#Spencer Reid gif

[incognit0slut]

Permanent attachment

in which you’re far too comfortable to move from Spencer’s lap, and he doesn’t mind carrying you around

content: fluff, 1.7k, established relationship, lots of kissing, sex talk, kinda fade-to-black smut, reader being very clingy, and spencer’s tummy (my fav) a/n: i once told @mandarinmoons that i wanted to climb the man and not even in a sexual way and she said “like a koala?” and to that i answered YES! self-indulgent fics are the best

Spencer smells nice. Like, annoyingly nice. And it’s not the kind of nice that’s vaguely pleasant. No, this is the kind that settles into your bones. A mix of soap and something uniquely him that you can't quite name but would probably pay an unreasonable amount to bottle up.

Now that sounds like a dream. Imagine Spencer in a bottle, spritzed onto your neck, lingering on your skin. Imagine a personal cloud of him following you everywhere, with top notes of freshly brewed coffee and a base note of comfort that leaves you no choice but to lean in just a bit closer. You shift on his lap, pretending to get comfortable, but really, it's because you want to catch another whiff.

Your boyfriend catches you mid-inhale. "Comfortable?"

You don’t even bother pretending to be embarrassed. Who cares if he knows you’re borderline obsessed? Who wouldn’t be? He’s smart, handsome, and smells like heaven bottled in human form. So instead of pulling away, you double down, pressing your nose right into the curve of his neck as your answer.

"I'm starting to think you might be a little attached.”

You sigh against his skin, “Might be? Spencer, I'm practically grafted onto you at this point. You better get used to it."

A hand runs up your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, but my legs might actually fall asleep if I don’t get up soon.”

“So dramatic,” you tease, smiling as you press a soft kiss to his jaw. The subtle scrape of his stubble tickles your lips.

“I don’t think you’ve moved an inch in the past hour.”

“I don’t even want to move an inch,” you murmur against his cheek. "I just want to stay like this. Forever. If I could just crawl under your skin and stay there, that would be perfect.”

Spencer laughs softly, the sound rumbling under your lips. You feel the warmth of his smile as he tilts his head toward you. “That sounds sweet yet incredibly creepy.”

“You know what I mean!” You slide your arms around him, weaving them across his shoulders. “I just… I want to—ugh, I don't know… squeeze you so tight you’d become part of me? Like an extension of my arm or something."

“That definitely sounds less creepy.”

“Shut up.” Your lips trace the rough scratch of his jaw, brushing along the curve until you reach the corner of his mouth. "Don’t you want someone permanently glued to you?"

“You’re definitely making a case for it.”

“Oh I’d climb you if I had to.”

His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck. “Is this where I find out you’re secretly a koala this whole time?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum against his lips, “and you’re my tall, handsome tree.”

His laughter vibrates against your mouth, and you let yourself melt into him, breathing in that comforting scent you’ve grown addicted to. You love him so much. You love him too much that your heart feels like it’s stretching to make room for all of it.

When he finally pulls back, you can’t resist reaching up to smooth your thumb over his bottom lip. “See? Permanent attachment.”

His own thumb caresses the back of your neck in lazy strokes. You're practically dissolving into him.

"I don’t have much of a choice, do I?" The tip of your nose brushes against his as you shake your head. He steals another quick peck from your lips. "I really do need to get up though.”

You pout immediately. “Why?“

“Because my throat is actually starting to feel a little dry. I could use some water.”

“Water is overrated. Stay.”

“Honey,” he croons softly, his eyes squinting with that familiar crinkle at the corners. He thinks you’re cute when you’re clingy. “The kitchen is only ten feet away.”

“Ten feet too far. Do you know the kind of emotional damage I’ll suffer if we’re apart for too long?”

“So dramatic,” he mocks back, planting a kiss on your jaw, your cheek, and you giggle when his mouth lands on the skin between your ear and your neck. “All I’m asking for is ten feet. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“I might wither away from loneliness by the time you get back.”

You feel the ghost of his smile against your skin. “I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“I miss you already,” you sigh when he gently nips at the soft flesh of your neck. “Maybe you should just take me with you.”

You’re mostly bluffing, half-expecting him to laugh it off because Spencer has never actually carried you before. Not that you’ve ever minded—it’s not exactly the first thing you’d expect from him. But before you can even process it, he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under your knee and the other around your back with surprising confidence.

And just like that, the floor seems miles away as he lifts you up.

“Wait! Wait!” you laugh, clutching at his shoulders. "Spencer!"

“I thought you wanted to come along."

“I didn’t think you’d actually carry me!”

You’re met with his steady grip, and to your surprise, he’s not struggling in the slightest. Apparently, those arms are stronger than you’d given him credit for, and it’s… well, very, very attractive. He strides confidently across the apartment, and you can’t help but let out an impressed, slightly flustered, “Okay, this is actually kind of hot.”

The corners of his lips twitch upward, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I did not know you were strong enough to do this,” you comment, then a thought sneaks into your mind, “Do you think we can try this position in the bedroom?”

He looks surprised and mildly amused. “Really? While standing?”

You loop your arms tighter around his neck. “You seem perfectly capable.”

“Wouldn’t I be doing all the work?”

“I thought you liked doing all the work.”

His chest presses against yours as he lets out another laugh. “If by that you mean spoil you, then yes, I do,” he says, casting a quick glance around the room. “Can I sit you on the counter, or are you planning to keep hanging on to me?”

“Tempting, but you can put me on the counter.”

With a gentle ease, he lifts you just slightly higher and sets you down on the cool countertop. “I can still carry you around if that’s what you want.”

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to brush a stray lock of curls from his face. “I don’t want to tire you out.”

“You’re not tiring me out,” he assures you as he reaches up to grab a glass from the top shelf, arm stretching just enough to give you a teasing glimpse of his soft stomach.

You can’t help yourself. You reach over and splay your hands over that warm skin, feeling the faint tickle of the fine hair scattered down his belly that disappears into his waistband. He doesn’t flinch—he’s long used to your hands finding their way to him like this—but he does cast a sidelong look in your direction. Behave.

If he’s expecting you to follow some sense of decorum, he should know better by now. You give his stomach a gentle, almost smug pat, and shakes his head as he moves to pour himself water.

“What do you want to do after this?” he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder. You don’t give him an immediate answer, but he’s already suggesting a few ideas for the rest of the evening.

You can’t even pretend to pay attention. Is it normal to be this obsessed with your boyfriend? Because at this point, your focus isn’t even on the words coming out of his mouth. Something about a documentary, maybe. He’s probably rattling off the details right now, but you’re entirely distracted, your eyes shamelessly zooming in on the way his forearm flexes as he holds the glass. Even the soft hair dusting over his skin is doing things to you.

He catches your blatant stare and looks at you over the rim of his glass.

“What?”

“You are so sexy.”

He almost chokes on his water. The glass clatters against the countertop as he sputters, “What has gotten into you today?”

Probably ovulation. But you simply shrug, legs swinging idly against the cabinets beneath you. “I just love you.”

The answer is simple. Words spoken with all the casual sincerity you feel, but it’s enough to melt his astonishment into affection as he strides over and slips between your thighs.

“You just love me?”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, reaching up to brush over the delicious roughness of his stubble. “Like a ridiculous amount. Probably too much.”

His heart is swelling, so full it feels like it’s about to burst. “I love you too.”

“That’s it?”

You watch as his nose twitches, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips before he sighs, “I love you so much, angel."

"I think you can do better than that."

He huffs a chuckle, "I love you too much," he tries again, "more than I even know what to do with."

You smile in satisfaction, a little triumphant over his exaggeration. You’ve taught him well. “Say it again.”

The wide expanse of his palms settles on your waist.

“I am madly,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “deeply,” another finds its way to your jaw, “hopelessly,” he murmurs as he grows even closer to your lips, “in love,” he’s a breath away from yours, “with you.”

The space between you shrinks to nothing. You swallow his last words, letting them dissolve on your tongue like the sweetest confection. What begins as a delicate melding of warmth and breath quickly intensifies, as though he’s determined to steal every bit of air from your lungs. And before you know it, his hands are sliding under you.

A surprised squeal escapes your lips as he lifts your weight, and an even louder gasp follows when he carries you toward the bedroom.

You know exactly what he plans to do for the rest of the evening.

[endearng]

Tie

Pairing: switch!Spencer Reid x sub!fem!reader Summary: Spencer gets unreasonably jealous of you. You let him take control to comfort and reassure him. That's what loving girlfriends do. WC: 3.6k Warnings: smut - oral (f receiving), edging, overstimulation, kinda softdom!Spencer, reader is compliant to everything he says, he's just as desperate as her, sir kink, creamp1e (i long for a better word), bondage, unprotected pinv, dirty talk (they yap), pet names, pussy slapping. Jealous Spencer deserves a warning of its own. Minors, please, do not interact. A/N: I have no excuse for myself (I'm ovulating). This is pure filth and indulgent because I was being tortured with thoughts of Spencer.

Feedbacks are always welcomed and appreciated <3 Masterlist

Subtle touches from Spencer all night had you going crazy. Well, they weren’t exactly that subtle.

During a particular conversation you were having with Rossi about Italian cuisine (you were an enthusiast, both of cooking and eating Italian dishes like nothing else existed), Spencer, who had an armed slung over the chair you were sitting on, started twirling your hair in his fingers. When you laughed at some remark about how the French people are insane for combining dairy with fish, your boyfriend pulled your hair rather crudely. You glared at him from the corner of your eye.

You got somewhat angry because it was uncomfortable for you to be that intimate around others, but his teasing worked wonders on you. Now, you wanted his touch to be bolder, thirstier, needier, just to match your own sinful thoughts and wants. Right now, Spencer was saying goodbye to Rossi, who was waiting for a cab to take him and his wife back home. Spencer's hand rested at the small of your back. The wine you sipped all through the night, combined with Spencer's bratty behavior, was now making your pussy throb with need for your boyfriend. Nevertheless, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you all worked up in public. "Goodbye, Krystall, and again, happy birthday. Thank you for including me! It was incredible," you said to the woman, who hugged you warmly and thanked you with a smile on her face. "Looking forward to those cooking sessions you mentioned earlier," you said, a big smile on your face as you gave David Rossi a hug.

"Anytime, bellissima." He said simply as you pulled away, smile gracing his face. You held out your hand to Spencer to walk back to his car.

The nickname had struck a nerve. He wasn't jealous, no, he trusted you with his body and his soul, even if he, as a man of science, didn't believe in the latter — that's how much he loved and trusted you, and it was Rossi, for God's sake... Still, he was just another man. Another stupid, territorial man. He opened the door for you and you entered the car, giving him a peck on the lips, "Thanks, handsome."

"Anytime, bellissima," he said through gritted teeth after he closed the door and as you fastened your seatbelt, out of your earshot. He turned around to enter the car, taking the driver's seat.

You went home silently, but you could sense the heavy atmosphere between you on the way there. As you entered your apartment, he got down on his knees to take off your shoes for you. He always did it, no matter what. Apparently, acting weird was no exception to his care with you. You bit your lip, a little apprehensive to bring up the subject. "Thank you, baby," you said softly instead.

"You're welcome, darling." he said, not looking at you and taking longer than necessary in his task.

You sucked in a breath. "Okay, baby, what was that? We need to talk about it."

"What was what?"

"Just when we left the restaurant. I said thanks and you basically ignored me all the way here," you explained, even if you knew he definitely knew what you were talking about. your hand found the nape of his neck, making him look up at you. He had a guilty look on his face.

Busted.

He sighed, "I'm sorry, baby. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I was mean." He apologized, eyes sincerely searching your form and hands reaching up to rest on the sides of your hips.

"Why did you do it, then?"

"Bellissima. You know what it means. I just got... jealous? I should be the only one complimenting you," he said, now standing at full height in front of you. Kissing your lips, hands caressing your waist, touch light as a feather, "telling you how much you mean to me," you sighed as his lips brushed the skin of your neck, "how much it drives me crazy just seeing you," he bit the sweet spot just behind your ear, "my beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend. Mine."

You pulled on his hair so he could see your features. Looking him dead in the eye, with an almost angry look on your face. You wanted him to pay for everything he had done that night. "Baby, you were touching me all night, knowing that you were driving me insane. knowing you're the only one who gets to do that," you leaned in to kiss him softly. "And then throw a tantrum like the spoiled little thing that you are just because someone said a word to me? You know compliments mean nothing when it comes from someone who's not you, baby. Thought you knew better."

Silence. He looked at you like you kicked his dog. 

"Remind me, then," he retorted, looking you in the eye. "Remind me how much you're mine and mine only."

One of your favorite things about your relationship with Spencer was that, in public, your dynamic was totally different from what you were like between four walls. When you were surrounded by people, Spencer acted like a gentleman, always making sure to cater to your every whim, opening car doors, taking off your shoes for you, picking nice places to take you on dates, accepting your suggestions of what to wear — it was no coincidence that he looked a lot more styled lately, but you also loved his usual attires. It was how you met him and how you fell in love with him, after all.

But, in the bedroom (or wherever he decided to have you), it was totally different. You were compliant to everything he said, letting go of the control you had over yourself, over your relationship, over everything so he could take you to fucking heavens. You obeyed everything without so much a "yes, sir", and he fucking loved it.

He unzipped the skin-tight dress after leading you back to your shared room. He sat down on the edge of the bed, you stood before him, whose tie was loosened around his neck. "Is this all for me?" he asked as he saw what you had underneath your dress all night long, absolutely sick with the slightest idea that someone else could have that.

You sighed as he kissed your neck and trailed down to your breasts, easily unclasping your bra. "Yes, sir, all for you."

Just like clockwork, all his attention drifted to your breasts. One of his large, calloused hands held your waist securely and the other played with one of your nipples as he licked the other, his hot tongue circling the nub, making you whimper and sending a rush of wetness through your core. "mmm, always need my mouth full of you, angel."

"nnngh, it feels so good."

He smiled on your skin, biting your nipple afterwards. The sting made you see stars and desperate to feel him in some sort of way, you'd take anything he had to offer you. You just needed to be touched. As he continued your ministrations on your breasts, switching from one to the other, you moaned, your hands finding his hair. "Sir—ah—, can you please—touch me?"

He stopped his movements and looked up at you, laughing mockingly. "Is that all it takes, pretty? A few minutes of my mouth on you and you're already so pliant? So eager for me to touch you?"

"Yes, sir. I need you so bad."

"Tell me, then," he scoffed, "where do you want me to touch you?"

Your incoherent babbles meant nothing, so he just laughed at your poor attempt at an answer.

"You're so good at begging, aren't you?" You nodded, licking your lips with the sight of his wet ones. "Wanna kiss me, baby?"

"Always do. Can I?"

"Yes, you can." No matter how dominant he was, he could never deny you a kiss.

You leaned down to kiss him. The brush of your lips alone made Spencer crazy, craving more and more. He could spend hours just kissing you, never getting tired of the mind numbing sensation it had on him. You deepened the kiss, your tongue caressing his, earning a moan from his end. You smiled. "I love kissing you." You whispered as you barely pulled away, breathless.

"I know you do, pretty."

His hands trailed on the sides of your body, earning a shiver from you. Just as he reached the hem of your panties, they traveled up again, grazing the skin of your arms instead. As he found your hands, he gave them a gentle squeeze. He stood up and looked down at you, in for another kiss. "You have no idea what you do to me," he groaned. His words only spurred you further. "Take off my shirt. Slowly." he commanded. And you complied, taking every chance to brush your fingers against his hot skin, desperate to rake your nails on his chest, to make him shiver for you, too.

