#Spencer the purple guy

[avis-writeshq]

my friend is gonna do a ‘dress as your type’ theme for her birthday and i need to figure out which era of spencer reid i should run with

[gl00mxstar]

Snackaroo I made for my friend

Go to their socials she makes cool stuff

[ashlinxsloves]

Unrelated, but why does he look like the irl version of William Afton?

Me looking for an excuse to touch his hands

“Oh uhhh… here let me just show you.” 😏

[anniebeemine]

Vanilla- s.r. x fem!reader

warnings: big ego AND jealous spencer, spanking, unprotected sex, oral (femrecieving), cumplay

It started out as just another gathering with the team—a casual night out after a long case, everyone laughing and unwinding at a local bar. You sat beside Spencer, enjoying the rare opportunity to relax with him and his colleagues. The conversation was light and fun, bouncing from one topic to another, until it inevitably drifted into teasing against you and Spencer. It started out like usual, some quips about when he'd pop the question or when you'll pop out a few mini geniuses. Then it shifted into a few weeks ago when you came into work with a top that was lower cut than usual, shifting to show a deep purple love bite sometime during lunch with the girls.

Spencer flushed a deep red, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the table burst into laughter. "Uh, well," he stammered, "that was… an unfortunate coincidence."

You shot him a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. "Unfortunate? That was all you, Doctor Reid." You leaned into him playfully.

Penelope gasped in exaggerated shock, placing a hand over her heart. "Spencer Reid, you little devil! I never would have guessed you had it in you!"

Derek clapped Spencer on the back, nearly knocking him forward with the force of it. "Man, you’re full of surprises! Didn’t think you had it in you to leave a trail. Reid, you’re probably the most wholesome guy I know."

Emily, never one to pass up on a good-natured ribbing, smirked. “Yeah, I bet your idea of a wild night is reading a book until midnight.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Spencer, always a good sport, chuckled along. But you could see a flicker of something in his eyes—something that made your heart twist a little. You reached under the table, squeezing his hand gently, offering silent reassurance. He glanced at you, and the warmth of your touch seemed to ease some of the discomfort, his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

“You know, Reid’s probably the kind of guy who apologizes during sex,” Morgan added, his tone playful but with a teasing edge. “Always so polite, probably says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ the whole time.”

Your cheeks flushed, and though you managed to keep your expression neutral, you felt a surge of protectiveness for Spencer. The image they were painting of him was so far from the truth that it almost made you want to correct them right then and there, tell them the truth of his tendencies. But you stayed quiet, your bedroom life with Spencer was private, something just for the two of you, and you had no desire to share those intimate details with anyone else—not even his closest friends.

Spencer laughed it off, making a self-deprecating joke to deflect the attention, but you could tell the teasing had gotten to him. He stayed quiet for the rest of the night, offering only the occasional smile or nod as the conversation continued around him.

When you finally got home, the silence between you was thick with unspoken tension. Spencer had been quiet the whole ride back, and as soon as you closed the front door behind you, you knew it was time to address it.

“Spencer,” you began softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet since we left."

He turned to you, his expression conflicted, a mix of frustration and hurt. “It’s just… is that how they see me? As this meek, vanilla guy who can’t… who can’t be anything else?”

Your heart ached for him. “They don’t know you like I do, Spencer. They were just teasing. They don’t realize how far off they are.”

Spencer shook his head, pulling away slightly. “But you didn’t say anything. You just sat there and let them think… let them think I’m some kind of pushover.”

You sighed, understanding now where this was coming from. “Spencer, I didn’t say anything because I don’t think it’s anyone else’s business what happens between us. We agreed not to share that part of our relationship with them.”

“I know that,” he replied, his voice strained. “But it felt like you were agreeing with them by staying silent. Like you were okay with them seeing me that way.”

