#Spencer Reid Fan fiction

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Unfinished Business

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Serial Killer!Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: talk of beating/raping women and children (implicit, just mention), near drowning/death, car crash

Summary: You’re the most wanted woman in the country, and the BAU finally has you in its grasp. You hunt and kill truly evil people but it doesn’t seem to matter to the authorities if the victims are rapists, killers, and abusers. You’re doing this country a favor and you’re not finished. It doesn’t matter if you’re caught or not. You’re going to find a way to continue your work.

Square Filled: criminal au (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

If the damn clock wasn’t bolted to the wall, you would have ripped it from the plaster and shattered it to pieces. You’re not supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be at home snuggling with your dog who you presume is missing you. Your sister knows to take him in if she doesn’t hear from you within twenty-four hours so you have no doubt he will be taken care of.

Instead, you’re sitting handcuffed to a table in the BAU.

You’ve been on the FBI’s Top 10 Most Wanted for three years now for your notorious work in slicing up men and women who deserve it. Every single one of your victims was far from innocent, but the FBI doesn’t care if you’ve been cleaning house. All they care about is the fact you have hundreds of victims under your belt.

You’ve been killing since you were a child because your father got you into it. It started with random strangers on the highway (he was a truck driver and would pick them up). He’d get them talking and if he so much got an inkling that they were less than innocent, he’d kill them. He taught you to wear gloves, clothes that don’t fit you, shoes that were slightly too big for you, to always have a wig on, talk with an accent, and never trust anyone.

He was never caught and died almost a decade ago. Now you’re left to continue his work.

Men who rape. Men who kill for fun. Men who abuse. Women who abuse. Women who kidnap. They’re all fair game. You’re ridding the world of evil one person at a time.

The reason you’re sitting here and not at home drinking wine is that you decided it was best to work with someone to take down a small group of abusers. The group was small, maybe five or six men, but they went out and assaulted women at night and left them for dead. This other person who you shall not name knew your father and reached out to you. He wanted to work with you in bringing the group down and you trusted him enough to agree.

Your first mistake.

Your second is when you gave him the task of finding an easy way out in case something went wrong. Something did. There was another man in the house who called 911. Your “friend” got away. You got caught. When the FBI realized who they caught, you knew you wouldn’t be getting out of this alive. There have been two dozen confirmed victims of yours but you know that number is well into the three hundreds by now.

You’ve saved a bunch of men, women, and children from getting abused and hurt, and there isn’t a thing you’d change if you could do it all over again.

You’ve been sitting in this godforsaken room for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe that’s their tactic. Maybe they want you to slowly go insane so you’ll confess to more crimes. You were born at night, not last night. At best, you’ll get three consecutive life sentences. There is no way you’re going to ever see freedom… that is if you were completely alone in this. There is a reason why your father was never caught. He has friends on the inside that you can turn to, so you know you’ll be okay if you get sent to jail.

You tap the metal table with a perfectly manicured nail when the door opens and a black man walks in with a thick file in his hands. Damn, he’s not the one you were hoping would come in. The one who apprehended you was white, and he had the most beautiful brown eyes. Lean but not too skinny. Curly hair. Such beautiful features.

The man sits across from you and lays out pictures of men you’ve killed over the years. They are unsolved cases but the FBI doesn’t know that you’re responsible for them. You keep your eyes on the man as he lays out six photos of men.

“Where are they?”

“What, no introduction? No, ‘How’s it going?’ I don’t get any of that?”

“My name is Agent Morgan, and you’re going to tell me where you buried their bodies.”

“Bold of you to assume I killed them.”

Agent Morgan takes out six more photos and lays them underneath the men’s portraits. Each of the new photos is of their crime scenes. You left a lot of blood behind but none of it is yours.

“Do you know what a signature is?” You don’t answer. “You like to leave behind a name written in your victim’s blood.” In each of the photos, you can see the name you wrote on their walls or mirrors. “Femme Fatale. No one else does that but you. So, I’ll ask again, where did you bury their bodies?”

“Mmm. Ask me again. This time, add ‘please’,” you smirk.

“This is not a game, Y/N. Tell me where they are and maybe we can work out a deal.”

“I’m already seeing three consecutive life sentences for the murders you’ve already pinned on me. Unless your deal is me walking out of this building without so much as a scratch on my record, I’m not telling you shit.”

Agent Morgan nods and gathers the photos. He’s done. He knows he’s not going to get anything out of you right now. He opens the door to leave but you stop him before he can.

“When you’re ready to come back, bring in the cute one. I have a thing for brown eyes and curly hair.”

Agent Morgan all but slams the door on his way out. It’s an hour before someone comes back to you, and this time, it’s who you want.

“Ah, there he is,” you grin and sit up straighter.

“So, I’m the cute one?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Ooh, a doctor. I’m impressed. You look so young.”

Spencer opens a file and takes out pictures, different than the ones Agent Morgan showed you. They’re of your apartment, more specifically, the room you have hidden underneath your stairs. You have a basement in the house but the stairs to it are located underneath your staircase going to the second floor. The door is only accessed when you pull up the last step of the staircase. You had that installed when you bought the house so that your extracurricular activities can remain a secret.

Inside the basement are records of the men and women you’ve killed, where you’ve put their bodies, future victims on your list, and people you are suspicious of. You hate that they found that, but it doesn’t matter. You have many houses across the country and even one in Europe that all have the exact same information. If your father taught you anything, it’s to keep backups and backups of your backups.

The only difference is that every safehouse has a different list of different men and women. There are a lot of evil people on this Earth, and you’ve only worked in one country. Imagine what you’d find in Europe.

“We know you’ve killed more than two dozen. It looks like hundreds.”

“What else do you know?”

“I know that you’re smart--smarter than you’d have us believe. I know that you like to work alone. With a rap sheet like yours, you can’t trust anyone. It’s the reason you got caught. The one time you trusted another person, they let you down.”

“So, you’re not just pretty, you’re smart, too.”

“You can deny it all you want, but the facts are right here.”

“I’m not denying any of it. I killed them. All of them. You know where their bodies are. You don’t need a confession out of me which makes me think you wanted to see me.” You grin and lean forward as much as you can. “Isn’t that right, Spencer? You just wanted to talk to me.”

“I’m going to make sure you don’t see the outside of a prison for the rest of your life,” he whispers.

“I like it when you talk dirty to me,” you smirk and lean back.

“We will be transporting you to a high-facility prison before sunrise.”

“As long as you’re in the car with me.” Spencer doesn’t say anything and cleans up the photos from the table. Like with Agent Morgan, you don’t let him leave just yet. “I’m not a bad person, Dr. Reid.”

“According to your basement, you’ve killed over three hundred people.”

“Richard Sigler was raping his six-year-old daughter. Her own mother didn’t believe her when she told her about it. Benjamin Cross has beaten and raped ten women over the course of a month. He was about to add an eleventh victim when I caught up to him. Alexis Greene aided her husband in kidnapping three children. I was with my sister’s kids when she tried it with me. She never got to a fourth.” You rest your elbows on the table. “I never hurt innocent people.”

Spencer doesn’t say anything and leaves the room. It’s another two hours before you’re placed in the back of a car with Spencer behind the wheel. Luck must be on your side because you two are alone.

“What, no one else is going to join us?”

“They didn’t need to. It’s a short drive.”

“Lucky me,” you grin. “So, since I’ll probably never have a genuine conversation with anyone else, tell me about yourself.” Spencer doesn’t answer. “Let me guess, you’re a reserved know-it-all. Secret romancer? Kinky in bed?”

“Shut up,” Spencer sighs.

“Ah, so you’re kinky, huh? What are you into? Personally, I love being tied up. Choking is a big one.”

“Like I’m going to tell you what I’m into.”

“You don’t have to. I can read people pretty easily. You’re an open book.”

Spencer tries to focus on the road but it’s snowing pretty hard. He didn’t know there would be a snowstorm soon. He thought he’d be able to drop you off and return to the BAU before it hit. He turns the windshield wipers on but it doesn’t do much for the snow pouring down.

“Maybe we should pull over. Get nice and cozy in here,” you chuckle.

“And give you a chance to escape? No way.”

“I have cuffs on, Spencer. You’re the one in control. That’s one of your kinks, right? Being in control.”

“Okay, right now, I need you to shut up.”

You do only because the car is shaking. There must be black ice on the road, and Spencer is trying his best not to skid too much. Spencer doesn’t look nervous but you can tell by his labored breathing and the slight perspiration on his forehead that he’s nervous as hell. The only reason you are, too, is because there is a giant lake to the right of you, and you’ve seen too many movies where cars skid on black ice and end up in lakes.

“Spencer, maybe you should pull over,” you say seriously.

“Don’t tell me how to drive.”

The streetlights barely give Spencer enough light to see the road in front of him, and the snow piles onto the windshield faster than the wipers can remove it. Spencer jerks the wheel to the right to avoid a pothole when the car is caught on a sheet of black ice. The car spins in circles before plunging into the freezing cold waters of the lake. Spencer’s head slams into the steering wheel and is knocked out immediately. Water rapidly fills the car, too fast for your liking. You take off your seatbelt and squat onto the seat so you can slide your cuffed wrists underneath your feet. You’re very flexible for someone your age, and you’re thanking your sister for pushing you to do yoga.

You hop into the front seat and ram your elbow into the passenger window. When all you get is a bruised bone, you know you have to try something else before all of your oxygen is taken from you. After all you’ve done, you’re going to let something like this take you out. The water has reached your chest now, and you open the glove compartment for something hard to break the window.

This is a cop’s car, so they have the tools needed to break open windows. You grab the small tool and slam it into the window. It shatters immediately, and you quickly swim out of the window into the dark lake. You’re about to swim to the surface when you look back at Spencer. You can’t leave him there. He’s going to drown. He’s innocent.

You don’t hurt innocents.

You swim to the other side of the car and use the same tool on his window. You reach in and grab him only to realize that he still has his seatbelt on. The tool you have is also good for cutting seatbelts, so you slice his lap belt and pull him out of the car. It’s hard since you’re handcuffed but you have to get him out of the lake.

Your lungs burn from not having enough oxygen, and black spots start to form in your vision. No matter what, you have to get to the surface before you pass out. Just when you think you’re going to suck in a lungful of water, you break through the surface. You struggle to keep both your head and Spencer’s above water but you manage to swim to the edge of the lake. You push Spencer onto the ground and heave yourself next to him.

Shit, you’re freezing. You reach into his pockets and see if there is a key for your handcuffs. Again, luck must be on your side because there is. You unlock the cuffs and place one of them around Spencer’s wrists and the other to the very thin light pole next to him. You can’t have him following you. You look at Spencer’s face to see him paler than before with blue lips.

“Spencer!”

You lean over him, place your lips over his, and blow into his mouth. You pull back and start doing three chest compressions. You repeat the process five times before Spencer coughs up a bunch of water.

“Oh, thank God,” you sigh. “You’re alive.”

“What happened? How did you…?”

“Sorry, babe. I gotta go before they realize you’re missing.”

Spencer jerks his body only to realize he’s handcuffed to the light pole. You grin and hold up the key to the cuffs. You toss them over to him but they’re just shy of his feet. If he stretches hard enough, he’ll reach them but only after he gets his strength back.

“No, get back here right now or I’ll--”

“You’ll what? Arrest me?” You take a few steps before turning back to him. “Don’t take this personally. I have a list to complete. Oh, soft lips by the way. If things were different… As much as I like you, I really hope I don’t see you again.”

Spencer sits helplessly and watches you parade off into the night. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see you again but he’ll try like hell to make sure he does.

x

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[bunnylovesani]

A Marriage Story

Summary: You met your husband Spencer at college and fell in love at first sight. A decade later, he’s struggling to be the man you need after spending months away in prison. Can you find your way back to each other even when outside influences want to keep you apart?

Content warnings: smut, fluff and angst all rolled into one, rough sex, oral sex, degradation, sub/dom dynamics, references to infidelity and divorce

WC: 10.7k

“Can’t sleep?” You peered into the living room to see your husband slouched across the sofa, sporting a stiff, groggy expression as he examined what looked to be a pine-green leatherbound book.

“It would appear that way, wouldn’t it?” He mumbled in response, barely looking up. Spencer was snarky by nature- it was something you’d grown accustomed to and even found endearing- but you were woefully unprepared for just how much would change following his stint in prison. 

“You can barely read in here, it’s so dark.” You grumbled as you stretched to turn on an orange light posted in the corner. Your fingertips brushed past the bobbly canvas of the lampshade as you recalled how the appliance was a wedding gift. You weren’t exactly sure who bestowed it to you but the memory made you a little misty-eyed. 

“And you don’t have your glasses either.” You muttered under your breath as you readily paced to your bedroom down the hall to retrieve his black-rimmed specs. “Here you go.” You extended your arm out, waiting for him to take them out of your grasp but he paid no notice. 

“Spence.” You nudged him but he just shook his head wordlessly and retreated into his pages even more, squinting profusely. Perching beside him, you tucked his unruly waves out of his face and nestled them behind his ear before carefully sliding on his glasses, letting them rest on the delicate bridge of his nose. 

“Thanks.” He whispered after a while and you tried your best not to sigh at the state of your husband. His under eyes throbbed purple, the darkness consuming them in a veiny, crescent spill. There was no avoiding the way Spencer’s eyes had gradually dullened, as if the light had drained from them entirely. 

“It’s 3 in the morning, my love. Clearly that stiff sofa isn’t doing you any favours, why don’t you try sleeping in our bed tonight?” You hummed, nervously pawing at his forearm in anticipation of his answer. 

“Not tonight.” He dismissed, shaking off your hand as he recoiled from you. 

“You always said that sleeping with me put your mind to rest. Let me scoop you up into my arms and I’ll bet those nightmares will ease right up.” You nuzzled into him playfully, badly craving that now unfamiliar warmth. It had been 3 months since Spencer returned home from jail and another 3 since you’d even slept in the same room. 

“That was back then.” He replied coldly, swallowing a lump in his throat before finally looking up to meet your gaze. “The sofa is just fine now.” 

“So you plan on spending the rest of our marriage sleeping in here, do you?” You laughed in disbelief, overwhelmed by the incredible misfortune that had struck your husband- and by cursed extension, you.

“I didn’t say that.” He ripped off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose with tired frustration. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“I have been more than understanding.” You observed the broken man hunched over before you with both pity and unbridled anger. “But my lenience has a limit. At some point, you have to get over it.”

“You don’t know what I’ve been through.” He snapped back, almost interrupting. 

“Because you won’t tell me.” You countered, blood pressure rising over his incredulous obstinance. “How am I supposed to help you if you don’t let me?”

“I don’t need your help.” He scoffed, shuffling back as if the slightest contact with you made his skin crawl. 

“I am your wife.” You uttered solemnly, the words beginning to sound foreign to you both. “Or have you forgotten?”

“How could I? You never leave me alone.” He stated carelessly with such absurd cruelty that it made your heart split in two. 

“Who are you? I don’t even recognise you anymore.” Your voice trembled as tears swelled and you willed yourself not to fall apart entirely right then and there. 

“I don’t recognise myself either.” He murmured inaudibly.

Awkwardly plumping the pillows you had flattened as you rose, you straightened out your cotton nightie and headed towards the solitary bedroom, leaving Spencer glaring shamefully at the floor. 

“Do you remember our wedding day?” You whispered into the doorway, unsure whether he would even hear. 

“Of course I do.” He sighed heavily, as if the memory hurt him and he wasn’t too grateful for the reminder. 

Realising that those were the only words you’d be able to coax out of him tonight, you proceeded down the corridor and slumped into bed defeatedly. The right side of the bed was always kept empty, partly out of habit and partly out of hope that he might, by some miracle, change his mind one of these nights and join you. A particular quote that your husband once read aloud from a Nietzsche book sprang to mind: “In reality, hope is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs the torments of man.” He had laughed it off as the words left his perfect lips, dismissing the mournful proclamation as pessimistic melodrama- but now you wondered whether the boy genius had, for once, been wrong. Clutching a rumpled old pillow close to your chest, you thought back to better days as your melancholy lulled you to sleep. 

“Spencer, you’re so annoying.” You playfully slapped his forearm once you caught sight of the little drawings he was leaving in your notebook. “This journal is for my notes, not your mediocre art. Is that one meant to be me?” You pointed at the silly stickman with long hair and a speech bubble declaring ‘I love Spencer’. 

“Well you’re obviously not the ruggedly handsome one.” He gestured at the nerdy-looking bespectacled caricature of himself. It was evident he didn’t have the highest self regard but you couldn’t figure out why- to you, there was no one more perfect. “Do you write about me in your little diary?” He glided the pages out of your reach and began flicking through their contents with a sneer. Knowing exactly what he would find, you allowed him to skim through your written confession as you witnessed his expression soften. 

“I met a guy today in my criminology class.” He muttered, reading an early entry aloud. “I hardly know anything about him, but I’m already certain I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Is that crazy? To love a complete stranger? I think I would let him drive me into the furthest depths of insanity if it meant I could hold onto a piece of him forever.” 

You blushed hearing your own words spilling from his lips, recalling the day you met on your first day of college. 

“Wait.” Spencer put your notebook down before frantically rummaging through his backpack to retrieve his own. Yanking out a pine-green leatherbound journal, he flitted through its pages before turning it around and sliding it across the library desk. “Read this here.” He tapped a passage located right around the middle with an impatient forefinger. 

