as Spencer could wished for. He heard Rossi rattling out your identity to Cyrus in exchange for your safety from a speaker phone as they released the orphan into the team outside.

You emerged from the opposite end of the chapel, a swarm of children and women pushed through from behind you. Spencer stared and watched the way the sunlight that slips through the chapel window fell into your skin. The glowing sunlight from behind your back casted a halo behind your figure. He noticed that your blood had been cleaned up and there were a few specks of dried blood on the collar of your shirt. Some newly formed bruises littered your face, angry and red and was a painful sight to behold. He hated it.

Cyrus was listing out names from the list he had written the day before as Spencer slowly made his way towards you. Everyone’s attention was focused on their leader calling out the names on the altar, but Spencer’s focus was solely on you. Your eyes were watching Cyrus solemnly as you leaned yourself into the wall to support your weight.

Spencer lifted his hand to touch your face and stopped midair before he realized a tad bit too late. His finger twitched painfully with a burning desire to feel you underneath his fingertips, but he couldn’t risk another round of beating and blowing up plans that had been rolling quite smoothly so far.

Guilt surged inside him like the sea, disdain and bitterness brewing and threatening to explode from the bottom of his stomach. He could feel himself dying a little bit inside at the frightening state you were in, all because you were sacrificing your life for him. For his sake when he wasn’t even sure he deserved it.

You finally acknowledged his presence and spared him a glance. Your eyebrows furrowed together in distress and Spencer had to restrain himself from the temptation to put his thumb in between your eyebrows and smoothen out your stress wrinkle between your eyebrows. If he could take away all your pain, he would.

“He looks pissed,” you whisper-yelling at him. Spencer couldn’t bring himself to respond to your words. Even after you took the downfall and hard beatings for him, you still think about other’s well-being instead of yours.

You took another glance towards him from the lack of response from his part. Your eyes scanned his face briefly before your lips twitched into a soft, reassuring smile. “I’m okay. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Spencer shook his head, refusing to believe your words. “I’m so sorry,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and full of regret scratching his throat painfully.

“No, no,” you shook your head and quickly squashed his apology. “No apologies. We both know one of us has to take it.”

“But why should it be you?” Spencer hissed through his greeted teeth. His distress and agitation, and overall emotions that he had been trying to tuck and buried it away seeped into the surface. He could feel his mask cracking and threatened to be broken, and he was thankful for the roaring voice of Cyrus listing out names that masked his own. “Why should it be you? Why couldn’t it be me?”

“He had a gun against your head, Reid!” you hissed back with an equal amount of emotions laced on your voice. “I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t let them kill you. I know they would kill you first if one of us refused to answer. I can’t, Spencer, I—” you took a sharp breath and glanced away from his prying wide eyes. He could hear your voice wavering and your eyes glossed with tears. “Look at the people he’s releasing.”

“It’s the one who failed the loyalty test,” he observed. The previous slip of emotions was being put to the back of his mind again as he noticed the new fact he just found. “I’ll get word to the team, wait for the sign from outside indicating what time the raid will come.”

You stared at him with a wide eye, confusion and fear swirled together. You looked so vulnerable and small like that, like a polished porcelain that could crumble into dust anytime. Spencer nodded firmly and gave you a reassuring smile, silently asking you to believe him. He almost jolted with surprise when you grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly and briefly, understanding what he was trying to do.

“Be careful,” you whispered.

He nodded and turned away to make his way to Cyrus, not believing himself to utter any single words without breaking down. He was determined to make sure you were safe and would make it out alive, whatever it takes.

“Told her she shouldn’t have blinded you like that,” Spencer told Cyrus with a faux exasperation and disappointment. He shuddered when Cyrus nodded sympathetically.

“To either of us,” he corrected him sympathetically, which made Spencer want to do nothing but curl up in disgust. Cyrus jerked his chin towards your direction and addressed Christopher, “Bring her back.”

Spencer watched you being dragged up by your upper arms into wherever they were keeping you. He forcefully gulped and shook away the lump of dread on his throat, disbanding it as soon as it was formed. His eyes were apologetic and yours were nothing but filled with determination and forced bravery.

Those who had failed for the test were ushered out of the farm through the front door. Spencer mentally counted the amount of people who walked out into a guaranteed safety, relieved that it held a much greater amount that he had prepared. It was only a matter of saving the rest and finding a way in for the team to bring you and him out of this place.

Cyrus was making his final and last negotiation call with Rossi, asking for a fried chicken and its sides for their last supper and the presence of media to document his sacrifice to God. A suicide attempt to bring down himself and his faithful fanatic followers was a more appealing option to him rather than surrender himself to the authority apparently. It was obvious from the first time Spencer stepped into the building, but it still didn’t fail to fill him with dread and fear.

“I’m always looking for signs of things to come,” Spencer explained to Christopher with a polite smile after he demanded how he had known Cyrus’s plan of final act of sacrifice all along. He maintained his gaze firmly and silently wishing that the team would catch his words through the parable microphone planted outside. It would be his only hope and way for them to come in.

***

Thick smog and fire blinded his sight and blocked his way. Spencer stumbled upon a block of brunt wooden log as Morgan dragged his limping body outside the chapel. Cyrus was dead, but Jesse had finished his suicide mission by blowing up the chapel and the rest of the building. He could hear sirens blaring outside and faint sounds of wails and fearful screams mixed together in the air.

The thought of you trapped inside the building flashed before his eyes for a moment. He didn’t have a moment to glance back to make sure about your whereabouts as he kept coughing and stumbling, Morgan’s grip still firm on his upper hand to drag him outside into safety. Fear started to paralyze his body that he nearly fell into the concrete fall face first. He just needed to see you, to make sure you were safe.

He didn’t know that the sight of armed soldiers and police cars could bring an immense amount of comfort for him. Spencer nearly cried at the overwhelming relief that he was out unharmed, slipped by the last strand of his hair from his ultimate demise. But he couldn’t allow himself to be relieved and comfortable before he knew where you were. Before he knew if you were safe.

“Spencer!” your voice came faintly in between the chaotic sirens and the sound of angry fire eating up the chapel. “Morgan!”

Spencer watched you squirm out of Emily’s embrace, running limpy towards him. He knew he had burst into tears as soon as his eyes landed on you, safe, alive, although littered with bruises and dried blood on your shirt. His shoulders sank and shook as your arms wrapped around him tightly, all the horror, fear, and dread that he didn’t allow himself to feel in the past few days before had rushed into him and knocked all the air out of his lungs.