Spencer turned you around gently so you could see yourself in the big mirror placed in front of the bed. You watched as he pushed your hair out of his way, resting it on your left shoulder to give him access to your neck, his hands finding your breasts so he could play with them, too. He started with light kisses on your neck, lips barely brushing the area, making goosebumps soon erupt on your skin. His caresses got gradually more aggressive, making you blatantly moan his name when he bit the sweet spot behind your ear and grinded his clothed dick against your ass. You whimpered, overwhelmed with so many stimuli.

Turning you to face him, again, he sat you on the edge of the bed, covered only by your underwear in front of him. You could see the tent in his pants and you were desperate to taste him, to take him in your mouth in order to make him as crazy as he made you. God, the things you'd do to hear him whimper like he knew you loved to hear...

"Thinking about something, angel?" He chuckled, mocking you yet again when he saw what were you looking at and the position you put yourself in: cunt in full display after you placed both feet at the edge of the bed.

You nodded violently. That was how you always found yourself pleading for him. It didn't take much, honestly. "Please, sir, I'll do anything. jus', please, let me feel you,"

Anything...

"Aw, pretty, you're so desperate for me," his tone was condescending. "thought you'd wanted someone else for a moment tonight."

"No! No! Never, sir. Never. I only want you. I only want you to touch me."

Leaning down, his fingers raked over your stomach, ghosting over the fabric of your panties. Spencer groaned as he touched the wet patch on your underwear, glistening, begging for attention.

"'s just how much I want you..."

"Look at you, angel, begging me to have my way with you," he sneered, "so pretty..." he muttered, getting down on his knees.

Through your soaked underwear, Spencer caressed your mound and outer lips, almost as if he was drawing your cunt from scratch, tracing every single feature, making it cling even harder to the garment. Each touch made you feel eager. Want something, say something, right?

He teased you for what felt like hours, but when you were finally able to form a sentence, he pushed your panties to the side and he moaned lowly at the sight of you. "Spence—sir..." You started, but were cut by a breathless grunt that raked through you as he licked a broad stripe on your slit.

"You are soaked, princess, had to have a taste of you... you were sayin'?"

"Please, don't stop, sir," your hands flew to his hair, trying to push him back to what he had started.

"Nuh-uh, princess," he tsked, gathering his tie from the floor, "You don't deserve to touch me after the little show you put up today. I’m gonna have to tie you up, alright?" 

There it was. Your punishment.

One thing about Spencer is that he always made sure to tell you whatever he was planning on doing with you, both so that you could say no if you wanted to and also because it turned you on beyond limits. It made your heart soar, he was so careful with you, making every man on earth seem like straight up Neanderthals. You whined at his plan as he looked at you to see if you were okay with the idea.

You jutted your lip out, brows furrowing, but you couldn't disagree with him. Adorable, he thought. He tied both of your hands behind your back, using his fucking tie. "... Yes, 's alright. I jus' wish I could touch you so badly," you complained.

"I know, pretty," he cooed, "that's why I'm gonna give you a chance to be good for me, and when you prove to me you can do it, you can touch me all you want."

"O-okay," you stuttered as he started placing teasing kisses on your inner thighs. You sighed.

"You smell so good. Want me to taste you too, hm? You're soaked, your pussy is begging me to do something about it."

"Yes, yes, I do!" you almost yelled. "Please, sir, I'll be good for you."

"I know you fucking will." he stated. Just then, he started licking your pussy, delicately at first just so you could get used to the feeling of finally having him the way you wanted. His hands held your hips in place to stop you from moving. He was the one in control, after all.

Then, once he sucked your clit between his lips, he started flicking his tongue against the nub, eliciting moans from you. The taste of you in his tongue was something he could never get used to, every fucking time felt like the first. He felt addicted to the power it had over him. The best he could do was at least try to be in control. You squirmed, almost like you wanted to get away from him, but his firm hands held you in place. "Be good and stay still," he muttered against your core, slapping your pussy once. You nodded, whining, too lost in the feeling after the sting, in the feeling of his tongue punishing you in a rhythm that put you in a frenzy. Spencer's middle finger slowly pushed inside your fluttering walls. "You're dripping all over my fingers. What a messy girl."

Knuckle deep inside your cunt and mouth feverishly and steadily working on your clit, your boyfriend started to feel more and more desperate by the second with the sounds coming from your mouth. You, on the other hand, could almost taste your release, a complete mess on the bed, chants leaving your reddened lips from all the biting, "yes, sir! You make me feel s'good, you're s'deep in me. Fuck! I'm your good g—" as he heard your words tinged with desperation in a high pitched voice and felt the muscles in your pussy tighten, he quickly stopped his actions.

He would bet money that it hurt him more than it did you.

"Noooo..." you whined, like a spoiled brat. A breathless, messy, spoiled brat. You knew what you were in for from the moment he took off your shoes. "Please, please, sir. You can f-eel how desperate I am for you," you blabbered, trying to argue. "Can I show you?" You decided to take matters into your own hands. Well, as best as you could.

He stood up. "Let's see what you've got, princess." He gripped his shaft in front of you, making saliva pool in your mouth. "You're not even being fucked yet, and you're already this dumb, baby?" He sneered at you. You looked up at his face, taking in his dilated pupils watching you. You looked like any man's wet dream, perfect pussy on display, chest heaving with anticipation of what was coming next, face contorted in the filthiest expression in the world.

He would be happy just to watch you, but he was actually able to taste, touch, see, smell and hear the whole thing.

He was the luckiest man in the world.

Half sitting on the bed, back against the headboard and already off of his slacks and briefs, he beckoned you over to his lap. You kneeled somewhat awkwardly on the bed to hover on his lap, cunt dripping arousal on his belly as you did so. He groaned, the dominant facade faltering for a moment. He had to be the most indulgent dominant man ever, because he was barely able to resist you and your seducing ways. "See how wet you make me?" You whispered, eyes focused on his, which looked directly at the sheer liquid pooling on his stomach.

"You're such a good girl, baby" in a weakened voice made its way out of his mouth. "Since you asked so nicely and you have proof, why don't you show me how much you love riding me, huh? Come on, pretty, sit on my cock. Ride me." His commanding sentences made your cunt gush yet again.

"Yes, sir!" you exclaimed, ready to obey his commands.

Spencer gripped his base and rubbed his dick against your folds. He groaned, biting his lip and it took every single ounce of self control not to kiss him senseless. After some more teasing, he muttered, "You can do it now."

You sat down on him, slowly, pushing the tip in. "Fuck," hoarse voice, just the way he loved it, "you feel so good, sir. And you're not even fully in yet."

"Come on, nice and slow, princess."

You sank a little further, his girth stretching you out so deliciously that it made you shut your eyes closed as goosebumps erupted on your skin, pure bliss running through you. "Fuck—ah— you're so, so hard, sir," you hissed.

"Yes, that's it," he grabbed your hands in one of his. He felt you clench around him. "Gonna make sure you get off on my cock alone."

Recalling his demand, you obeyed. Nice and slow, savoring the feeling of having him buried to the hilt inside of you. each time you pulled back just to slam his dick inside again made you feel dizzy. Spencer was mesmerized by the sight before him. First, your expression told him how much you enjoyed riding him, mouth agape to let out the dirtiest moans and words, unlike the poised woman he liked to brag about to whoever listened. "Fuck, you're so deep. 's so good, love it when you let me ride you, sir."

Spencer kept silent for a moment, still admiring your form. He watched as the hair on your skin shivered each time he started to meet your thrusts, eager to make you his. his eyes drifted to your breasts, bouncing with every movement of your bodies. It was wanton, watching you get off on top of him, using him to chase your own high, but the sight that got him enthralled was your pussy making his cock glisten with your arousal. "Yeah, pretty? So what do you say? D'you remember you have to be nice?"

"Thank you, sir"

"Thank you for what?" he urged.

“Thank you for letting me sit on your cock,"

"That's right. You're taking me so well, princess, fucking hell," he cursed. "Such a tight cunt, so perfect for me."

"I'm all yours, sir! Yours."

"That's right. You're taking me so well, princess, fucking hell," he cursed. "Such a tight cunt, so perfect for me."

At this point, Spencer was a goner below you. You rocked your hips and he met you thrusts ruthlessly, focused on chasing your high. You slowed your movements, clit grinding against his pubic bone, dick still rock hard inside of you. You felt the telling signs of your orgasm approaching and, mind filled with thoughts of all the filth you've done with him. You still wanted to do much more. "Fuck, pretty girl—you're so good at taking me."

You leaned down to whisper in his ear, your tits brushing against his skin adding to the whirlwind of sensations. "Can I come, sir? Please! I want to come all over your cock," all your sentences sounded like heavenly, pathetic whines to Spencer's ears.

"You hafta take it, princess," he groaned, hands guiding your movements. "Take. It." He urged, words emphasized by two particularly hard thrusts. “Wanna come inside of you.”

"Yes, please! I'm all yours—Spencer!" You yelled out his name as your orgasm washed over you, still grinding against him.

The sound of his name leaving your lips was enough to follow you not shortly after. “Gonna come—fuck—inside you.” He gritted. After spilling inside you, he kept fucking his cum back inside with a few sloppier thrusts.

You crashed beside him, taking a minute to catch your breath. Spencer quickly reached to undo his tie on your wrists, kissing the soft skin after removing the garment. You chuckled at his care. “Don't ever stop me from touching you again,” you muttered.

“What are you going to do, angel? Stop me?” He laughed softly.

He cleaned you both up and you had your hands free to caress your boyfriend’s skin all night long.

The next morning, Spencer had you on the phone as he walked in the bullpen, saying “yes”, “of course”, and a series of different agreements, gleeful expression on his face.

He heard Derek Morgan chuckle. "Aw, Reid, she already telling you what to do?"

"There's no time for her to start, you know that, Derek," Emily quipped.

They had no idea you were telling him about the wet dream you had about him fucking you in the middle of the bullpen.

[hippiegoth97]

me and [insert fictional man here] 🥵🥵🥵

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Very very early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone). Next upload will prob be heavy angst/no smut post-prison spencer (god help me please, i must be a masochist for the way i make myself suffer)

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There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

[reidgif]

[venusbyline]

Whore ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 21, oct.

(late post) ♡ part 1

— pairing: Spencer Reid x girlfriend!reader

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: edging play

— summary: You are tired of Spencer's brat behavior and decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. After all, despite everything, he will always be your little whore at the end of the day.

— word count: 2.2k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 21st day, female!reader, boyfriend!Reid, edging play, orgasm denial, degradation, praise kink, drunk sex, reader is a member of the BAU, argument, handjob, jealously, cock worship, body worship, slapping, punishment, crying, dacryphilia, semi-public sex, teasing, implied/referenced cheating (BUT NO REALLY), drunken flirting, relationship issues, trust issues, BAU Team mentioned, minor JJ x Prentiss, minor Reid x JJ (BUT NO REALLY), lesbian!JJ mentioned, brat!Reid, brat tamer!reader, light sadism, light hurt/comfort, masochist!Reid, sub!Reid, dom!reader, long hair!Reid/Jesus!Reid. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

Going to a pub with the rest of the BAU team had been a bad decision. A decision that Spencer made by impulse, always enjoying making you jealous when he was a little bored. He had promised that night you two could finally finish watching the new TV show released on Netflix, but instead he convinced you to go with him to drink with your friends.

Despite the slight disappointment of having to change your schedule for the night, you did not mind too much. You loved having fun with the team and you were almost sure Spencer had learned his lesson after the last punishment when you sat on his face for hours, riding him and using his lips to reach your orgasm, as if he was nothing but your favorite sex toy. And indeed he really was and loved to be that for you.

However, Spencer was also a spoiled little whore. Accepting Morgan's invitation to go with the BAU friends to the pub was supposed to be a true fun time. If he had not fucked up everything by flirting with JJ, you really could have had fun with all of them instead of spending every fifteen minutes drinking a new glass of wine. He wanted to get a reaction out of you, something that would make you mad at him again and making him receive the best orgasm of his whole life, as always happened.

At first, you tried to ignore it. JJ distanced herself from him, also not really liking his not-so-innocent flirting. She did not want you to think she was actually interested about your boyfriend. JJ was the type of woman who was more interested especially about Emily, but also about Garcia and even you sometimes. Reid was not even interested in his friend too, it was all only to tease you. But it was still uncomfortable and no one of the group wanted to be in the middle of the possible argument that would ensue if Spencer continued acting with that childish behavior.

When JJ began to ignore the flirting, Spencer sighed with frustration, drinking his whiskey and looking around the establishment. He saw a beautiful curvy woman sitting alone, also drinking the same whiskey. Noticing his gaze, she smirked, fiddling with her long blonde hair before waving at the shy Spencer.

Morgan's attention immediately went to Spencer, noticing how he giggled at the woman's invitation and handed the promise ring to Morgan, who put it inside his jeans pocket before snorting. "Fuck. That's enough, Pretty Boy. You're really crossing the line now."

Morgan knew about Reid's way of attracting your dominant side. He did not think it was all bad, but he also knew that sometimes his friend crossed some limits. And this was something much more serious than the last few situations. "It's just harmless flirting, dude. You know I love my darling more than anything and anyone in this whole world." Spencer defended himself, really annoyed that Morgan thought he was thinking about cheating the woman who had his heart in the palm of her hands.

"Anyway, Reid. This isn't cool, man. You're already making things tense by trying to flirt with JJ in front of everyone. And now you're still gonna do it while your fucking girlfriend's in the bathroom? What kind of gentleman are you?" It was Prentiss's turn to argue, crossing her arms disapprovingly. "It just makes you look like a terrible boyfriend. Actually, it's a real shame for us, for her and for yourself..."

Spencer's eyes widened with shock. He had never seen things this way. He knew he was acting bratty and spoiled, flirting for fun just to get your punishment. Most of the time, Spencer thought you liked the adrenaline rush. However, looking at the real view, he was starting to worry that you were actually hurt by him. Anyone who did not know the two of you well would think he was an cheating man who did not even respect his own girlfriend in public.

"Oh, holy shit..." He sighed in frustration, rubbing his hand over his face, trying to ward off the effects of the alcohol. Spencer looked at each of the older agents, the slight anger in Morgan and Emily faces, the disappointment in Hotch, Garcia and Rossi eyes, and the clear discomfort in JJ's flushed cheeks, which most of the time was the focus of his annoying advances. "Damn, Jen. I sure I'm just-"

Spencer was about to apologize to his friend, but stopped when he heard laughter. A laugh he knew all too well. The entire team looked back, Spencer's face turning pale as he saw a man with an arm around your waist as you two walked to the table. He tried to say anything, anything at all, but all he could think about was how much stronger the man was than him, practically the same height but with a huge difference in muscles, his large hand clasped around your waist as if you were a little doll.

"Guys, this is Nicholas. Or Nick. As I prefer to call him. We met at a coffee shop a few days ago. Nick, these are my teammates at the BAU." You smiled, hands on his strong arm that was bursting out of his white shirt.

"Hey..." The man said with an attempt at a friendly smile, but he did not quite manage it. Spencer was profiling him too well to know that Nicholas was trying his best not to let his arousal show through the shorts he wore, due to your warm hand on his skin.

Spencer waited for you to introduce himself as your boyfriend, to tell the stupid boy that you were his girl. However, the brief look you gave his empty finger was enough to let him know you were nor going to do that. Spencer internally cursed himself for taking off the damn ring and giving it to Morgan. That stupid plan to flirt with the blonde girl in the other part of the pub had already evaporated from his mind, but the consequences were just coming.