You stepped closer to him, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. “Spencer, listen to me. I don’t care what they think. I know who you are. I know how you make me feel, how you take care of me, how passionate and intense you can be. None of that needs to be proven to anyone else.” You caressed his cheekbones with your thumbs. “Besides, do you think you really want them to know how you have me bent over the back of the couch more often than not? How you have me counting out my punishments?”

His eyes softened, but there was still a lingering doubt. “But it just… it made me feel like they think I’m less of a man or something. Like I’m not enough.”

You shook your head firmly. “You are more than enough, Spencer. You’re everything I could ever want. What we have is special, and I don’t need to justify it to anyone else. They can think whatever they want, but at the end of the day, they don’t know the real you. I do.”

He looked at you, really looked at you, and you could see the tension slowly start to leave his body. He let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you. It just… got under my skin.”

You hugged him tightly, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “I understand, Spencer. But remember, you’re incredible just the way you are. And I love you for it. All of it.”

Spencer nodded, the last of his frustration melting away as he held you. “Thank you. I love you too. And I’m sorry for doubting that.”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him gently. “You don’t ever have to apologize for how you feel. But just know, I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything.”

With that, the tension between you finally broke, and the two of you spent the rest of the night curled up together, letting the world outside fade away as you focused on each other, knowing that what you shared was something far deeper and more meaningful than anyone else could ever understand.

+++

Spencer had never really been the jealous type, but he was angry. Since the night of teasing at the bar, he'd been on edge.

It gnawed at him in a way he hadn't expected, chipping away at his usual calm demeanor. Since that night, there had been a subtle shift in his behavior—small things that you noticed but didn’t immediately address, hoping it would pass. But now, standing in the bar waiting for your drink, it was clear that something had snapped.

You had been leaning against the counter, waiting patiently for your order, when a stranger approached. He was confident, with a cocky smile, and placed his hand lightly on the small of your back. “Hey there,” he said smoothly, “let me get that for you.” He motioned to the bartender, offering to pay for your drink.

Before you could politely decline, you felt a familiar presence behind you. Spencer’s hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, and before you could even process what was happening, he was pulling you away from the bar. His grip was gentle but insistent, his usual reserved demeanor replaced by something far more intense.

The stranger barely had time to react as Spencer led you out of the bar and into a dimly lit alley beside the building. The air was cooler outside, and the sudden change in environment only heightened the tension. Spencer didn’t say a word as he pressed you against the brick wall, his lips crashing onto yours with a force that took your breath away. There was no hesitation in his movements—his hands were everywhere, roaming over your body, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any distance between you.

His kisses were fierce, demanding, and you responded in kind, matching his intensity with your own. It was as if all the unspoken emotions from the past few days had finally found an outlet, and Spencer was pouring everything into this moment. His usual restraint was gone, replaced by a raw, desperate need to claim you, to reassure himself of your connection.

You gasped into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, needing to feel him, to ground yourself in the whirlwind of his sudden possessiveness. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he pressed you harder against the wall, his body anchoring you in place.

“Spencer,” you whispered between kisses, your voice breathless. “Take me home."

His breath hitched at your words, a spark of something dangerous flaring in his eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled back slightly, his hand still firmly on your hip as he nodded, his voice low and filled with unspoken promise. "Let's go."

The walk back to your car was charged with anticipation, the quiet intensity between you almost palpable. Spencer’s hand remained on the small of your back, guiding you with a sense of urgency that sent shivers down your spine. The drive home was a blur, the silence between you thick with the weight of what was about to happen. Every glance he shot your way was laced with desire, his fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel as if he could barely contain himself.

As soon as you stepped through the door of your apartment, Spencer was on you, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that stole your breath. He kicked the door shut behind you, his hands roaming your body, mapping out every inch of you as if he couldn’t get enough. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the raw need that had been building inside him finally finding release.

You barely made it to the bedroom, clothes discarded in a trail behind you, the air around you electric with anticipation. By the time you reached the bed, Spencer was a man possessed, his usual gentle touch replaced by something much more primal. He pushed you onto the bed, his body covering yours in an instant, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his need for you almost overwhelming.