Relief and comfort of knowing you were safe in his arms was a breath of fresh air for his burned lungs. Usually he would squirm at the thought of touching someone, but the steady rise of your chest as you breath against him overcame all the unfortunate uncomfortable thoughts that came with the activity of hugging someone.

“You’re safe,” Spencer gasped as he released you from his embrace. He was aware that everyone was watching him hugging you and he fought all the mortification that slowly crept up his cheeks. He tried to mask it away as being a relief to find his coworker made it out alive from the sticky hostage situation.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you reassured him with one last firm squeeze on his arms. He wanted nothing but to pull you into his arms again, shield you for any harms lurking in the outside world. The anger that had been forgotten on the back of his mind surged inside him again. But he had to be satisfied with only one final squeeze as you parted from him to be checked by the paramedics.

The flight back to Quantico was quiet and a peaceful one. Everyone was winding up and breathing from the horror of the case that just wrapped up. Spencer tried his best to distract his mind with his book, burrowed in the furthest corner of the jet as the comforting and steady hum of the jet lulled him to sleep.

You slipped into the empty seat right across from him. A weak smile and a timid greeting were exchanged between you and silence followed right after. Spencer knew what conversation would follow after this, and he didn’t want to face it just yet. He had stopped reading from the moment you took the seat and watched him with careful eyes, but he still put up the act in the hope it would steer you away from bursting his bubble.

It did not. Spencer didn’t put up a fight as you gently took his book away from his hands and placed it gently on the table.

“I need you to listen to me,” you started with a firm voice. You were wearing the nice lilac shirt that Spencer liked, and the bruises on your face had started to heal and fade away. “What Cyrus did to me is not your fault. It was my decision and I would do it again.”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you tilted your head with your lips pressing together, discouraging him to counter your statement. He took a sharp breath and shook his head.

“Do you hear me?” your voice was softer this time. Your hands silently reached for his and held them gently. Your thumb made a soothing pattern on his knuckles, a reassuring and determined smile was on your face. Spencer couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. “Do you hear me, Spencer? I will do it again. It wasn’t your fault. It was my decision.”

“I know,” he answered finally.

“Thank you.”

“Please know that I will do the same for you.”

His words had caught you off guard. You stared briefly before nodding, patting the top of his hand gently with your hand as you gave him a really bright smile. Spencer let himself sink further into the comfortable leather seat and let relief washed through him again. Everything will be okay.

[mercy-burning]

To Be Near

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: It’s Spencer and Reader’s first night together since he got out of prison.

Category: FLUFF/SMUT (18+), and a ‘lil bit of angst in there too (it’s mostly just kinda sad tbh)

Warnings: Mild language, Smut (oral sex- female receiving, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk)

Word Count: 4.9k

Full Requests:

+ “...ahhh okay what about like a fluff&smut about seeing spencer after he got out of prison? like he’s all soft and “i wanna make love to you” ???” — @shatteredlovesick 

+ “...First, congratulations on 1k! absolutely loved you “I’ve Got You” fic and was wondering if you could make something similar that has fluffy smut.” — @onesstop 

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

Usually you loved the cold. Feeling the cool breeze on your face and cuddling up with blankets and cardigans and sweaters was just about the most comforting feeling in the world.

But no amount of blankets and cardigans and sweaters could have shaken the devastating chill that settled in your bones when Spencer was gone. And wearing his clothes only strengthened the loneliness that plagued you. It was a blaring reminder that he was spending his days actually behind bars and not with you, cuddled on the couch like you'd done a million times over. Like he should have been.

Sure enough, about a week went by and you barely saw him. The first time you'd seen him since he was released from prison was brief, right before he had to go back to work to get his mom back and safe to him. You held him close, breathing in as much of him as you could before he would be ripped away from you again, making sure he knew just how much you loved him and cared for him.

And what added salt to injury was the fact that even after he was released, he was incredibly busy. It seemed like bad thing after bad thing just kept happening, like a domino effect of evil that left you feeling colder. Because now you were plain scared. And alone.

Penelope was kind enough to text you with updates, and even though Spencer might have been physically okay, you knew that all of this stress and constant danger was probably eating away at him from the inside.

Eventually he'd called to let you know that everything was okay again, he and his mom on their way to a motel to recuperate in for a little while. Hearing his weary voice, broken and completely drenched in exhaustion was the only thing that kept you from begging him to come home to you— As much as you desperately needed him, wanted to comfort him, you knew that he needed time alone with his mom. So yet again, you'd told him how much you loved him and held on to the way he said it back, his soft voice humming low in your heart long after he hung up.

He texted you occasionally, little updates to let you know he was okay. And he rarely ever texted at all. Whenever he did it made your heart sing, seeing his naively adorable attempts at using emoticons coupled together with declarations of love or sometimes even stupid little jokes designed to put a smile on your face. You liked to imagine he sent them so he could picture your laugh in his mind, ringing out softly and sweetly as he read back your usual Lol, I love you, silly goose, or something along those lines.

When you finally did see him face-to-face again, it was days later. He briefly mentioned over text that his team was in trouble, but that it would be taken care of and that his mom was safe somewhere. Again your stomach twisted with nerves, hoping and praying that he would come back to you safely. It was always a possibility with his job that something bad would happen, as you've unfortunately witnessed a few times over, but the so-called comfort in knowing that truth didn't help ease your anxieties at all. Maybe they had once upon a time, but after the last few months, and even the last few days, you weren't sure you'd ever know true comfort until Spencer was safely in your arms for eternity.

He'd texted to say he was on his way over in the early morning, and your heart skipped several beats. And in attempt to make yourself look less disheveled and sleep-deprived, you put on a clean pair of clothes—sweats and a tank top with one of Spencer's cardigans—and brushed your hair. To make it all feel a little more real, you splashed cool water on your face and rubbed at your eyes to wake yourself up a bit.

You were patiently sitting on the couch, two warm cups of tea laid out in front of you on the low table when there was a knock on your door, followed by a soft, "It's me," ad you were to the door in an instant.

As always, the sight of him drove you half wild. He looked exhausted, his hair particularly messy and his clothing hung loosely around him. His eyes softened when he saw you, like he was finally in the one place he truly wanted to be, like he was home, and the sight of his bottom lip wobbling every so slightly was enough to have you pull him inside by the shirt and into your arms.