After some more time of small talk, Nicholas finally left, saying he needed to get back to the house because he had to study for a casting audition the next morning. The agents said goodbye to him with friendly waves, while Spencer continued with that angry stare, his bad mood only getting worse when Nicholas gave you a brief grab on your ass and a soft kiss on your cheek, humming something like "See you another day, princess" and coming out as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

The atmosphere became tenser after the same moment that the pub bell rang to announce Nicholas's departure. "Well, I guess my girlfriend's nothing but a fucking greedy whore..." Before anyone could argue, you grabbed Spencer's arm without any usual tenderness. Morgan even tried to get up to help both of you resolve the situation, afraid that it would escalate into a violent argument. Even though he trusted his best friends, the thought of a stubborn couple fighting after drinking so much whiskey and wine made him apprehensive, but Hotch motioned for him to remain seated, indicating that the argument was none of their business. The entire team knew Spencer and you well enough to know what would happen in the pub bathroom.

"You really think you've any right to call me a whore?" You growled, your hand unbuttoning the khakis that Reid was wearing, listening to him whimper and try to cover the damp spot on his white boxers. He wanted to keep arguing. He wanted to stay angry as hell after your intentional flirt with that idiot playboy. Spencer really doubted that Nicholas was as smart as he was. Or that Nicholas had as many bachelor's degrees and doctorates as he had. "You think you've the right to call me a fucking greedy whore, when you're the one who's always teasing me, hitting on all the women just to piss me off?"

Your fist closed around his cock, already turned on and sensitive just from the tension of the fight. Spencer tried. He really tried hard to take control. But that had been impossible after you dragged him through the halls while he was calling Nicholas a "stupid actor" and saying you were a cockslut desperate for male attention. Anyway, the wiser reaction was being pushing him against the wall of the women's bathroom — fortunately empty thanks to the few people in the establishment.

"And you are, darling. You're a little whore..." Spencer growled, closing his eyes so he would not watch how your hand moved so quickly on his cock, pinky and needy of your touch, already dripping and proving that he was your little whore, and not the other way around.

"Oh, am I?" You increased the speed, the natural lubrication that dripped from his glans not being enough to stop the slight stinging that came with the friction. It was like rubbing himself raw, and yet Spencer moaned, rolling over his eyes with the ache, whimpering for more. “You look like a noisy slut.” You spat on his cock to ease the pain he was enjoying. On the one hand it was good, as the burning subsided and your saliva was cold from the wine you drank before the argument. But on the other hand, Spencer pouted at the lack of agony and the way you began to rub him slowly. "You like it when it hurts so bad, don't you?"

Your mockery made Spencer bite his lip and smirk, his cheeks flushed with a look that indicated how much he always enjoyed suffering at your hands. He lifted his hips forward and you watched with a raised eyebrow as he fucked himself inside your hand, his hips starting slowly and enjoying the way you let him use your fist to pleasure himself. You did not even need to move, seeing his slutty smile and head arched back, his jaw line forming such a perfect angle that you had to stop yourself from moaning at the sight.

When Spencer's hip movements started to get faster and more erratic, you huffed and took your hand away from his crotch, the soft sound of his cock hitting back against his own thin stomach mixing with the sound of your boyfriend's whimpers.

"You see now? You're nothing but a brainless brat, Spencer. Can't you even ask me to cum? You always have to make a mess? Can't you do anything right?" You practically yelled and he sobbed, squirming against the wall and ignoring the cold tile pressed against his pretty ass.

"I'm so sorry, darling..." He sobbed again, one hand trying to touch himself and the other running through your hair as a way of wanting to beg you for forgiveness, but without saying that.

"Yeah, you should feel that way."

The sad pout appeared on Spencer's lips again. He should not have called you a whore. He should not have arguing with you for letting Nicholas flirt right in front of him, when he teased you like that all the time too. In fact, Spencer had realized that he should not have extended this kind of teasing for so long. He had crossed boundaries and made your relationship stressful. Spencer knew you were hurt by this now and he could not blame you.

"Darling..." He tried to touch you, but you pulled away, spitting into your palm and wrapping your fingers around his girth for the third time, hearing his eager whine. You knew he was just jealous, actually always feeling insecure and wanting punishments. However, you did not want to hear anything right now. You pulled his shirt up, forcing the fabric over his mouth, which he bit against his will, despite the tears in his eyes. Tears that were both of relief at being touched again and sadness at knowing that you did not even want to hear his apologies.

"Stay like that. Like the jealous and needy little slut you are." You ordered, kneeling on the floor in front of Spencer and staring at the sight. His wide teary eyes, his teeth biting into his shirt, his flushed cheeks and his long hair damp with sweat... And most of all, his skinny body and belly contracting in anticipation, your nimble fingers caressing the reddish head of his cock with a smirk on your face, lightly licking the tip and hearing a muffled whimper escaping from those pretty swollen lips. "I'm gonna tease you for as long as I want. And you can just cum when I tell you to, you understand?"

The sharp slap you gave his thigh made Spencer sob with both pain and pleasure, pulsing in your hand as he nodded with some desperation. He needed this. He needed to cum. He needed to be a good boy for you. Your own little whore.

"That's it, my good boy." Despite your anger, you actually smiled for the first time since the whole damn mess started, pressing a soft kiss to the red mark on his skin where you hit him. And Spencer's cheeks flushed, not just because of the horny, but also because he loved you so much. He would be your good boyfriend again.

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i'm in love. he's protective and a gentleman???

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Description: Sunshine rookie gets a boyfriend, and Spencer can’t help but think he would be so much better for her. But that definitely isn’t the jealousy talking, right?

Length: 8k

Warnings: nothing really, jealousy? talks of sex? embarrassment? Mention briefly of vomit because of allergic reaction.

main masterlist.

author’s note: I want to write for these two until my fingers are two little stubs and even then I’ll learn with my toes. Can be read as a stand alone!

He thought he was going to be sick when he saw her that random Thursday, leaning against her desk, a sweet, bashful smile on her face. Or, more specifically, Spencer thought he was going to need to at least sit down when he saw the man standing next to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the little daisy earrings Penelope bought her for her birthday almost laughing at his gobsmacked expression. 

He liked Agent Taylor Bingley. He respected the fresh faced desk jockey from the third floor that swanned around their bullpen, usually discussing warm up routines with Luke. He was quick on his feet, a pretty decent shot. Never missed a report, never tardy, even offered his parking spot up to Spencer on more than one occasion because he didn’t mind the long walk from the other lot. He flew under the radar, and when he was noticed, it was because he was a particularly kind soul. 

Spencer didn’t think he’d ever seen him without those rosy cheeks that made him look almost always sunburnt, or that trademark boyish grin a handsome guy like him had down to a tea. So it really shouldn’t have been such a surprise to see him lingering around his sunshine girl. 

Except she wasn’t his, not by a mile. They just spent almost every second of the work day together.

“Check it out, rookie has an admirer,” Tara said, the heels clicking against the floor as she passed the door, where Spencer seemed to have stopped, his eyes narrowing at the happy couple, “Can’t say I blame him. She’s a pretty girl, don’t you think, Spence?”

She didn’t realise she was rubbing salt in a superficial wound, but Spencer felt his jaw feather with annoyance. Because she was beyond a pretty girl, she was honey and all the months of Spring and a hot drink on a rainy day and finishing a good book and the dessert your mom let you have on your tenth birthday. Not that he could admit that. So he just nodded, right as Taylor leaned over to kiss the apple of her cheek. 

She shied away, smiling to her lap and playing with her fingertips, not looking up from her little potted plant that sat next to her on her desk, and Spencer knew it was because she floundered when people gave her too much attention.

Like when Garcia had said her blouse and bun combo she’d worn the other day made her look like a sexy teaching assistant, she’d stammered something close to a thankyou and headed to the kitchenette to get herself a glass of water. Or when Rossi had said the bangs she had cut herself two weeks ago looked cute, that his daughter had been desperate to try something similar, she’d spilled her coffee down her front not even two seconds later because she had been so occupied telling the man it was no big deal. 

“Morning, Doctor Reid, Doctor Lewis,” Taylor said, his pearly white teeth gleaming with that West Coast, surfer boy tan that made Spencer want to huff. The man was insufferable. Well, correction, he was insufferably nice for someone Spencer was desperate to pick apart with faults the second he’d seen her preening over their sunshine rookie. 

“Morning, Agent Bingley,” Tara said civilly, smiling back at the Agent that passed them to head to the elevators. She caught a glimpse of Spencer, and was quick to make herself scarce in the interest of needing to check in with Penelope, because she knew what that stormy look in his eye and the way his lips pressed into a thin line meant, profiler or not. 

Spencer didn’t pay much attention to Lewis leaving his side, not that he was trying to be rude, his eyes were zeroed in on the way she fumbled around her desk, looking for imaginary mess to tidy, which included rearranging the pots of glitter pens and highlighters next to her monitor, only to put them back exactly how they were before. 

“Agent Bingley, that’s new,” Came a voice over her shoulder, that made her jump in her seat, and her expression was skittish when she swivelled around, Spencer towering over her with calculating eyes. Luke rolled his chair around the divider to lean in on the conversation, having witnessed the whole thing in high definition since her desk was right next to his. 

“Oh, Taylor?” She squeaked, and Spencer didn’t need to touch her face to know it had gone hot just by the way she simpered and fiddled with the hem of her knee length skirt, avoiding their gaze, “Yeah, he took me to the aquarium at the weekend and we got lunch. It’s not really serious or anything, I don’t think,” 

She seemed unsure, her lips pursed together and a tiny crease between her brow he hated, and it was then Luke’s deep laugh rumbled next to them. 

“Does he know that?” Luke asked, and she shot him a look, wide eyed and confused, as he cleared his throat, “I was thinking I could take you out again in that pretty red dress-”

She threw a wad of scrunched up notepaper at him, an embarrassed smile on her face as she shook her head at him, “You have spent way too much time with Penelope, you’re turning into gossiping school children,” 

But she seemed happy, like the thought of the conversation she’d had with Agent Bingley made her all the more girlish herself as she giggled lightly, her gaze meeting Spencer’s empty expression. He wished he could hide his jealousy better, perhaps even seem happy for her. She deserved someone soft and saccharine and humane like Bingley, not a rough shell of what once was a brilliant man. He knew he should feel somewhat pleased for her, at least now he had empirical, hard evidence on why he couldn’t have her, but he couldn’t. 

“All I’m saying, rookie, is if you got that man bringing you breakfast and sweet talking you after one date, you’ll have him wrapped around your pinky by the time he’s your boyfriend,” Luke chuckled, and Spencer thought he might just burst a vessel with how hard he clenched his jaw at that dreaded b word. 

Alvez had no idea just how much he had twisted a knife in Spencer’s gut, which was plunged even further when he saw that sparkle in her eye when she looked up at him. 

“Ignore him, he’s a busy body,” She chirped, her teeth peeking from her lips when she hid a grin, “You wanna get coffee later? Taylor brought me tea and I’m dying for the good stuff,” 

Spencer nodded with a small smile, because her attitude was infectious, and selfishly thinking that Bingley couldn’t be that perfect for her because she only ever wanted tea when she felt sick, usually towards the start of the month that he guessed was in correlation with her menstrual cycle but would never ask. She wouldn’t want tea for another two weeks, and would likely take an extra shot in her cappuccino today because this was when she felt the most lethargic.  

Swivelling back around in her chair to log onto her computer, she remained completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. 

For once, Spencer wished he’d been late to work.

–

Two months. They had been dating for two fucking months. As far as Spencer could tell, from Penelope’s need to chatter about their sunshine rookie and her hot, stud muffin of a boyfriend, things had only been official for about five weeks of that time, but it hadn’t stopped Spencer from wanting to swallow glass because that would likely be less inconvenient than seeing the two of them together. 

Taylor usually brought her breakfast whenever they would get back from a case, which infuriated Spencer because he always bought her tea. She was a people pleaser, Spencer knew it before he had ever thought of her as anything other than the shiny newbie with too much joy and doe eyes he’d never seen before. But now, knowing her better than anyone else in the office did because she practically shadowed his footsteps, it was blaringly obvious to him that she had either never told him she didn’t like tea first thing in the morning, or he had never bothered to take notice. 

Spencer felt an odd puddle of smugness and fury when on more than one occasion he saw her pouring it down the drain, cold after sitting there for hours until it was unbearable and she couldn’t force herself to drink anymore. It was obvious to him, so why wasn’t it obvious to her own boyfriend? Spencer thought bitterly. But then Agent Bingley did leave a sour taste in his mouth these days.

Speaking of which, Spencer felt that pang in his chest the way he always did when the happy couple walked into the office together. Her hand was usually in his, though she seemed to simper under the weight of the team's glances; knowing and teasing as he’d take her to her desk and whip out the to-go pastries that he’d bought them that morning. 

“Morning, Spence,” She skipped past his desk, Taylor trailing behind her like a dog, though she seemed not to mind keeping him waiting a moment as she spoke to her friend, “How was Doctor Who?”

He smiled despite his grudge, because she always remembered what he said. He’d told her once that Thursdays were his evening to watch the show, and every time Friday morning rolled around, she’d bound up to lean over his computer and ask. 

“It was okay, I’m excited to see what they do with a Female Doctor, even if I’ll miss Capaldi,” He replied earnestly, and her eyes filled with glee. 

“Did they give her a new one of the doo-hickies they have?” She asked, his chest butterflying with an aching sort of affection because she seemed to remember everything he ever told her. 

“Sonic Screwdriver?” She nodded her head, even though Spencer knew she didn’t quite understand the show entirely, “Yeah, I prefer Sarah Jane’s Sonic Lipstick however,” 

“I wish I had one of those, I could reapply and save the world, how cool would that be?” She said, and they laughed together a little, before Taylor popped his head over Spencer’s computer with that dentist white beam and his excitable eyes, bluer than any sea rolling onto shore. 

“Morning, Doctor Reid,” Agent Bingley said, and the smile withered from Spencer’s face, morphing into a civil nod, his expression unreadable. 

“Morning, Agent,” He said, his eyes tracking back to his screen as he suddenly found Emily’s group email about staff room fridge etiquette invigorating. 

Taylor must have taken it as a sign the Doctor Reid was busy and finally let him have a minutes peace, that is until she took a seat at her desk and he leaned next to her, handing her a warm bagel. 

Spencer heard them chatting for about ten minutes, of which he was trying anything to tune them out, including roping Luke into their own conversation. It wasn’t until there was a lapse in the chatter that Spencer’s ears pricked up, and he heard her stand up from her desk, eyes wide as she spat a mouthful out into a tissue. 

“Does this have coconut in it?” She asked somewhat fearfully, Spencer’s head whipping around to her little corner of the bullpen. Her little self help stickers dotted around her desktop stared back at him, her reminder to ‘drink water’ almost horribly ironic the second he’d heard her question. 

His stomach dropped when Taylor frowned, “Yeah, it’s coconut and raspberry, is-is that not okay?” 

Spencer was quick to stand up out of his own seat, rifling through his satchel to dig out his water bottle, making it to her desk in just two long paces and handing it to her without another word as she looked up at him worriedly. 

“If you need to puke, it’ll probably be for the best so that you can get the traces out of your stomach. You can’t have the steroids before you hurl or it won’t work,” He soothed, and she nodded, sipping on his water with shaky hands, and Spencer was quick to catch the way her skin had a slight sheen to it that hadn’t been there before. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to gage if she was well enough to make it to the bathroom on her own or if he would need to drive her to the ER. Either way her expression worried him. 

“I-I thought it was white chocolate,” She peeped, looking extremely sorry for herself as she dumped the chewed up brownie in her bin, and Taylor almost appeared at her side, looking entirely lost as he stroked a hand down her hair. 

“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” He asked, seafoam hues trailing down her sweating face in terror. 