“Okay…” You drawled hesitantly, sliding your textbooks out of the way to focus on the script put before you. “I met a girl today. That doesn’t really happen to me. Liking aforementioned girl is even more of a rarity but today, I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning. There I was, my nose deep in a second edition tome of Fundamentals of Research in Criminal Justice when someone who could only be described as a blinding ray of sunshine bounded into the lecture hall. When she took a seat in the back row beside me and made a deliciously snide comment over Garland’s incompetency in examining the Lombrosian Project, I knew I was a goner. Note to self: do further research on what it means to be ‘in love’.” 

“Yours was a little more romantic.” He chuckled, observing the incredulous look on your face. 

“Spence…” You shook your head as you grabbed his hand and tried unsuccessfully to convey the complexity of your feelings. “I- I don’t know what to say.” 

“I love you.” He said simply, like he had many times before but you never grew tired of hearing it. 

“I love you too.” You grinned, resisting the urge to kiss him and give surrounding students in the stuffy library a show. 

“Can I ask you something crazy? But promise not to think about it too much.” He chewed on his bottom lip with an almost crazed look in his eyes. 

“You can’t surprise me anymore.” You nodded, giggling. 

“Do you want to get married?” The question made you break out into a flurry of goosebumps, contradicting your last sentence entirely. 

“W-what?” You raised your eyebrows, listening intently for a sign that he was just teasing. 

“Right now. Lets go somewhere and get married.” You scanned his handsome face in shock as you realised he was being serious. 

“B-but we’re only 22. We’re so young.” 

“Yes, we are.” He calmly responded, allowing you to run through all your doubts.

“A-and we still haven’t graduated.” 

“No, we haven’t.” He shook his head.

“And oh, our parents would be so mad!”

“They very well might be. Marry me anyway.” He flashed a broad, toothy smile and the way it made your heart stop gave you the only indication you needed. 

“Okay.” You smiled. 

“Okay?!” He repeated in surprise.

“Okay. I’ll marry you.” 

Spencer shot out of his seat, lifting you up with him as he grabbed you by the face, planting excitable kisses over your lips and cheeks. 

“Don’t we need to make appointments for this kind of thing?” You squeaked out between kisses, the logistical cogs in your mind whirring. 

“Well, baby.” He paused, gazing into your eyes with a mischevious twinkle. “It’s a good thing we live in Vegas.” 

Grabbing each other’s hand with a fervour you thought would last forever, you headed straight to a walk-in chapel, where along with two drunken witnesses you dragged off the street and a pair of vending machine wedding bands, you officiated your love. The haughtily dressed minister, who resembled a cowboy more than a government official thanks to his white, studded getup- took several takes before agreeing to ordain the ceremony. “Crazy kids…” he muttered under his breath when you managed to persuade him, ushering you down the altar with a disapproving sigh.

Spencer marvelled at how you could look so beautiful in a cheap, rented veil and he vowed that day that he would never dare take you for granted. He would make damn sure to remember just how blessed he was, no matter what life threw at him. 

He remained true to his word for the most part, proceeding to spend the next decade or so faithfully by your side. As in most areas of his life, Spencer excelled at being a husband. After his first substantial promotion, he knew exactly what to spend all his savings on: he made a beeline to Tiffany’s for a long overdue engagement ring, surprising you with the small robin’s-egg-blue box on a random Tuesday night. You loved it, of course, and gushed over the lavish diamond, proudly flashing it to anyone who would let you- though you kept your tarnished old band on your bedside table and observed it with nostalgic fondness. 

Every promise Spencer made, Spencer kept. From the silly details down to the crux of your marriage, he was unfalteringly respectful, supportive and always appreciative. 

You certainly weren’t too shabby playing the part of his wife either. Dinner was always on the table, the house was always spick and span and you had no shortage of tight outfits to greet him home dressed up in. You hadn’t ever anticipated your role in life would be that of a housewife but Spencer made it easy- and if you had to be one, a loving, handsome genius was the man for the job. You figured you could do worse.

When the company you worked for years ago filed for bankruptcy and you were too burnt out to look elsewhere, your husband was more than happy to assume his new position as the breadwinner. 

While the thought of relying on a man used to inundate you with horror, this particular man was like something out of a movie- for him, you made every exception, choosing a life of domestic bliss in suburbia over the dreams you once had. You weren’t the most fulfilled woman in the world but you’d never had serious concerns- until this year. It wasn’t Spencer’s habit of overprioritising work, nor his stretch in prison- it wasn’t even the thousand yard stare that painted his face at all hours of the day following his release. 

It was the arrival of the sudden and unprecedented thought that he might actually leave you. 

As many fights as you’d had over the years, the possibility that Spencer may not be the man you spend the rest of your life with had never once crossed your mind- you had it ticked off as a definite and planned your life accordingly around that simple fact. You thought you had agreed that nothing could ever tear you apart. 

But now; the way he recoiled when you came near him and the disdain that dripped from his voice when he spoke to you had you reconsidering whether the man you knew would ever make a return. 

It was your biggest fear and everything your mother had warned you about; her nauseating words gnawed at you as you remembered how staunchly she opposed your impromptu decision to get married. She never really accepted Spencer- choosing instead to graciously tolerate him as a favour to you, but neither of you were under any illusions as to what her real thoughts on the matter were. 

“There you are, I was beginning to think you stood me up.” The lofty voice of your mother rang out and the air sharply shifted around her. 

“Sorry, mother. I- uh, woke up a little late. Got caught in the midday traffic.” You sniffled, trying your utmost to be subtle over the fact you’d spent all morning weeping pathetically in bed.

“Yes, I suppose that’s something you can afford being unemployed and childless.” She scoffed, suspiciously eyeing up your puffy face. “Though I suspect traffic isn’t to blame on this particular occasion.” 

“Of course it is.” You dismissed, taking a seat before her at the garden restaurant you had agreed to meet for lunch in. It was a little too snooty for your taste, but then so was she. 

Burying your face in the menu before she had the chance to inspect your somewhat ragged appearance further, you tried to ignore her heavy sighing. 

“I worry about you, you know.” She lowered your menu with a pristinely manicured finger. 

“Oh trust me, I know.” You rolled your eyes and snatched the menu back, eyeing up the scandalously named cocktails and wondering how many you could get away with ordering. 

“I’m being serious. Your whole life revolves around him. And he’s a mess. You know what that makes you?” She reached into her handbag and fished for a compact mirror.

“Please, enlighten me.” You groaned as she checked her mauve lipstick. 

“A mess by extension.” She haughtily added, snapping the mirror closed with a snappy click. “And it’s my job as your mother to set you straight.”

“Lucky me.” You muttered, disinterested. 

“Listen to me, young lady. I don’t care how old you get or how much you think you know, I know better. You need to come back down to Earth and realise that your marriage is failing.” She snakes her hand across the table and places it on top of your own. “Prison changes a man. He’s not the Spencer you once knew.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You retorted stroppily. “I know he’s changed but that doesn’t mean we’re going to- we’re not getting a- you know…”

“Divorce?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that.” You shrugged. 

“It fills me with deep concern that you can’t even say the word. How are you going to function when he leaves you?”

“Mother!” You gasped. 

“Oh, if and when, same thing.” She waved a hand in the air dismissively, her nimble pearl bracelets clinking against one another. “My point is, darling, you must accept that there’s a…significant possibility your life will change. You need to be ready for it.” 

“No.” You shook your head, refusing to let her words sink in. “Spence wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t leave me.”

“Oh?” She finally removed her sunglasses and you caught sight of the genuine concern in her steely eyes. “What did he say to you before you left this morning?” 

Your eyes shot to the floor as you remembered how he’d elected to go to work early, leaving the house without a farewell as was his routine these days. Seeing the anxiety and shame written all over your face, your mother sighed yet again. 

“Men in these situations often seek comfort in others.” She softened her tone but not her words. “You’re too close to the situation to make him feel better about it. You know too much.” 

“What are you trying to say?” You squinted. 

“He needs to feel like a man right now. And you can’t give him that.” She innocently sipped from the paper straw floating in her lemon water. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You dismissed her, the thought of Spencer cheating inconceivable. 

“Look out for the signs. If he’s working late too often, if he has secretive phone calls…” She trailed off. “It can’t hurt to pay attention.” 

Although you tried not to let them, her words had a nagging way of worming themselves into your brain and never coming back out. 

Later that evening, you returned to the empty confines of your house and spent several hours anxiously flitting your eyes to the clock on the wall. He should’ve been home early today. 

“Spence, is that you?” You called out once you heard the faint clicking of the door unlocking. The slow thudding of his heavy footsteps was heard before he entered your bedroom, looking very weary and sporting even more stubble than usual. 

“Who else would it be?” He asked with a shadow of a smile. Offering no explanation, he peeled off his blazer and loosened his tie as he perched on the edge of the bed. 

“Must be a really tough case you’re working on with the amount of overtime shifts you’ve been putting in.” You cleared your throat.

“It’s, uh, it’s been a tricky one. Yeah.” A deafening silence followed his obscure reply.

“Did you give any more thought to taking time off work?” You continued, yearning to wrap your arms around him but resisting. 

“No. I mean, yes I did, but I don’t want any time off. It wouldn’t help, I can hardly stand being at home.” You gulped at the hurtful connotation and he turned around to face you. “No, I didn’t mean like that. Not because of you. You know what I’m trying to say.” 

“Not sure I do.” You muttered under your breath. 

“I’m sorry. I’m a mess.” He dropped his head into his hands and took a deep, stabilising breath. “I just need time.”

“Of course, Spence, I understand that. It’s only that- well,  i-it’s been 6 months. 6 months of me doting on you and letting you get away with acting and speaking to me however you like. At what point does it end?” Your words had a desperate tinge to them. “I need some kind of indication.”

“I can’t tell you the exact time and date that I will forget everything that happened to me.” He stood up with a huff and you knew you’d touched a nerve.

“Don’t get defensive, I’m just trying to talk to you.” You got up and stood beside him, laying a flat palm to his chest. “To get through to you somehow, anyhow.” 

You could feel his warm, unsteady breath on your skin as he scrunched his eyes shut, wanting to be anywhere but here. 

“Why can’t you talk to me? You used to be able to tell me everything.” Your voice cracked as you rubbed your thumb across his cheek pleadingly. 

“I can’t give you what you want. Not right now.” He gently lowered your hand and stared into your eyes apologetically. 

“We haven’t made love in so long.” You murmured hesitantly and he shot you an irksome look. You hated to bring it up but the pain of his rejection was getting too much to bear- you had to let him know how badly you needed him.

“Is that why you’ve been on my case so much lately?” He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“No, of course not.” You sighed. “Not the only reason, at least.” 

“Sorry, baby. I’ve been too busy dealing with major trauma to factor in your sex drive.” He quipped sarcastically. 

“That’s not fair, Spencer.” You had anticipated such a response but your heart dropped anyway when you heard it. “It’s not just about that and you know it. I just miss my husband- all of him.”

“Things change.” He mumbled. 

“Well, will they ever change back?” You snapped a little. “Tell me right now, can I get my husband back? Matter of fact, do you even want to come back?” 

Your eyes betrayed you with a steady stream of tears pouring down your reddened cheeks. 

“Do you still want me?” Your voice quivered, praying he wouldn’t take this opportunity to shatter you completely. 

“Yes. I do.” He answered simply though there was an air of conflict about him. “I’ve loved being your husband. I just, I- not now. I just can’t. I can’t do it.” 

He shook his head and paced out to the hall, shutting the living room door loudly once he was safely inside. 

Your blood began to boil. All the grace and understanding you’d shown him this year and he couldn’t even finish a conversation without running away like a coward. 

“You bastard. Come back here right now, Reid.” You barked out, running after him. “Or so help me God-.” 

“You’ll do what?” He opened up, lean figure resting against the door frame. ”You gonna kill me, honey?” 

“I just might!” You shrieked frustratedly. “I’m so unbelievably sick of you doing nothing but sulking and feeling sorry for yourself. Enough is enough. Wake up and smell the fucking flowers!” You crossed your arms, exasperated and a small smirk spread across his handsome face. “You’re smiling.” 

“Such good attention to detail. This is exactly why I married you.” He winked and you slapped his arm a little too forcefully. “Yes, I’m smiling. You’re adorable when you’re bratty.”

“If being at my wits end with you means being a brat then yes, I’m the biggest brat in the world!” You started bawling- you knew it was irrational but you were too sensitive and overwhelmed with emotion to let his teasing slide.

“I know, I know. It’s okay, shh.” He pulled you in close, pressing your delicate head against his chest. “Come on, my love. You know I can’t stand seeing you cry.” 

“How come you’ve been letting me do it every night, then?” You whimpered, pitiful words swallowed by the fabric of his white work shirt.

“I didn’t think it was that bad.” He looked down at you, a noxious blend of guilt and sympathy flickering in his tired eyes. “I-I thought you understood.” 

“Understood what?” You let out a muffled murmur as you drew in his heady scent, the musky cologne combined with his sweat soothing your overwrought senses. 

“That even though I’m in a dark place-” He lowered his face until you felt his hot breath against your flushed cheeks. “It doesn’t, for a single second, mean that I don’t love you.” 

“Really?” You gazed up at him lamentably. “It was starting to feel that way, li-like nothing I did was good enough.” 

“I’m sorry.” He almost winced, his regret tangible in how tightly he held you. “It’s not you, you’re perfect. You’ve been patient and understanding and I’ve completely put our marriage on the back burner….there’s no excuse.” He fell back into the sofa, pulling you down into his lap as he gently spoke.

“God it was just the weight of it all- the weight of how long it was taking me to shake it off. The longer it took, the more I felt like a failure and I couldn’t stand coming home to you every night and disappointing you. Seeing the unfalteringly hopeful look on your face and knowing it’d be wiped off after one conversation with me…I started avoiding you.”

“Spence…” You wilted like a flower at his confession.

“But that was selfish, I know that.” He took your face in his hands and professed earnestly. “I can’t apologise enough, my love.” 

“Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?” Your heart leapt as your husband’s familiar warmth flooded you- and while you were grateful to get a glimpse of the old Spencer, you were also confused by the abrupt shift in his demeanour- if not suspicious. 

“Honestly? You getting pissed off flipped a switch in me.” He looked just as puzzled as you at the admission. “All this time you haven’t gotten mad once- even when you’re upset, you’re always sweet. I guess it took you acting out of character to make me see just how badly I’ve been treating you. You brought me to my senses by threatening me.” 

“And I’ll make good on that threat if you keep shutting me out.” You wagged a finger at him and he chuckled, clasping your hand and planting a soft kiss over it. 

“If I ever talk to you like that again, you have my full permission to kill me.” 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” You scowled at him playfully and he patted your damp cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, drying the remnants of your tears. 

“I was reading my journal from our college days last night.” He admitted as you soaked up how good it felt to be in his arms again. 

“I knew that dusty old green thing looked familiar!” You bit your lip to contain the smile about to burst through. “Why were you looking through that?” 

“I needed a reminder of what kind of man I vowed to be. To stay true to that little nerd who couldn’t believe his luck when he got to marry you.” He pressed his forehead against yours as he filled your head with words you’d spent the last 6 months dreaming about. “If you’ll have me, I’d love to sleep in our bed again tonight.”

“You mean it, Spence? You really don’t have to if you don’t-“

“No, I really do. You’re my home, baby. And I’ve been away from home for too long.” He pulled you in closer until his lips gently met yours, kissing you so sweetly you thought you might melt. 

“God, I missed you.” You whispered as a shudder ran down your spine, his touch proving to be too much after you’d spent so long deprived. 

“I missed you more. I promise I’ll make it up to you. For all my mistakes.” He cooed but you weren’t even paying attention, all your focus centred on the dizzying way his large palm stroked your back. 

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” He whispered, nudging his shoulder against your own. 

“Mhm…” You moaned lazily, allowing him to drag you up and guide you into the comfort of your bedroom, which instantly seemed more welcoming now that you knew he was finally joining you. 

“There, all tucked in.” He beamed after stuffing the edges of the duvet beneath your languid body. “I just need to change and brush my teeth, I’ll be right in.” He kissed your forehead and sauntered over to the adjoining bathroom. 

Before you could surrender to sleep, you pawed clumsily at the nightstand in search of your phone, overcome with the urge to message your mother- you just had to let her know she was wrong. Composing a text to assure her your marriage was no longer in danger, you sent it through with a satisfied sigh. Unexpectedly, the screen lit up not a moment after you’d put it down, accompanied by a quiet chirp that let you know she had sent one back. 

“Don’t let your guard down. Guilt is a powerful thing.” Her ominous words pulsed off the screen and left you feeling queasy. 

“Remember what I said. Look for the signs.” A second text flashed across the screen. 

You dropped the phone with a shaky clatter, as if your hands couldn’t wait to be rid of the thing. How could she remain insistent that Spencer had been cheating when he’d given next to no indication of it? You would’ve chalked it all down to her longstanding aversion to him and fallen into a peaceful slumber- if it wasn’t for the muttering you heard coming from the other side of the bathroom door. 

Like a jumpy cat, you raised yourself against the headboard at once and listened with bated breath. Struggling to make out a complete sentence as the running water smothered his words, you cautiously crept over to the door and ever so slightly pressed your ear against it. 

“I appreciate that but I can’t. We’ll have to reschedule.” Spencer’s muffled voice rang out, sounding slightly stressed. “No, I’m not thinking about leaving. I know I need you. Yes. Everything’s fine, I’m just not free tonight.” 

You let out an exasperated breath, in pure disbelief over what you’d overheard. Before you could gather your thoughts, the tap stopped running and you heard the sound of shuffling footsteps, prompting you to leap into bed and swathe yourself amongst the covers. 