The bag slung over his shoulder dropped with a heavy thud to the ground, and both of his arms snuck to the back of your waist as you leaned up on your tip-toes and squeezed yourself into his body. Your arms clung to his neck, and the big sigh of relief that you felt leave his body utterly wrecked you.

The door to your apartment remained wide open as you stood there in the doorway and hugged each other, silently reuniting in a way that conveyed exhaustion and relief and comfort. There was a tinge of sadness there, too, and you knew it most likely stemmed from the self-deprecation you'd come to know Spencer was prone to. After all he'd been through in the past few months, you knew in your gut that feeling would most likely be very strong in his heart.

So you did your best to quell it, shoving your face further into his neck and running your hands through his hair as he squeezed you tight. Your heart pulled apart at the seams at the way he shook against you, low, shaky breaths that you knew to be cries expelling from his system at last. Deep down it was obvious that he hadn't taken the time to let it all out... Now that he was there with you, safe and out of harm's way, he had the freedom to let go in any way he chose, any way that would be easiest without any judgement or shame.

With you, Spencer was well and truly safe.

"I've got you," you breathed into his neck, your fingers gently massaging the back of his head. "I love you.

He tried to say it back, but when his throat willed to finally make a sound, all that came out was a choked sob.

You held him tighter and let him cry against you, his body going half-limp in your arms.

***

By the time Spencer had finished crying enough for you to move inside, drink your tea in silence, take a well-needed and soothing shower together, and get into bed, it was only noon. He was snuggled into your side, his head resting on your chest as you combed through his damp curls with your fingers. His own fingers drew mindless patterns over the expanse of your stomach, his whole hand shoved up under your shirt and basking in the warmth you provided.

"I don't know about you, but I'm getting kinda hungry," you mumbled loud enough for him to hear. You'd been in silence for so long now, it almost felt too loud, even though you barely used your voice at all.

"I'd ask you to make your mac and cheese, but I don't want to leave the bed... I don't want to leave you."

You laughed a little, his head slightly bobbing at the motion. "I can order some Thai if you want. It won't be here for another half hour maybe, and we can stay in bed a little while longer."

"Okay."

You reached over to your bedside table, grabbing your phone and placing an order for delivery from your favorite Thai place. Just the thought of the food, saying the words out loud and feeling Spencer mutter soft Mmms into your skin at the thought of food made your stomach growl. You honestly weren't sure how long it'd been since you ate anything substantial, and Spencer was probably in the same boat.

Just as you promised, the both of you laid in bed for around thirty-five minutes before the food got there. He grumbled as you got up to answer the door, but you promised him you wouldn't be long and that after eating, you could stay in bed as long as you wanted to.

And that's what you did. You tried your hardest not to scarf everything down, not truly realizing just how hungry you were until the food was right in front of you, smelling as delicious as ever and ready to be consumed.

Spencer sat across from you at the table, though it was obvious in the way he kept looking up at you that all he wanted was to be touching you, to be enveloped in your warmth again. Your heart ached for him as you set your fork down and scooped more of the food onto it. Hoping to somewhat satiate his need to be near you, you reached your leg out under the table, dragging your bare foot over his calf. He smiled softly at you, his entire body seeming to relax again at your touch.

For the next ten minutes you ate in comfortable silence, your foot gently sliding up ad down his lower leg.

And when you were both finally done, he clung to you as you navigated the kitchen, throwing out garbage, putting dishes in the sink, and boxing up leftovers. His arms wrapped around your stomach as he stood behind you, his head resting on your shoulder and his hair tickling your cheek.

At one point you brought one of your hands up to brush his cheek, and your head careened to the side to give him a small kiss on the corner of the mouth. His hands slipped under your shirt then, fingers spreading and engulfing the surface area of your lower stomach. Their gentleness and warmth made you sigh as you slumped back against him, using your hand to cup his cheek as best as you could.

"I missed you so much, baby," you whispered, your thumb lightly stroking his bottom lip. Your wrist was cramping a little from the angle, but you didn't care.

Spencer leaned into your palm and kissed it gently, mumbling, "I missed you, too, sweetheart."

The relief and comfort that seeped out of his words made your heart swell, so much so that you couldn't stand it any longer. You turned around and hugged him again, your arms wrapping around his neck as his pressed firmly to your lower back. You squeezed him tight, peppering tiny kisses along his neck and shoulder blade. Eventually your kisses shifted along his jaw, then his cheek, and then you pressed the gentlest of kisses to his lips before moving to the other side and continuing your adventure along the other side of his neck.

He always loved when you kissed him like that, softly praising every inch of his skin through gentle lips and whispered I love yous in between.

You pulled back for a moment, smiling softly at him as your fingers interlocked behind his head, just at the nape of his neck.

"I... I don't know what I did to deserve you," he said with a slight crack in his voice. "I constantly put you through danger and worry, a—and somehow you still... still manage to make me feel like I deserve your love."

Your throat tightened, threatening to spill choked sobs. But you swallowed and pushed through, one of your hands sliding down over his neck and up to his cheek again. "Spencer, ever since I met you, all you've done is shower me with unconditional love and understanding. You... You teach me new things and you have this natural habit of making me feel like the only woman in the world. Every day, you show me how much you care about other people, and at the end of the day, that's all that matters. It's... The bad days are hard, sure, but when I see your face for the first time in days, sometimes weeks? God... Spencer, there's nothing that compares to that feeling."

You were teary-eyed now, and Spencer was full-on silently crying, tears streaming down his cheeks, and you wiped them all away as you spoke to him.

"So yes, of course you deserve my love... You deserve every ounce of love the world has to offer."

You leaned up and kissed him then, tasting the faint saltiness of tears combined with the food you'd just eaten. If it meant seeing him smile, making him feel comfort and love, you would have kissed away all his tears.

And you were going to, moving to pepper more kisses along his cheeks where the water had fallen, but he brought his hands to your face and kissed you deeper, his body sinking into yours and daring you to never leave him.

You wouldn't, as long as you lived.

You stood higher on your tip-toes and clung to his neck as he kissed you, lips sliding over yours perfectly. And though everything about the way he kissed you was a declaration of love and gratitude for your affections and undying support, you'd have be lying if you said your belly didn't pool with a low-burning heat, reminiscent of a pot of boiling water. His hands on your face, the way his thumbs brushed over your cheek and his tongue barely probed your lips open, all of it was more than enough to make you dizzy.