“She’s allergic to coconut,” Spencer cut in, his tone a little harsher than needed, and her boyfriend’s expression wilted like a kicked puppy. 

“Shit! You never mentioned, I’m so- I’m so sorry, honey,” Taylor went pale, and she didn’t look much better as she pushed past the two of them, heading for the bathroom, Spencer a single pace behind her. 

“I got her, don’t worry,” He called over his shoulder to Agent Bingley standing there like a gaping fish, his hand running through his blonde sweep as he watched her all but running out of the office, Spencer’s long legs keeping up with her. 

“Is your skin getting prickly yet?” Spencer asked. Swouldn't go into anaphylaxis, at least not as far as they knew, but the large hives that would appear on her chest and neck and the vomiting was not ideal. She kept a tray of steroids in her desk incase an accidental cross contamination happened (and because Spencer had forced her to have some on hand), but seeing her panicked eyes as she tasted the chalky fruit had made him fawn over her like she was marked for the plague. 

“Neck is getting itchy,” She replied, tugging at her collar and pushing the door to the unisex bathrooms open, heading for the nearest stall, “You don’t have to stay for this bit, it’s not-”

He cut her off by sweeping her hair into a ponytail, as if to tell her to stop worrying about him, and he stroked a hand over her arm to let her know he was right there, because he knew she really hated anything gory and gross like that. 

He hushed her when she’d try to apologise, hand her his bottle of water in between moments where her whole body seized.

And for a minute, she thought that Spencer might be the only person who she’d ever let see her like this. Not Luke, or Garcia and certainly not Taylor. 

The thought of it kept her quiet for the rest of the morning. 

-

They seemed to move past the whole debacle quickly. Luke said Taylor had taken her to a fancy restaurant uptown to apologise, making a huge point to avoid the coconut banoffee pudding like it was an explosive. 

“You guys are so cute, you’re like Jane and he’s literally your Bingley. I swear your kids are going to be sweet enough I could drizzle them right next to ice cream,” Penelope said over the SUV console speaker, Spencer in the driving seat and her in the passenger, flicking through her files as they approached the victim’s house. 

The rookie blanched, “Woah, woah, kids?” She protested, and even Spencer felt himself nearly swerve the minute the bubbly IT geek said it. She looked shaken, awkwardly chuckling and reaching to tuck hair behind her ear, “Slow down, Garcia, we’ve not even- you know what, I think we’re talking about the wrong thing here-“ 

“You’ve not even what?” Penelope burst out, her need for the lastest gossip overwhelming the reading of the room. She swallowed heavily, shifting in her seat to face out of the window, her knees touching the door with a thud, “Have you guys not had sex yet?” 

“Penelope!” The woman screeched, her face hot and gobsmacked that she’d even said it out loud. 

But it was telling enough, and Spencer’s face whirled over the console to her, guilt written on her features. 

“I just assumed you guys had done it seeing as both of you are the hottest couple I know, I mean I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you if I was a guy-“ Penelope tried to save herself in the only way she knew how, by digging herself a deeper hole. 

Spencer’s hand shot out for the centre screen, “We’re losing you, Garcia, you’re breaking up, bye,” He pressed the end call button, and he didn’t need to look at the girl’s face to know she was the epitome of mortified. 

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, the awkward silence of the car killing him as much as he knew it was her, but he thought better of it and clamped his mouth shut. It took him a minute before he opened his mouth to speak again, if not to ask her if she wanted to stop at a drive thru for breakfast, but she beat him to it. 

“I was going to say we’ve not even said I love you yet,” She murmured, keeping her body entirely swivelled away from him, her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to make herself smaller, as if she could just smush herself into the seat so he wouldn’t say anything. She cleared her throat, scratching her wrist nervously, “But I guess that’s also true too,” 

“Why not?” Her eyes snapped onto Spencer when he braved those two words, and he sensed he’d overstepped some sort of boundary before he realised it sounded like he’d been speaking about the latter, “Why haven’t you said it?” He clarified. 

She went quiet, her shoulders shrugging being the only sign that she’d heard him, gaze trailing back out her window. 

“He’s not said it yet either, and I don’t think I want him to. Not yet at least,” Her voice was soft, heavy as if every single one of them was coming from her heart, “Love is such a big emotion I think if he did say it, I wouldn’t know how to respond. Like, if I’m going to say it back to someone, I want to be sure I feel it otherwise it’s like I’m betraying everyone else’s version of love, you know?” 

He thought she might just be an angel bottled up and thrown into his life, and he sometimes wished he could take a look inside that head of hers because how she had protected her beautiful look on the world after seeing so much hurt staggered him. He had become cruel and cold and heavy where she looked at the lecherous shithole heading for disaster they called Earth and saw right to its soul, gave it a hug, told it she would care even when no one else would. 

He tore his eyes from the road, and took in the outline of her face, mindlessly watching the pedestrians on their daily commute to grab lunch, a dog peeing against a lamp post, a motorcyclist bobbing and weaving in between the midday traffic, her doe eyes never missing a trick.

Forcing his gaping expression back on the road, because he might just swerve and hit the damn rider off his bike if he let himself get lost in his little dreamscape that consisted of nothing but her and her face and her thoughts and her words, he cleared his throat, not sure how to add to the poetic, rose tint she seemed to see the world in.

“That’s good, that you’re taking things at your own pace, atleast,” He said, not particularly profound but at least it was something, “You shouldn’t do things just because someone else wants you to, even if you think it would make them happy,”

“But I like making people happy,” She countered, her expression troubled as she looked over at him with a quirked brow, “I like making you happy especially,”

“What makes you think I’m not happy?” Spencer asked, his mouth drying up, his stomach flipping in cartwheels when she giggled to herself like for once she was the smart one snd he was the one who needed teaching.

“It took you three and a half weeks to crack a smile when we first started working together,” His jaw clenched, because he was the one who counted the statistics. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her. “Honestly, I thought you hated me. I thought a seasoned agent like yourself probably would get frustrated teaching the dumb newbie the ABC’s, even ones that admire him. But then I thought, instead of getting so butt hurt about it all, I could just give you a reason to smile and you’d see that I’m not just a useless rookie learning to roll over for treats.”

Spencer’s throat bobbed. He’d hate himself forever for being so cruel to her those first few weeks, the clipped tones when she’d add something in a particularly chirpy voice, the way he would forget his manners sometimes when she’d bring him a coffee, because his head had been so deep in survival mode that being nice didn’t matter. Being nice had got him nowhere in Mexico, in fact it had shown his soft underbelly and drawn a target on it. 

“I never hated you,” His voice croaked out, weak and pathetic, and it's times like that he remembered ten years ago talking to her would have made him blush, pop a boner, and lose half his IQ all in one go. Coughing, his knuckles turned white at the wheel, and he avoids her gaze that feels like a pitfall trap, “It’s difficult to go back to how you used to be when you’ve got a thousand eyes on your back waiting for you to lower your guard,”

“I know, I know that now, I jus-” She floundered, worried she’d touched a nerve, but he stopped her by leaning over the console and putting a gentle hand on her kneecap.

“Relax, I know I wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around,” Spencer said, his timbre quiet but honest, “You were one of the few things I looked forward to, if I’m honest.”

“Really?” She said, agog, like she was waiting for him to turn around and say it had been a joke, “You didn’t think I’m too loud or, like, too much?”

“How can there be too much of you? If your body wasn’t in correct proportion, your organs wouldn't function-”

“Spencer,” She said, though he knew she was smiling even without having to look, “You know that’s not what I meant,”

“I know,” He replied, a smug little smile quirking on his own lips because he loved making her happy too, “No, I could never find you too much.”

She simpered under his words, his hand a stoked flame on her skin as she brought her fingers over the top of them to squeeze them together, before she changed the subject because she knew her cheeks might just explode if they heated anymore.

–

They were back from a long case, one that had made everyone tired and grumpy, especially because they needed to swing by the office for an hour of admin even Emily couldn’t wriggle them out of. 

And ofcourse, as he always was when Spencer was feeling like he was already about to strangle someone out of annoyance, Agent Bingley was right there when they entered the lobby.

She hadn’t slept well on the jet, despite Spence loaning her his jumper to use as a pillow, and she was in desperate need of coffee, the kind that Spencer and Penelope forced her to try instead of the cold caramel thing she liked. She’d even go for one of Luke’s zero sugar, zero milk atrocities right now.

“Hey guys, how was the flight?” Taylor jumped in to ask, and everyone gave some sort of variation of a groan because that was exactly how it had felt. His attention turned to her, as she pulled up the rear with Spencer attached her her hip because she had been practically sleepwalking the entire way there, “Hi honey,”

“Taylor, hi,” She said, her eyes perking up when he held out a hot take away cup for her, “You really didn’t have to,”

“Nonsense, herbal tea is supposed to alleviate headaches and help get you to sleep,” He replied, his other hand behind his back quickly whipping out to produce a bunch of flowers in front of her face.

She barely had time to flash him a grin to hide the disappointment that it was nowhere near as caffeinated as she’d like, nor that she didn’t even liked herbal tea, before a bunch of lilies were thrust her way.

“Lillies,” She said, her hand covering her chest at the touching sentiment, “Taylor, you shouldn’t have,”

“I know they’re your favourites,” The blonde replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and effectively putting a wall between her and Spencer, whether he meant to or not. Her expression wavered, and Spencer's eyes went straight to her, waiting for her to correct him. Because they weren’t her favourites, not even in her top five. Hyacinths were. Or Foxglove. Or Delphiniums. Not Lillies. 

She nodded wordlessly, and the three of them headed for the lift, where the rest of the team held the door for them, her expression tiptoeing between guilty and smiling, Taylor’s almost ecstatic to see her after her long few days away, and Spencer’s entirely pissed off that the sun kissed jerk couldn’t see every sign blaring in his face. 

“I might have to cut off the stamen when Ace comes over,” She queried, her eyes roving over the beautiful white petals opening towards her like a book.

“Ace? Who’s Ace?” He said, and Spencer and JJ exchanged a glance, because the whole elevator was now privy to their conversation as David pressed the six button. Taylor reached forward to push the three for himself.

“The dog I foster sometimes, the one I told you about. He helps me when I need to talk through some things. He’s a very good listener,,” She said with a dopey smile on her face, her eyes casting over her boyfriends face with a willing expression, because she knew for a fact she’d told him at lengths about the bouncy Spaniel that adored her, “He comes over for playdates, but the pollen inside lilies are poisonous to dogs,”

Taylor scrunched his nose up, “Ugh, I hate dogs, they’re so slobbery and the always seem to smell awful,” He commented, her face dropping the slightest in a way that made Spencer’s hand curl into a fist, because how dare Agent Bingley take that away from her, “I thought you were a cat person?”

“I like them both equally, but Ace is sweet. He curls up on my legs after we’ve gone for a walk,” Taylor still didn’t seem convinced, and she felt stupid for even mentioning it, well aware that the rest of her team were listening in on her childish description of the old dog that wanted nothing but love. 

“Why do you need a dog to talk anyway, babe? You have me,” Taylor said, in a way that was supposed to sound comforting but made Spencer want to shake him and tell him to listen to a damn word she was saying. Her eyes dimmed, and she looked at the lilies again, feeling entirely ungrateful for wishing they were something else, and the elevator doors opened onto the third floor. Taylor kissed her cheek and waltzed out of the lift with a quick goodbye to her team that was returned in murmurs. Turning to look at her, his body already in the anteroom of his own floor, he smiled sweetly at her, “I love you,”

JJ and Emily whipped their heads to her face, expecting to see some kind of puppy love blossom there, only to find wide-eyed panic, her smile slowly slipping. Rossi cleared his throat when she said nothing, the air turning stale as the team waited for her response, Taylor looking at her expectantly, and she wished the ground would open up then and there to swallow her whole, because that would probably be better than whatever this was.

Tara nudged her shoulder, waking her out of her daze, Luke scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, and it was then after a beat more of silence that Taylor opened his mouth again, “Babe, did you hear what I-”

She leaned forward to press the close door button, her doe hues in full flight mode, her fingers only picking up the pace when her boyfriend took a step closer towards the elevator, and Emily brought a hand over her mouth in muffled laughter when the doors slammed shut in front of him, their sunshine rookie entirely spooked and needing a quick exit.

The tiny metal box went silent, Spencer watching her face meld from alarm to horror, to sheer embarrassment.

“I mean, I’ll give it to you kid, that’s one way to do it,” Rossi said, patting her on the back and she shoved her face in her hands, the stems of the dove white flowers brushing against her cheek roughly.

“Please tell me that didn’t just happen,” She groaned through her fingers, JJ chuckling as the doors to their own floor opened up.

“Oh honey,” She said, rubbing the girl’s back gently, leading her out onto the BAU carpet that felt harsher against the souls of her shoes than it ever had before, “I think what you need is a coffee and a long talk with someone who isn’t a dog,”

Spencer watched her shuffle to slump down behind her desk, her expression still rattled and lost, JJ’s eyes flicking to him every now and then in a way that urged him to be the one to do just that because it was obvious by now who she talked the most openly to in the office.

But by the time he’d braved walking over to her desk, she’d already rushed through her report, excusing herself home for the day, and he knew her well enough to know she needed some breathing room before he could approach the subject, otherwise she would shut the doors on him too.

He hated the spiteful part of him that revelled in Taylor’s expression when that metal screen had slammed in his face.

—

It was three days later, and she had enforced a strict ban on talking about that day in the office. For once she didn’t look like she was going to break her resolve either, since every time someone tried to weasel information of her she would either pretend she hadn’t heard, or would excuse herself to make her fifth coffee of the day, or even had thrown her paperwork on the floor when Luke had pushed her for an answer just for an excuse to avoid the topic.

In fact, Spencer himself had been tempted to get her alone because he knew she would crack without much pressure from him, though the thought of using her trusting nature against her seemed wicked, and so he stopped himself and settled for curiosity.

It wasn’t until they were away on a case and they were shoved in a room together that the subject of Taylor was even brought up, and even then it was entirely out of his control.

“I’ll take the couch,” Spencer said, his eyes falling on the double bed in the centre of the room, striding over the other side of the room to throw his to go bag down on the two seater sofa that would wreck his back.

“Don’t be silly, we can just share the bed.” She said, as if it was the most obvious solution, which it was, “I sleep talk a little, but just give me a shove and I’ll shut up,” 

Spencer paused, watching her fumbling around her bag for her toothbrush and paste.

“Won’t your boyfriend mind?” He asked, his palms clammy because he worried for a moment it was wrong to bring it up, and his chest butterflied when she froze, “Sorry, I know you didn’t want to talk about it, I just thought I wouldn’t like my girlfriend sharing a bed-”

“We broke up,” She said, taking pulling a large pink shirt out her bag and some strawberry printed shorts, her toiletries stuffed in her pockets, “So don’t worry about any of that stuff, we can share,”

And she waltzed into the bathroom without any more explanation, the lock clicking behind her and leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts.

They had broken up? Was it because of what happened in the elevator? Was it because of what Penelope said in the car? Was she the one to break up with him or the other way around?

Spencer felt like a gossip, even though his thoughts had gone no further than his cranium, and by the time she emerged from the bathroom, fresh faced and in her pyjamas, he had already changed himself, tucked himself under the cover in the hope she understood they didn’t need to talk about it if she didn’t want to.

She smiled at him, tucking her dirty clothes back in her bag and heading for the bed, slipping under the plush duvet with a soft ooft. 

“Light on or off?” She asked, her finger hovering over the switch beside their bed.