“You asleep already, baby?” He whispered when he emerged from the bathroom, pressing his warm, pyjama-clad body flat against yours. You said nothing, remaining as still as a church mouse as he cosily nestled his face into the crook of your neck and dozed off. While your husband enjoyed the best sleep he’d had in the better part of a year, you spent the remainder of the night staring into the expanse of your dark ceiling, paralysed with fear. 

A Saturday morning was usually yours and Spencer’s favourite day of the week; it meant you could sleep in, have breakfast in bed and make love until noon all in glorious succession. This particular Saturday was markedly different- partly because Spencer had been called into work- and partly because you couldn’t go a second without driving yourself crazy thinking about his affair. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Hotch is insisting he needs the whole team together.” Spencer rolled his eyes as he hopped around in a struggle to get his socks on. You sat up in bed and nodded complacently, not wanting to set off any alarm bells to your profiler husband. “Hey babe?” He asked, fiddling with his tie. 

“Hm?” You smiled innocuously. 

“How would you feel if you had to start working again?” He bit his lip and looked at you, full of intrigue. “Would you manage?”

“Umm, I-I don’t know.” You stuttered, caught off guard completely by his question. “Why do you ask?” 

“Didn’t you have dreams? Goals you wanted to accomplish?” He asked sincerely and a thinly veiled panic began to rise in you. 

“Sure, I guess. I didn’t plan on abandoning them but- I don’t know, life got in the way and other things took priority.” 

“Hm. Okay.” He looked absorbed in thought as he grabbed his blazer. “I’ve got to run- how about I meet you for dinner at that new steakhouse in town? We’ve got a lot of things to discuss.” 

“We do?” You gulped. 

“I know I do.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead as you desperately tried to read his body language. “See you later.” 

“Bye, honey.” You choked out as he breezed out the door, leaving you with bile rising up your throat. 

You hated to admit it, but your mother was right. 

“And-and then he told her he needed her!” You blubbed down the phone when you finally plucked up the courage to call her later that day. “And don’t you dare say you told me so!”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” Your mother retorted dishonestly. 

“But that’s not all- before he left this morning, he was asking me how I’d feel if I had to start working again!” You whined, your body racked with so much anxiety it made you nauseous. 

“He’s trying to gauge how you’d cope if you no longer had him to financially rely on.” She sighed knowingly. “He’s trying to subconsciously prepare you. It’s almost thoughtful- in his own strange, dysfunctional way. Typical Spencer.”

“You really think this is it? He’s done with me?” You sniffed, desperately hanging onto the last thread of hope. “This might just all be a big misunderstanding.”

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. I mean, the late nights, the phone call, the interrogation about your career. And the spontaneous apologetic outburst. It’s clear to see he’s bursting at the seams with guilt.” She tutted, feigning sympathy- but you knew she’d been waiting for Spencer to slip up for years. As much as it might have pained her to see her daughter like this, the satisfaction of knowing Spencer was almost out of her life outweighed the anguish. 

“So now what do I do?” You whinged, the last thread snapped. 

“You’re going to dress up in the tightest outfit you have, drive down to that restaurant and tell him you want a divorce.” She instructed with her signature self-assured candidness. 

“B-but I don’t want a divorce.” You mumbled meekly, acutely aware of how pitiable you sounded. 

“I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice.” 

Her words resounded in your aching brain as you rummaged through your closet looking for an outfit that fit the brief, ultimately settling on a satin black mini dress- Spencer’s favourite. 

Driving to the restaurant rehearsing your parting words was nothing short of excruciating. You adored your husband just as much as you did the day you first met; spotting him in that lecture hall, shiny brown hair slicked back as he twiddled a pen between his spindly fingers and scrunched his eyebrows up in displeasure at the set text. It was like a bolt of lightning struck you- love at first sight. 

How did you get to the point of divorce? Your brain was racked with potential guesses as to where along the line you lost him. Were you not interesting enough? You wanted to get your career back on track but you assumed Spencer would prefer a stay-at-home wife. Is that where you went wrong? Perhaps some woman at work was more engaging, perhaps he had more mutual interests with her than his boring wife. 

Pulling into the parking lot, you braced yourself to head for the entrance and find your soon-to-be ex-husband. Who would get the car in the divorce? He paid for it so you supposed the courts would award it to him. 

“Oh God.” You muttered under your breath, head spinning as you waited inside for a hostess. If you went by that logic, you’d be left with nothing. 

“Do you have a reservation?” The young worker hobbled over breathlessly. 

“Uh- probably, under a Mr Reid.” You twiddled your thumbs as she searched her database.

“Oh, he’s already been seated, just down there.” She pointed in his direction and you saw the back of his head, luscious curls nestling around the base of his neck. You sighed, he was going to be a tough one to get over. 

“Baby, there you are.” He rose from his seat to plant a quick kiss on your cheek and as always, pull out your chair. Where were you going to find someone as gentlemanly as him? “Are you okay?” 

“Sure.” You managed a small smile though you were sure he saw right through it. 

“I’ve already ordered us some wine, they had that white zinfandel you like.” He said, pouring you a glass.

“Trying to get me drunk, Reid?” You swirled the liquid around, inhaling the sweet aroma. 

“From half a bottle?” He chuckled nervously, your mannerisms already causing suspicion. “No, I want you sober for tonight.” 

“That’s unkind.” You muttered unintelligibly, knocking back your glass in one go. 

“Woah, slow down.” He cautioned as you clinked your glass against the bottle, prompting him to hesitantly pour you another. 

“You sure everything’s okay?” 

“Yes, great. What did you need to talk to me about?” You braced yourself for impact. 

“Okay, well, I know it would be a big change but just hear me out. I think in the long run, it’d be better for you if-“

“Actually, no. Everything’s not okay.” You slurred, the alcohol already impairing your senses. 

“Oh? What’s the matter?” He asked anxiously, fidgeting with his wedding band. 

“I want a divorce.” You blurted out tastelessly.

“You- what?” Spencer’s eyes widened as he blinked rapidly. “A divorce?”

“You heard me.” You gulped, trying your hardest to be stern even though you were about to fall apart. “You’ve run out of chances with me.” 

“Baby, what? I-I know it’s been rocky but I thought we talked it through? You seemed just fine last night, I don’t understand.” He shook his head, eyebrows raised so high a painful-looking row of wrinkles stacked up on his forehead. 

“I thought we were fine too, but I was wrong.” You took another glug of liquid courage as you avoided eye contact, knowing you would cave if you took even one glance at his big, round eyes. 

“I know I don’t have much room to complain after what I’ve put you through but can’t we at least talk about it first?” He pleaded, heart jumping out of his chest. 

“What is there to talk about, Spencer? You couldn’t come to me so you closed yourself off and found comfort in another woman- God knows how long this has been going on while I’ve been here pining after you like an idiot-“

“What?” He raised his hand, signalling you to pause your rambling.

“Don’t play dumb, I know you’ve been cheating on me.” You scoffed, determined not to fall victim to his gaslighting. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” His mournful expression was replaced by one of bewilderment. 

“I heard you last night on the phone to her. Who is she?” You cocked your head, a little smug over the fact that you’d caught him- what kind of a genius calls his mistress while his wife’s next door? 

To your surprise, Spencer broke out into a laugh, taking his head into his hands as he shook it in relief. “You got me, baby. You caught me.” He smiled dazedly. 

“I did, so I don’t know why you’re smiling.” You scowled.

“You caught me talking to my therapist.” He shot you an unimpressed glare. “I started seeing her 2 weeks ago and I didn’t want to tell you in case it didn’t work out. I didn’t want you getting your hopes up. But Jesus, baby. Divorce? That’s where you landed?” 

“It’s not just that!” You jumped to your own defence. “How do you explain all the late nights at work- and that conversation we had this morning about my career?”

“That’s what I was going to talk to you about today. I got you a job.” He stated. 

“Huh? Why?” You gawked, hesitant to believe anything he said. 

He took a deep breath, shuffling his chair a little closer and taking your hand. 

“Look, baby, I know you try your hardest to be a great wife. Too hard, if anything, and you’ve always been exceptional and far too good for me. As much as I love your dedication, you need to think about your own needs and prioritise those for a change. It’s no secret that you’ve been feeling unfulfilled for a while now, I can see it from a mile away. I should’ve addressed it sooner but, well, you know.”

“Spence?” You shook your head in uncertainty, wondering how you could’ve been so wrong.

“I should’ve never let you give your career up. I should’ve pushed you harder but I just loved having you at home all the time, it’s selfish, I know. My job is stressful but it gives me a sense of purpose, one I know you crave.” He explained, trying not to giggle at your awestruck face and your inability to form a single sentence. “What I’m saying is, I want to see you reignite that old passion you had. How would you feel about joining me in the BAU?” 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for his admission and tears of shock and immense relief began coursing down your face. “Spencer, I can’t believe this.”

“In hindsight, I should’ve talked to you about it first but I thought it might be a nice surprise- I’m an idiot, you don’t have to take it, of course, if you don’t want to.” He backtracked, suddenly aware of how flawed his plan was. 

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a very long time.” You uttered softly. 

“R-really? You want to do it?” He raised his eyebrows in that adorably curious way of his. 

“I don’t know how you managed to figure out I wanted a job before I did, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Yes, I want to do it.” You nodded, too consumed with excitement to mull over your embarrassingly wrong assumptions.

“Now, it’s only a low-level position for the time being, just to ease you into the transition but you have the potential to-“

“I’ll be with you.” You smiled simply.

“Yes, for the most part. I thought it’d be a good way to spend more time together- not including the times when I’d have to fly out and can’t take you with me yet, although-“

“Spencer.” You interrupted him. “Thank you.” 

“Well, of course. Anything for you.” He squeezed your hands and you felt the anxiety throb away. “Can’t believe you thought I was cheating.”

“You gave me some major indicators!” You scrunched your face up awkwardly. “And my mother pointed out that-“

“Ah, there we go.” He sighed, unimpressed. “That woman has had it out for me for the better part of a decade.” 

“Sorry, baby, you know she has a talent for burrowing inside my head.” You confessed shyly, aware you should’ve known better. 

“I’m going to talk to her.” Spencer declared.

“Huh?” 

“First thing tomorrow, we’re going to her house and I’m throwing it all out there. After a decade of pent-up resentment, it’s time.” 

Spencer usually avoided your mother at all costs, electing to work overtime on weekends when she decided to visit and often coming down with mysterious ailments during the holidays that prevented him from attending her get-togethers.

“Can’t wait to see how that turns out.” You chuckled gleefully. “And therapy, baby? Wow. I’m so proud of you.” 

“I was sceptical at first but I think it’s helping- I’m learning to compartmentalise the issues and most importantly, not take them out on you.” He stared into your eyes and your breath hitched; even after so many years, he had a way of making you feel impossibly shy. 

“You sound like a new man, Mr Reid.” You teased, the wine floating around your bloodstream in a way that made you deliciously fuzzy.

“It’s all because of you, Mrs Reid.” A smirk tugged at his lips. 

“So we’re really okay?” You asked in disbelief, immeasurably relieved that the rollercoaster seemed to be at an end. “What now?”

“I’ll tell you.” He drawled in a softly seductive tone. “We’re going to order dinner and dessert, I’m going to get you a little too drunk.” He dropped his hand to your thigh, trailing up it as he spoke. “And then I’m going to take you home and fuck you.” 

“Oh.” You squeaked, breaking into tingles at the prospect. 

“That sound good, doll?” He kneaded your inner thigh and you felt your body go numb as words failed you. “I thought so.”

Seeing that the bottle on your table was glisteningly empty, Spencer beckoned over a waiter.

“Give me your most expensive wine.” He smirked while ordering. “We’re celebrating.”

Although he was a law-abiding federal agent, Spencer ran more than a few red lights that evening given the ravenous way his wife stared at him from the passenger seat, crawling out of her skin with the desire to touch him. As soon as he pulled into the driveway, you were both in a desperate rush to get inside. You clawed at Spencer’s shirt while he shakily tried to unlock the door, trembling with anticipation. 

“H-hang on, baby.” The sound of clinking keys mixed with his groans. “God…”

You left messy, wet kisses all down his neck as he finally pushed the door open, taking you into his arms and guiding you indoors. 

“Right- mm, here.” You whined between kisses, gesturing at the sofa as you kicked your heels off. 

“My desperate girl, can’t even wait long enough to get to the bedroom.” He teased as he pushed you down onto the couch, hooking onto the waistband of your tights with his bony fingers and slowly dragging them down your legs- leaving small kisses down your thighs and calves in the process. 

You let out impatient whimpers as he folded your dress up over itself and dragged down your panties.

“Were these your ‘I’m a strong woman’ divorce panties?” He chuckled as he yanked the tiny lace garment off your feet and threw it behind him. 

“I needed as much confidence as I could muster.” You pulled him closer by the tie for a heated kiss. “I was about to lose the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“You could never lose me.” He stared into your eyes with a dizzying intensity that made all the blood rush to your heat. “You’re my wife…” He drawled huskily as he ripped the front panel of your dress open. “Until the day I die.” Looping his fingers around it, he tore the material further with a loud tug, leaving your bare tits bouncing out of the tight fabric. “You jump to conclusions like it’s a full-time job.” He pressed his lips against your hot skin. “But I love you.” You wanted to laugh but a moan escaped your lips instead when he wrapped his tongue around one nipple, grasping the other with a rough hand. “And my God, do you have the best tits I’ve ever seen.” 

You raked your fingers through his thick, messy hair as you squirmed beneath him, sure that if he made you wait any longer you’d start crying. 

“Patience, baby. You’ll get it.” He whispered, dragging his lips down your body and leaving goosebumps in his wake. He left sloppy, open-mouth kisses along your thighs, so near your heat you could feel his warm breath fanning it. 

“P-please, Spence, please.” You muttered, bucking your hips to close the distance between you.

“You know I always give my girl what she wants.” He breathed heavily, snaking his arms around your shaky hips and tugging you closer to drag his tongue across your clit. You melted into the sofa as he sucked on your most sensitive spot, locking you into an unescapable vice with his strong arms. 

“Mmh…” You threw your head back, still squirming as he ate you with such passion and hunger that you committed every godless detail to memory. His hair became increasingly dishevelled as you twisted it into messy knots, fidgeting with the curls as he licked broad stripes up your clit with fanatical force. 

“Fuck, fuck…” You grew delirious as he sped up, legs trembling from how good he was making you feel; you desperately pressed yourself further against his mouth, wanting to be devoured until there was nothing left. 

“Can-can I, please, can you- oh God.” You rambled nonsensically as he showed no sign of slowing down, worshipping you with his tongue until you felt like blacking out. He groaned in approval as he flitted across your wet slit aggressively, knowing it pushed you over the brink every time. It had been months since he’d had you wrapped around his neck like this, panting in that slutty way that drove him wild- and as much as he wanted to savour it, he couldn’t wait much longer to have you. As you pushed his head down, he sucked so sloppily that the sounds emanating were nothing short of pornographic.

“Spencer!” You moaned out sinfully while you came, gripping his shoulders with your thighs as you dissolved into a mushy, whiney mess. Your hips twitched as he pulled away from you, wiping the drool from his mouth with the sleeve of his collared shirt. 

“No need to yell, I’m right here.” He grinned, deriving great pleasure from seeing you fall apart. 

“Oh God, I’ve forgotten how good you are that.” You winced, trembling from the force of your release. 

“I’ll make sure you never forget again.” He smirked into the kiss as he pressed his lips against yours, barely giving you any time to come to as he ripped off the remnants of your dress. “Sorry about that, doll- I’ll buy you a new one.” 

“It was my divorce dress, I never would’ve worn it again.” You giggled as you helped him out of his shirt and unbuttoned his trousers, desperate to feel him inside you. Your back arched instinctively as soon as you felt the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit; your head rolled back as you felt him slide in teasingly slow, letting you feel every last inch as he spread you apart and scattered sensual kisses down your neck. An obscene moan left your lips when he buried himself as deep inside you as he could. 

“Spence, fuck, I don’t know if- ah.” You struggled to get the words out as he stared down at you with amusement. “Too big, I-“

“A few months without my dick and you’ve forgotten how to take it?” He jeers, a twisted smile radiating from him. “That’s no good at all, baby. We’re gonna have to teach you all over again.” 

You bit your lip to conceal the whimper that threatened to spill as you nodded obediently, hanging off his every word. 

“Breathe.” He pulled out by just an inch or two, ensuring you would barely notice before slowly pushing his hips forward and plunging himself to the hilt. 

His hair dangled over his forehead, the unruly locks almost tickling you as he hovered above you, waiting for you to adjust to his thick length. 

“Mm…” You peeped, looking at him coyly like butter wouldn’t melt. 

“Yeah?” He whispered, nudging his nose against yours before you nodded. With the thousands of times you’d made love, he knew the meaning of every subtle cue and whimper; he knew you were often too shy to speak so he let you get away with using your varying whines as a form of communication. His dirty talk overwhelmed you, leaving you flustered and speechless- and he knew just how much you loved it.  

Spencer pulled out half his length this time, grabbing you by the jaw to hold you lovingly as he thrusted in and out, making sure to look you in the eyes as his swollen cock massaged your walls. Ever the shy one, you tried averting eye contact and looking away from his intense glare but he gently guided you back with a firm hand. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he made love to you, your twisted eyebrows and parted lips too sweet to ignore.  

You cried out when his thrusts grew rougher, panting heavily as he fucked you even harder than you remembered. 