Eventually he moved to kiss your jaw, goosebumps forming over your skin as he whispered against you. "I love you so much, Y/N..." His lips pressed to your neck. "So..." Your jawline. "...damn..." Under your ear. "...much..."

You couldn't help the choked whimper that fell from your lips as he gently nibbled on your earlobe, right before he spoke again. His hands slid down over your arms and interlocked themselves with yours, his breath hot next to your ear. "Let me show you... Please..." He started kissing your neck again, just as one of his hands migrated to the hem of your shirt, slipping under the fabric and tracing featherlight lines into your side. You whined again as he mumbled against your neck.

"Let me make love to you..."

Those six simple words were more than enough to push you off the edge, unable to take any more of this low-boiling heat in your stomach. You hummed low in your throat as your hands grabbed his wrists and placed them at your hips, daring them to firmly grip you— And they did. Spencer's lips dragged up your neck before finding your lips once more, and the whine that escaped you was nothing if not desperate.

He continued kissing you all the way back to your bedroom. Once your legs it the end of the bed, you buckled and sat down, too weak in the knees to stay upright any longer. He wasn't rough with you in the slightest, his lips still passionate but oh so slow and intoxicating, like sweet, thick honey. That alone made your limbs weak and your heartbeat as quick and loud as a drum roll. His hands roamed carefully over your body, up and under your shirt, over your arms, every so lightly between your thighs as he slipped between them to lay you down.

And once you were leaned all the way back, he brought his hands to your face, caressing your cheek the same way you'd caressed his.

He pulled back, looking into your eyes with his, their golden color almost completely swallowed by his pupils. His breath fanned gently over your mouth, and you smiled, resting one of your hands atop his on your cheek. You leaned into his touch and wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him near and hoping you could stay with him forever.

"I love you," you whispered.

He leaned down and kissed you again, mumbling, "I love you," into your mouth as he did so. His lips migrated down your skin again, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses all over. "I missed you... Missed your warmth..."

He shifted down your body then, his kisses starting up again at your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. When his tongue licked a thin stripe across your lower stomach, you whimpered and trembled underneath him, feeling wetness already dampening your panties. He laughed against your skin, pressing another kiss to your stomach. "Missed all your little whimpers..." He slid downwards, trailing his fingers along the waistband of your pants before slowly tugging them down, his lips following the trail through each new centimeter of exposed skin. "...and how squirmy you get when I touch you like this..."

Your pants were off quicker than you thought, but he left your underwear on as he kissed up your legs, starting at your ankle and slowly making his way up to your thighs. Your hands fisted the sheets when his breath blew out over the crease of your thigh, eliciting another desperate whine from your throat. And though it was hard to hear over the blood rushing in your ears, thrumming nearly as loudly as your heart, you were still able to hear Spencer's low laugh at your reaction, a sound that made you even wetter.

"I missed teasing you like this," he continued, running his middle finger over your opening through the thin panties you had on. You squirmed again, hips jolting at his touch— a touch you hadn't felt in months. You were utterly wrecked, and he barely even did anything to you, a fact he picked up on pretty quickly.

"You missed it, too, haven't you, sweetheart? Hmm?" His finger pressed harder into you, no doubt feeling how wet, how warm and ready for him you were. "My poor, pretty girl, haven't been touched in months. It must have been so lonely..." Though his words were teasing, a means to get you hot and bothered, there was also an underlying tone of truth to them— of this aching pity and sadness and regret... His words were apologetic as much as they were teasing, and everything all at once was making you ache for him more.

"Y—Yes, baby," you choked out as best as you could, opening your eyes to see how thoroughly wrecked he was. "Fuck, I missed you so much... No... No one touches me li—ike you do."

"I'm so sorry for leaving you all alone, baby," he whispers, kissing your thighs once more before moving to where you were already craving his full attention. "Let me make it up to you..."

He replaced his finger with his tongue, warm and wet as it firmly pressed over your clothed cunt. A loud sigh escaped you as he kept it pressed there, ever so slightly curling the tip of it to reach further inside you. He pulled back after a few moments, pressing kiss after kiss all around the seams of your underwear until he reached your center again. He tugged the fabric down until it was off, kissing up your leg again.

"I can't wait to get reacquainted..." His lips moved softly against the skin on your inner thighs, moving closer to where you ached for him with every passing second. And then his face was right there, millimeters away from it when he spoke, his lips ever so lightly dancing over the slick flesh. "...with this pretty little pussy."

When his tongue darted out, you shattered beneath him immediately. It was only the tiniest of touches, the very tip of his tongue coming in contact just below your clit, and still it was enough to ruin you. Among the many lonely nights you'd had over the course of the last few months, you were met with dreams of this exact moment, Spencer's head between your legs as he unraveled you, and it always left you feeling even more lonely when you woke up.

But this was no dream. He was really there, in front of you, making up for lost time. And that's what made you lose control.

He kitten-licked your clit through your first orgasm of the night, and as you came down, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed at how quickly it took for you to fall apart.

"Oh, sweetheart... That was so damn beautiful." He brought his tongue out to lick through your folds again, humming lowly in he back of his throat. You watched him intently, trying not to shake, and noticed his eyes roll into the back of his head with a flutter as he delved further into you. The sight, accompanied by his tongue now plunging itself into you, made you cry out, your head hitting the bed and your hands clenching the sheets even harder.

He reacquainted himself with your pussy just fine, spending almost an hour alone exploring every way to make you come as if he'd never done it before. Each time you came down, he'd pull away and start off slow again, gently probing his fingers inside of you while his tongue massaged your clit every which way. It was like pure velvet, each stroke of his tongue and each curl of his fingers inside of you causing you to crash and burn over and over again. In between your high-pitched moans and cries, Spencer would occasionally mumble words of praise against your skin, a particular favorite of yours being the, "Perfect fucking cunt, princess..." right before gently sucking at your clit.

By the time he was finished, your three slow-building orgasms and the one quick one under his belt, his hair was absolutely wild as he looked up at you. He moved up your body, the wetness on his face glistening in the sunlight that poured through the bedroom window, and the hungry look in his eyes dissolved into absolute adoration and wonder as he took in your appearance.

Your mouth was partway open, your middle finger tucked between your teeth as you recovered from your highs. Sweat glittered over your brow and your chest heaved deeply, a smile forming on your lips when he bit his bottom lip and studied you.