His hands were everywhere—gripping your thighs, your waist, your arms—as he kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made you moan into his mouth. He was relentless, his touch both commanding and desperate, as if he needed to prove to himself, and to you, that you were his.

“God please touch me, Spence. You’re the only person who could ever make me cum. I need your mouth on me baby, please.” He looks up at you through his lashes while he bites into your thigh, sucking so hard you know there’ll be a purple bruise tomorrow.  

Before you’ve prepared, he latches his mouth onto your pussy, laying his tongue flat against you and shaking his head back and forth. You scream out, taking a fistful of his curly hair into your hand and holding on for dear life as he licks and sucks feverishly. His saliva mixed with your arousal makes an absolute mess, dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. He pulls back for a moment and puts two fingers up to your mouth. “Open.” He orders and you oblige, opening and wrapping your tongue around his digits, moaning as you do. He watches you intensely and bites his lip as he imagines how you’d work him if you were sucking him off.

Once his fingers are wet, he pulls them out of your mouth and down to your core, circling a few times on your clit before pushing them into you completely. You let out a string of curse words as he curls them inside you, hitting your G-spot over and over again. Just when you thought it couldn’t feel any more intense, he reattaches his mouth to your hood, using his tongue to trace figure-eights. Your toes begin to curl as you feel the familiar knot in the pit of your stomach.

You shakily cry out his name, tugging his hair harder. The vibration from his moan brings you closer, a cry spilling from your lips. He doesn't stop, continuing his attack on your clit, his fingers picking up speed.

You wriggle and writhe beneath him, holding back cries. A second orgasm washes over you, voice taken as he finally sits back, hands running over your thighs soothingly.

"You know what I was thinking about the entire night?" He asked, undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"Tell me," you said through pants. "What were you thinking of?"

"How good your ass looked today."

You chuckled. "Really?"

Spencer's lips curled into a smirk as he nodded, his eyes darkening with that familiar hunger. "Really," he confirmed, his voice low and husky as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the toned chest beneath. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. Every time you walked by, every time you leaned over, it drove me crazy."

You felt a flush of heat spread through your body at his words, a mixture of surprise and excitement. "And what did you want to do about it?" you asked, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He shrugged off his shirt, tossing it aside before leaning back over you, his hands once again finding their place on your hips, gripping them possessively. "How badly I want to make them sting." His lips run over your collarbone, voice dropping. "I know you like it."

You whimper, nodding. "Then do it."

As you turn over, your breath catches in anticipation, your skin tingling with the promise of what’s to come. Spencer’s hands trail down your back, gentle at first, as if savoring the moment, before they grip your hips with that familiar possessiveness.

His voice is low, almost a growl, as he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You know I’m going to make you beg for it, don’t you?"

You shiver at his words, your body reacting instinctively to the mix of dominance and tenderness in his tone. "Please, Spencer," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I want it… I need it."

He lets out a low, satisfied hum, his hands sliding down to your ass, kneading the flesh before his fingers curl, and with a swift, calculated motion, he brings his hand down in a firm slap. The sharp sting spreads through you, igniting your nerves and drawing a gasp from your lips.

"How does that feel?" he asks, his voice dripping with control.

"Perfect," you manage to gasp out, the sting from his hand already sending ripples of pleasure through you.

His hand comes down again, harder this time, and you arch your back in response, biting your lip to hold back a cry. Each slap is deliberate, perfectly timed, and as the sensation builds, so does your desire. The pain is just enough to make you ache for more, to make you want to give in to everything he’s offering. Spencer’s hand continues its work, each strike sending a wave of heat and electricity through your body. Your breaths come out in ragged pants, and you can feel your entire being focused on the sensations he’s creating, on the way he’s drawing out your pleasure.

"Do you like it when I make you feel like this?" he asks, his voice husky and rough as his hand moves rhythmically against you.

"Yes," you breathe out, your voice almost desperate. "I love it… I love how you make me feel, Spencer."