“You can take it, baby.” He cooed as he fucked you deep and slow. “I know you can.” He pulled out almost all the way before plunging his cock back in, coated in glistening arousal. “Deep breaths for me, doll.” He breathed with you, setting a tempo as you struggled to get anything but your whorish moans out.

“You like it when I stretch this little pussy out?” He groaned, wet flesh and skin smacking against hip bone. “Yeah you do.” He smirked as your cheeks flushed red at his lewd words. “How were you going to go through with a divorce? You can’t even tell me you like the way I fuck you.” 

“Spencer!” You gasped, partly at his vulgarity and partly at the way his tip just brushed against your deepest spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“What, baby?” His hands trailed their way down to your hips as he sat up, gripping the handles of your body tightly as he fucked you onto himself. “We both know you could never find someone who fucks you this good again. Who pounds into your cunt exactly the way you need it.” Your jaw dropped at his crude words- he’d always had a penchant for making you flustered but it was clear that prison had made him even rougher around the edges. As much as you wanted to knock him down a peg, you couldn’t deny the truth to what he’d said; there was no upgrading after Spencer.

“You’re cockier than I remember.” You manage to breathe out, glassy eyes watering with overstimulation. 

“And you’re tighter than I remember.” He smirked maniacally as he started rubbing rough circles into your clit, not slowing down the way he was sorely pummelling into you. “Goddamn, angel, you take me so well.” He muttered under his breath as he observed the mouthwatering way in which your pussy swallowed his entire length, gushing with arousal as the wet smacking intensified. 

He swooped down to kiss you, swallowing your moans with his eager mouth as he pushed your knees against your chest. “You feel that?” He shuddered, guiding your hand to your stomach where his member was poking through the flesh, leaving an imprint.

“Uh huh.” You panted.

“You like having my cock this deep in your guts?” In an unexpected move, he pressed down on your lower stomach as you nodded to his question desperately. You screamed in blinding ecstasy as you reached your peak, the borderline cruel way in which Spencer continued pounding against your sweet spot proving too much to take. 

“Look at that, I got my answer.” He licked his lips at the sight of his cock glazed in creamy arousal as he pulled out with a groan. You lay motionless on the cushy sofa, limbs numb as you noticed the scowl Spencer was sporting on his chiselled face, small beads of sweat running down his temples. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He chuckled darkly. 

“Resting?” You upturned your eyebrows sweetly. 

Before you could protest, he dragged you down the sofa and turned you over, positioning you to arch your back and expose your throbbing pussy to him. 

“You think I’m going to let you get away with one round?” He spanked your ass with a firm, open palm. “I know you’ve been whining about this all the time to your friends. I know how desperate you’ve been for your husband to fuck you. Well, honey- I’ll give you something to talk about.” Before you could respond, he guided his veiny cock into your squishy walls, not giving you any time to adjust to the stretch as he pounded into you from the back. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He demanded as he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you up, holding your back flush against his body. “You wanted to be fucked like a whore? Answer me.” 

“Yes! Yes, Spence, I want it so bad, treat me like a slut.” You surprised yourself with your sinful words, the rough treatment prompting you to act out of character. He pushed you back onto the bed, holding you down as he drilled into you with dizzying speed. The couch squeaked with the force of your face getting pressed into the pillows as you panted so breathily you thought your heart might give out. You bit into the cushions as drool seeped freely from your mouth and wet the dark grey fabric. 

“Harder…” You murmured, barely audible.

“What was that?” Spencer asked in disbelief, slowing down a little to make your words out clearly. 

“Harder. I want you to fuck me to within an inch of my life.” You confessed sultrily and a dangerous smirk crept across your husband’s face. 

“Anything for you.” He was more than happy to comply with your request.

You spent all night tangled up in each other’s bodies, taking turns being mind numbingly rough and tooth achingly sweet. He whispered confessions of love in your ear one minute and he pinned you down hard enough to leave bruises the next. It was, without a doubt, the best night of your life.

Waking up the next day in Spencer’s arms gave you more euphoria than any drug ever could. He smelled of last night’s wine and sweat, intermingled with the floral detergent of your freshly washed sheets. 

“Good morning, baby.” He cooed when he saw your eyes flutter open. “Or rather, good afternoon. How’d you sleep?” 

“Never better.” Your husky voice replied. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a while.” 

“I guess I’ll have to carry you to your mother’s, then.” He chuckled, pulling you in closer so that your head rested on his smooth, bare chest. 

“What? You’re not still serious about doing that.” You looked up at him pleadingly. 

“Oh, yes I am.” He scolded playfully. “She convinced you I was having an affair and encouraged you to get a divorce. I’d say there’s a conversation to be had there.”

“You know, I really wish you weren’t so respectable sometimes.” You dreaded the prospect of such a confrontation. 

“There was nothing respectable about the way I was splitting you open last night.” He countered mischeviously and you rolled your eyes to distract from the blush creeping over your cheeks. “Come on, I’ll buy us breakfast on the way. Get dressed.” 

“But Spence!” You tried to argue but he had already climbed out of bed, humming showtunes on his way to the bathroom. With a hefty sigh, you swung your legs round the side of the bed and started searching for your underwear. 

“Are you sure? It’s not too late to turn around.” You twiddled your thumbs standing outside your mother’s house, her near-black wooden door looming over you as you waited for her to answer. 

“Yes. Stop being a wimp.” Spencer replied just before the door swung open.

“Oh. Hi darling.” She eyed you up before slowly turning her head. “Hello Spencer.” 

“There’s my favourite mother-in-law. We thought we’d surprise you with breakfast.” He lifted the brown paper bag containing drive through diner food. 

“As if I’d eat that.” She raised her eyebrows contemptously. 

“Come on, mom, are you gonna let us in or not?” You piped up after seeing she had no intentions of making things easy for Spencer. 

“Yes, fine, in you come.” She opened the door wide and stepped aside, letting you both enter her lavish home. 

“Love what you’ve done with the place.” He commented a little snarkily, noticing the extensive remodeling work that had been done.

“Oh yes, we did it last spring. I suppose you haven’t been round for years so you wouldn’t know. Are you avoiding me, Spencer?” She took a seat across from you both in the living room. 

“Me? Never. Just like you’d never convince my wife to get a divorce, right?” He quipped and your stomach twisted over how little it took them to start arguing- you’d only just walked in through the door. 

“I’ve only ever advocated for what’s best for her.” She stuck her nose up at her son-in-law. 

“And why are you so certain that’s not me?” He snapped, genuine curiousity tinging his voice. 

“You’re not good enough.” She replied with a resoluteness that must’ve hurt. 

“Why, mom? What’s so bad about Spence?” You asked. 

“He’s just not who you were supposed to end up with. You were not meant to give up your life to be a housewife to a mediocre man.” She answered simply, like she didn’t even have to think about it. 

“So you resent him because of my career choices?” You couldn’t help but laugh a little as she shrugged. “Mother, I chose to leave the field. He had nothing to do with it, he supported me-“

“Oh, I bet he did. Having a woman at home to cook and clean must’ve been too tempting of an offer to pass up.” She scratched at her right arm- a leftover habit from the nicotine patches she used years ago. She claimed she quit smoking but you suspected she’d be in dire need of a cigarette after this conversation. 

“That’s ridiculous-“

“She’s right.” Spencer interrupted you. “I was more than happy to have you at home. I preferred it, really. And I didn’t say a word even though I knew you were making a mistake, even though I knew it wouldn’t make you happy.” 

“See. The pipe cleaner admits it.” She scoffed and you shot her a venomous glare. “Not to mention what you’ve put her through this year.” 

“I know I haven’t by any means been a good husband, but I wouldn’t cheat and I’d never want a divorce. I’m trying to make things right.” He confessed earnestly. 

“How?” She scowled, clearly believing him to be beyond redemption. 

“He got me a job at the BAU.” You chimed in, wanting to see the smugness wiped off her face. 

“And I’m seeing a therapist.” Spencer continued. “I’m determined to be better.” 

She sat there in silence, incapable as always of expressing any remorse. 

“I love your daughter and I’m not going anywhere. I’d like it very much if we could somehow start over.” He shot her those puppy dog eyes of his and you sincerely believed if she didn’t give in, she must be the only woman in the world immune to his charms. 

“Alright. Alright, Spencer.” She sighed after a short contemplation. “If my little girl is happy, I suppose I have no choice.” 

“The bastard actually managed it.” You thought as you witnessed his beaming smile flood the room with light, his vibrancy so infectious you knew even your mother noticed. 

“Glad to hear it, mom.” He joked and she choked on the water she had begun to sip.

“Don’t push it.”

“Told you it’d all work out.” He said excitedly while he opened the car door for you, practically skipping out of your mother’s house. 

“I know, and she actually invited you round?!” You shook your head in disbelief as he started the engine and drove away from her gated residence. 

“Maybe we’ll make these trips a weekly habit.” He suggested, resting his hand soundly on your thigh. 

“Not every week. I need some alone with my handsome husband.” You gushed, admiring his perfect side profile. 

“You must have me confused with someone else, lady.” He chuckled as he switched on the radio. “Oh my God, baby! This song!” 

“No way, I haven’t heard this since, since-“

“That time in college.” He winked at you and you threw your head back in laughter, precious memories flooding your mind as the familiar pop tune hummed on. 

“Yeah. That was the first and last time we ever do it on a carnival pedal boat.” 

“Hey, never say never- I see a lake right over there.” He pointed out the window as you drove by.

“I don’t think so, buddy.” You slapped his arm playfully. “Those days are behind us, we’re old and boring now.”

“If this is boredom, sign me up for eternity.” A warm smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“God, I love you, Spencer Reid.” 

“I love you even more, Mrs Reid.”

[spencers-bbygirl]

Taming His Moody Girl

18+ Only! MDNI & NO BLANK BLOGS

Genre: Smut

Includes: Praise, dirty talk, pet names, some breeding (reader is on the pill), daddy kink, choking, soft dom Spencer.

Just a bunch of filth in this story ;)

Word Count: 2,819

Pairing: Spencer x Fem Reader

You been in a mood all day…snappy, irritable, trying your best not to let it spill over, but every little thing grated on your nerves. Spencer has been patient, and been giving you space, but now, as you sat on the edge of the couch, he’d clearly had enough of your sharp comments. Without warning, he stepped closer, his hands gently but firmly pinning your wrists above your head.

Your breath caught in your throat, but before you could respond, you hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him in. He leaned down, his voice low and controlled. “If you’re trying to push me…” he murmured, a hint of a challenge in his eyes, “you might want to think twice about where this is headed.”

His words hung in the air, a daring promise. Your heart raced as his gaze held yours, a mix of irritation and something else? something darker, more primal. For a moment, the room seemed to still, the tension between you growing heavier. You shifted beneath him, trying to gauge his next move, but he didn’t let you go, not giving you the satisfaction of wriggling out of this one. His grip on your wrists tightened ever so slightly not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you who was in control now.

“I wasn’t… pushing you,” you managed to say, though the sharpness in your voice had dulled, replaced by something softer, more hesitant. His expression didn’t change, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitch, almost like he knew that was a lie.

“Really?” His voice was calm, measured, but his body pressed closer, making it clear he wasn’t about to let this slide. “Because you’ve been testing me all day.”

You rolled your eyes, the edge of irritation creeping back in, but deep down, you knew he was right. Maybe you had been testing him, pushing the boundaries just to see how far you could go. The air crackled with tension, and for a moment, you debated whether to back down or lean into it.

“I’ve been… in a mood,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. His brows lifted in surprise, and you could see the amusement flicker across his features. “Doesn’t mean I’m pushing you, though”.

“Is that what you call it?” His smile widened, playful but laced with something more serious. “Because it looks like you’re trying to rile me up”.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, caught between irritation and something else entirely. “I’m just… having a day, okay?” you shot back, your tone sharper than you intended.

“Just a day?” he teased, his smirk growing. “Because it seems like more than that. You’re practically daring me to lose my patience.”

"Maybe I am," you leaned closer to emphasize your defiance. Your breath hitched as you felt Spencer's grip on your wrist tighten ever so slightly, a silent warning that only served to fan the flames of your rebellious streak.

Spencer's eyes flashed with a dangerous glint, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Careful what you wish for, princess," he growled, his voice low and husky. "Keep teasing me like this and I might just snap."

You smirked, your heart racing with excitement as you felt the warmth of Spencer's body beneath you. "I dare you," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, trapping him further beneath you.

Spencer’s expression shifted, a flash of annoyance crossing his features. He leaned in closer, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. With a swift motion, he used his free hand to grasp your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. “You want me to snap?” he said, in a low, dangerous murmur. “Fine. You want a reaction? I’ll give you one.”

Releasing your wrist, Spencer instead wrapped one hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. His other hand slid down your side, tracing a path to your hip and then lower still, slipping beneath the hem of your skirt. His fingers found the edge of your underwear, and without warning, he slipped his hand inside, palming you through the thin fabric.

Spencer's thumb began to circle your clothed mound, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. "Still feeling brave, sweetheart? Because I'm about to show you exactly what happens when you push me too far."

As Spencer's thumb continued its torturous circles, you bit your lip to suppress a moan, hating how your body betrayed you. "You're so wet," Spencer growled, his breath hot against your neck. "Is this what you wanted? To provoke me until I couldn't control myself anymore?".

His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your underwear, sliding through your slick folds. He found your opening and pushed two fingers inside, filling you. Your body clamped down around him, and you let out a whimper.

"Oh, you like that?" Spencer chuckled darkly, beginning to move his fingers in and out of you in a maddeningly slow pace. "Let's see how you handle this." He curled his fingers upward, seeking out that spot deep inside that always made your knees weak.

Your breath hitched as he found it, his fingers pressing rhythmically against that sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked against his hand, seeking more friction, more pressure. "Spencer...Daddy...please..." you panted, your earlier bravado replaced by need.

"Not so mouthy now, are you?" Spencer taunted, his voice low and husky. His thumb joined in, rubbing tight circles on your swollen bud while his fingers pumped into you "Mmm...Daddy..." you moaned, your head thrashing from side to side as he worked his fingers inside you. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry I was bratty"

Spencer's fingers and thumb worked in perfect harmony, driving you closer and closer to the edge. "Sorry isn't enough," he muttered, "You're going to have to be a good girl for me”. Your body tensed, needing to release. "I...I'll be good..." you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes from the overwhelming sensation. "Please, Daddy...I'll be your good girl".

With a growl of satisfaction, Spencer pulled his fingers free, leaving you empty and aching. "Say it again," he commanded, his hand reaching for his belt. "Tell me you're my good girl."

His other hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. "I...I'm your good girl, Daddy..." you stammered, your eyes fluttering as he unbuckled his belt. "I'm...I'm sorry I was bad. Please...please touch me again, Daddy. I'll be so good."

Spencer's eyes bored into yours as he slowly unzipped his pants, revealing his hard length. "Beg for it," he ordered, his voice thick with desire. He wrapped his hand around himself, slowly stroking. "Beg like a good girl, and maybe...just maybe..."

"Please, Daddy, please touch me again!" you begged, your voice breaking. "I'll do anything, just please put your fingers back inside me or your cock or anything, just don't leave me like this!" You grabbed at his arm, trying to guide his hand back to your aching pussy.

Spencer caught your wrist, stopping you. "Such a needy girl," he tsked. He positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the tip of his cock through your folds. "And you call yourself a good girl now?"

"Yes, Daddy, I'm a good girl, I swear!" you sobbed, desperate for anything to relieve the intense pressure building inside you. "Please, Daddy, put it in, please! I'll be so good, I'll do anything, just please fuck me, Daddy!"

Spencer smirked, at your desperation continuing to tease you with the tip. “Tell me something first." He paused, his voice growing serious. "Are you on birth control?"

You squirmed underneath him, the pause in his voice driving you mad with anticipation. "Yes, Daddy, I'm on the pill," you panted, wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him closer. "Please, don't make me wait any longer. I need you inside me, now."

Spencer leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss as he finally began to push inside. "Good girl for telling me," he murmured against your mouth. "I wanted to make sure my baby girl is protected while I fill her up."

As Spencer slowly sank into you, his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider. He broke the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath against your skin as he growled, "Lift your arms." You obediently lifted your arms, letting Spencer remove your bra and shirt. He tossed them aside, revealing your bare chest to him. Spencer smiled, admiring your frame before he grabbed your skirt and yanked it up to your waist, leaving it bunched around your hips.

Spencer took a moment to admire your body, now bare from the waist up with your skirt hiked high. "Fuck, you're perfect," he groaned, cupping your breasts and kneading them gently. He rolled your nipples between his fingers, feeling them stiffen under his touch.

As he played with your breasts, Spencer slowly increased the pressure below, inching deeper inside you. You could feel every ridge and vein of his thick shaft as he stretched your tight opening. You arched your back, pushing your chest against his hands, eager for more. "Daddy, please”.

"Patience, baby girl," Spencer whispered, nuzzling your neck. "I want to savor every inch of you." He continued to slowly push in and out, his pace maddeningly deliberate. His hands left your breasts to grip your hips, tilting you just right to take him even deeper.

Spencer stopped moving altogether, his thick length buried deep inside you. He leaned back, gazing down at the sight of his babygirl, skirt bunched around her waist, breasts heaved, and eyes wide with need. "Look at you, so pretty and stuffed full of Daddy's cock."

You blushed at the dirty words, feeling your heart race and your walls clench around Spencer's thick shaft. You whimpered, trying to rock your hips, desperate for him to move again. Spencer chuckled, reaching out to trace a finger along your jawline. "Not yet, baby girl."