"You sure you're okay to keep going?" he asked you gently, using a thumb to brush over your cheek.

The deep rasp in his voice after having been... occupied for the past hour sent a wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. So you nodded, removing your finger from your mouth and bringing his face down to meet yours in a deep, loving kiss that had you both weak in the knees.

You slid up to the head of the bed, your legs resting wide open as Spencer removed himself of his clothes. You rid your shirt as well, the two of you never losing eye contact as you bared yourselves to each other for the first time in months. The air between you two was utterly electric, all this time apart coming to an end at last. Your bodies practically buzzed with the nearness, your veins going numb each time he brushed up against you as he settled out of his clothes and in between your legs.

When he leaned forward, the head of his cock gliding up through your folds to ready himself, you sighed out, reaching up to grab his face with both of your hands. Your fingers gently brushed away stray strands of hair from his eyes, and you smiled, hoping to convey to him just how much you truly loved him. Sure enough, his eyes softened once again under your gaze, and mostly, almost entirely gone was the insecurity and sorrow that had plagued them.

"I love you, Spencer," you told him, bringing his face down so your noses were touching. You brushed your nose against his and then pressed a gentle kiss to it, right as he started to push into you. You captured each others' shaky, relieved sighs as he bottomed out, holding himself deep inside you and pulling your legs up to wrap around his arms. Your tongue licked up into his mouth as you whined, already so relieved to have him in your arms (and quite frankly your pussy) once again.

He started to move ever so slowly, never fully retreating all the way before pressing his hips back into yours, and the groan that left his throat as he felt you clamping around him wrecked you all all over again. "So tight and warm," he mused softly against your lips, accepting and returning every kiss you gave him as he continued a slow, searing pace inside of you. "I've missed you so much, pretty girl... Dreamt... about you almost every night..."

"Me, too," you admitted, softly moaning out at the burning between your legs. "Missed... feeling you inside me. You always... Ohhh... always f—fill me up so g—good." Pressure was already building between your hips again, threatening to pop like a balloon at any given moment. But you wanted to hold on, to revel in this moment as long as you could.

Your hands grazed over his shoulders, lightly digging your nails into the skin as he drove into you a little harder. His pace was still tantalizingly slow, though the force with which he showed you how much he loved you, accented with a sharp, loud slap of skin each time, more than made up for it.

It didn't help that you could hear how wet you were with each movement, how aroused he made you and how loved he made you feel. It was something he obviously knew, but being able to hear it, every wet and delicious sound that came from your body as he made love to you like that, praised him better than any words could possibly dream.

Still, he asked you anyway, a means of dirty talk if nothing else. "You hear that, princess? You hear how good I make you feel?"

You buried your face into his neck, incoherently moaning and grumbling out curses as he shifted his hips and angled himself deeper inside you. Your legs were burning from being bent and wrapped around his arms, but somehow that burn only added to the pressure building in your belly. You couldn't help clenching around him, an action which made him groan into your neck.

"Go ahead and come for me, pretty girl," he stuttered out. "I... I know you have to. Let go for me... Give me all you got..."

His words, strained and raspy, coupled with hot kisses to your neck certainly helped you get there, but you wanted more. "But I want you to come with me," you whimpered out, clutching onto his shoulders. "I wanna... be... together again."

To help him out, you clenched around him over and over, giving him a tighter space to work with, and a guttural groan escaped him as his hips started to stutter. "Together..." is all he could coherently get out.

As soon as the word left his lips, you both shattered, trembling and sparking to life with pleasure. He spilled over inside of you, white hot and thick. It was a feeling you missed dearly, the dreams of it never able to fully satiate your need for him. In turn your walls fluttered around him and you whined into his shoulder, bringing your hands up to grip his hair as his cock twitched inside of you and gave you everything he had to offer. You clung to the feeling as long as you could, rolling your hips up to keep it all in and ride out your high to the fullest extent.

In fact, you were pretty sure that even by the end, when he'd slumped over on top of you and loosened your legs, you were still orgasming, a low burn settling in your stomach as you kept clenching around him, almost like you were trying to drink him up into you like a milkshake through straw.

"B—Baby, I'm gonna... come again if you keep that up," Spencer stuttered, his hands combing through your hair now as his lips pressed into your neck.

You only hummed in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and hooking your ankles over his ass. You kept contracting slowly around him, rolling your hips upwards, even as his warm cum started to spill out of you. Soon enough, he was doing it again, filling you up with warmth and love, his mouth open and hot on the skin of your neck as he did so, muttering your name over and over.

Eventually you loosened your hold on him, every muscle in your body relaxing and falling to the bed with a low tingle of numbness. With Spencer kissing softly over your neck and up to your mouth, you were the most content you'd been in months.

You must have stayed in bed for hours, even though he tried to tell you that you should probably clean up. You only grumbled in response, holding him tighter to you and burying your face into his neck. Still, he laid there, rubbing your head and clinging to you anyways, finally glad to be home.

And even though you were technically home, it never really felt that way when he was gone— To be home was to be near him. And you never wanted to leave his side again, even though realistically you knew you'd need to be separated eventually.

But for now, you could be near him like he was never going to leave, reveling in the warmth and comfort that his arms provided.

And with you he could do the same.

***

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[spencersawkward]

if you feel comfortable with it, I’d love a prof Spence where reader is a student and goes to office hours to initiate ~smutty goodness~ but Spencer is reluctant at first bc his job but they flirt more and eventually sleep together

me n my professor kink when i saw this: 😏 anyway yes i am quite comfortable writing about this lol. i took some ✨creative liberties✨ with your request so i'm sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted! 

summary: reader is a student in Dr. Reid’s class, but she’s been something of a poor student-- office hours are the only solution.

relationship: Fem!Reader/Professor!Spencer

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, super brief hair-pulling, creampie, dirty talk, spanking, age gap, degradation-- he gets pretty dominant oops.

word count: 4.5k

masterlist

popping in a piece of gum, I make my way to the back of the hall. there are a few people here already, but it's a little early. I'm never early. in fact, I'm usually late; my other class is on the other side of campus, and getting here involves a lot of embarrassing speed-walking.

but here I am, five minutes ahead of schedule and actually in a decent seat. as I flip open my textbook and pull my laptop out of my bag to prepare to take notes, my gaze slides down to the corner of the room, where Dr. Reid is standing up with a pile of papers. he walks over to the girl in the front row, handing her the stack and gesturing for her to pass it along.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. he's a total luddite. the first day, Dr. Reid spent about ten minutes rambling about the importance of reading from a physical book rather than online sources-- which, although I definitely agree with, means a lot more lugging around folders and organizing all the readings he gives out. if he wasn't so hot, I would have switched into another course.

and I know it's wrong to be daydreaming about my professor slamming me into a wall while he discusses the intricacies of quantum theory. the complete cliché of it is embarrassing. but still, I just can't stop thinking about him: how his fingers would feel around my throat, the smooth wooden surface of his desk against my cheek as he bends me over and pulls my panties to the side--

"glad to see you've decided to join us, today, Ms. Y/L/N." Dr. Reid's voice startles me out of my thoughts. he's standing towards the front of the room while students file in. his hands are resting in his pockets with his eyebrows pleasantly raised.