“On, if that’s okay?” He replied and she nodded wordlessly, shuffling down under the covers, pulling them up to just below her armpits. Crossing her arms over her stomach like she was snow white waiting to fall into a poison-laced slumber, her eyes bore holes into the ceiling, and his thoughts banged loudly against his temple. The silence of the room seemed to only turn their avoidance tactics into a cacophony they couldn’t ignore.

“If you’re going to ask questions, I might as well tell you before we get back to Quantico.” She said finally, her sigh heavy and exhausted and she looked over at him, his brunette locks splaying over the pillow in waves, his facial hair scratching against the sheet when he flicked his head over to her too. 

Hazel had never been such a pretty colour than when they sat in silence for a moment, staring at one another, almost daring the other to speak first. He swallowed, his mouth watering at how she looked, tucked under the sheets, her body lax and soft under her pyjamas, her hands skimming over her stomach nervously.

“Is it because of the day in the elevator?” Spencer asked after a few minutes, breaths suddenly becoming difficult to regulate naturally unless he forced them to be, because he was so close to her under the covers, his entire body too long and gangly for just a twin bed, he could smell her shampoo and conditioning combo in full force. Her spearmint tongue rolled words around her mouth for a minute, dropping down to his Star Wars shirt he felt childish for wearing the minute he saw her looking at it.

“Kind of, he just wanted us to move so fast, it just kinda made me nervous, but I always thought being nervous was supposed to be good, you know?” She sighed, forgetting to breathe in between her splurge of words that had been building up inside her for weeks, “Like you said the feeling of excitement and fear are almost identical so I think I just convinced myself I was being dumb and I was being a bad person for not just giving him what he wanted. I’m supposed to love him, right? Being his girlfriend and all that,”

He had said that; because scientifically that was exactly correct. The hormones released during love and during fear were, down to their core, chemical matches, and it felt funny she’d remembered that fact considering she made him feel somewhere in between too. He knew she was special, just as much as he knew the idea of tainting her with his core terrified him. Like he secreted some kind of radiation that would ruin her if she got too close for too long. But he couldn’t help it. How do you stop yourself from wanting something good? It was just science. A Pavlovian response. 

“You’re not supposed to do anything. There’s no timeline for how you feel, and you can’t force yourself to feel something any quicker or stronger than you do,” He said, shaking his head when she bit her lip, her fingertips playing with one another ontop of the sheets.

“He wanted to know when I was ready to have…” She swallowed, her cheeks heating, “Intimacy with him. A-and it’s not like I’ve not done it before, I had a boyfriend in high school, but I just felt like with him…”

“He didn’t pressure you, did he?” Spencer asked, his brows furrowing as he felt a surge of annoyance flash through his blood that she had wound herself up so much just because of some guy who couldn’t keep it in his pants for a few months. 

Her eyes widened, taking in the storm brewing in that beautiful woodland gaze of his, and she shook her head quickly, “No, no, nothing like that. This was all on me, it was all just me being dumb,”

“You’re not being dumb just because some guy didn’t like the answer you gave,” He corrected, exhaling deeply and letting his frown drop, because he knew she hated when he did that, “Why didn’t you want to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shrugged, looking back up at the dusty lamp shade hanging from the ceiling, the cobwebs that smattered around the wooden panels.

“I don’t know, I just kind of never saw the two of us.. becoming intimate, you know?” She said, her tone sheepish like she was in confession and he was a priest sat on the other side of the divide. He looked over at her, scanning the outline of her face, but she seemed adamant on avoiding his gaze, because she knew she would spill everything the minute she looked at him. With Spencer, there were no secrets, and that was entirely the problem. 

Spencer’s lips pursed, thinking of exactly the right thing to say to such a delicate soul when she was laying herself hypothetically bare for him. 

“You don’t have to be intimate in a relationship if you don’t want to. No one who loves you should ever make you feel like there’s an expectation or like you owe them that,” Spencer explained softly, edging his pinky finger out the tiniest bit to catch the back of her hand that now lay flat on the bed, her head turning up to meet his round forest hues that looked down at her with more softness than he’d felt in a long time. 

He wished he could stay here with her forever. In the quiet of this room, they were just the two of them, not Doctor Reid and the Special Agent he had a huge hopeless crush on that was years his junior and thought she could fix everything wrong with the world. 

“I know,” She sighs, and his heart caught in his throat when her pinky raises up to meet his own, the tips of their fingers brushing against one another like they were meeting each other for a slow dance. He had touched her many times before, but there was something illicit about this time. Like their skin had become oppositely charged and was pulling the other one in with an electric crackle, “He never pressured me but I felt like I could have tried harder to want it.”

“If you don’t want it, you don’t ever have to have it. A lot of people reach your age when your frontal cortex is developed and realise they might be asexual, it’s not a bad thing-” He tried reassuring her, but she was quick to shake her head again, bashfully ripping her eyes away from him to look at their caressing fingertips. 

“No, no. It’s not that I never want to be intimate ever, I just never really felt comfortable around him enough to let myself want it. Like I couldn’t just be me with him, I was just being what he wanted me to be. Like he never really knew the real me,” She explained, and she rolled over onto her side to face him, her other finger coming up to absentmindedly trace over the prominent vein that ran up his arm, stopping just below where his old needle scars were at the crook of his elbow. If she saw them, she didn’t say a word, but Spencer felt like she was trailing a flame over his skin. He thought if she took his manhood in her hand she’d probably get the exact same response from him, because with every invisible swirl and line she drew over his skin, he felt a heat ripping through his loins. “Does that make sense? Like I didn’t think he would like the ikky parts of me so I ended up putting on a charade,” 

“Y-yeah,” He replied, and his stammer made her look up, eyes wide and innocent as she watched him all but falling apart under a single fingertip. God he was pathetic. Mid thirties and nearly finishing in his boxers over a pretty girl touching his arm. Only it wasn’t just a pretty girl. It was her. His sunshine girl. “But I don’t think you have any ikky parts, to be honest,”

Her eyes deepened into pools of awe, and he watched her trail a glance down his nose to his mouth vulnerably.

“Spencer, you’re being too kind,” She whispered, and he swore his chest lurched.

He cleared his throat, and moved to roll over towards her too, hoping to disperse some of the energy that was clogging between them, only for it to become dialled to a hundred, trapping them in a tiny box where they were looking at one another, laying on the bed they were being forced to share and almost holding hands, because committing to full thing was scary like they were ten years old in a playground. 

“Of course that makes sense. It’s much healthier to form intimate relationships with people we trust and feel safe with than rushing into things,” Spencer tried to breeze past the tension, but her breath was fanning over his face, almost tripping him over his words, because she was still looking at him like he knew all the answers. Because he usually did. Except for this time. This time, he felt like he was walking blind towards his point, “Not that one night stands should be shamed or anything, but it’s much better to engage in sexual intercourse with someone when it feels right,”

She breathed out deeply, licking her lips, and her finger movements stopped. 

“So it’s just a when you know, you know, kind of thing?” She asked, her brows pulling together in a saddened frown, “I’m not, like, broken or anything?” 

He sat up on his elbow, grabbing her wrist tight enough she would listen the minute he said it to her, because he never wanted to hear her say that again, “There is nothing wrong with you, you hear me?” She looked up at him with glassy eyes, wide and shocked to see him so desperately insistent over her, “You feeling secure is more important than any guy out there, no matter how nice they are, got it?” 

She nodded after a beat, because she thought her brain might have stopped working with the way he was leaned over her, looking down at her with a glimmer of the harshness he’d been drowning in when she first met him. These days he seemed to have mellowed out the tiniest bit, except the straightforward tone he held with everyone else who wasn’t her, or the general heavy handedness he didn’t seem to realise he was capable of. Like in the way his warm, rough hands gripped the skin of her wrist, his expression somewhat frustrated though not with her as he looked down at where she was half beneath him.

“Spence?” She whispered into the electricity between them, her eyes trailing over his nose again and ghosting over his half attempt at facial hair. They were just whisps, but they suited him embarrassingly well. He didn’t reply, just stared at her to wait for her response, “I feel safe with you, you know that?” 

He swore his heart was thumping out of his chest. She looked divine under his hand, sweet like a pudding begging him to taste, and he couldn’t help it when his thumb trailed up the side of her jaw, brushing just under her bottom lip, and she seemed to press herself further into his touch, a cat being scratched behind velvet ears.

“You’d tell me if you ever wanted me to stop, wouldn’t you?” He murmured, gooseflesh crawling up his arm when she nodded, her eyes boring holes into his soul when she looked up at him like that.  

“Always,” She answered honestly, blinking at him once, twice, before she took a deep breath for courage, “But what if I never wanted you to stop?”

Spencer nearly moaned when he crashed their lips together, and he heard her squeak in delight beneath him, his large hand cupping her jaw, weaving into her hair, tugging her closer. She felt like her was consuming her whole, and she had no qualms about it, not when she reached a hand up to his shoulder and tugged him even more on top of her, the weight of him on her chest comforting and achingly right. 

He pulled away to breathe for a moment, but she was chasing his lips, her touch maddening and he swore his brain switched off when she ran a hand up his spine, slipping under his shirt and tracing over every one of his vertebrae making him shiver. Her lips were stronger than any craving he had ever felt, the instant dopamine rush embarrassing for a man of his age, so hardened by the world reduced to putty, ready to beg for more because now he’d had a taste of her ambrosia, he didn’t think he could ever think straight again. A man sent crazy by forbidden wine.

He pushed her hair away from her face, using his long fingers to wrap around the back of her head and pull her impossibly closer to him, his other arm skirting down to her clothed waist and pressing their bodies together. She whined in his mouth, and Spencer thought he could finally die happy.

He pulled away to let her catch a gasp, her fingers carding through his long, brown curls, scratching against his scalp in a way that drew a low growl from his throat. He needed more, needed her, more than the air he gulped down ravenously and he found himself kissing at her soft neck, her head tipped back in bliss as he kissed every inch he could.

“The reason I didn’t want it with Taylor,” She choked between manic breaths, her hands holding onto him so tight he knew she didn’t have any intention of asking him to stop, “Was because it didn’t feel like this,”

Spencer wove their fingers together, pushing her hand above her head as the other came up to tilt her face towards him, looking into her bleary eyes for a second, their noses ghosting past one another, her mint breath delicious on his lips.

“It never feels like this, baby,” He whispered, their foreheads pressing together before he gave into her again and pressed his lips against hers so hard she whimpered into his mouth.

And she believed him.

--

[kiwriteswords]

Aaron Hotchner + Hugs

[beelmons]

Luxury Reading Nights | SR

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

cw: fingering, free use, don quixote lines

Summary: Spencer calls you to provide some of your now rather popular services.

A/N: i missed spencer and i love free use!!

The most amazing part of the lifestyle you had chosen to lead was always the vast variety of men's sexual desires.

Some enjoyed getting a little rough, some dressing you in questionable outfits, some even were as far as to use you to serve them, all previously established, all with consent.

It was the wonder of 'free use', you were, at the end of the day, nothing but a tool. That's what made it so exciting.

But with Spencer, oh, Spencer, he was surely an odd one.

"Stop moving, I can't read" he ordered, his voice firm, but he was still polite about it.

He had you bent over his lap while he sat on the couch, your body was stripped naked the second you had entered the apartment. Your back was used as a book rest as he read.

His hand was the reason you were squirming so uncomfortably. You had been overstimulated for the past five minutes or so, and he kept torturing you, over and over.

It started with a call. He had a rough case and needed to unwind, which he often did with a good book. Soon, you were on his lap, kissing his lips and feeling his clothed groin against your wetness, and that's when it turned torturous.

No, he wasn't rough. Au contraire, he was extremely gentle. Annoyingly so. He began to massage your buttocks once you were across his lap, not once touching you where you were aching to have him inside.

"Ooh, I love this line" he suddenly blurted out "Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be." tilting his head, he tried to catch a glimpse of your face, womdering if you were as impressed by it as he was.

Little time did he give you, because his thumb began to run over your slit. It was slow and careful, like a caress.

You moaned in complaint. You needed more, so much more.

"You look beautiful like that." he praised, and it only heightened your arousal.

He went back to his book and his thumb kept up its pace, and it wasn't only when he reached half the book that, without warning, slid one of his fingers inside of you, while his thumb part-timed on your clit.

"I always thought Cervantes was a bit insane himself," he began to explain his theory "Takes a madman to write a madman." and without any further word, continued the assault on your cunt.

You couldn't speak from how delightful it felt. Despite reading a complex book, he was definitely paying attention to every movement of his hand, every crease of your insides, he was trying to find the one spot.

Minutes later he was kind enough to add another finger, this knuckles curling inside of you. But he was still going slow and that's when you figured: he was using your pussy as a stress ball. Not to your enjoyment but his, nonethless this was even more arousing.

His pace began to quicken as he turned on the pages, and you could tell he was reaching the end of the book, and you were reaching your limit. But it was on your terms and conditions that you only came when he said a certain word.

"...are even now tottering..." he had begun to recite near your ear what you assumed was the end of the book, but you weren't paying attention at all. You wanted to hear it. The word you needed the most as his fingers sped up their insertion. "...doubtless, doomed to fall forever." he continued.

There was something enchanting and sweet about his voice, as if he were telling you a lullaby.

"Farewell." he finally said.

Like thunder through the sky, a long moan resonated as you came. Knowing what he had done, his free hand quickly removed the book from your back. Old edition, he was not going to risk it getting soaked in your juices the same way his hand now was.

He continued to thrust, helping you get rid of the wave. "You okay?" he asked concernedly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your naked back. "Sorry, I really wanted to finish the book." he apologized as he removed his fingers from inside of you.

You were still panting and flushed from the overstimulation, but you gave him a gentle nod "Are you feeling better?" you asked. You had noticed his tension since you arrived but decided to keep it quiet.

"I'm on cloud nine." he simply said with a handsome, gentle grin.

[spencers-library]

this is so beautiful i'm sobbing rn

Warm Embrace

Summary: Spencer and his wife explore ways to be intimate with each other after a traumatic event

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Please read the CW, this story contains potentially triggering topics! 

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) referenced past SA of Reader (non-graphic), implied flashbacks, trauma related sexual problems, conversations about sex and intimacy, nudity, kissing, mutual masturbation, handjob, thigh riding

Word count: 5.4k

Masterlist

“Spencer?” Your voice echoed through the apartment when you stepped through the door and found no sign of your husband. 

A distant sound came from the bathroom. “In here!” 

After a quiet knock on the door and his confirmation that you could step in, you found Spencer sitting in the bathtub. The room was filled with the lavender scent of the bath soap and what you could see of his body was covered in bubbles. It almost looked comical how his knees stuck out of the water, making it obvious that the tub was not big enough to accommodate his long limbs. 

“I was too tired to take a shower,” he explained after discovering your curious expression. 

“I can see that,” you laughed. “I thought you hated taking baths.”

“Honestly, I think I’m starting to understand why you like them so much. This isn't too bad.”

You stood there for a few moments, smiling at the sight in front of you. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, you slowly began shedding your clothes. 

“Mind if I join you?” you wondered. 

Nothing about this situation would be unusual for any other married couple. Just a few months ago neither of you would have questioned your actions. Back then initiating any form of intimacy with each other felt natural and familiar. 

Things were different now, though. 

Spencer cleared his throat and shifted his position. “Are you sure about this?”

There was a reason to ask. For the past months any attempt to get close to each other resulted in you crying for the rest of the night. Something as simple as him placing his hand on your thigh was enough to startle you. 

A sigh rolled over your lips as you dropped your shirt to the floor. “No,” you confessed. “But I miss you.”

“I’m right here,” he reminded you.

That was not what you meant and he knew that. Of course he understood the meaning of your words. Spencer was well aware of the fact that ever since that son of a bitch hurt you, you fought a constant battle between wanting his nearness and pushing him away. 