To torment you further, Spencer slowly leaned down and closed his mouth around one of your peaks, sucking hard. The sensation sent shockwaves through your body, making you squirm and beg. "Daddy, please, I can't... I need you to move."

Spencer released your nipple with a pop and looked up at you with a smirk. "You need what, baby girl?" He asked, his voice dripping with authority. "You need Daddy to fuck you senseless? To pound this tight little pussy until you can't remember your own name?"

With a whimper, you nodded eagerly, your breath coming in short, shallow pants. "Yes, Daddy, please. I need it. I need you to take me rough and hard." Your voice was barely above a whisper, laced with desperation.

Spencer's eyes darkened at your pleading words. "Mmm, such a good girl, begging so nicely." He praised, his large hands gripping your hips bruisingly tight. He began to move, slowly at first, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in, filling you completely. Your eyes rolled back, and you let out a long, low moan as you felt every inch of him. "Does that feel good, baby girl?"

You could only manage a shaky nod, your hands fisting the couch cushions as he picked up speed. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mingling with your desperate whimpers and Spencer's grunts. "Fuck, your pussy is so tight, so perfect”, he growled, his thrusts becoming even harder and faster.

You felt like you were being split in two, your body shaking with the force of his movements. "Look at me, baby girl. I want to see those pretty eyes." Spencer demanded, his voice rough with desire. You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The connection was electrifying, and you felt the heat coil within you, ready to snap. "Daddy, I'm... I'm gonna... Please, may I come?" You gasped out, your voice strained with the effort to hold back.

Spencer smirked wickedly, his hand moving from your hip to wrap around your throat. "Not yet, baby girl. You don't get to cum until I say so." He tightened his grip, applying just enough pressure as he continued his relentless pace. Your moans filled the room, growing louder and more desperate as he continued to pound into you, his hand tightening around your neck. "Is that all for me, baby girl? Those pretty little moans... all those sweet sounds you're making... they're all for me, aren't they?".

You could only whimper in response, nodding frantically as much as his grip would allow. Tears of pleasure pricked the corners of your eyes, your body trembling and tensing beneath him. Spencer's hips snapped forward relentlessly, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge despite his command to hold back..

As Spencer continues to thrust into you, his grip around your neck tightens, causing you to feel lightheaded. Your vision begins to blur, and it becomes harder to keep your eyes locked on his face.

He looks down at you, his eyes narrowing. He can tell you’re getting lightheaded. "Easy, sweetheart, I don't want you passing out on me" Spencer's voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the firm grip he had on your neck just moments ago. He loosens his hold, allowing you to breathe more freely as he continues to move within you.

You manage a faint smile, attempting to reassure him that you’re okay. He chuckles softly at your expression, his hand gliding from your neck to gently caress your cheek. "That's my girl…look at that smile... gorgeous." He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "But we're not anywhere near finished yet.”

He moves again, lifting you up slightly to pull you closer, his body pressed against yours. He continues, his pace brutal and fast, his hands gripping your hips. His breath comes in ragged gasps as his lips find yours, pulling you into a deep, intense kiss. His hands grip your hips tighter, pulling you onto him with each thrust. He breaks the kiss, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "You're taking me so well." he growls, his voice hoarse with passion.

He continues to fuck you hard and fast, his thrusts becoming almost brutal. You can feel his cock hitting your cervix with every stroke, sending jolts of pain and pleasure through your body. "I'm gonna fill you up, baby girl .. gonna pump you full of my cum." His words send a shiver down your spine, and you can feel your body tensing up, preparing for your orgasm. Spencer can sense it too, because he starts fucking you even harder, his hips slapping against yours with each thrust. "Fuck, baby... I can feel you tightening up..."

Her nails dig into his back as she clings to him, her body quivering with barely restrained need. "Daddy, please... I need to come," she whimpers desperately, her hips rolling against his, seeking more friction. "Please let me come on your cock. I'm begging you!”

Spencer's eyes darken with desire at her pleading words, and he buries his face in her neck, his hot breath against her skin. "You're so fucking desperate, aren't you?" he growls, his hips starting to move again, his thick cock pounding into her soaked pussy.

"Yes, Daddy! I'm so desperate for you," she cries out, her voice high and needy. "Please, I can't hold back anymore. I need to come so badly it hurts!" Her walls clenched around his shaft, trying to pull him deeper.

Spencer feels her tighten even more around him. He grunts, his voice strained. "We're going to come together. Count with me. One... Two..."

"Three!" they say in unison, their bodies tensing as a powerful wave of pleasure washes over them. Spencer's hot seed spills into her, and she clings to him, her own release ripping through her with overwhelming intensity. As their movements slow and their breathing returns to normal, Spencer collapses on top of her. He buries his face in her neck, pressing gentle kisses to her skin. "Good girl," he whispers, "You did such a good job."

She wraps her arms around him, holding him close. "I love you, Daddy," she murmurs contentedly, her voice sleepy. Spencer smiles against her skin, "I love you too, baby girl. Now, let's get cleaned up and cuddle in bed, shall we?"

He gently disengages from her and carries her to the bathroom, where he cleans them both up tenderly. Back in bed, they snuggle under the covers, her head resting on his chest as he strokes her hair. "Night, baby girl" he whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

- The End (hope you guys like it)

A/N: Feedback is appreciated

[cerisereids]

𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

characters i write for

(i no longer take requests, sorry!)

criminal minds: aaron hotchner, spencer reid, derek morgan, emily prentiss, luke alvez

stranger things: eddie munson, steve harrington, robin buckley, nancy wheeler

tasm: peter parker (andrew garfield’s peter only)

bridgerton: benedict, anthony, colin, kate

𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗶𝗱

some bunny special- dad!spencer x fem!reader

please don’t have somebody waiting on you- s1!spencer x bau!reader

lovely to sit between comfort and chaos, part 1- spencer reid x fem!reader

part 2

in the mirror of your eyes, my love, my life- young dad!spencer reid x bau!mom!reader

is it that sweet? i guess so!- later seasons!spencer reid x plus size!liason!reader

time makes you bolder, children get older- young dad!spencer reid x bau!mom!reader

blurbs found under the tag- belle’s blurbs s.r.

𝗮𝗮𝗿𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗼𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗻𝗲𝗿

we can’t be friends (wait for your love)- complete

part 2

part 3

part 4

blurbs found under the tag- belle’s blurbs a.h.

𝗯𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝘁 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗼𝗻

good old fashioned lover boy- benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻

blurbs found under the tag- belle’s blurbs s.h.

𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗺𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗼𝗻

the boy is mine- eddie munson x fem!reader

[cumulo-stratus]

reader being flustered at small touches from Spencer? like touch-starved spencer who would be all over reader when alone?

Fantozzi[s.r]

The BAU decides to have a movie night at Rossi's house, and Spencer you and Spencer find a quiet corner to sit in. You both fall asleep and cuddling ensues..

WARNINGS- established relationship, pronouns used, mentions of alcohol

Spencer reid x male reader ][ fluff, secret relationship ][ masterlist

a/n- ugh this is so cute, i know it's a little different but i hope you enjoy anon!

1.3k

It was a quiet night at Rossi's. The team had gathered for a quiet night together, and Rossi graciously offered up his mansion. 

By 8:30, everyone had arrived and was gathered in the large living room sipping on various drinks from cocktails, to seltzer. You and Spencer arrived together, as you had driven him straight from the office after finishing the never ending paperwork. 

Everyone was spread out on the various leather couches, settees, and chairs. You and Spencer had found a spot next to each other on a large chair. Spencer was sunk into the large saggy chair, and you were perched on the wide armrest, leaning against Spencer's side, a seltzer in your hand. Spencer's hand loosely gripped yours discreetly at your side. 

Spencer got clingy when he was tired, and by clingy I mean touchy. But you guys had not exactly told the team about your relationship yet, so Spencer had to settle for discreetly holding your hand. 

Neither you nor your boyfriend had been paying much attention to the conversations going on around you, until Penelope called you and your boyfriend's name. 

“Brainiac, Pretty Boy, we’re watching a movie for team bonding! What do you wanna watch?” Penelope's voice was giddy as she yelled across the room to the couple. Everyone gave a collective eye roll when she said team bonding, as while you and Spencer weren't paying attention, there had been extensive arguing over watching a movie, and penelope's main argument was that it would serve as “team bonding”. Everyone dismissed it first until hotch nodded and agreed with Penelope- it was settled.

“Derek wants to watch die hard, and although I love my chocolate thunder- no. JJ thinks 10 things i hate about you, and Rossi wants to watch some old italian movie-” Penelope was interrupted in the middle of listing the options by an annoyed Rossi, “its Fantozzi actually, a cinematic masterpiece of the 70’s..” Rossi would've continued, but Penelope waved him off and continued listing. 

“And I think we should watch the princess bride, aka the best option!” Penelope spoke with a giddy glee, but her face fell when Spencer gained a look of confusion and asked what that movie was about. 

“You’ve never seen Princess Bride?? Spencer Walter Reid- I demand we watch it right now.” Spencer was a little taken aback by Penelope's insistence, but obliged, agreeing to watch the movie. 

Not 30 minutes later, the lights were off and Rossi tried to figure his own TV while JJ made popcorn. Eventually Penelope just took the remote out of Rossi's hand, tired of him struggling. 

“I'll take that as my cue to get popcorn” Spencer said as he lifted himself with a heave from the large leather chair. But you grabbed his arm with a pout on your lips at the loss of warmth, “where are you going?”

Spencer chuckled lightly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze as he comforted you,  “well you want popcorn right?” Spencer's tone was a bit teasing, but loving nonetheless. 

“fiiiine!” You let go of Spencer's hand and sigh dramatically, flopping back into the large leather seat as Spencer turns his back to you, chuckling, to get popcorn. 

A few minutes later, Spencer returned with a big bowl of buttery popcorn and a blanket he'd picked up on the way in his arms, a timid smile on his lips. 

Your face lit up despite the now dark room when your boyfriend entered. “Popcorn!!” You spoke with glee and Spencer smiled at his boyfriend. 

Everyone began to take their places and you and your boyfriend settled in next to each other. There was a blanket over you and Spencer's laps, and the large popcorn bowl sat on top. Spencer leaned into his boyfriend's side, causing you to blush a bit  at the contact, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.

The movie started, and everyone was silent, enjoying the movie. And by the time they had gotten to the fight scene on the cliff, the amount of comments you heard coming from your right had died down. 

When you noticed the lack of facts about fencing, or the architecture, or something, you looked down at your boyfriend, to find him half asleep, his chin resting on his fist. 

His eyes were half closed, and he took long blinks, before perking up again for a second.

“Spence?”

The sound of your voice startled him, causing him to jump a bit and rub his eyes saying, “yeah I'm awake- I'm here-” your boyfriend was very clearly not very awake. 

Less than a minute later, Spencer was falling asleep in his hand again. You just sighed and smiled to yourself knowing he needed the sleep. 

By the time you got to the halfway point in the movie, you felt a weight slump against your shoulder. You didn't have to look to know it was Spencer. 

You could already feel the heat creeping up your cheeks and behind your ears at the contact. Spencer was clinging to you like a koala, which he tended to do in his sleep often. 

Spencer didn't get a ton of physical love as a kid, and not much as a teen and young adult- so meeting you was a bit of a change. But a very welcome change. 

Spencer shifted a bit, and his face was now tucked into your neck, his arms were wrapped tightly around you, and one of his legs slightly overlapping with yours. 

You were a puddle pretty much, but your head was on a swivel, making sure your coworkers were too absorbed in the movie to notice the two guys cuddling in the back. 

But that didn't last long as within minutes your head had dipped down to lay on Spencer's, your eyelids getting heavier by second. 

Finally, the weight became too much and you let your eyes stay closed this time, drifting off peacefully as you snuggled farther into Spencer, forgetting where you were. 

Spencer was woken up by the lights being turned on, blinding him a bit despite his eyes being closed. Still half asleep, Spencer grumbled a bit and shifted around, trying to stuff his face further into your shoulder to block out the light.

But what caused him to lift his head from the warmth and peace of your neck, was the sound of giggling and the click of a photo being taken. When Spencer finally managed to peel his eyes open, he found most of the team staring at him. And then he remembered why they were probably staring. 

there were some mixed reactions, as previously mentioned- penelope was giggling to herself at the photo she had just taken. Both JJ and Emily had unsurprised smiles on their faces. Your boss smiled at your boyfriend and shook his head slightly. Rossi just didn’t care, more interested in his cigar.

Spencer was finally awake enough to register what was going on and blushed, hard. Even the tips of his ears were pink as he tucked a piece of hair behind it like he always did. Spencer looked down, stuttering. 

“I- well, he was tired and he- he didn’t mean to fall asleep on me and-“

Derek cut him off, “so, pretty boy and brainiac huh, took ‘em long enough,” Derek was dismissive, it was no surprise to him. He didn't miss the glances you threw at each other from across the room.

You were blissfully unaware of what the whole team had witnessed as you finally came too, mumbling something about five more minutes to spencer. Spencer couldn't help but have a lovesick smile on his face at your cuteness, the big strong FBI agent with a gun- grumbling about five more minutes in the lanky genius’s arms.

The End

Taglist- @spencers1wifey | @mvndfvelds | @mindfullycriminal | @luce-reid |@ferrjulie | @khxna | @il0vebeingdelulu

join my taglist here

[belsreid]

i’m trying to read.

fem!reader x spencer reid

cw: smut 18+, fingering, praise, very sweet

word count: 1.4 k

a/n: this is my first time writing on here, please let me know if this is good

your head lays in your boyfriend's lap as your eyes travel against the words running across your phone screen, doomscrolling. as you look upward to see your boyfriend, you're met with a view of the cover of the book he holds so tightly, eyes trained on each word as they quickly flitter across the page, the sound of the pages turning sounding every six seconds or so.

with a soft smitten grin on your face, you reach over to push the book down, looking up at the glasses adorning his perfect nose. as he tries to pull the book back up to his gaze, you continue to push the book away from him, with a teasing, goofy grin.

"baby.." he warns, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you for a second with a slightly annoyed look plastering his face, only increasing the smug look on your face.

"what?" you hum, looking up at him innocently with a little snicker, reaching up for his face.

"i'm trying to read," he mumbles as he pushes his glasses upwards, as they had began tipping down the bridge of his nose.

with a huff, you pull your head from it's nuzzled, rested position against his thighs. pouty lips pepper his jaw as you rub your nose against his soft cheeks, little whines emerging from your throat with tight lips.

"y/n.." he warns again, looking at you as he places his book down, yet the annoyance in his expression dissipates as he looks at the lustful look, swirling in your irises, and dilated pupils.  "something wrong, sweetheart?"

your eyes linger downwards as one of his hands massages the plump of your thighs, brushing against the soft cotton of the red and white polka dot pyjama shorts you wear. you sigh, looking up at him with those pouty eyes, yet his expression becoming more menacing.

"gone quiet now? what's up with that?" he mumbles, now entertaining you, his soft lips dragging across the soft skin of your cheekbones.

"you're annoying," you groan quietly, before looking up at your boyfriend, with a little grin, as his fingers slowly inch to your inner thigh.

"i'm annoying you now, am i?" he whispers as he presses his lips to your neck, "weren't you the one pushing my book down a few minutes ago?"

"no.." a little white lie you give to him, as a little smirk caressing your lips.

"pretty sure you were. kinda sucks you're dating a genius who has an eidetic memory," he replies, cockily with a snicker.

"yeah, it does suck," you pout sarcastically, as the fingers that were previously massaging the inside of your thigh, move up further.

"totally sucks," he mumbles quietly as his lips calmly rest on your neck, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your shorts.

"spencer.." you sigh, looking up at him with narrowed eyes.

"sweetheart," he whispers as his fingers, travel beneath your shorts, gently rubbing the flimsy fabric of your panties, feeling your arousal through the damp fabric, "wet already, huh?"

you let out a soft quiet moan, as your head rests on his chest, "mhm, just for you."

"yeah?" he smiles for reassurance from you, as he tugs down your shorts and pushes the thin fabric to the side to gently circle your puffy clit with his fingers.

"yeah," you confirm as you squeak at the sudden skin to skin contact.

"you're so perfect," spencer mumbles huskily against the shell of your ear with a little smile.

"spence," you whine quietly, looking up at him as he continues to rub tight gentle circle with the pads of his fingers.

"what, angel?" he looks down at you, making eye contact with your half lidded hazy eyes, continuing his soft movement, before pressing a little harder, pleasure shooting through you, making you moan.

"please," you groan, as you press your head further into his chest.

"please what? i don't know what you want," your boyfriend mumbles as the teasing intensifies, your pussy leaks with arousal.

"can you just finger me? please," you whimper, your back arching off of him.

immediately, you notice the feeling of his fingers travelling towards your wet cunt, slipping two fingers inside and pumping them, your legs clamping trying to relieve some of the pressure. you let a little squeal, as he pulls his fingers out of you to pull your panties off.

he removes your panties, and throws them across the room somewhere, "can you spread your legs more, pretty girl?"

instantaneously, your legs unclamp, your soaking pussy on display for him, he licks his lips slightly, "thank you."

you whine as his fingers re-enter your cunt, gummy walls clenching around the two fingers, as his other hand rests on your knee, holding your legs open gently.

the heat in the pit of your stomach brewing as gasps and moans fall from your pink lips, his fingers curled inside you as they pump in and out.

a lewd noise fills your quiet apartment, before a loud moan sounds, as he inserts a third finger with a little grin on his face.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," you whisper, incoherently as you screw your eyes shut,

"does that feel good, angel?" spencer mumbles against your ear before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"yes!" you moan loudly, feeling your walls clench around the fingers inside of you.

he presses kisses down your collarbone as he continues to hit the gummy spot inside of you that makes you writhe beneath his touch.