"glad to see you've noticed." I retort, too irritated with his comment to care about being polite.

a couple people look at me. even though I'm generally not on time, he tends to just glance my way when I walk in and leaves it at that. I know he doesn't like it, although I personally don't care. I hate this course.

he seems visibly surprised by my response but doesn't reply, gaze lingering on mine before he turns to speak to a student trying to get his attention. I bite back a smile. fucking asshole.

as usual, Dr. Reid writes in his thin, messy lettering on the board while wandering around the front of the room. he's quite fidgety, even though his voice doesn't betray any sort of nervousness. it's like he's naturally overactive.

every word out of his mouth is enunciated, sometimes spoken faster when he gets particularly impassioned by the subject. he's interesting to look at, too. messy curls and a nice suit, stubble that straddles the line between refinement and ruggedness.

I type quickly, but it isn't fast enough and the strange illustrations he does on the board only complicate things. I try to write them down in my notebook, but my handwriting is jagged; sometimes it's hard to read. when a student raises her hand for a clarification, I take the opportunity to catch up.

my head jerks up as soon as I'm finished and he's looking at me while he speaks. even from so many feet away, the intensity strikes me. he's gesticulating and crossing the room. I hold eye contact.

I wonder if he dates often; a couple of the girls in my row always stare at him throughout the lectures. he seems to be completely unaware of the effect he has on people. sometimes I'll see him in the hallway and he has his nose buried in a book, or a to-go cup of coffee, or both. either way, there seems to be no more room in that head of his for romance.

which, naturally, makes me curious about how he looks when he's on the edge of orgasm. if that composure is replaced with a contorted pleasure. I want to break him.

it's like he can read my thoughts, because Dr. Reid averts his gaze. my stomach twists with a strange anticipation. he avoids looking my way for the rest of the time.

towards the end of class, I start to pack my things to go. I have three papers to write, and my utter lack of interest in this is making me eager to leave. I shove my textbook into my bag the second my professor starts to make closing remarks.

"don't forget that we have a midterm in two weeks!" he says in a slightly louder voice as people start to move around. "if you have any questions, my office hours are posted on the bulletin board outside."

at this, my eyebrows rise. I forgot about the midterm. I have a study calendar set up for all my subjects, but I've purposefully been putting this one off. I'm not super into math. and it doesn't help that most of my time is spent not listening. when I am, it doesn't make sense.

as I stand up and gather my stuff, I hear someone clearing their throat a couple feet away. my head turns to see Dr. Reid leaning against his desk.

"Ms. Y/L/N, can I see you for a second?"

my heart stutters in my chest. is this about my attitude? he's never asked to see me outside of lessons before.

I frown, making my way to him with a deliberate pace. the tension in the room builds as I watch the last of his students shuffle out of the room. my head turns from the door to him; my breath catches a little in my throat at the set of his jaw. part of me hopes I get yelled at.

"I'm concerned about your participation in this class." he says. his voice isn't cruel, but it is brutally honest— which is worse. participation? I feel my fist clench at my side. my professors don't usually say anything if you aren't doing things up to their expectations; if you aren't, then they give you a bad grade. simple as that.

"is this about me being late?" I ask. he lets out a sigh before answering. he sounds disappointed.

"you're constantly tardy, and when you hand in your homework, you barely seem to have put in the effort. it's messy."

"messy?" I start to get annoyed. I'm only doing this so that I can get my degree. it's a fucking requirement. even though I'm not the biggest fan of mathematics, I still do my best and hand in my assignments on time. plus, the latest I arrive is five minutes-- it's not like I'm stumbling in halfway through the lesson.

"you've never come to office hours to ask for help or explained your lateness, which I, as your professor, would have appreciated." he scolds. honestly, I don't know what to say. my eyes narrow.

"I have my studio class on the other side of campus." I explain. "I should have emailed about that and I'm sorry, but I'm also not being lax about my work."

he goes around to the other side of his desk and glances up at me while he organizes some loose documents to pack away. he looks way too good when he's exasperated: his hands tighten around the papers, his eyebrows come together in this cute way. his tie is a little crooked, too.

"are you struggling with the content?"

"sometimes, yeah. but I can handle reaching out for help if I need it." I reply. he's pissing me off with these questions. I can see from the expression on his face that he's surprised by my reaction.

"really?" he slides some books into his messenger bag. that was definitely sarcastic; I know it was. "because it doesn't really seem like you have."

"I like to find help on my own." I shoulder my bag and cross my arms over my chest. there's no way he's gonna talk to me like that and expect me to not respond in kind.

"I'm reserving a slot on Wednesday evening for you," he looks up and holds my gaze. hazel irises that dare me to challenge him further. "I want you in office hours so that we can figure out how you're gonna catch up before the midterm."

"fine." I turn on my heel and leave. I know I'm not supposed to talk to my professor like that, or even to behave with such apprehension. but something about him makes me angry in the kind of way that settles in my stomach. I hate that he's right. I'm not going to do well on that damn test if I don't get some help.

but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun with it.

when I rush into his office on Wednesday evening, the sun is just starting to set through his window. there's a pinkish glow that smooths over Dr. Reid's desk as he glances up at me. I had to run to get here.

"you're late." he nods to the clock on the wall. I roll my eyes.

"only one minute, though. I had another class."

he sighs and folds his hands on his desk. "how are you doing today, Ms. Y/L/N?" a strangely polite question for the look on his face. he's frustrated with me.

"I'm quite well, Dr. Reid." I smile brightly, slightly excited by the anger on his face, and sit at the chair in front of his desk.

"I didn't know you were interested in art." he says simply. I'm confused for a moment before I remember that I told him that the course before his is a studio lesson.