"Good," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck before his hand delivers another firm slap, making your skin burn in the best possible way. "Because I love making you feel this way."

The stinging pleasure only heightens your need for him, and as his hand continues to bring you to the edge of what you can take, you know you’re utterly and completely his. The mix of pain and pleasure is intoxicating, and you’re lost in the sensation, in the way he’s controlling your body with such expert precision. When he finally stops, his hand soothing over your stinging skin, you can’t help but whimper at the loss, your body still thrumming with need. Spencer leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder as he murmurs against your skin, "You’re so beautiful like this. Do you want more?"

"Please," you gasp, barely able to form the words through the haze of desire that’s clouding your mind. "Please, Spencer… I need more."

His voice is a dark promise as he whispers in your ear, "Then let’s see just how much you can take."

Spencer's hands glide up your sides, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “Stay still for me.”

You nod, your breath catching as you feel him shift behind you. His fingers trace the curve of your back before gripping your hips again, positioning you just how he wants. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, your body thrumming with a mix of pleasure and need as you wait for his next move.

He takes his time, savoring the way you’re laid out before him. His hands run over your reddened skin, soothing the sting he’d so carefully crafted moments before. “You’re so perfect like this,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?”

You can only whimper in response, your voice lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. You feel his fingers slide between your thighs, teasing you just enough to make you arch into his touch, desperate for more.

“Tell me what you need,” he commands, his voice deep and authoritative.

“You,” you gasp, barely able to form the words. “I need you, Spencer. Please.”

He chuckles softly, clearly satisfied with your response. “Good girl,” he praises, his fingers dipping inside you briefly, just enough to make you moan in frustration when he pulls back. “But I want to hear you beg for it.”

“Please,” you whimper, your body trembling with need. “Please, Spencer, I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”

Spencer’s breath hitches at your words, his resolve almost breaking. He leans over you, pressing his lips to the back of your neck as he aligns himself with you. “You’re going to feel every inch of me,” he promises, his voice low and rough. “And I’m not going to stop until you’re completely spent.”

You turn over again, letting your thighs fall open, giving him a full view of your soaked cunt. "Please, Spencer."

With that, he pushes into you slowly, savoring the way you gasp and arch beneath him. The sensation of him filling you is overwhelming, the mix of pleasure and the remnants of the stinging pain creating an intoxicating blend that has you crying out in pure bliss.

Spencer sets a rhythm that’s both torturous and perfect, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips with enough force to leave marks, pulling you back to meet him with every movement. The sounds of skin against skin fill the room, the only other noise your combined moans and gasps of pleasure.

“Do you like this?” he asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “Do you like how I’m making you feel?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your voice breaking with the intensity of it all. “I love it, Spencer, I love you.”

He growls in response, his pace quickening as he drives you closer to the brink. The tension in your body coils tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap, and then, with one final, deep thrust, you’re thrown over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure so intense that you can’t help but scream his name.

“Who’s fucking you this good?” Spencer grunted, his hips slamming relentlessly against yours.

You replied with a noise just short of a scream, clinging to his biceps. He has you pretzeled underneath him, one leg slung around his hip, the other over his shoulder. The raw spots of your ass brush against his thighs with each thrust, each one a rush of excitement

He brought a hand to your chin, forcing you to look at him through hooded eyes. “What’s my name, darling?” He asked, huffing as he kept his pace up.

“Spencer!” You whined, clawing at his shoulders. Your voice gave out soon after, little squeaks escaping as you chase your high.

He pulled away, panting. “Over. All fours.”

You obliged, turning and arching your back as he propped your hips up. He slid a pillow beneath you, gripping the corners to hold your hips up. You gripped the sheets, wailing as he pushed into you again. He pumps a few times before pulling your wrists to the small of your back, pulling you so you’re back to front with him.

“Spence,” you whined, eyes screwed shut.

He laughs, actually laughs. “What are you crying for, princess?” He says, his lips grazing against your ear. “I’m giving you what you want.”