Your husband gave you the space you needed and was there to hold you whenever you’d let him. It couldn't have been easy for him either but he never once complained about this new reality you had a live. 

A reality where that person took something from you that you’d never get back. It was hard to shake this feeling of being tainted after having your physical integrity stripped away like that. You were distant and closed off when it came to intimacy, despite your best efforts to get back to what once was normal. It had been months since Spencer even saw you unclothed.

That was about to change. 

Slowly, you pulled down your pants before reaching back to undo your bra. Spencer's sight followed the piece of clothing as it dropped to the floor before settling on your face again. 

“Stop profiling me,” you warned him with a playful undertone in your voice. 

“Sorry, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

By pulling down your panties, you shed your last piece of clothing, leaving you completely bare in front of your husband. It was a strange feeling to reveal yourself to him. It felt new yet familiar to allow him to see you. 

However, he didn't dare to look, even when you approached the tub. It wasn't clear whether he just tried to be respectful or if seeing you like this for the first time after months was too much for him to bear. His reaction reminded you that he never answered your question about you joining him. Maybe he was the one who wasn’t okay with this. 

Spencer’s eyes widened as he noticed the change of your mood before you did. Within a split second your heart started pounding and you stepped back to reach for your bathrobe. 

“Sorry, this was a stupid idea,” you muttered as you turned around to shield your body from his sight and your heart from the rejection. 

“My love,” he cooed from behind you.

The sound of splashing water gave away that he was exiting the tub. From the corner of your eyes you saw how he reached for his own robe. 

You felt his presence behind you. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded as you turned around, finding him wrapped in his robe with water still dripping from his jawline. Spencer reached out his hands to pull you into his arms. 

“What just happened?” He wondered, his voice laced with concern. 

Before you could think about it, you mumbled, “You didn't want to look at me.”

Your husband thought about your words for a moment, replaying the scene that had just unfolded in his mind. What you said wasn’t true. He wanted to look at you, to admire you fully like he had done countless times before. 

“I was afraid it would make you uncomfortable,” he confessed as he pulled back to be able to find your eyes. 

It was hard to read your expression which was not surprising considering you were mostly confused about your current state yourself.

“I miss the way you used to look at my body. I miss being close to you,” you whispered and paused for a moment. “I miss… sex.”

He closed his eyes before placing an innocent kiss on your forehead. “I know,” he breathed. Me too, he thought.

“Do you still think about it?” You wanted to know. 

“Sex?” 

Nodding, you watched his facial features intently. Ever since your attack, there were many occasions when the two of you had tiptoed around this subject. But never before had you been so blunt about it. 

It seemed like he was looking for the right words. “Yes, I do,” was what he settled on.

Raising your eyebrows, you asked, “With me?” 

The insecurity in your question wasn’t lost on Spencer but he still couldn't hold back a breathy laugh. “Of course, silly girl. You're my wife.”

“It’s just been so long that I would understand if you ever thought about doing it with someone else.”

“Stop that right now,” he said with a firm yet loving tone. “I would never cheat on you.” 

A shaky breath escaped your throat before you dared to say what had been bugging you for weeks now. “What if I’ll never be ready? What if things won’t ever be like before?” 

“That would be okay, too,” he reassured you. “There are many ways to create nearness and intimacy. Sex is just one way but it’s not necessary. At least for me it’s not.” 

“So you’d be okay to live without sex?” 

“Before I met you I thought that was my only option,” he quipped. 

You knew there had been a handful of women before you but you appreciated his joke nonetheless. It made you smile. 

Spencer let his fingertips brush over your cheeks. “But to answer your question, yes, I would be okay with that.”

His words were genuine. The way he looked at you with the most loving expression made your heart jump. The amber of his irises radiated a warmth you could get drunk on. You nestled your head against his chest and he held you even closer against his body. He was right. Sex wasn’t necessary to create nearness. However, you were still curious about what else you felt safe enough to try. 

“I want to get into the bathtub with you,” you whispered. “And I want you to look at me.” 

Loosening the embrace, you looked at your husband. With a nod he confirmed that he wanted that, too. 

With shaking fingers you brushed over his robe before gripping the material. “And I want to see you, too.”

Together you helped each other out of your robes until you stood bare in front of each other. You took a moment to admire the man in front of you. It had been a while since you had seen him like that. Unlike you he didn't deliberately hide his body from your sight but there hadn’t been many occasions in the past few months that allowed you to see him unclothed. 

His body looked familiar yet different at the same time. His tummy was a little bit softer than you remembered and you imagined what it would feel like underneath your palm. 

Spencer dared to let his eyes drop down to take in every inch of skin within sight. The way he looked at you made your skin tingle and you noticed how it broke out in goosebumps. 

“You're so beautiful,” he purred as he tentatively brushed over your arms. 

Tilting your head, you placed a soft kiss on his lips before breathing against them, “So are you.”

He took your hand in his to walk you over to the bathtub. Your husband got in first, bending his knees in an attempt to make himself smaller than he was. There was enough space to join him, a relieved sigh falling from your lips when you felt the warm water enveloping your body. 

First you sat a little awkwardly opposite one another for a few moments before you felt confident enough to get closer. Gently, you placed your hands on his knees to part them before moving closer to lean against his body sitting between his legs. Spencer’s heart pounded rapidly against his ribcage as you nestled against his chest. 

“Is that okay?” You wanted to make sure. 

“Yeah, I uh… I’m not sure where to put my hands,” he chuckled and you noticed how they hovered above the edge of the bathtub. 

Taking his hands in yours, you guided them towards the water, placing them underneath your chest. Even though you expected his touch, you still jerked when you felt his palms make contact with your body. 

Instinctively, your husband wanted to retract his hands again but you held them still with your own palms pressed against them. Once the initial shock faded, you were certain that you wanted to be held exactly like that. 

A part of you still wanted to fight this vulnerable situation but a much bigger, much more confident part longed to be close to the love of your life. 

It was as if Spencer sensed your ambiguity. “You okay?” 

“Yes,” you confirmed. Then you thought about the way your body flinched when he touched you. It had happened before each time Spencer had touched you in places that he had touched, too. “I just feel like my body has to relearn a couple of things.”

Spencer nodded before finally being able to relax a bit. He leaned back while holding you against him, relishing the sensation of having you close without any barriers between you. Just for a moment he forgot about what had happened to you and to your own surprise, so did you. 

For the following weeks you made it a new habit to take baths with each other. There was something so sweet about getting clean together, it became a sacred ritual you wanted to repeat over and over. 

Slowly but surely you got more comfortable around Spencer. There was a time when you didn't think it was possible that the two of you would cuddle every night and every morning without constantly having to fear that you’d freak out at any given moment. 

But just like that it happened. Spencer didn't have to think twice about hugging you from behind and leaving a feather-light kiss on your neck. He didn't hesitate to pull you into his arms when he woke up before you. 

He did however wake up in shock and almost jumped out of bed when one morning he realized he had sleepily pressed his erection against your thigh. Having woken up before him, you had noticed it, too. You could have easily moved away but found no reason to do so.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured as he moved away from you, his voice still sounding raspy from his slumber.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Spencer. I know basic biology,” you snickered. “Now come back here.”

Hesitantly, he moved back towards your open arms. The warmth you radiated was too hard to resist so it took very little convincing for him to find his place inside your embrace again. 

Gentle fingertips danced along his arms, making him hum in contentment. It had always amazed you how his skin felt so particularly soft and tender in the morning. His curls hung unruly from his head and you couldn't resist intertwining your fingers with them. 

You thought back to the many times you had woken up like this. Back then when it still was normal for your hands to become curious enough to explore every curve and dip of each other’s bodies. 

It was odd to think about before. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime away, other times it felt like nothing had ever changed. It made you feel like the man who hurt you had the power to bring a new time reckoning upon you. You didn't want him to. 

It only spurred you further on to fully reclaim your body again. 

Your fingers found Spencer’s jaw to tilt his head just enough for you to be able to kiss him. His lips felt so soft as he slowly reciprocated your actions. It was sweet and innocent at first but your desire to feel more of him only grew the longer you kissed. Slightly shifting your leg you could feel his hardness again, making him whimper at the sudden pressure against it. 

As your hand found its way under his shirt, you brushed over the softness of his tummy. Shaking fingertips followed the trail of hair leading further down before changing their direction and moving upwards to feel his chest. The beating of his heart was faster than usual, almost erratic. 

With cautious motions he mirrored your eagerness and let his palm wander beneath your shirt as well. You deepened the kiss when you felt his fingers wander over your waist, leaving goosebumps on their path. Spencer became hungry, almost desperate as his tongue brushed over yours, melting into you in a way he hadn’t for too long. 

It was what you longed for too, what you had been hoping to finally be ready for. 

Then he touched your breast and it all came crashing down again. 

“Stop!” 

Healing really wasn’t linear. 

In an instant Spencer retracted his hand and leaned back to give you some space. Widened eyes looked back at him and it took both of you a second to realize what had just happened. Before he could apologize, you did. 

“I’m sorry… I really thought I was okay with that.”

For a moment Spencer closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Then he looked at you again, a soft expression on his face. “Please don’t ever feel the need to apologize for that,” he cooed. 

Unlike other times, you were able to calm down quickly. Instead of pushing your husband further away, you still yearned for his proximity. He seemed surprised when you moved closer to him again to lay your head down on his chest. Content to still have the privilege to hold you close, he wrapped his arms around you before a relieved sigh fell from his lips. 

There was no need to leave the comfort of your shared bed just yet, so you just lay there together, basking in each other’s warmth. 

Spencer placed a gentle kiss into your hair before breathing, “I love you.” 

“I love you more.”

You tried your best to be kind to yourself in that moment. It was a learning opportunity for you. Just a few weeks ago lying close to your husband like that was unthinkable. Even if they felt like baby steps at the time, it was still progress. 

The images of recent intimate encounters flooded your mind and let a pleasant calmness spread through your body. Spencer’s kisses tasted sweet and made you feel insatiable, always longing for more. Feeling his skin pressed against yours as he held you close in the bathtub enveloped you in a safe feeling unlike anything else. 

You thought back to those rare moments when you considered taking things further lately, just like you had tried just now. There was something you had wondered about. 

“I have noticed that when we cuddle…,” you began your sentence, unsure of how to continue. “Even when we’re naked in the bathtub together, you uhm… never get aroused? That was very different before.” 

Spencer cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he let out an awkward laugh. “I try really hard not to. I think about baseball a lot.” 

His response confused you. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you raised your eyebrows at him. “You think about baseball when we’re taking baths together? You don’t even like sports.” 

Spencer just shrugged and added, “Sometimes I try to solve equations, too.”

“Please don’t do that anymore,” you pleaded as you laid back down beside him. “It makes me feel good to see you’re still interested in me.” 

“Of course I am still interested. I just really do not want to make you uncomfortable or feel pressured in any way.”

Your words were genuine when you said, “I don’t think that will happen. I actually really liked seeing you in all of your morning glory earlier.”

Your husband smiled at you. “Yeah?”

A smirk formed on your face. “It reminded me of the countless times we were both late for work because we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves after waking up.” 

“That was fun,” Spencer chuckled. “What wasn’t fun though was the conversation I had to have with Hotch after being late four days in a row.” 

His words made you laugh, too. Then, after a few moments of comfortable silence, your husband hesitantly asked, “Can I ask you something?” 

Tilting your head to find his eyes, you responded, “Of course.”

“You don’t have to answer this but I’m wondering… Do you ever get aroused in those moments, too?” 

You were used to talking openly about intimacy with your husband, that had always been a normal part of your relationship. His question didn't feel odd and you wanted to respond to it. 

For a long time after what happened, your longing to feel his nearness wasn’t connected to any sexual desires. At times you even felt like your libido had gotten lost entirely. Recently that had changed. 

More and more you had become aware of the little spark inside you that was ignited when you were with him. It was very different from the burning flame that was there before but your desire grew each time you were together. 

“Lately, yes,” you sincerely answered. Thinking about it some more, you decided to share another detail with him. “I even started uhm… touching myself again.”

Spencer seemed a little surprised by your response. “You did? That's good to hear.” His palm brushed gently over your arm when he added, “I can imagine that's a good way to feel a connection to your body and your needs.” 

For a second you thought he might start one of his ramblings to share all his knowledge about the health benefits of masturbating. He didn't, though. 

“Yeah, it feels nice. Almost normal,” you said instead. “I obviously still have a long way to go when it comes to sex but… I finally feel like I’ll actually get there, eventually.”

“There's no rush,” he reminded you. “We have all the time in the world.” 

Your lips met his in a tender kiss. “Thank you for being so patient with me.” 

After a few more moments of enjoying each other's company, it was time to get up and get ready for the workday. That night you found yourself tangled up in bed with your husband again. 

As you breathed in his scent and felt the heat radiating off his skin, you noticed it again – the little spark inside your chest flared up and spread a tingling sensation through your body. 

Your mouth found Spencer's neck to leave a trail of kisses along it, before it moved over his jawline and found his lips at last. He hummed when you kissed him and you could feel his fingertips twitching against your waist. 

It didn't take long until you deepened the kiss, a quiet moan slipping through your lips when Spencer’s tongue found yours. 

With your body pressed against his you didn't allow any distance between the two of you. It still wasn’t enough for you, though. There was too much fabric in the way of really feeling close to him. 

Your hand moved to the hem of his shirt to grip it and impatiently push it upwards. Spencer moved with you as you pulled it over his head. When your fingers moved to the waistband of his pajama pants next, he interrupted the kiss to find your eyes. 

A smile was painted over your face when you nodded, reassuring him that you were okay. You weren’t sure yet where exactly this was going but you felt safe enough to explore your options.

“We can stop or slow down at any point,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

After kissing him again, you sat up so you could continue undressing him. Slowly you pulled down his pants, an audible breath falling from your lips when you saw he was already half-hard. 

Spencer scanned your face for any sign of discomfort but found none. What he saw instead was excitement and curiosity. It made him smile. 

He sat up and brushed his hands over the fabric of your shirt. By lifting your arms over your head you gave him the sign he needed to remove the piece of fabric. He gently motioned for you to lay back down before he made contact with your hips, carefully brushing over your pajama shorts. 

There was no hesitation to be found when you lifted your hips for him to pull them down, without ever breaking eye contact. You thought about how different this situation was from being naked with him in the bathtub. Some parts of you remained hidden from him even then. 

You wanted him to see you, even when being exposed to him like that still felt a little scary.

After he had dropped the last piece of clothing on the floor, you dared to open your thighs for him to see every part of you. A rosy shade spread over his cheeks as he dared to look at you. It reminded you of when you were with him for the very first time many years ago. 

Just like then, he breathed, “You're so beautiful.” 

You could feel how some arousal had already gathered at your center and wondered if Spencer could see the glistening. By the way his pupils dilated you had a hunch that he did. 

Then, after he had fully taken in your beauty, it was as if he was frozen in place. He used to be so confident in situations like that, knowing your body better than his own and never questioning his next move. Things were very different now and you both sensed it. 

His eyes met yours and it became obvious how unsure he was of how to proceed. 

Opening your arms, you cooed, “Come here, love.” 

He seemed relieved when he lay back down beside you again. You wanted to kiss him but he hesitated. 

After a moment, he suggested, “I think it would be helpful if you talked to me more. I need you to tell me exactly what you want to do.”

“I’m figuring this out as we go, too,” you explained. “Right now I don't know where this is going. I only know that I really want to kiss you.”

His nose brushed against yours. “I would really like that, too.”

Just a split second later you got lost in another kiss. The way your bodies were pressed against one another while your lips were connected let you briefly forget where your body ended and his began. After shifting your position, you became well aware of that again. 