"I didn't know you cared."

"do you make a habit of that?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"of what?" my expression is saccharine.

"being rude to people who control your grades."

"unless you're considering being unethical in your practices and allowing your personal opinion of me to influence my grade, then no." I counter. he's silent for a moment, taking in my words like they've left a mark on him.

"well, you'd most likely fail if I asked you to leave my office hours right now. whose fault would that be?" he fidgets with his hands and leans forward just a bit, his voice dropping to a lower tone. I bite back a smile.

"you wouldn't."

"and why is that?" he baits.

"because you're not a shitty professor, Dr. Reid," I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. "as angry as you are, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you kicked me— a struggling student— out of here for giving you a little attitude."

"a little attitude?" he scoffs. "you've spent the whole semester completely ambivalent."

"not completely." I shrug.

"Y/N, you draw all over your tests and leave at least one problem half-finished every time. you obviously aren't learning." he chuckles mirthlessly. I concede this point; I like to doodle when I'm bored. and there's absolutely nothing more boring to me than numbers.

"okay," I sit up and rest my elbows on the edge of his desk, staring at him. "then teach me."

Dr. Reid holds my gaze for a long moment. we're suspended, it seems, as his lips part and he finds himself speechless. the way I said the words obviously has another layer to it-- he just has to decide whether or not to take the bait.

"what are you struggling with?" he clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter in his seat. that answers my question, I guess. I poke my tongue between my teeth gently, but then pull out my notebook and flip it to a page with some problems outlined on it.

"these." I toss the thing onto his side and he begins to run through the assignment. I watch him pick up a pen and start to explain the steps, slipping into his usual educational tone. his shoulders relax a little as he writes.

I can't see right from the angle I'm at, so I stand and come around onto his side. I hear him pause his speaking for a moment at my proximity, but he doesn't move away.

"does that make sense?" he asks me once he's finished running through the first problem. he basically did all the work. the professor's head turns to gauge my reaction to the explanation, but his eye line is right at the hem of my skirt-- which is already pretty short. for all his attempts to be subtle, he gulps and looks up at me.

"mostly." I brush a piece of hair behind my ear and pretend to scratch at a spot on my upper thigh, dragging the edge of my skirt with it until he can see the smooth skin beneath, practically begging for his touch. "can I ask you a question?"

"sure." he keeps his eyes almost too focused on mine. I try to hide the smile tugging at my lips. now or never, I guess.

"what's your policy on professor/student relationships?"

"my-- my what?" this time, he's audibly scattered when he turns to me. his eyes are wide, dark. even he can't hide his feelings.

"you know," I run my fingertips over the tweed shoulder of his jacket. I can sense the tension beneath his clothes. "like, your policy on fucking a student."

"I--" his cheeks turn pink. he's flustered, albeit not rejecting my touch. "I've never had to think about it before."

"hmm," I look off to the side as if considering this point. his chair is fully turned to face me now, and I'm standing in front of him, almost completely his for the taking. all he has to do is close the gap. "well, what are you thinking about it right now?"

"it's wrong." he stumbles over the words.

"why?"

"well, I mean, you're a student--"

"for a semester that's almost over." I cut him off. he opens and closes his mouth. I take a deep breath, toying with the hem of my skirt. "I know you've been looking at me during class."

"w-what?"

"you're pretty good at hiding it, but you call on me a lot and you get all messed up when I hold eye contact too long during lectures." I say.

he looks down and back up apologetically. he's just sitting there, lap wide open. so I do what any sane girl in my position would do: I climb into it, straddling him and resting my arms around his neck. he sucks in a breath.

"you pretend I'm such a pain," I lean down by his ear, my core drawing over his pants. he tenses as I speak. "but you like that I'm your little problem."

"Y/N..." he trails off, but his hips are bucking up into mine.

"see?" I look between our bodies at his movements, then at him. I smirk as I look into those lust-darkened eyes. after a moment of him not speaking, I straighten. "look, I'll leave you alone if it really bothers you--"

as I start to get off his lap, he grabs me and pulls me back down. the force hits my center at just the right angle and I let out a slight mewl. he hears the sound and before I can register the pleasure, he grabs my face and yanks me closer to kiss him.

god, he feels so good. I rock my hips against his while our lips pass over each other hungrily. so much tension built up over the past few months, so many thoughts I've had of him, now coming to fruition. it's amazing.

"not so 'wrong' now, is it?" I chuckle against his mouth.

"shut up." he orders. one moment of broken contact to slide my top over my head and throw it on the floor.

I sigh as he starts to kiss across my jaw and down my throat. "I like when you talk like that, Dr. Reid."

one hand grips my hips tighter and he releases a groan against my skin.

"is that why you're such a fucking brat in my class?" he bites my collarbone and I moan. "because you want me to put you in your place?"

"mhmm." I hum. his fingertips move under my skirt, sliding up my thighs and toying with the waistband of my panties. he teases me by grazing my slit over the fabric, inhaling sharply at the wet patch.

"sitting in the back of my room, fucking dripping..." he mumbles to himself as he starts to rub me.

"touch me." I breathe out, trying to gain the friction that I need.

"not if you're gonna be a brat." he removes his hand and I let out a frustrated noise as I try to find the pressure I need elsewhere by grinding down on him. he grunts at the way I pant into his mouth, trying to kiss him with every chance I get. his lips are so smooth and sweet against mine. there's something affectionate about it even in its ferocity.

"I'll be good." I practically beg.

"that's what I thought." he slides his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches me whimper on top of him.

"come on, Spencer..." I use the name for the first time and he grabs my face in his hand, squeezing my cheeks.

"not my name, sweetheart." he stares into my eyes expectantly and I smirk.

"you're fucked up, doctor."

"so are you."

after he says that, he lifts me off his lap and stands up, pushing between my shoulder blades until my face is pressed onto the desk. I let out a needy whine, wiggle my ass back in hopes of finding his crotch, but he's not willing to give me that, yet.

instead, he gently touches my skirt, flipping it up so that he can see my ass. immediately, he starts to knead it. my palms are pressed flat against the desk with anticipation, silently thankful that my panties are still on. I think I'd be dripping down my thighs if they weren't.

"are you gonna be more respectful?" his voice is low, one hand tracing over my back. I shake.

"mhmm."

"I won't spank you if you don't use your words, sweetheart."