Your head falls back and you sigh as his kisses begin to get heavier, teeth involved now. You hear his wet kissing noises grow until you feel his teeth sink into your skin. You yelp, hands begging to be freed but his grip tightens.

“Don’t make me get the tie,” he threatened lowly. “I don’t want to leave your pretty little cunt empty.”

You whimpered at his words. “Don't,” you begged quietly, feeling tears roll and drop onto your chest. “I can’t-“

Spencer stopped, bottomed out. “Or maybe I should.” He began to slide out of you, leaving just the tip inside. “Good girls deserve to get fucked, but you haven’t been a good girl, have you?”

“No, Spence. I haven’t.” The gravel in your tone makes your voice unfamiliar. “But please, I’ll do whatever you want me to- anything. Just please let me cum again.” You craned your neck to look him in the eyes. “Please.”

His eyes softened. “Color?”

“Green,” you whispered back.

He watches your face scrunch up then relax in pleasure as you gasp when he fully enters inside you. His palms go to the part of your thighs below your knees. He forces them to open wider, rocking gently at first.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said softly.

You nod and take a deep breath. Another orgasm begins, your body going rigid as your breath catches in your throat. This time he lets you finish, letting your hands go. You catch yourself on the mattress, whining as you fuck yourself back onto him. He’s stopped moving, letting you use him as his hands roam over your back as he coats the inside of your walls with his own arousal. When you’re finished, you fall forward, his cock slipping out of you in the process.

You lay like that for a few seconds, ass in the air, catching your breath. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you beg him not to touch you for a moment. Your hand is in the air, palm flat. He respects your space, showering you in compliments and thank you's. You stop him when an apology leaves his lips.

“Don’t be,” you said, eyes still closed but your voice is firm.

You can hear him smile. “Can I touch you again?”

You nodded.

Without wasting another moment, Spencer propped you up by your hips again, spreading you with both hands. Spencer sighed at the sight of your cunt, his cum slowly dripping out of you. You flinched as he ran his thumb through your folds, swiping your clit in an up and down motion. You moaned at the feeling. The coil in your abdomen tightened and released in record time, your hands twisting in the sheets as you wailed out his name again.

You flipped over, legs on either side of him. He pulled you up against him, your ass again this chest.

He let go of your clit with a pop sound just to go back and suck it even harder. Your back arching as your mouth and throat were dry from all the moaning and crying, your grip on his hair becoming tighter. You let out one loud moan, your legs shaking and squeezing Spencer’s head between them. You feel a warm gush as he pulls away, marveling at the mess he’s made. His eyes are sparkling, jaw slack as he studied how your body reacted. He licked a swipe up your folds, catching everything he could on his tongue. He leans over you, opening your mouth. You let him, nodding as you placed your hand on the back of his neck. 

He spits the mixture of his and your cum into your mouth. You swallow it down, opening your mouth to prove that it’s gone. You collapse into the bed, sticky and fucked out. Spencer stands up, picking up his boxers from the floor before going to the bathroom. He returns a few minutes later with a warmed washcloth. He drapes it over your warm cunt before using it to wipe away any of tonight’s mess. A water bottle is pressed into your hand and you let it roll out of your palm. 

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, one hand cradling your head. 

You nod, finally opening your eyes. His hair is tousled, sticking to his forehead in some places. “I’m alright, Spencie.” 

He grinned. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

+++

The next morning, the BAU office was alive with the usual hustle, but the moment you walked in, the energy shifted. Your steps were slower than usual, each movement causing a slight grimace. As you made your way to your desk, every head turned, curiosity etched on the faces of your colleagues. You could feel the weight of their stares, but you were determined to play it cool. Sliding into your chair with a quiet hiss, you placed your jacket beneath you for some added cushion. It didn’t help much, but it was better than nothing.

Morgan, always the first to break the silence, leaned back in his chair with a wide grin. “Damn, girl, what happened to you? Looks like you went ten rounds in the ring.”