"you're doing so good," he whispers sweetly, watching as his fingers thrust in and out of you with a focused look on his face, his tongue resting at the corner of his lips.

"spence, spencer," you babble as one of your hands finds his forearm (the one not between your legs) and the other finds the plush of couch, both hands gripping to find some sort of grounding feeling as pleasure rushes through your body, making you unsteady.

"i know, i know," he mumbles almost sympathising with you as you find the path to your orgasm.

your panting is heavy between moans, eyebrows furrowed, eyes squinting as the pleasure and his overwhelming touch takes over you, as he presses scattered kisses to the top of your head.

"you're so pretty," he murmurs as his wrist flexes, veins prominent, with each thrust, speeding up the movement of his fingers and pressing into the sweet, spongy spot deep inside of you, causing guttural almost pornographic moans to fall from your lips.

"shit, spence, i'm gonna cum," you cry out, your voice croaky and filled with tension as your teeth grit.

"yeah? cum for me then," he whispers as his fingers continue moving, his other hand pressing against the swollen clit to help you cum faster.

"fuck, i love you, shit, fuck," you squeak as random words and curses fall from your lips as you reach your climax.

your back arches up off of him as you see stars, choked moans and pants as you try to breathe in and out.

"there you go, sweetheart," he whispers tenderly, his fingers slowly moving as he helps you ride out your high.

his fingers come to a stop as you rest down into him, head slumped against his chest, as you look up at him with the most adoring eyes and you are returned with a similar expression.

"is that what you wanted?" he mumbles softly, his fingers slipping out of you, making you whimper.

"yes, thank you," you say softly as you watch him lick his fingers clean, with a little smirk on his face as he looks down at you, caressing your head gently.

"no, thank you," he says with a little laugh, pressing a kiss to your lips, "you're so perfect, i'm so in love with you."

"i love you more," you mumble sweetly with a smile.

"lies," he says with a smile resting a hand on your thigh gently, "do you want me to run you a bath, angel?"

"please," you murmur, looking up at him with heart eyes.

"i'll be right back," he mumbles with a smile before gently lifting your head and body, to stand up before placing you back down, walking off towards the bathroom.

[gublersg1rl]

hi guys this is my oc x spencer reid fanfic i hope u enjoy

“hello spencer i am willow”

“hi willow you’re so pretty”

“really? wow i think you’re cute”

“oh ok thanks should we like kiss?”

“i think yes”

“okay”

smooch

my requests r open

[sweetismyaddiction]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Fic masterlist | Masterlist

SUCROSE

Paring: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer gets courage to tell what he truly feels (They live in the same building, in the same corridor, just in front of one another… which helps the friendship but couldn't stop Dr. Reid from falling in love)

Word account: 1271

Warnings: Fluff, friends to lovers, anxiety, 

A/N: English is not my first language. Reblog, like, and comment. I am accepting suggestions for the next parts. Please be nice. The Gif is not mine. Credits to the oner

Chapter 4: Declaration

Spencer’s Point of View

As soon as we are back to the job, it seems that the only thing people know to talk about is her.

I am glad they liked her. It is a good thing. But I can't help that little jealousy lingering in my stomach.

One of the things that makes everything worse is the fact that right now, I am in the jet with the team, going for a case away from her, away from my most sweet Sugar, that I daydream about actually tasting.

“So, that girl… she is marriage material.”

“Rossi is the one to know. He has ben married so many times”

Morgan chuckles at his own joke.

“Which makes me an expert, I recognize marriage material when I see it. And that girl…”

“Rossi is right, she is the type to commit.”

Why is Hotch interfering? He usually separates personal involvement and work place.

“Can we stop talking about it?”

“Reid, if you don’t step on, make a move… you may lose the chance. A woman does not wait forever.”

“Why is everybody getting so involved in my personal life?”

“Because you don’t have much of a personal life.”

“I have so much not one of you knew about her until I introduced her and she has been my friend for years.”

“Do you want to be her friend, or do you wish to be more?”

“If you feel insecure, just let me remind this genius brain that she proudly said you are friends and affirmed that she does love you, and that she felt no shame admitting it.”

“It amuse us that you ain’t a couple yet.”

—-----------------------------------

The conversation keeps repeating in my head, and I should take the risk, she deserves to know about my feelings��� I don’t want to ruin our friendship… we could be more, I wish to be more… be breve Spencer, she never will be mean to you, there is no reason to be afraid. I will write a letter and hope for the answer.

—-----------------------------------

Dear Sugar

"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." - Jane Austen, from "Pride and Prejudice"

As much information as my mind can contain, nothing seems enough to describe my feelings for you. I am aware of your taste for Austin, I even consider receding her books to you but I fear my mouth will betray me, that my feelings will take over and my nerves will stop me from doing what I so much want to.

I will not be able to tell you all the thoughts that run in my imagination when I think of you. You. My Sugar. Not truly mine, but I strongly wish for that to become true.

Sugar, I am yours, I am all yours, body, soul, mind, beliefs… I pray that, if there is a haven for me to be blessed with your presence, because you are my paradise. You are my love. My muse. And so much more

"Love is the poetry of the senses." - Honoré de Balzac

You awakened me, I didn’t know the world could be so cozy, that being alive could be so wonderful, until we met. A rainy day, that a stranger just took under my umbrella. Change all, that simple act, that smile, the bad jokes… the more I know you, the more I want.

You are something I never thought to get in my life, cause I didn’t even know it existed, they don’t talk about it, they don’t write about it, they don’t paint it. They try, as I am doing right now. And we all fail, cause it is impossible to describe. I didn’t believe in the impossible until I met you.

"Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired." - Robert Frost

I wish for you to want me too, for my Sugar to love her Sugarpout. 

I may not have much to offer you, but I offer all I have, I give you all I have. I donate all my being for you.

"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." - Robert A. Heinlein

I wish for you to be happy, even if I am not your happiness.

I would never interfere with your well being, all I wish is the best for you.

I love you.

Love you so much.

If you ask, I am out of your life, even if that is not what I want.

As much as I want for you to be mine as I am yours.

What I truly, dearly and onest want and wish for is for your safety and happiness.

"Love is not just a feeling; it is a calling, a force that can transform and redeem even the most broken of souls. It is the fire that burns within us, the light that guides us through the darkest of nights. Love is the eternal thread that weaves together the tapestry of our existence." - Fyodor Dostoevsky, from "The Brothers Karamazov"

Infinity yours, Sugarpout.

"Love is the joy of the good, the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the gods." - Plato

—------------------------------

I sent the letter to her, and my heart sinks in my chest, anxiety runs to all my cells. The air seems not to get to my lungs, I can only imagine her.

Hope for a positive answer.

Hope she understands my feelings.

Hope she won't leave me.

—------------------------------------

Y/N’s Point of view

My eyes couldn’t believe it.

My heart skipped beats,and then it has never beaten faster.

It is a love letter.

Sugarpout wrote me a lover letter.

I am excited, happy… there are so many emotion.

I am knocking at his door. And I can not restrain myself, just using my key and open it, searching for my love.

As soon as my eyes land on him, is like if the sun is kissing me. I hold his letter in one hand, and my letter in the other.

He is looking at me, expectant, anxious.

I rise my piece of paper, that contain just a phrase, well… two phrases.

—------------------------------

I LOVE YOU

Ps: Yes, I want to be your girlfriend.

—------------------------------

He is also smiling, looking my letter that practically covers my face, with a gentle touch he takes the paper from my hands.

“I know I could have written something better, but after… I was just so anxious. I love you Spencer Walter Reid. I love you Sugarpout. My Sugarpout”

“I love you. Deep. Infinity. Just as gravity binds celestial bodies together, love intertwines souls in an invisible cosmic dance. And I hope to dance with you in the infinity and beyond that"

“May I touch you?”

“Yes.” Hands on my back, as I hug him back, letting my hand touch his soft hair. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

His lips find mine.

It is as if life itself had touched me for the first time. Like the gentle brush of a bee against a flower, a love kiss, the delicate touch of life awakening. The electric current surges through our veins, igniting our souls with a spark of divine connection. In that fleeting moment, lips meet, and the universe holds its breath, as if time itself bows to the sacredness of this intimate union. It is the whisper of eternity, the language of the heart, speaking volumes in a single embrace. A love kiss, like the touch of life, breathes vitality into our existence, reminding us that in the realm of love, we are truly alive.

--------------------------

A/N: This is the end of my first fic. Hope you enjoyed reading it. Maybe I will do more fics... let's see what happens.

---------------------------------------------------------

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Fic masterlist | Masterlist

Tag List: @mikitsuki

[iamreadynoimnot]

Hey can you help me please??? I've been searching this fic series and I can't find it. It's basically Penelope made a friend then decided to be a cupid with that friend and Spencer. It's a series and it's bugging since I'm planning to read it but completely forgot to fucking heart or reblogged it fucking idiot PLEASE HELP

EDIT: I found it, I FUCKING FOUND IT!!! FUCKING SHIT HELL YEAAAAHH

It turns out it's not series but a super looong two shots💀💀💀

I'm so dumb that my brain literally thought it was a freaking series because of the word count fucking hell

Thank you so much for trying to help me, and sorry for bothering you lots 💕💕💕💕💕💕

[esote-rika]

New title, but (mostly) the same story! Read the extended introduction/prologue + view the graphics here!

Description:

Sinners are allowed second chances, and redemption can be found in the arms of a genius. Tragically, the universe seems to have other plans.

Tropes:

Spencer Reid x Agent!Unsub

Rivals to friends to lovers

Eventual I can make them worse trope

Set in Season 10 onwards

[ssavanessa22]

could u do a blub with female or gen reader x spencer reid where reader planned a surprise for spencer for valentine’s day and he got called out on a case before he could come home a see it? preferably very angsty w whatever ending you’d like!

A/N: now normally I’m not an angst girl but since you asked so nicely I had to see what I could cook up 😙 I hope I did your prompt Justice!!

Valentines take 2

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Spencer Reid had been looking forward to Valentine's Day for weeks. Y/N had hinted at a surprise that she had planned, and he was eager to see what it was. However, as luck would have it, a case came up at the last minute and he was called to help. Hours had passed, and he was still at the BAU, trying to catch the unsub.

As the day turned into night, Spencer realised that he wasn't going to make it home in time to see Y/N’s surprise. He tried to call her, but she didn't answer, and he knew that he had missed his chance.

When he finally arrived home, he found Y/n sitting in the living room, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Where were you, Spencer?" she asked, her voice tense.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Spencer said, his heart sinking. "I was working on a case and I couldn't leave. I didn't mean to miss your surprise."

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" Y/N said, her voice rising. "You missed it. You missed everything."

Spencer felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He knew he had let Y/N down, and he didn't know how to make it right.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he said again. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."

"How?" Y/N asked, her eyes narrowing. "You can't just make up for it, Spencer. You missed something that was important to me."

Spencer sighed, feeling the weight of her disappointment. "I know, Y/N," he said. "And I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. Let's talk about what we can do to make things right."

They sat down at the kitchen table, their tension palpable. Y/N explained how much effort she had put into the surprise, and how hurt she was when Spencer didn't show up. Spencer apologised again, promising to make it up to her in any way he could.

Talking for hours, trying to work through the hurt and disappointment.Spencer apologised over and over , promising to do better in the future.

But the argument lingered between them, and they went to bed feeling distant and disconnected. Over the next few days, they tried to work through their issues, but it was clear that the argument had left a mark on their relationship.

Spencer knew he had to find a way to show Y/N’s how much he loved her and valued their relationship. He decided to plan a surprise of his own, to make it up to her.

A few days later, he surprised her with a home-cooked dinner, complete with her favourite foods and wine. Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and delight, and Spencer felt a wave of relief wash over him.

"I'm sorry, Y/N's," he said, his voice soft. "I know I messed up, but I hope you can see how much I care about you. You're the most important thing in my life, and I don't want to lose you."

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she smiled at him. "I know, Spencer," she said. "And I care about you too. Let's move past this and focus on the good things in our relationship."

Spencer nodded, feeling grateful for the chance to make things right. He knew that it would take time to rebuild their trust and connection, but he was willing to do whatever it took to make their relationship work.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Fight Back

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.3k

Warnings: angst, talk of being physically abused by a parent, scarring and branding because of the abuse

Request by anon: Could you do where there reader is a part of the Bau and the unsub is kidnapping and killing girls who look like her and it turned out it is her abusive father and when the team finds him the reader and him a a full fight and she gets him back for all the abuse she had to go through

Summary: A case brings up a past you’d rather much forget but haven’t moved on from. A past so traumatic that you have no choice but to take matters into your own hands.

Square Filled: make it look like an accident for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You enjoy traveling to different parts of the country for cases because you enjoy indulging in different cultures and trying new foods. Though, nothing beats being at home. Virginia PD has a case they requested your help on, and you love you can drive home at the end of the day instead of staying in a hotel room.

Detective Banks is already at the scene of a cliff where the body of Justine Frank was located. She was found naked by some hikers who called it in as soon as they got cell service. You and Spencer were tasked to meet with the detective who shakes your hand upon arrival.

“Thank you for coming. I didn’t have anyone touch her until I knew you were done.”

“Good choice. Thank you.” Upon first glance and ignoring the fact that she’s naked, you think she could have landed here after a bad tumble off the cliff. “Detective, why call us out here? Surely your men can handle this one, no?”

“There are four more just like her. We thought it was an accident at first, but more than three is a pattern. We’re stumped.”

Spencer leans down to inspect the body closer with gloved hands. He touches the underside of her wrist and notices fresh wounds.

“Rope burns. She was bound.”

“Was she bound when she went off the cliff?”

We seem to think so,” Detective Banks answers, “but the ME will be able to determine that better than I can.”

“You say it’s a pattern. What makes you think it is?” you ask.

“When one woman shows up, another woman is reported missing. Based on that, it’s safe to assume he already has another victim.”

You’re about to leave when you notice something on Justine’s back. You grab a glove and kneel next to her body to get a closer look. You move her hair to the side and notice a mark on her shoulder blade.

“What is it?” Spencer asks.

“There’s a mark here. I’m not sure if it’s a mark sustained in the fall or if she had it before. I think the rocks and tree branches scratched it up a bit.”

Spencer runs his finger over the mark and frowns. “It’s raised. Like a brand.”

You take out your work phone and snap a picture of the mark so that you can analyze it later. Once done, you and Spencer head back to the police station to meet up with the rest of the team. Hotch and Emily just got back from the ME’s office at the same time you and Spencer got back.

“Did you find anything?” you ask as you walk into the conference room.

“All four victims had ligature marks around their wrists most likely caused by ropes, but the ME says the wounds are much older from when they were found.”

“They were probably bound when they were being thrown over the cliffs, right?”

“Could be or they were bound while being held.”

Spencer gathers the pictures of all five women and pins them to the bulletin board along with their names, a few crime scene photos, and other important details.

“Would you look at that? They look similar,” you point out. “Our unsub has a type.”

Derek dials Penelope and patches her through the phone on the desk so everyone can hear her.

“Hey dollface, ready to work some magic for me?” Derek grins.

“Challenge me, you beautiful behavioral analyst,” she giggles.

“We’re looking for a connection with the victims. Did they know each other? Run in the same circle? Go to the same grocery store? Anything you can see.”

“Even the hidden stuff. Uno momento.”

“If they went to the same kinds of stores, we could be looking at hundreds of employees and even more customers,” you say.

“Let’s hope they didn’t go to the same store, then,” Rossi chuckles.

“A connection they had. They all came from different circles and socioeconomic backgrounds, but they all have one thing in common. They all had different work done on their house with the same contracting company,” Penelope says.

“Where are they located?” Emily asks and grabs a pen and pad.

“Sorry, babe, they don’t have an office. Everything is done through a PO box. It’s more of a mom-and-pop contracting company than a big business. There is only a handful of employees who all live in different parts of the state, and I mean I can count them all on one hand. Addresses are already sent.”

“Thanks, Mama.” Derek hangs up the phone. “Looks like we’re splitting up.”

You and Spencer. Derek and JJ. Emily and Rossi. Banks and Hotch. Four different employees, four different groups. You and Spencer pull up to the house but you don’t get out just yet.

“Are you okay?”

“Something doesn’t feel right with this case. Something is eating at you, but I don’t know what it is.”

“Everyone has a case that gets to them. I know I have a lot.”

“It’s more than just getting to me. There was something familiar about the mark on Justine’s body. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just paranoid.”

You and Spencer get out of the car and walk up the porch steps to the front door. You knock twice, and a middle-aged balding man answers the door.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m Agent Y/N and this is Dr. Reid. We’re with the FBI. May we ask you a few questions?”

“What is this about?”

“We’re investigating a few murders, and one of the leads happens to take us to the contracting company you’re employed with.”

The man steps out and closes the door behind him. “Sorry, my wife and daughter are sleeping. They’re sick with the flu, and I don’t want to wake them. What do you need to know?”

“Where were you on the week of October 14th?”

“At home with my family. They can’t seem to shake his flu. We had our pediatrician come over to check on poor Lily.”

You take out the pictures of the victims and show them to him. “Do you know any of these women?”