"yes." I choke out, no longer wanting to give any sort of resistance. I had no idea there was this side of him, and I love it.

he loves it too, apparently, because his hand comes down sharply on my ass. I yelp at the contact and he runs his fingers over the point of impact, rubbing the flesh gently.

"too hard, baby?" he checks.

"harder." I beg. I can't see his face, but I can sense his smile as if it's my own. his palm hits me again, and I gasp.

"you like being punished?"

"yes." strangled and desperate.

he slips his finger beneath the fabric of my panties, collecting my essence and letting out a quiet moan when he feels me. I push my hips against his fingers, partly expecting him to remove all the pressure, but he doesn't bother waiting.

he slips his index inside and I gasp. starts to push in and out, his silence proving his arousal. I can practically feel his eyes on me. the pace increases a bit and he slides in his middle finger. I buck against the desk.

"oh fuck!" I cry out as he starts to go faster. he curls them against my walls and I arch my back.

"two fingers and you're already breaking?" Spencer chuckles as he moves inside me. he keeps one hand on my ass while he does it, starting to finger me at a ridiculous speed while I pant and moan and cry.

"I--" I gulp down air. "I need you in it."

he bends down by my ear, never breaking his rhythm. my legs are shaking from the force. "you need my cock?"

"yes," I feel myself closing in around him. "god, yes."

"you're lucky I wanna fuck you so bad." he mutters. I grin as I hear the clink of his belt coming undone, the sliding through the belt loops, the sound of him stripping down to nothing. I can feel my excitement on the inside of my thighs, spread around by his reckless fingers as he removes my panties and skirt.

he grinds himself against my pussy, coating himself in me, while he releases low, longing moans. I suck in a breath when the head pushes in, every inch pushing me open a little more. I don't have the ability to form words, so I bite my lip and grip onto the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white.

his breath stops for a moment before he groans.

"so ready for me."

he's not even all the way in, and he has to pause to let me adjust. when he taps the inside of my thigh for me to part them more, I do it quickly and beg him to fill me up. I can barely take the pressure between my hips, but it burns in an inviting way.

"keep going." I direct him. he runs his hands over the curve of my waist and starts to thrust into me at a rate that leaves me panting. it's not too fast or slow, just impatient and needy. every sound that spills from his lips turns me on more.

"where'd the attitude go, huh?" he digs his hips into mine. his cock hits my cervix and I squeak against the wood, but he holds my back down. I don't even try to argue with him, too overcome with the pleasure that's coursing through my limbs. he starts to build up his speed. "don't have much to say when you're getting fucked?"

"Dr. Reid--" I moan.

he plows into me so hard, the desk shifts on the floor and he grabs my ass with both hands.

"take it, baby. fucking take it."

I get up on my elbows to look behind me, just to glimpse how he looks as he gets closer. his curls have fallen more in his face, and his shirt is gone. I want to touch him desperately, to feel the lovely skin of his torso and arms and everything else, but he keeps me down for the most part. all I get is the sight of his mouth open and his hips moving quickly against mine.

"look at me, there you go." he grabs my face and holds me there, our eyes locked. mine are welling at the sheer overwhelming pleasure inside, but his are dark and intense. they search mine for something I can only hope to offer.

"that feels so good, Dr. Reid." I pant. he bites his lip as he watches my mouth hanging open in lecherous shock.

"I bet it does," he explores my body. "coming in here, hoping I fuck you like you deserve. you're lucky I'm going easy on you."

"thank you." I whine.

"you might need some extra lessons, yeah?" he grunts out, moving into me with a bruising force.

"yes, please." I whisper. my voice is practically gone at this point, my mind entirely focused on the knot building in my stomach.

"what was that, baby?" he pulls my hair gently.

"yes— fuck— yes, please, Dr. Reid."

"what a beautiful girl." he smirks. I whimper when he runs his fingernails down my ribcage. I can feel it coming from the way he starts to move tumultuously, every thrust pushing harder and seeking more release. it's fervent, how he takes me and grips my hips like the force itself will push him over the edge.

"I'm so close..." I breathe out as I try for as much friction as I can.

"show me," he drops down so his stomach is flush to my back. "show me how you cum, Y/N."

the way he says my name-- husky and warm and full of lust-- causes me to snap. I cry out as he reaches around to clamp a hand around my mouth, climaxing and pulsing around his dick as I drop down against the surface again. I want him to finish inside, so I do my best to keep him here. and his thrusts are getting more staccato as he chases the sensation my walls create.

"can I fill you, angel?" he asks. he's breathing right by my ear, and the feeling is sending shivers down my spine. I love how his weight feels.

"yes." I moan and he slides his fingers into my mouth. I suck on them while he orgasms, jerking into my pussy and letting out unholy sounds of ecstasy. he says unintelligible things in the throes of his orgasm. pounds into me until I'm sure I won't be able to walk tomorrow.

"jesus christ, Y/N." he slows to a stop. when he pulls his cock out of me, the absence makes me whine. I miss his body already.

"oh my god." I clench my hands into fists as I try to catch my breath. I'm still bent over the desk as though I've been completely sapped of all my energy. I suppose I have. he doesn't touch me for a moment in the spirit of letting me recover from the small shudders still running over my skin.

"that was great." he says after we've both had time to fill our lungs. I push myself onto my elbows again.

"correct." I grin and straighten up more until I'm standing. he stares at me, at the cum now dripping down my legs, entranced.

"let me get you something to clean up." he snaps out of it a little. I can't stop looking at him, either, in love with the way he moves and the way he breathes after exerting himself on my body.

"come here." I bite my lip. for some reason, despite what we just did, this is scarier than everything else. he steps closer and I reach up, kiss him softly. part of me worries that he'll pull away and be terrified. maybe that he'll tell me that I've read too much into this.

he's much gentler than before. our first kiss was full of need and primal desire, but this is more affectionate. I remove myself from his embrace.

"okay, you can go now." I giggle. his fingertips linger on my waist and he smiles. I push his shoulder. "I literally have your cum all over me-- go."

"fine." he starts to put his clothes on.

"does this mean I get an A?" I joke. Spencer shakes his head.

"nice try. when we're done cleaning you up, we're gonna sit down and figure this out."

I let out a whine, and he kisses my cheek before looking me in the eyes. "it'll be fun. I promise."

"math is not fun."

"I can't believe I like a girl who doesn't enjoy such a beautiful subject." he rolls his eyes and I giggle. he's perfect.