Spencer was fully hard now and his erection was firmly pressed against your thigh. You moved your leg slightly, prompting him to whimper into your mouth. The hand on your waist moved down to your hip and his fingertips pressed into your skin. 

“Hey,” you mumbled against his lips. “Can we slow down for a moment?” 

His grip on your hip lightened immediately before he moved his hand back up to your waist. Spencer placed one last peck on your mouth and pulled back. “Do you want to stop?” 

You shook your head. “No, I just need a little break. To make sure it doesn't get too much.” 

The truth was that you felt really good in that moment. Excited, loved and so, so turned on. It just felt safer to take things slowly. Gently you pushed against his shoulder until he was lying on his back. You found your home inside his arms. 

Your lips grazed over his cheek as you breathed, “How are you feeling, Spencer?” 

He chuckled at your question. “You have no idea how good I’m feeling right now.” 

As you let your head rest on his shoulder, you dared to look down at his body. The extent of his desire laid on his stomach and you noticed how a bead of precum had formed at his tip. Your fingers itched to touch him, to remember how hot and heavy his cock always felt inside your palm. 

A curious hand made its way down his chest, over the side of his stomach, brushing along his thigh. For a second you hesitated but then you let your palm hover over his hardness. 

Then you felt a pit form in your stomach and decided to retract your hand again. It might have just been your nervousness but that didn't change the fact that you couldn't continue in this moment. 

Your husband had watched each of your motions intently. It was obvious that he was burning to find relief. 

Tilting your head to find his eyes, you purred, “I want you to feel good.”

“It’s okay, my love. You don’t have to,” he reminded you.

You knew that, of course. There was still something else you could do together. 

As you began kissing his neck, his throat vibrated under your lips and a moan escaped his mouth. Then, you whispered into his ear, “I want you to touch yourself.”

Spencer’s eyes widened at your request and the rosy color on his cheeks turned a shade darker. It seemed like he needed a little more encouragement, so you lay back down inside his arm and opened your legs to give yourself access. 

“Okay, I’ll start,” you teased as you let your hand wander down your own body. 

Mesmerized by the sight, his eyes followed the path of your fingers. When you parted your folds to access your most sensitive spot, Spencer hissed a curse. 

The honeyed wetness between your legs made it easy for your fingertips to move through your folds. It felt relieving to touch yourself like that. Just like Spencer you were yearning for release. 

When your husband heard your heavy sighs as you pleasured yourself, he couldn't hold back anymore. You watched as his hand found his cock, a view that let your heart pound inside your chest. 

First, he wrapped his fingers around his shaft and squeezed, prompting droplets of his arousal to run down his tip. Then, he swiped his thumb over the leaking head before he slowly began moving up and down. Your mouth hung open as you watched that sinful scene unfold in front of you. 

As Spencer accelerated the pace of his fist, sounds of pleasure filled the room. His eyebrows were scrunched up and desperation was written all over his face. 

He had never looked more beautiful.

Distracted by the mesmerizing view, the hand at your core stopped moving. Instead of continuing, you let it wander away from your body to touch Spencer’s thigh. Before you could overthink it, your hand kept moving to his center. 

A heavy breath fell from his lips as your fingertips cautiously brushed over the velvety skin of his balls, making his body jerk underneath you. Smiling to yourself, you remembered how sensitive he was. 

Spencer stopped moving his hand, waiting to see how you’d proceed. When you touched the soft curls at his base, he whimpered. It was then that you realized that you were not scared anymore and that your nervousness had turned into excitement. 

“Can I continue?”

Spencer audibly gulped before removing his hand. “Yes… please.” 

When you wrapped your fingers around his length, both of you moaned in unison. Holding him in your hand like that felt both familiar and novel at the same time. You started moving your palm and quickly remembered how exactly he liked to be touched. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Feels good!” 

With all the built-up tension and those months of abstinence, it only took a few moments until Spencer was getting close to reaching his point of no return. Familiar with all the telltale signs of his impending climax, you continued caressing him. Coming closer to his undoing, his cock twitched inside your palm and his entire body started quivering. 

His release began spilling over your hand and onto his stomach while he kept pulsing against your fingers. You kissed his jaw and his neck before you reached for the tissues on your nightstand to do some damage control of the mess you had created. 

Your husband’s chest was still heaving when you finished cleaning him up. Concern was written all over his face when he found your eyes.

He pulled you back into his embrace as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I am. That was really fun,” you snickered. 

Spencer's hand brushed over your back as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth. “Do you want me to touch you?”

The truth was that your entire body was aching for his touch. You could feel the heat burning between your legs and were aware that your arousal had started coating the insides of your thighs. It had been a long time since you’d felt so turned on. 

And yet, the thought of him actually doing something about it made you nervous. 

“I’m not sure,” you admitted. “I would like to kiss you again, though.”

He let out a breathy laugh before finding your mouth once more. Feeling his lips on yours only blazed up the fire burning inside you. You shifted your position until you were hovering over your husband, one of his thighs pressed between yours. 

Tentatively you began rocking your hips against his leg, sighing as you realized how pleasant the friction was. 

“Is that okay?” You breathed against his lips as you kept moving. 

“More than okay,” he reassured you. “Use my body however you like.”

You sat up as you ground against his skin, feeling him tense his thigh underneath you. Taking his hands in yours, you placed them on your hips so he could help you move. Soon you had created a mess on his leg as you spread your wetness along his skin. 

With your entire entire body twitching, your motions became erratic. Looking down at Spencer, you found him staring at you with lust-filled eyes and a wicked grin painted over his face. 

As you danced along the edge of euphoria, you forgot your surroundings. It was only you and him right then. “I love you,” you whimpered and before your husband could respond, you collapsed into his arms as pleasure overcame you. You kept pressing your core against his leg as your whole body shook. 

Spencer held you firmly inside his arms as you came down from your high. He kissed your forehead and whispered, “I love you more.”

After your heart rate had come down to a normal frequency and you weren’t panting anymore, you kissed your husband. 

“How are you feeling?” He wanted to know. 

“Good. And also a little sticky,” you snickered, hinting at the mess you had created between your legs. 

“Yeah, me too,” Spencer chuckled. “How about I run us a bath so we can get cleaned up?” 

The prospect of that made your heart flutter. “That sounds wonderful.”

Author's Note: Writing this story took me two years and I am so relieved I was finally able to get it to paper. I hope reading it felt as cathartic for you as writing it was for me. Thank you for reading! I would really appreciate a reblog and a comment.

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

[bohemianblasphemy]

Oh babe are we writing Spencer Reid things now???? I am on board! Can we have some NSFW head cannons?

Baby girl have we got some headcanons for you ✨

(This gif kills me ugh)

- Let’s start from the beginning. I think we can agree that Spence in the early seasons is very…shy.

- Always asks if you’re okay and your pleasure is his priority, wanting you to feel as good as you make him feel. Always take the time to observe how you react to his

-He’s very vanilla and likes for you to take control- it drives him insane when you tell him what to do.

-One of his favourite positions is riding and missionary. He lives and breathes to watch you ride him, all he can do is writhe and whimper from underneath you- watching your head fall back in indulgence of him inside you.

- He is so sensitive. Any kiss, touch and lick makes his brain fizzle.

- eats pussy for both his and yours pleasure. He has cum from eating you out more times than he can count, and he still wants more of your taste. Pull his hair whilst he’s between your legs? You will never hear the end of it… he will beg for you to do it again and again.

- Did I mention he whimpers? Because he does.

- Going down on him, he is breathless. He’s watching you, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth and softly bucking his hips into your mouth.

- He is so gentle. Feather light strokes of his fingers along your skin, leaving trails of fire in his wake- always asking if what he’s doing is okay and to keep going.

- Absolutely worships and praises you- and loves when you praise him for being good for you.

When it comes to later seasons Spencer however…

- Spencer is a lot more confident in himself, and wants to be more in control. He’s more assertive, but he’s still as sweet as pie.

- Overstimulation king. He wants to hear you moan and beg, absolutely drinks you in as he observes your facial expressions and the way your eyebrows furrow as you tip over the edge.

“Give me one more baby… please.”

“Let me hear you, c’mon sweet girl…”

- Such. a. Tease. If you worked at the BAU with him, I just know he’d come and see you at your desk to ‘hand you paperwork’, but the only thing written on it is what he plans to do to you later on when you’re both back home.

-Will fuck your mouth, no argument there.

- I can see him being someone who will sit you on the kitchen counter and finger you, whispering how good/wet you feel on his fingers and kissing your neck… phew.

-bruises on your hips from him pounding into you from behind.

- Loves when you suck on his fingers, he goes absolutely nuts for it.

[fear-is-truth]

GUILTY PLEASURE — spencer reid x reader

˖˚⊹ 𝓙’s note: wrote this in a hurry, apologies for the rushed writing + english isn’t my first language .. content warning: prof!spencer x student!reader (in her early 20’s). smut

professor reid, who first noticed you as just another student. someone eager and sharp, with that gleam of curiosity he remembered from his own younger years.

he could see bits of himself in you, the way you’d lean forward, pen poised, eyes locked onto his every word as if his lecture held the secrets of the universe. he felt a faint swell of pride every time your hand shot up, answers always impressively well thought out. it’s hard to miss the spark of admiration in your eyes when you looked at him or when he called on you—traits he chose to see as mere enthusiasm for the subject.

sometimes, he’d catch you staring, your gaze dropping shyly when he looked back, leaving him with a weird mix of pride and shame. you weren’t the only one smitten for him, of course. nearly every woman in the class regarded him with that same starry-eyed admiration. still, spencer reminded himself that it was natural, just his mind latching onto familiarity, seeing a version of his younger self in you that felt both nostalgic and bittersweet. it made sense, he reasoned, that he’d be drawn to someone with similar traits. he didn’t dare entertain the thought that it might be something dangerously toeing the line of taboo.

over time, he started to feel a gravitational pull toward your presence that made him… justifiably uncomfortable. he started second-guessing his own motives, wondering if he was favoring you in ways he shouldn’t.

searching for you, through the sea of faces in his lectures. enchanted by the way sunlight hit your hair. your adorable little quirk of gnawing the end of your pen in deep thought. his heart beating a touch faster when you’d smile up at him, grateful for his feedback. the way he’d subconsciously tune into your reactions during his lectures, adjusting his delivery if he sensed you were confused, feeling an unexplainable satisfaction whenever he saw that beautiful “eureka” moment cross your face.

spencer saw flashes of his younger self in you.

he never would have guessed then, during those careful exchanges, that the controlled, ethical version of himself he clung to would slip. that he would be here, now, literally inside you.

.

the air is thick and heavy—reeking of the sweet, primitive scent of carnal desire. spencer’s shirt is half-unbuttoned, clinging to his skin, nearly transparent from the sweat that beads on his chest. the navy blue tie is long gone—discarded somewhere on the floor, forgotten. you crane your neck, lips parting slightly, desperately trying to get to him. you need him, more than you ever needed anything. fingers pulling him in by his hair, a low groan slipping from his throat as your tongue shoved its way unceremoniously into his mouth.

hand slips up to cradle the base of your skull, his fingers threading gently through your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss. you can feel his breath hitch as your tongues meet, and he presses forward, his body leaning over yours, guiding you back until your spine meets the hard surface of the desk.

your panties are a twisted mess—dangling limply around your right ankle as his fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, securing you to the wooden surface that you’re so precariously perched on. a smooth, precise thrust hits the sweet spot within you that has your back arching and you swear you can hear vertebrate pop.

he’s buried so deep inside that you can feel every ridge and vein. every delicious twitch and throb against your walls.

you gasp at the feeling, the new closeness sending an euphoric thrill through you, and a soft sound escapes your kiss-bitten lips before you can stop it. spencer notices; like he always does. his grip falters, and with almost superhuman effort, he pulls back slightly, sweat-slicked forehead pressing against yours.

he mumbles a quiet, “i’m sorry,” like he’s still fighting with himself, knowing he’s finally crossed a line but can’t bring himself to stop. but then he’s leaning back in, lips finding yours again, hand slipping up your back, holding you as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

bad and wrong and twisted, but love has never felt so good.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[mggslover]

Killing machine

In which reader shocks herself with her abilities in the field, leading her to doubt the person she's become.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: angst, fluff Tropes: wound cleaning Word count: 1,8k A/n: the first one shot on this blog and also the first I've written in years!!

The sound of her heavy breathing and the occasional clicking of her broken flashlight fill the stuffy, cramped space of the abandoned container Y/n finds herself in. The BAU is after a team of unsubs who’ve been killing elderly widows who come from old money, using their grief as a way to make it into their lives and homes. They murder them in cold blood, stealing their most prized possessions and storing them in abandoned locations. For the past two days, Y/n has been visiting warehouses all over the state, trying to identify who the found property belongs to and finding new leads on where the unsubs could be. 

Today should’ve been another day of clearing out warehouses and containers. Y/n and the team split up after arriving on the property. Callahan, JJ, and Rossi taking one warehouse, Hotch, Morgan, and Reid taking the other, while Y/n got the task to search some smaller containers around the area. She squints her eyes in an attempt to fight the night blindness as her flashlight flickers. “Come on, just work with me,” she mumbles as she slaps her palm against the back of the flashlight, trying to get it to properly work. Y/n gives a small sigh of satisfaction when a bright light erupts out of the flashlight. As she tilts her head back up, she’s greeted by the chest of a male just inches away from her. Her flashlight shatters to the ground, her hard effort gone as the lens breaks into tiny pieces. The male, who she identifies as one of the unsubs, reaches in his jean pocket where the handle of a Glock is sticking out. Before the unsub has the chance to make a single movement, a bullet derived from Y/n’s gun makes a quick and clean hole in his forehead. She’s met with the familiar ringing in her ear and natural response of flinching as his blood splatters onto her. 

She hears a creak and turns around, expecting a team member to make sure she’s alright. 

“Hey, I-“

She stops dead in her tracks as she catches a small dim of light behind a wooden crate, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she makes out two eyes. The click of a gun makes her snap her head around, and she soon figures out it wasn’t just one of the unsubs hiding in here… it’s all of them. Gun in her clammy hand, she guides herself by the small sounds of movement that suddenly sound as loud as the beating of drums. Adrenaline courses through her veins, her gaze only focused on what’s in front of her as she starts firing. One by one the unsubs hidden behind boxes and shelves fall to the ground. She lets out a yelp and stumbles when a bullet grazes her cheek, making her land on her back. Y/n quickly holds herself up on her arms as she hits the final blow at her shooter. The sound of the gunshots had barely registered in her mind before the deafening silence followed. Her grip remains strong on her gun as her heart pounds into her chest. 

“Y/n!” Spencer’s shriek of panic is heard across the container. He stumbles his way over the boxes and bodies on the ground, only focused on her. “I thought you were dead,” he says as he kneels next to her, brows furrowed and mouth softly agape as he flashes his flashlight in her face, examining her. She hisses as his cold fingers trace the wound on her cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes. 

The rest of the team follows Spencer into the container. Derek crouches to observe the lifeless body of the assumed leader of the group of unsubs. “Damn girl, that’s a good shot,” he compliments. 

Rossi looks around at the scattered bodies. “It’s not just him, all of these are aimed perfectly,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “I need to take some extra classes from you. I can’t even shoot like this in GTA.” His words earn some chuckles, but it makes her stomach churn. She didn’t even think twice about taking them down—how was that something she should feel proud of? The praise made her feel like a weapon, like she was being recognized for something she didn’t want to be good at. 