Emily shot you a teasing glance, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Or, more likely, someone had a very intense evening.”

You gave them both a tired but amused look, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Let’s just say I had an… interesting night. And I’m definitely feeling it this morning.”

Before anyone could press further, Spencer strolled into the bullpen, a noticeable spring in his step. He approached your desk with a smugness that only you could truly decipher, carrying a cup of coffee like it was a trophy. With a self-satisfied grin, he placed the cup in front of you, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Good morning, love,” he said, his voice laced with a warmth that made you both roll your eyes and smile.

“Morning,” you replied, reaching for the coffee, grateful for the momentary distraction.

But as Spencer straightened up, you noticed something that made your stomach flip—he had a shit-eating grin on his face. That was when it hit you: he was enjoying this. He knew exactly what the team was thinking, and he was reveling in it.

You watched him saunter over to his desk, pretending to be oblivious to the shocked whispers and side glances being exchanged across the room. But you knew better. That grin, the slight swagger in his walk—Spencer Reid was basking in the glory of his teammates’ surprise.

Morgan’s jaw dropped, and he pointed a finger at Spencer, then back at you. “Did you guys see that? I mean, I thought Reid was a little more- damn!”

Emily smirked, shaking her head in disbelief. “I did not see that coming. Who knew Spencer had it in him?”

JJ chuckled, giving you a look that was part admiration, part amusement. “Looks like there’s a lot we don’t know about Spencer.” She nodded, mouthing, we’ll talk about this later.

Rossi chimed in, a bemused expression on his face. “Well, you know what they say, it’s always the quiet ones.”

You glanced over at Spencer, who was now seated at his desk, diligently pretending to be engrossed in his paperwork. The grin on his face, however, betrayed his true feelings—he was thoroughly enjoying the attention, playing the part of the humble genius who just happened to surprise everyone.

But you weren’t going to let him off that easy. No, Spencer Reid was going to pay for that smug grin, just not today. And probably not tomorrow. You needed to recover first, but in a few days… oh, you were going to give him his. And it would be worth the wait.

[luveline]

hiiiiiiiii jade! <3

would you be willing to write a fic about girl dad!spencer x bombshell!reader? i can only imagine what an adorable riot their daughter would be!!!

tysm!

ty for requesting!! mom!reader

Spencer always thought you were too beautiful for him. Too funny, too brave, too confident. For years he feared he’d never be anyone you could love; he was the opposite of all your best parts, he talked too much about the wrong things, he went red whenever you so much as looked at him, and he couldn’t flirt back, not for anything. 

But it’s been a very long time since he felt that way. What good is a father who doesn’t believe in being yourself? Amanda deserved to be loved from the moment she drew breath, and he shouldn’t have been any different. 

Now, though, he’s wondering if he shouldn’t be so accepting of all her whims. “I am not wearing that, daddy,” she says. 

She’s just old enough to put together sentences but young enough that the individual words sound like building blocks, chunky and clumsy on her little mouth. Her lips are yours, her smiles and frowns one hundred percent you. (Though you argue with him often that the quizzical pout she does is all his.)

“What do you mean, angel?” he asks, bent over her sock drawer looking for a matching pair. 

“This is pink, and this is purple.” She points. 

“Yes, and you like pink and purple!” 

“I like pink… and I like purple,” she says. 

“But not together?” he asks knowingly. “You want them at different times, is that it?” 

She runs for his legs, hugging them tightly. “Thank you.” 

“You’re so much like your mommy it’s scary,” he whispers playfully, leaning down to pat her small back. “Okay, angel. I’ll find you a different dress to wear. Or maybe the dungarees!”

She lifts her chin up to smile at him. “Y’okay.” 

“Spencer, Amy!” you call, voice carrying from the kitchen. “Are you guys ready? We have to go soon and you haven’t even eaten!” 