“I know her.” He points to Destiny Ray, the second victim. “She called my company for a roof repair. I’m sorry, am I in trouble?”

“No, you’re not. We’re just trying to establish a timeline. Who gets the assignments?”

“My boss.”

“Who is your boss?”

“I don’t know,” he says shyly.

“You don’t know who you work for?” Spencer asks. “How did you get the job?”

“I saw an ad on Craigslist because I was desperate for work. I just got laid off from my other job and I’d have taken anything at that point. I was supposed to meet with my boss but after one text, he hired me. We did all the paperwork online, and he sent me money orders after every job. I go to the bank. They’re legit money orders. Whenever there is a job, he texts me or the other three employees.”

“May we see some of the messages from your boss?”

“Sure.”

He takes out his phone and pulls up the messages. Spencer gets Penelope on the phone and reads the phone number back to her, but no luck. It’s a burner phone. If you had to guess, his boss is the unsub. Your phone rings and you step off to the side to answer Hotch’s call.”

“Yeah, Hotch?”

“There’s been another body. You and Reid are closer.”

“We’re on it.” You hang up and turn to the man. “Thank you for your help. Please call us if you remember anything else.”

You hand the man your card before you leave with Spencer. Detective Banks is already on the scene when you get there. Like with Justine, this new victim was found at the bottom of a cliff. This cliff is much smaller than the last one, and she isn’t naked. Only her shirt is torn to pieces from falling over rocks and sharp branches.

“Her name is Kaylee Robinson. A mountain biker found her not that long ago.”

“That was quick. He didn’t even wait a day before killing another woman.”

You grab some gloves and kneel next to the body. You move the tattered shirt away from her shoulder blade to see if the mark on Justine is just a mark or if it’s on all of them. You don’t know why you do this. Something is telling you to. Because Kaylee’s clothes protected her body, the mark wasn’t ruined by nature.

You gasp in horror when you see the mark for what it truly is.

“What is it?”

“I need to see the other bodies.”

You don’t want to say anything just in case if you’re wrong about this. If you’re not, you have a much bigger problem on your hands. You and Spencer leave Detective Banks at the scene to go to the ME who still has the other four victims’ bodies.

“You’re freaking me out, Y/N. What did you see?”

“Hold on. I need to check something.” With Spencer’s help, you lift all four victims so you can examine the shoulder blades. Just as you feared, there is the same mark on each of them. “Oh, this is bad.”

“What is?”

“Every victim has a mark on their shoulder blade. It’s a brand as if it was caused by a hot poker or a branding machine. Justine’s mark was mangled from the fall, but it was there. I’ve seen it before.”

“Where?”

You turn away from Spencer in shame and pull down your shirt to expose your shoulder blade. Right there, on the top, is the same branding mark.

“On me.” You face Spencer but refuse to look in his eyes. “My father put it there. He’s the one who burned it into my skin, and I know he’s burned it into theirs.”

“Your father? I never knew that. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“How could I tell my boyfriend that my father used to abuse me? I was ashamed and I still am. I don’t want to be. I’ve put this behind me.”

“You know we have to tell the team, right?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

You’d hope to keep this side of your past a secret from everyone but who knew your father would do such a thing like this? You’re quiet the rest of the ride back to the station and when you walk into the police station.

“I think we found our unsub,” Spencer blurts out.

“I noticed a mark on Justine’s shoulder blade. I thought it was nothing, at first, until Kaylee had one. The same mark. Spencer and I went to the ME’s office because I wanted to see if the others had the same mark on their shoulder blades. They did.”

“What mark?” Emily asks.

You turn and show them the mark on your shoulder. “This mark. My father put it there after a really bad night.” You turn back around. “My father used to beat me and took his anger out on me with cigarettes. Fortunately, those marks have healed but he didn’t like that. I got really good at hiding the marks he left on my body when he decided to brand me instead. A mark I couldn’t hide. He made me wear clothes that showed off my shoulders so that everyone knew I belonged to him. The mark is his initials.”

“What happened after that?” JJ asks. “I mean, how did you get away from him?”

“He went to jail on a count of theft. A convenience store. My mother had passed shortly after I was born. I was put into foster care, but I was almost eighteen so I didn’t stay there long. I didn’t know he got out.”

“What’s his name?” Hotch asks.

“Peter Kamps.”

Derek dials Penelope, and you sit down at the table in silence. You had to have seen this coming eventually. It was foolish of you to think you had escaped him forever. Spencer walks behind you and puts a hand on your shoulder for support.

“We have a name. What can you tell me about Peter Kamps with a K.”

“Oh, I can tell you a lot about him. For starters, he has an arrest record that’s a mile long. Save for rape, this guy has done it all. B&E, murder, kidnapping, assault and battery, and even drug charges. He owns a contracting company called Big Al’s Crew that only has four employees. He has one daughter… Oh…”

“It’s okay, Pen, they know,” you say.

“I am so sorry, Y/N.”

“Garcia, do you have an address?”

“I have two. One is a house that’s been in his name even after he went to prison. I guess he had someone looking after it.” All eyes turn to you. “Another is a farming property that he uses for his contracting company and other side businesses. That one is in his name but is behind on payments.”

“If you have his addresses, you’re already too late,” you say. “I bet he’s moved on by now.”

“Let’s go.” You get up but Hotch stops you from following them. “You have to stay here.”

“What?”

“You have a history with him. We can’t afford anything to go wrong.”

You’re left alone in the police station like a child, but maybe it’s for the best. You know they won’t find anything at both places. One, you’ve been taking care of your childhood home which is why he hasn’t lost it yet. Two, you’ve been to the farmhouse plenty of times on your own. They’re not going to find anything there.

But you know where you will find something.

This time, you’re going to do something you should have done a long time ago.

Fight back.

You grab your jacket and leave the station in hopes they left one of the cars behind. Luck is on your side because they did, and you find the keys in the center console. Hotch made it a rule to leave all keys inside the car when not in use because he’s had to deal with a few too many locked cars in the past.

You lied to Spencer.

You’re not over it. You’ve been waiting for this moment the first time he laid his hands on you. You drive out of town and to a desolate neighborhood. The only people who live here are runaways and drug lords. You park in front of a two-story house and get out nervously. You might be ready to finally fight back but you’re nervous as hell. The front door is ajar when you approach it, and you kick open the door slowly and carefully. The house is dark and silent, two things that terrify you.

The flashlight on your gun is the only thing that’s lighting your way as you make your way through the house. The stairs creak when you step on them. If he’s here, he knows you’re here now. Most of the bedrooms are empty without a hiding space big enough to fit someone like your father. The last place you check is the master bedroom which has few furniture pieces in it.

“I was wondering when you would find me.”

You freeze from hearing his voice from behind you. Stay strong, Y/N. He’s not going to win this time. You turn around and face the man responsible for destroying your youth and innocence.

“I did.”

He eyes the gun in your hands. “I’m assuming this isn’t a social call.”

“You sick son of a bitch. You killed all those women.”

“Call it substitution for the one I really wanted. You.”

“Yeah, well, I’m bigger now. You can’t break me down this time.”

“We’ll see,” he smirks.

You aim the gun at his head. “I could shoot you right now.”

“But you won’t.”

“You’re right. I won’t.” You lower the weapon and toss it onto the bed. “Guns were never your thing, and I want you to feel me kicking your ass.”

All the classes you took on self-defense amount up to this moment. You were picturing the instructor as your father. You were training for this exact moment. Your father rushes at you but you easily block his attempts to attack. You kick his legs and he crumbles to the ground, and you pounce on him before he can get back up. You wrap your hands around his neck and squeeze as tight as you can, but he’s always been more durable than you are.

He bucks his hips and kicks you off him, and you scramble to get away from him. He will kill you if he gets his hands on you but you’re not going to let that happen. You barely get to your feet when your father grabs you and slams you into the wall. He wraps his arm around your neck in a chokehold and puts his dirty mouth next to your ear. 

“What are you going to do now, little girl?”

“This.”

You push off the wall and use your father as support to basically walk on the wall. When your feet get high above his head, you swing backwards and punch him to the ground. The door is closer than your gun so you don’t even think about turning and sprinting out of the room. 

“You ungrateful little bitch! I’ll kill ya!”

Your father gets to his feet and runs after you. You barely make it to the railing by the stairs when he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you back into him. He uses all of his strength and slams your head nose-first into the splintering wooden railing. You crumble to the ground in a moan of pain. You can already taste and smell metal as your mouth and nose fills with blood. Your father pants and stands in front of the railing, looking down at you menacingly. The only thing to light this place is the dim moonlight.

“Have any last words?” he sneers.

“Yeah. I’ll see you in Hell.”

You kick him where the sun doesn't shine, and he doubles over in pain. His face is right in your line of attack, and you kick his face as hard as you can. He stumbles back in pain and trips over an uneven board. He slams into the wooden railing and it cracks under his bulky weight. He shouts in shock as he falls through the railing and down to the first floor.

You jump to your feet and look over the railing to see him impaled on a broken two by four. You move your eyes up slightly and see the front door wide open and your entire team standing there with guns in their hands.

“It was an accident?” you say, unsure of yourself.

The ambulance is called as well as the police. The front door is wide open so you’re able to see right into the house where your father fell. The paramedic is assessing your injuries while you’re staring at your father’s body. The man who tormented you, beat you, branded you, is dead. You killed him and you don’t even care if they arrest you for murder. You’d happily go to jail if it means he’s dead for good.

“You lied to me,” you pull your eyes away from your dad to look at Hotch, “and you disobeyed me.”

“Am I fired?”

“I’m tempted to do it right now.”

“I’m sorry, Hotch, but I’m not sorry I did it. If you were ever abused by someone and then learned you had the power to fight back, you’d understand why I had to do this.”

“My office when we get back.” He turns to leave but pauses. “Are you okay?”

“More than okay.”

“I’ll ride with you,” Spencer says when he approaches you.

“Spencer, I’m fine.”

“You dislocated your nose at best. You’re going to the hospital,” the paramedic says.

“Fine,” you chuckle.

“Next time, tell me when you’re going to do something like this, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod and kiss him.

x

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[bunnylovesani]

You Belong To Me

Summary: You find out about your husband Spencer’s affair with another woman. It's safe to say you don’t have the reaction either of them were expecting.

Content warnings: infidelity, voyeurism, facetime sex, humiliation, p in v sex, creampie

WC: 2.3k

“Who is she?” You shudder with disgust as you stare into the sunken eyes of your husband. He looked almost unrecognisable to you now that you’d learned of his betrayal. 

“Her name’s Maeve. She’s a geneticist who’s been helping me with those headaches.” He sighs resolutely, knowing there was no point attempting to hide this from you. He didn’t mean to let things escalate but you’d been going through a rough patch and Maeve was just so understanding- she embodied all the things you lacked.

“Did you fuck her?” Your voice trembled with anger, goosebumps piercing through your thin blouse as you braced yourself for his response. 

“No. It was a purely emotional affair.” He stated a little too coldly. 

“Ah. And I suppose that makes it alright, does it?” You scoffed, getting up from the sofa you were curled up on with Spencer mere minutes earlier before he came out with his crushing confession. 

“Of course not. There are no excuses.” He looked down, not daring to meet your appalled gaze. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.” 

“Spencer Reid speechless? I never thought I’d see the day.” You chuckle darkly, fidgeting with your wedding band. You loved him with all your heart, the day you said your vows was the happiest of your life- now that he’d broken his, you weren’t sure how much any of it really meant. 

“Were you going to leave me for her?” Against your best efforts, your voice broke with a pitiful crack that left Spencer with a pained expression on his handsome face. 

“No! No, I promise. I would never leave you.” He interjected, leaving no room for doubt. “She was just a distraction. You’re it for me.”

You sunk back into the plushy couch with a defeated sigh, unwelcome tears pricking your glossy eyes. 

“I don’t know, Spence…” You sniffled, beginning to slide the ring off your finger. 

“Baby.” He took your hands into his own as he dropped to his knees before you, still in his work suit. “I messed up. I messed up in the worst way possible. I’m a fucking idiot. But if you forgive me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please, my love. I’ll do anything.” 

An unfamiliar desperation tinged his voice that made your gut twist into an iron knot. He looked pathetic right now; kneeling on the floor with furrowed eyebrows as he pleaded to save his marriage. 

“I want you to call her.” You exhaled sharply after an excruciating moment of contemplation.

“You- what?” His forehead wrinkles deepened with shock. 

“You heard me. Call the bitch.” He gulped at your request and his eyes darted around frantically as he analysed every possible outcome.

“A video call. I want to see what the little homewrecker looks like.” You spat as he remained motionless, mouth agape and eyes narrowed. “Unless you’d rather get a divorce?” 

“I’ll do it.” He shook his head clumsily, rattled by the whole ordeal. 

“Wonderful. Come sit next to me and prop your phone up on the table.” You patted the spot besides you as Spencer stumbled over, still confused by your unpredictability. 

“Well? What are you waiting for? Start dialling.” You snapped snarkily as he scrolled through his phone with shaky hands. Locating her contact, his fingers hovered above the call button. 

“Dr. Donovan, huh?” You peered over. “The one you told me had been helping you with a case?” 

“Y-yeah.” He whispered ashamedly. 

“Now this I have to see.” You murmured bitterly as the line began to ring. 

“Spence, hi! Wasn’t expecting you to call at this time.” The bubbly voice of the other woman rang out through his speakers. Your eyes zeroed in on the pixelated image of a brunette woman with a choppy fringe. 

“Why, do you guys have a set time for your little calls? When I’m sleeping, perhaps?” You popped into the frame, grinning wildly. 

“Oh. H-hello. Spencer, what’s going on?” She looked to him for help but he just sat there resignedly, knowing he couldn't appease you both. 

“So you’re the one who’s been helping herself to my husband.” You chuckled disingenously. “I thought you’d be a lot prettier.” You neared the phone to get a better look. “Really, baby? Her?” 

Spencer looked away, not daring to say a word to his wife or his lover.

“And you? You don’t have anything to say?” You opened the floor to Maeve.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her cheeks reddened as she stuttered, her nauseating voice ricocheting off the walls and worming its way into your ears. 

“That’s okay. I don’t need you to talk. Just watch.” You hissed in such a searing way that it made her feel threatened and inclined to obey. 

Spencer looked up at you in confusion but his doubts were swiftly answered when you loosened his tie and ripped off his collared shirt with a murderous lust. 

“Baby, what-“

“You’re not going to say a word.” You smoothly replied, voice barely audible. 

You observed his sad eyes, entrenched with light crows feet that worsened with the weight of stress and regret. You weren’t sure how you were even going to begin to process his betrayal but right now, you had to take care of her first. What better way to drive home the point that he was yours than to show her? 

Unbuckling his heavy leather belt with an urgency you’d never felt, you glanced over to make sure Maeve was watching. Sure enough, the demure woman couldn’t peel her eyes away from the sight unfolding before her. 

As you pulled down his pleated black trousers, you unbuttoned your blouse and pulled down your skirt, throwing the articles of clothing behind you in a rushed hurl. Trailing your fingers down his boxers with your engagement ring flashing in front of the camera, you settled on his waistband. 

“Now, Spence. You’re going to fuck me in front of her.” 

His breath hitched as the unholy words left your smirking mouth. 

“And you-” You turned to face Maeve, who’s hand engulfed her mouth in panic. “You are going to watch it all.“

“No! You’re insane-“

“Or I’ll tell everyone at your work that you’re a home wrecking whore.” You dropped the threat like a hammer and it instantly silenced her.

“That’s what I thought.” 

A twisted grin consumed your face as you looked back at Spencer, who licked his lips at the sight before him- his wife eagerly spread open on the couch, waiting to be filled up. You weren’t sure whether it was an anxious tick or a sign of arousal and frankly, you didn’t care. 

“Show me how sorry you are.” You breathed heavily as you hooked your black lace panties and pulled them to the side.

Needing no further initiative, Spencer lowered his boxers and let his heavy cock spring free from its confines. Despite sex being the last thing on his mind, he couldn’t help the natural reaction his body had to you- it didn’t matter how many times he’d seen it in the last 5 years of your marriage, the sight of you split open for him was always enough to bring him crumbling to his knees. 

Shuffling closer, he let a long string of spit dribble down to your pussy before smearing it around with his painfully swollen tip. He was in a state of delirium and shock as his body moved as though it weren't his own- whatever the consequences, he knew he couldn't lose you.

“You see that, Maeve?” You cocked your head to the side. “That’s all mine.” 

You moaned shakily as he pushed himself in, coating his shaft in your wetness. 

“Isn’t that right, baby? Tell her.” You ordered your husband as he grabbed the back of your thigh, pushing against it to go even deeper. 

“That’s right.” He groaned as he plunged his cock in as deep as it could go, his skin flush against yours. 

“Who do you belong to?” You gazed up at him, running your fingers through his messy curls. 

“You, baby. I belong to you.” He whispers before turning to face the camera. “I belong to her. She owns me.” 

Maeve let out a short huff of disbelief, wanting to look away but struggling. 

“Harder.” You choked out a whisper as your body trembled under his touch, longing for more, aching to possess and to be possessed. 

His thrusts sped up in response, his hips smacking against yours fervently as you clawed at his back like a wounded animal. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He whined as he took you by the face with both hands, forcing you to look clearly at him. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Keep going.” You whispered frantically- the feeling of being perfectly stuffed paired with your volatile emotional state left you teetering on the edge of collapse. 

“She means nothing to me.” He grunted between thrusts and you bore a wide toothy grin at the capriciously sweet words. Real or not, you knew they had to hurt her- and that brought you a sadistic amount of pleasure. 