Hotch’s eyes softened when he noticed her clear discomfort and the state of shock she was still in as she couldn’t find the words to speak. “Reid, get Y/n to the medics outside and then take her home. We’ll get the paperwork done tomorrow.”

-

As Spencer turns the key into his apartment door, he makes sure to keep his hand steady on Y/n’s lower back, gently guiding her inside. “Let’s go clean this wound up. The medic told me you have to sanitize it twice a day, before going to bed and after waking up.” Spencer continues rambling on about the medical books he’s read and how he’s practiced cleaning dirty cuts on himself, as he makes her sit down on the edge of the bathtub. She doesn’t process any of his words, though. Her mind keeps spinning back to the container, how she didn’t experience a moment of doubt as she saw the unsubs armed and how meticulously she ended them. How easy it was to end the lives of five human beings in the span of a single minute. 

She tilts her head with a hum as Spencer repeats her name. “Can I take your vest off?” She nods as she lifts her arms, giving Spencer access. He helps her lift out of it,  tossing the bulletproof vest behind him. She cringes as she notices the dried blood and gunpowder coating it. “Hey… I’m right here, you’re okay,” Spencer softly coos, turning Y/n’s attention back on him. 

He traces the back of his finger against her unhurt cheek. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” When she doesn’t respond, he gently cups her chin, tilting it up to bring her attention to him. He crouches so that he can look her in the eyes. “Tell me what’s bothering you.” She bites down on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she has. She knows she can trust Spencer, but she’s feeling embarrassed. Embarrassed by the fact that she’s struggling so much about something that should be routine by now after the number of years she’s worked at the BAU, but also embarrassed by the fact that it’s supposed to be routine, since it shouldn’t. She shouldn’t have the skill to perform headshots like that and she definitely shouldn’t be praised about it by her colleagues. She knows they mean well, but she cannot get rid of the sick taste in her mouth. 

“Sweetheart, listen to me. I know it was terrifying being alone in there. I know you don’t like the dark or tight spaces, but it’s over now. You did so well.” 

“Did I?” Her voice comes out harsher than intended, making Spencer tilt his head in confusion. 

“I killed five people, Spencer, five,” she says as her voice shakes. Spencer rubs her shoulders up and down. “You were left with no choice, there was no other option.” 

“That doesn’t make what I did any better.” She whispers, her voice barely audible as the tears start to spill. She shakes her head as she scoffs a laugh in disbelief. “God… you heard what Rossi said. I’m a killing machine, Spencer! I didn’t even know I was capable of doing that.” She says. “Garcia fights the justice system to get the man who almost killed her off of death row, and what do I do? I don’t give them a single chance and kill them without even thinking about it. I swear Spence, it happened as a reflex. It shouldn’t happen as a reflex!” Y/n’s anxiety builds up as she keeps thinking of reasons as to why she’s a bad person. The empathy is visible in Spencer’s eyes as his hand trembles slightly as he reaches for the dirty bandage. It wasn’t the wound he was worried about— it was what he couldn’t see. How the strongest person he knew was shaking in front of him, wanting nothing more than to protect her from everything the job took from her. 

“You cannot compare those situations. Garcia saw the potential of him bettering his life. You had no other choice, you needed to protect yourself.” 

She swallows. “I used to be a lot like her, you know.” The memories of Y/n’s early days in her career flood her mind. Back when she could feel proud of her ability to protect others. Back when she could still relate to believing the good in people. She used to think every life had some value worth saving. She doesn’t remember the moment that changed. 

Spencer softly smiles down at her. “You still are, love. You’re a soft-spoken kind soul, you just put some protective layers over that. I know it’s hard to reconcile who you are now with who you were when you started this job,” Spencer says as he caresses her freshly bandaged cheek. “Your strength might have hardened you, but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your compassion. You’re still the same person. You just do it differently now.” His words make her melt as she leans into his touch, surrendering herself to the security he offered. Spencer smiles to himself as he guides her up off of the bathtub, pulling her into his embrace and resting his chin on her head. 

“You’re such a caring person, sweetheart. The fact that you’re worrying about this tells me enough of how good of a person you are.” Her eyes water as he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I don’t know anyone as gentle and loving as you,” he whispers between kisses as he continues showering her in words of affection and reassurance.

 “You’re the most perfect woman I’ve ever met and you’re amazing at the job that you do. The risk you took has saved so many people, love, just think about it.” Warm, full tears soak his sweatshirt as she buries her face in his chest. Finding gratitude in the fact that her boyfriend always knows the right words to comfort her. 

He takes her face in his hands. “I’m not going to lie to you. It’s going to take a while to get over this, but we’ll go through it together,” he says. Those sweet, brown bambi eyes looking deeply into hers make her believe every word he says. 

“Will you help me? When I need to fill in the evaluation?” She softly asks, already dreading going through the case again, but Spencer's soft gaze calms her. 

“I will, love. I’ll be there every step of the way.”

[mariechristine00]

This man is testing my patience

[billybutcherrtrash]

Throne

CW: oral (f) and fingers

You and Spencer are friends who attended at party for a mutual friend and find you have an interesting shared book fantasy.

It had been several hours since you’d arrived at the party for a mutual friend. Reid had been cautiously watching you as you talked to everyone and gave them a small amount of your time. Every so often your gazes would meet and you’d exchange a smile from a distance. Although you’d greeted him when he walked in, you’d been rushed away my another friend for some kind of emergency. Every guy you talked to made Reid anxious. He hated the idea of you walking out of this place with someone else. Anyone else but him. Finally you made your way over to him, sitting down beside him and smiling.

“Welcome back”. Spencer said as you took a sip of your drink.

“Thanks. It’s been very hectic. You’d think for a going away party it would be more fun. Instead I’m chasing down my drunk friends.” You sighed.

“Yeah, I think I saw one of my drunk friends fall off the bar earlier.” He laughed.

“I saw that. I think we’re the only two here that aren’t drinking.”

“I like to be in control of myself. I drink occasionally but in this atmosphere I don’t think it’s wise.”

“I agree. To much going on and I’m already over stimulated”

“Glad I’m not the only one.” He nodded.

You tucked your hair behind your ears and shifted closer to him. “I’m really happy you came.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up, “I’m glad too. I’ll admit I was on the fence until I heard you’d be coming too.”

“Really?”

He nodded, “Yeah. This isn’t my thing. Bars. Or people.”

“I would much rather be at home reading. I hate all this.” You shrugged.

“Oh, that’s reminds me I started reading this book about ancient erotica and I think -“

At that you held up your hand to stop him,“Did you just say erotica?”

Spencer nodded, “Yeah, but not in the way you’re thinking of pornography. It’s rather tasteful compared to today’s idea of erotica. I’ve read a few of what is considered erotic today and I think it’s just porn on paper.”

You stared at him for a long moment. His brown eyes stared back anticipating your response.

“Porn on paper is called smut now.” You smirked.

“Yes, and it is just sexually charged writing. Ancient erotica is art. Paintings and images that are tastefully done.” Reid explained.

“I guess my bookshelf is filled with porn then.” You laughed softly.

“You read…smut?” He bit his lip.

Suddenly you felt hot. Did the temperature go up? You’d just admitted you had read spicy books.

“I-wel-…I mean…I have other kinds of books too.” You stammered. “I have biographies and nonfiction also. Fantasy.”

Spencer was enjoying watching you squirm. You were flustered now. He could see trying to save whatever semblance of a normal conversation there was left.

“Fantasy? What kind of fantasy?” He asked.

“No sexual fantasy…I have Fourth Wing. Have you read it?”

“Dragons and thunder…I have read it and its sequel.” Reid nodded. “But may I ask…how you felt about the throne scene?”

He was torturing you now. He watched as your eyes went wide and your breathing halted just enough to notice.

“I…uh…Spence…you’re doing this on purpose.” You said softly.

“Am I? I’m just curious.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Are you?”

“Very…” He nodded.

He watched you bite your lip. The conversation had taken a sharp turn and now you were staring at each other, both quiet. You wished you knew what he was thinking about.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Spencer finally asked.

“Yes”. You agreed.

He stood and held out his hand for you. You took it and slipped out of your seat, following him out the door. You felt anxious as you walked out into the cold air, cautiously looking up at him.

“Did you drive?” He asked, looking back.

“No…I came with (your mutual friend’s name).”

“You should probably tell her you’re leaving.” Spencer smirked.

“I can text her.” You blushed a little as you arrived at Spencer’s car.

You turned to face him as he opened the door for you. It was only now that you realized he was so much taller than you. All the time working with him at the university and you’d never noticed. He stepped closer and slid a hand around your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” Spencer asked.

Your brained seemed to short circuit, unable to form words, so you nodded almost too enthusiastically. Spencer leaned down and cupped your face, kissing you gently. The feel of his mouth on yours was dizzying. You weren’t drunk but you felt like it. He pulled you a little closer and you welcomed the feel of his body. After a few long moments he pulled back leaving you aching his touch. He gazed at you, stroking your cheek gently.

“Still want to go home with me?” He asked.

“Yes” Was all you could managed, still seeing stars.

Spencer helped you in the car before closing the door and running to the other side. You watched him get in and start the car.

“Don’t forget to text (your friend’s name).”

“Oh, right.” You reached for your phone and sent a quick text letting them know you’d found a ride.

They sent a reply with eggplant emoji’s and water droplets. Thank God it was dark because your cheeks were red at the idea of them knowing who you’d left with. The man you’d confided in her to having a crush on from the minute he’d walked into your life. As he drove you pulled your sleeves over your hands and fidgeted with them anxiously. You couldn’t have possibly expected him to not notice. He reached over and laced his fingers with yours.

“You play with your clothes when you’re nervous.” Spencer said, glancing at your hands.

Of course he’d noticed. The many meetings you’d sat in together, the times you’d been in the elevator together alone, the time he’d come to you asking for your opinion on a case, he’d seen it every time he was near you. You looked up as you felt the car slow to a stop. He put the car in park and you both sat for a moment. Finally your eyes met his. He gave you a soft smile.

“Do you still want to come inside?” Spencer asked.

“I do.” You answered.

He nodded and got out of the car, coming around to open your door and helped you out. Her nerves were started to become more noticeable. You didn’t do this. You never went home with guys. Especially not guys you worked with. Especially not anyone with an IQ of 187 and read books on ancient erotica. Spencer took your hand and led you into his building. Once in the elevator you chewed at your lip, your fingers linked with his as he pressed the button to his floor.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, reaching up to brush your hair behind your ear.

“Spence…you need checking on me. I’m fine. I’m sure. I promise.” You said, standing on your toes to kiss him.

He cupped your neck, returning the kiss. He was gentle and soft. You could only hope he maintained that once you were in his apartment. The elevator dings upon arriving at his floor. He pulled away reluctantly and you stepped off, making your way to his front door.

“I’m slightly surprised we aren’t stumbling down your hallway, too impatient to get inside.” You joked.

Spencer slid his key in the door, “We could have been but you deserve more respect than me just trying to fuck you.”

Your jaw dropped, surprised. “Spencer Reid said fuck!” You smirked.

“I’ve been known to swear on occasion.” He replied, letting you inside.

You stepped inside the apartment, looking around. He closed the door and locked it.

“So…what now?” He asked, stepping closer to you.

“Spence…we both know what’s going to happen…but can we pretend for five seconds that you’re not thinking about undressing me and be making obscene sounds shortly thereafter?” You asked, taking his hand.

“Well now that you’ve put that image in my head…it’s going to be hard not to.” He smirked.

“You mentioned you had books. I want to see the collection.”

“The lady gets what the lady wants.” He replied, leading you to his bookshelf.

It seemed to overflow with classic literature in many languages. You looked at the titles, a few familiar and many you’d never seen or heard of. Then your eyes caught a familiar gold cover. You smirked and pulled out Fourth Wing.

“You really did read it.” You smirked.

“You and Penelope wouldn’t shut up about it, I was curious what had you so worked up. It’s not my thing but it peaked my interest.” He replied. “Especially chapter 48 in Iron Flame.”

You froze, knowing exactly what he was referring to. He leaned in close, his breath hot on your skin.

“My house. My chair. My woman.” He whispered.

You looked up at him, your mouth suddenly dry. You had forgotten he’d mentioned the throne room scene.

“You…um…you know the exact chapter.” You stammered.

He smirked down at you. “Of course I do. You never told me how you felt about it.”

“I mean…obviously it’s hot.” You turned to face him. “What woman doesn’t want a man worshipping her on his knees on a throne.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you want?”

“Do you have a throne?” You asked.

“Not quite a throne, but I definitely have a chair we can pretend is a thrown.”

You licked your lips as you felt your pulse rising. You felt hot again. You knew why you’d come to his apartment and now was the time you stopped pretending it was innocent.

“Show me.”

Spencer gave a soft smile and led you to his room. It was neat, bed made and everything orderly. Your eyes fell upon a gorgeous leather chair near the window. It was the perfect reading chair, but tonight it was going to be a throne for him to worship you on. He walked you over and you admired it. You could see it was tall enough that your feet might dangle if you sat down, and the leather was soft. God forbid you dig your nails into it and mark the leather.

“Are you sure?” Spencer asked from behind you.

You felt his hands sliding up your arms, stroking your biceps gently. His breath was hot on your neck as you leaned back into him.

“Yes.” You said, eyes closing when he kissed your neck.

“Then sit down.”

You swallowed anxiously, turning to face him before sitting down. You could have sworn his eyes darkened just a bit as he moved to the floor. Surprisingly the chair was the perfect height for you to be face to face. You pulled him against you and kissed him. His hands ran through your hair and down your shoulders. You knew exactly want was coming. He pulled away and removed your shoes. As his hands moved to your jeans you feel your pulse racing and your breathing quicken. He pulls you to the edge of the chair and tugs them down your legs. The air conditioning sends goosebumps over your skin as Spencer looks up at you. His eyes met yours and you forgot to breathe. He didn’t look away as you placed kisses on your legs, creeping higher and higher up your thigh.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He said, stroking your opposite thigh. “God, you’re perfect.”

You bit your lip, having trouble forming words. All you wanted was for him to devour and absolutely worship you. His hand slid over your hips and to the top of your underwear. The second they were gone you knew you’d never be able to recover. You ached for him. Slowly he slid them down and you watched him carefully. Spencer’s eyes darkened even more at the sight of you bare before him. He could see the moisture pooling at your core and he was instantly rock hard.

“Last time…you want this?” He asked.

“Last time, yes.” You panted, “Please, God, just touch me.”

Begging wasn’t something you’d thought you’d be doing but you were desperate. He nodded, moving one leg to sit over the arm of the chair and the other over his shoulder. You nearly came as his tongue slid through your wet folds. You let out a loud gasp, your head falling back against the back of the chair. He swirled around your clit, toying with it gently.

“Spencer, fuck!” You moaned, nails digging into the leather.

He smiled as he continued his actions, lapping up your juices. His hands held you firmly in place and you squirmed under his.

“Don’t stop, please.” You whimpered.

Spencer watched you coming undone, enjoying every second of it. Watching your breathing catch when he licked your clit. You moaned even louder when he slid a finger into you. It was nearly enough to finish you. Your hand moved to his hair and you tugged at it, causing him to groan against you. The vibrations only added to the pleasure. He added another finger, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…” You panted, so close to cumming.

Spencer felt you clench around his fingers and he moved them faster. His tongue massaged your delicate folds until finally you couldnt hold on.

“Spence, oh, fuck…” You whimpered before coming undone.

He smiled, working you through it. Finally you could breathe again and you looked down at him. He was just watching you, stroking your thigh gently.

“You okay?” He asked.

“More than okay.” You blushed as you sat up.

“How was it?”

“It rivaled all the fantasies I had about being worshipped in a thrown”. You admitted.