Spencer used to sit at his desk daydreaming about you. He’d drink five cups of tea a day to get to walk past you for the kitchenette, hoping you’d be making a coffee, that you’d flirt with him over corporate rewarded donuts. Now you’re making him breakfast as he persuades your daughter into jelly shoes because she wants tall shoes like mommy. They compromise —Any will wear the wrong shoes if Spencer agrees to carry her to the kitchen table. 

“Sorry,” Spencer says as he pushes open the door into the kitchen. He's trying to be the best dad he can be all the time, but he doesn’t have a knack for the mornings like you do. “We won’t be late.” 

“That depends on how agreeable my lovely girl is feeling today.” You pick up the pink plastic plate you’ve filled with eggs, toast, and a mix of washed berries. “What do you think, Amy? Looks nummy?”

“Chocolate chip?” she asks, eyes already widening. 

“It’s breakfast, honey,” you say, scooping her out of Spencer’s arm to carry her to the table. “Chocolate chips are for dinner.” 

“Please?”

“If you promise to be really super duper good at Uncle Derek’s, then yes, you can have some chocolate chips,” you say, tucking her chair in, and kissing her chubby cheek. “You want me to make you milk or juice, mm?”

Spencer spots the two plates you’ve made up for you and him on the counter and quickly brings them to the table, sliding yours in front of you with a long-pronged fork, his hand on your shoulder to keep you in your seat. “I’ll get it,” he says, ducking down to kiss you on the side of the mouth. 

You turn to Amy. “See that, sweetheart? See how nice and kind your daddy is to me? He’s soooo nice. This is why we love him so much, and we appreciate him so much.” 

Amy nods emphatically, blueberries tumbling off of her plastic fork. “So much,” she echoes, her voice like melting sugar. 

He has a weird moment by the fridge where he has to grip the handle. “You know I used to dream about making you a cup of coffee in the mornings?” he asks. 

“Spencer, come over here and kiss me again, please,” you say, sympathetic and fond.

“Me too!” Amy says through fruit. “Me first.” 

“Oh, gosh, this is one of the hardest decisions of my life,” he says, sweeping in to dot your cheeks with kisses, hers then yours, three apiece.

[xneens]

dildo shopping

aaron catches you dildo shopping.

Telling Emily about your less-than-adequate one-night stand had been a mistake. After being short with everyone for the whole day, she finally confronted you about the change in attitude and you confessed the guy you brought home the night before had gotten off without returning the favor.

She had asked when was your last orgasm and you had to think about it before telling her it had been a while. With that reply, she dragged you to the closest mall. That's how you ended up in front of a Spencer's.

You raised an eyebrow at Emily, sighing loudly as you reluctantly followed her inside. "Seriously, Em? I think I could've just bought a vibrator online or something."

"That could take days to come and you clearly need this now." Emily leads you to the back section, giving you a look. "Don't argue with me, you yelled at Rossi after he got your coffee order wrong today."

"I literally have no memory of that," you replied, trying to think if that situation had happened. "I didn't even drink coffee today."

Emily holds up an "I love Milfs" t-shirt briefly. "Because you threw it in the garbage after cussing him out in Italian. Rossi teaching you Italian really came back to bite his ass today."

"Whatever," you said, a twinge of guilt crawling into your heart. You shrugged it off knowing he'd understand and you made a mental note to get him his favorite bottle of wine to make up for it.

As you entered the back, you looked through all the dildos and vibrators lined up against the wall. Emily held up a purple dildo, reading through the description while you looked at the unimpressive dildo and vibrator wall decor, none really vibing with you.

"This one says it vibrates and is supposed to feel realistic," she mumbles, eyes narrowing as she reads through the instructions. "Six inches though, I think you can take more than that right?"

You giggled, unable to hold in a laugh. "I don't really want to think about Barney's small dick vibrating in my cunt when I want to cum, Em. Or Thanos for that matter."

She makes a face, putting the purple vibrating dildo back. "What a strange image. Thanks for ruining Barney for me."

Chuckling, you check out the lingerie a nearby mannequin is wearing. It's black and lacy, and while it holds up the titties, it's see-through and the panties are crotchless. Taking off its panties, you hold it up to your body. "Hey, this is cute isn't it?"