“What were you thinking going for her?” You tutted as he pounded into you like it was the last time, creamy arousal glistening in the dimly lit lounge. “I’m so much better than her. She’s so ugly. Isn’t she, Spence?” 

“Y-yes.” He whimpered. “She’s nowhere near as beautiful as you.” 

Satisfied enough with his taunting, you pushed him back with a bitter hand against his chest and climbed onto his lap with increasing desperation. 

“Bet you wish you could ride him like this, don’t you?” You sneered as you stroked his wet cock with a couple squelchy pumps. “But you never will. This dick is all mine.” 

You lowered yourself onto him, adjusting to his size with breathy moans as he threw his head back in deluge. Bouncing on it with more force than usual, you looked back to observe Maeve’s horrified face glowing on the screen. 

“You got that, bitch?” You jeered mockingly as you reached for his phone and flipped the camera to show Spencer’s exasperated face. “My husband, my dick.” 

With your final act of aggression, you hung up the call and threw the phone behind you. You were fairly confident she wouldn’t be inserting herself into your marriage again any time soon. 

“What the hell-” Spencer’s croaky voice rang out in intervals as you continued riding him with stomach-churning speed. “was that?”

“I was reminding you who you’re married to.” You halted for a moment to catch your breath. “You seem to have forgotten.”

His firm, calloused hands snaked their way around your hips as he dug his fingernails into your flesh, bringing you closer to him. 

“I'll never make that mistake again.” He declared solemnly, brushing the pad of his thumb against your cheek. “Do you forgive me, my love?”

Your limbs went numb and you felt paralysed at the thought. How could you ever forgive such an abuse of trust? 

Spencer firmly grabbed you by the jaw before trailing his hand to the nape of your neck. You wanted to wriggle out of his grasp but he guided your head to rest over his shoulder as he settled his touch on the small of your back. 

“I don’t know…” You slumped into him, feeling immobilised as you murmured mindlessly. 

He suddenly grabbed your ass and roughly spread it apart to allow easier access to your core- he thrust up into your weeping pussy with a force that had you huffing out wordless squeaks. He set a ruthless tempo, hammering into you as your gushing arousal dripped down his thighs. 

“If I’m going to let that little stunt you just pulled slide-“ He growled with a renewed ferocity. “then you’re going to suck it up and forgive me too.” 

Whining, you smacked the side of his bicep in protest but the way he was fucking your brains out left you unable to speak. 

“I don’t wanna hear it baby.” He kissed your temple sloppily as he patted your hair, smoothing it down while he massaged your insides. “You’re meant for me and I’m meant for you. We’re perfectly fucked up for each other.”

“Mmph-“ You moaned into his shoulder, drool dribbling down his skin as you bit into it. 

“I’m never letting you go.” He sped up as his force and aggression grew, leaving bruises in the shape of fingertips littered along your hips and ass. 

With one final thrust, you came undone - squeezing his cock so tight in the process that he couldn’t help but fill you up to the brim with his cum. You panted as you tried to catch your breath, creamy wetness pouring out of you as he pulled your sweaty bodies apart. 

“Okay.” You sighed. “I forgive you.” 

Spencer abruptly sat up as the precious words spilled from your swollen lips. “You mean it?” He trembled hopefully, melting expression tugging at your heartstrings. 

“Only if you swear to me it’ll never happen again.” You wagged your finger at him as he leapt onto you unexpectedly.

“Never! Never, baby, I swear.” He planted grateful kisses up and down your body as you indulged in a reluctant smile. “It’s only you. You are the only one for me. Now and for the rest of my life.” 

You could tell by his adoring gaze that he meant every word. Wrapping your arms around him, you settled into a healing embrace. He was allowed to make one mistake, you loved him enough to let it slide. And if resentment ever crept up on you, you could always fondly recall that drunken night with Agent Morgan. Who said married couples weren’t allowed a few secrets?

[spencers-bbygirl]

Hi everyone! Sorry for not posting. College finals are kicking my ass, but I am writing 3 new smut stories for Spencer so I can have them prepared when I come back to post them. Take care everyone and have a happy Halloween on Thursday

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

Knight in Shining Armor

Paring: Female FBI reader x Spencer Reid

Summary: The reader is kidnapped and Spencer is struggling to keep himself together.

Warnings: Mention of drugs and addiction, violence, kidnapping + mention of Spencer's kidnapping, angst from unsub and Spencer, mention of Maeve, sad Spencer, use of Y/N and Y/L/N (your last name)

Word count: 1K

-> MASTER LIST

Not in a million years did Spencer think anything like this would happen. “We're trying our best,” Hotch sighs. “Well obviously not hard enough!” Spencer hardly raised his voice, so when he did, Hotch knew he was serious. “We understand this unsub. We have handled cases like this multiple times. We will find her.” Hotch reminds Spencer. “Forty percent of kidnap victims are released unharmed, but that's only with a ransom. All the women he has kidnapped so far have died. Who’s to say he won’t do the same to Y/N.” he mutters before abruptly leaving the conference room. Spencer goes to the bathroom to clear his mind, and as his shaky hands run through his hair, the terrifying urge resurfaces once again. He craved his fix. Dilaudid . He knew he shouldn't. Either way, he couldn't. He knew he couldn't get his hands on anything. But, oh lord, it was hard to resist. His body felt itchy all over, an everlasting scratch that will never go away, even with the sharpest fingernails to claw at.

Spencer hears a soft knock on the door. “Hey, kid. It’s me, Derek.” Spencer quickly fixes his hair and daps away the tears in his eyes. “What- um. What do you want?” he asks. “I’m just checking up on you. I know what youre going through is tough. It's tough on all of us.” Derek starts. “Y’know, I was terrified when you were taken.” Why did he have to bring that up? The worst part was that he knew how petrifying it is to be kidnapped. Spencer slowly unlocks the door, and Derek lets himself in. “It's gonna be okay, man. You just have to have faith.” He says, and Spencer gives him a slow nod as tears begin to form again. Derek pulls him into a hug, letting him cry on his shoulder like a brother should do. 

"What if it happens again...?" Spencer whispers. "What if... what if she dies? I don't think I can handle another death. Another person leaving me..."

Derek knew how hard Spencer took Maeve's death. All he could do was hold him tight, because he didn't want to make promises he couldn't keep.

As the knife's cold, sharp blade drags along your jaw, bone-aching chills run through your body. "You don't have to do this." You mumble. You hear him laugh and you gag silently as you smell the stench of his rotten mouth. "Oh, but you see, I do," he mutters, tilting your head toward his sickening gaze with the blade's tip. "I'm not sure what they taught you, but you're a terrible actor. The moment I saw you, I knew you were an FBI agent." 

Was it really that obvious? You were trained to see through these unsubs. You have been taught to keep composure during situations like this. You wanted to cry at the prospect of any unsub getting the better of you. You had Spencer in mind. He was going to help you get through it. He was going to save you the same way you saved him. "They'll track you down. I'm certain they will."

Your kidnapper laughs once more. That threatening, taunting laugh. "Like who?" he wonders. "Your little boyfriend, the infamous Dr. Spencer Reid?" When Spencer is mentioned, your stomach drops. “Your boy genius. IQ of 186.” How did he know you referred to him as a 'boy genius'? "Actually, it's 187." Suddenly, his hand grasps your neck, and you gasp. “You- you don’t like being undermined…” you manage out. "You have difficulty speaking to women, especially when they are... more confident than you."

“No! That’s… that's not true!” His grip on your neck tightens, and you gasp for air. "You're dissatisfied with your life. You have a straightforward job that makes you unhappy. That's why you hurt women in order to reclaim your power." You had to figure out a way to buy time even with his hand around your neck constricting your air and death at his fingertips. 

"Admit it," you say quietly. "You're a pitiful... little... man." And, just as if God Himself had answered your prayers, the door bursts open, with S.W.A.T officers filing in and F.B.I agents following. Your captor removes his hands from your neck, accepting defeat as they handcuff him like a frail child caught breaking the rules. “Youre under arrest for the kidnapping and murder of five women, including the kidnapping of Y/N Y/L/N.” Agent Morgan says, along with the Miranda Rights he has memorized over the years of many arrests.

Emily and Spencer release you as soon as the offender is removed from the room. Spencer gives you a tender kiss on the lips. Spencer was constantly teased about your relationship by the BAU. Even now, he was still shy. When he kissed you in public, it was always a quick peck on the lips or a kiss on the forehead, never like this. So you were taken aback when he kissed you so passionately. Your heart beat faster. You knew you were in safe hands with Spencer. “I’m so sorry… I’m so incredibly sorry…” he whispers to you as warm tears stream down his face, his trembling hands running down your arms as he felt you underneath his touch, reminding himself that you are in fact real and alive. He didn't let you out of his embrace until he was fully aware that you were a physical being and not a figment of his imagination.

You had no idea the pain and suffering Spencer went through while you were held captive. It pained your heart to even think that Spencer had to sit in agony like that. 

“I thought you were dead. I mean… I never lost hope. I knew there was still a chance. You know, Schrӧdingers cat, in quantum mechanics-” You interrupt him by placing your fingers on his lips. “Yes, Spencer. I know what Schrӧdingers cat is.” You hum softly, and he can’t help but smile. “Come on, let's get you out of here. Medics are waiting outside,” he said as he helped you up and out. “I’m fine, Spence, really. I don’t need any medical help.” you protest, but he quickly pushes that away. “Youre getting checked out. That's non-negotiable.”

As you walked out of the room you were kept in, you expected to hear soft snickering from Derek, a cocked eyebrow from Emily, or an impressed look from J.J., but nothing. All that mattered was you and Spencer. He was the one who would remove your Crown of Thorns at the end of the day. Your knight in shining armor who was there to save your every trip and fall. 

[cumulo-stratus]

Hi!! Could you do a Spencer Reid x male reader where reader comes home upset about Strauss (or someone else at work) yelling at them about something so Spencer comforts reader as he breaks down? PLEASEEEEE

Home is with him[s.r]

Spencer comes home to find you struggling, and does his best to help

WARNINGS- angst, villainizes strauss, talks about being yelled at, crying

Spencer Reid x male!reader ][ hurt/comfort ][ masterlist!!

a/n- this was such a cute request!!! sry it took so long

1.65k

Your feet felt like lead blocks as you trudged up the too many stairs to Spencer's apartment.

The bag on your shoulder felt just as heavy as it weighed your shoulder down even more than your posture had already sagged. 

You felt like you didn't even have the mental energy to be annoyed when you couldn't get the key into the old jinky lock that was always hard to open.

But it felt particularly annoying today as you grimaced to yourself and flared your nostrils slightly while jimmying with the key

When the door finally jimmied itself open, it creaked with the age of the building through the empty corridor.

You were met with an equally empty apartment in front of you. 

Even though you knew he wasn’t there, there was some part of you deep down that still hoped to call out his name and hear a response from somewhere deeper in the apartment.

”spencerrr! i'm home! Are you in the bedroom?” you called out hopefully. The phrase was followed by a pang of disappointment when there was no response, just the quiet creaking of the old building settling. 

you had known that your boyfriend was on a case, and you knew that he rarely came home before 10 pm on cases. 

but a small part of you still hoped, maybe being the amazing genius of a boyfriend he is, he'd solved it in hours and flown back to take you right into his arms. 

you imagined Spencer encasing you in his embrace, the way he always does, and used it to give yourself the strength to put your things away. 

By the time your work bag and shoes had been left by the door along with your keys and your grimey work clothes had been shed there was a lump in your throat that you couldn't swallow down. 

You shoved the aforementioned work clothes at the bottom of your hamper, trying to push away the bad joojoo lingering on the pieces of cloth. 

It felt impossible to not keep recalling the harsh reprimanding and even harsher insults that Strauss had thrown at you. She had decided that today was the day to rip into you over something as simple as some paperwork. 

According to Strauss, she won't accept idiocracy or carelessness in her employees. Apparently, this ‘moronic’ mistake could've caused miscommunication, which could've caused a field agent to be injured or killed. 

her harsh words clawed at your thoughts as you leaned against the counter in the kitchen, lost in thought. 

when you finally forced yourself to make some dinner, you couldn't bring yourself to make an actual meal. So you opted instead to munch on a bag of trail mix. 

without the distraction of figuring out what to eat you felt the lump rise again in your throat, strauss’ words ringing in your thoughts.

the lump grew to a burning behind your eyes as you sunk down into the old leather couch that smelled like worn pages.

Spencer's whole apartment smells like old books, that was one of the things that you'd always loved about your boyfriend's apartment.

Usually the smell was a comfort, but today it only furthered to remind you of his absence. Everything reminded you of Spencer when he was gone. 

The apartment smelled like him, the kitchen had remnants of Spencer's rushed breakfast that you hadn't the will to clean. And of course every book littered on almost every surface.

You almost hoped the leather would open up and swallow you so you wouldn't have to think anymore. But when no matter how much you willed it to happen and it didn't, you instead opted for the tv. 

Friends almost immediately became static. And in this static you felt a warmth on your cheek. A tear. And then another one, and another. And another. 

Soon the floodgates were open and your lip wobbled. The only thing you could do was pull your knees up to your chest as you leaned to lay sideways with your head on the pillow, and hope that Spencer would come home soon.

Soon the mixing of the TV, the AC unit, and the dehumidifier all became one collective static noise to your ears. 

It felt like moments later when you blinked your eyes open from a sort of half sleep half trance. But then you realized what had woken you; the door unlocking and creaking open across the small mudroom area.

You could hear the faint sound of shoes sliding off, and a bag slumping on the floor as you tried your best to rub off the tear tracks and rub the redness from your eyes away as Spencer approached. 

When your boyfriend had arrived, the first thing he noticed as the door closed behind him was that most of the lights were turned off, and that friends was playing faintly on the tv. 

All this led Spencer to deduce that you had fallen asleep by the tv waiting for him. It was only 9 pm, but he assumed you'd had a long day at work. That was an understatement. 

As he rounded the couch, where he expected to find your sleeping frame, he instead found you, with eyes reddened from tears that had long since been shed. 

Spencer's face immediately twisted into a concerned frown, a knot between his brows forming as he took you in. 

You looked,, tired. Spencer could see the obvious rementants of tears on your reddened cheeks and in your tired, tired eyes. 

When you finally looked at Spencer, he cupped your face in his hand, using his thumb to softly brush away the tears. 

No words had been spoken yet, your lip only wobbled the tiniest bit. That was when Spencer finally spoke, “oh honey,”.

Spencer spoke so softly if he hadn't been inches away from you, you wouldn't have heard him. His voice was murmured and gentle.

The sound of Spencer's voice is what caused you to break. You're pretty sure your body was aware that it was finally safe, now that your boyfriend was here. With Spencer you were safe.

The wobbling lip turned to broken sob, and a new round of tears streaking your cheeks. Spencer could feel them hitting his fingers and wetting them. 

You needed to be held, and Spencer knew that. So he moved from standing in front of you, to sitting with you in his warm embrace finally.

With you in his arms, you could finally let out the tears comfortably. Their warmth wet Spencer's work shirt, the thin material becoming darker. 

You had immediately buried your face in his neck, allowing his scent to overtake you. He smelled like the worn pages of a book and coffee grounds. 

It filled your nostrils and made you breath in a deep sigh. Spencer had inadvertently helped to stop you from crying. 

He had that effect on you, bringing peace. “You wanna talk about it?” Spencer asked, again speaking with a murmured and ever so gentle tone. 

Spencer could feel you sigh into his neck, it was the only response you gave him. Spencer took this as you needed to talk about it, but refused to.

So he asked again- “darling you should at least tell me what happened- please?” Spencer spoke with the biggest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen. 

The only reason you could see the puppy eyes Spencer was so good at was that he had forced you (gently guided your head with his hands) to look at him. 

But he was right in doing it, as the look on his face made you cave. You just couldn't not- it was Spencer after all. 

Spencer noticed this shift almost immediately. His face softened more than it already had if that was even possible. 

“Come on love,”

The furrow between his brows was so tight with worry for his boyfriend you thought they might become one conjoined eyebrow. This thought made you let out a little chuckle through the tears. 

With a final sigh, you begin, “well Strauss yelled at me today in front of everyone over a filing error, she said that- that idiotic mistakes like that get agents killed in the field..” you trailed off, not wanting to continue the story as your voice had cracked. 

Spencer could tell there was more, but he didn't pry. He just went into helpful boyfriend mode and started rubbing your back gently, allowing you to rest your head back into the crook of his neck.

“My darling I'm sorry-” His voice had a slight gravel to it from how low and soft he spoke. 

You watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he spoke, and the way the soft skin under his jaw moved in tandem. 

You tried to use this to distract yourself from the tears still making their way down your cheeks. It didn't work. 

Instead Spencer took your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Would you like some tea, I got a new one you might like at the shop the other day” Spencer said hopefully. 

You nodded pitifully, your shoulders still heavy. Spencer just pecked your temple as he stood up. 

Only minutes and the sound of a whistling tea kettle later Spencer came back with two mugs. They were a matching set that had Mr. on each, reminiscent of Mr. and Mrs. mugs. Penelope had gifted them as a half joking present a couple years ago.

He placed both on separate coasters on the worn coffee table before pulling you back into his lap. His lanky arms wrapped around you gently and brought you close to his chest. 

You relaxed back into him as he gently played with your hair. He spoke calm, soft, and reassuring words to you.

He also peppered small kisses against your hair and behind your ear and anywhere else he could find as you eventually fell asleep against him. 

The End

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