"Very cute, you should get it," Emily responds, looking through the hundred dildo options.

"Yes, you should."

You freeze, your ears instantly knowing who that voice belonged to. Emily looks behind you without turning her head, holding back a laugh at your clear mortification. A second passes and you turn around to see Aaron fucking Hotchner, your stoic boss and friend standing in front of you, looking at the lingerie you had pressed up against you.

You can't help but laugh awkwardly. "Hotch? What're you doing here?"

He's amused and you can tell because he's eyes are twinkling and the corner of his lips are twitching as if fighting the urge to smile. "I was picking something up for Jessica at Bath and Body Works when I saw you guys and wanted to say ... hi.”

"Wonderful." you deadpanned, placing the crotchless panties back on top of the mannequin's head.

Before either of you could say anything else, Emily joins in, a smile so smug and big it would've been hard to miss from space. "I'm going to look at that section of toys. Maybe you'll like a blue one instead so you can imagine it's Jake Sully instead."

She's too far away when you think about slapping her, already moving towards the side section of even more vibrators and dildos, a few naughty shirts display that separated you and Hotch from her. After glaring a hole into the back of her head, you turned back to Hotch, wanting nothing more than to melt on the floor and die.

"I-" you start, unable to finish; just like the night before.

He begins to look through the wall of sex toys, brows furrowing at the choices. Your cheeks redden when he picks up the infamous rose vibrator momentarily before placing it back down. It looked so tiny in his big hands and you wanted nothing more than to have his big hands in you. "What kind of toys do you like?"

It takes you a second to comprehend his question, still stuck on him seeing you shopping for things a boss should never know about his employees. "Um, whatever, really. I haven't really had one since college."

Hotch nods as if you were talking about a case and not about orgasming on a fucking sex toy. "I see."

You watch in silence as he studies the choices again, fully concentrated. He picks up a packaged dildo, regular colored, and holds it up to inspect it. You watch him eye the silicone dick before placing it back and picking up an identical one, only this one is thicker and wider.

"So ... you ever try one of these before with someone?" you asked, unable to deal with the silence but now wishing you hadn't spoken after that horrible sentence.

Thankfully, he chuckles, eyes not straying from the description on the packaging. "No, I haven't. I never really did have the time or someone who was willing to try something like this out."

"Ahh," you reply like a fucking idiot.

After another few moments of inspecting the dildo, he hands it to you with a smile. You take it instinctively, confused and gobsmacked at the gesture. His eyes are twinkling with amusement and something else you can't place. "That one should be the closest."

It’s about eight inches long, quite thick and has veins decorating the length. The head of it is big and you nearly salivate at the thought of getting off to it tonight.

"The closest to what?"

Hotch just grins in return and starts to turn away and walk out. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have fun.”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Cover Up

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: implied smut

Summary: You hooked up with someone expecting to keep him as a one-and-done. You didn't expect him to show up at your college.

Square Filled: "You are one fine specimen, and I'm not saying that because I'm drunk.” for @spencerreidbingo

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

x

Shit. Shit. Shit. You’re so late. You can’t be late for your first day of college. You had a bit too much to drink last night which caused you to sleep in longer than you wanted to. You’re so late that you didn’t have time to do your makeup. Eh, you can do it when you get to school. The drive is only thirty minutes but with morning traffic, it takes forty-five.

Meet me in the bathroom by the cafeteria! Emergency! You send to your best friend.

You rush from your car all the way to the bathroom before anyone else has a chance to see how messed up you look. You have everything you need in your backpack to fix your look, and you almost cringe at yourself when you look in the mirror.

“Man, I need to stop drinking,” you shake your head.

You take out your brush and comb your hair when Madison walks in.

“Y/N?”

“Over here.”

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“I woke up late. I didn’t have time to do my makeup. I need to use yours.”

“You texted me this is an emergency. I blew off Jason just to come here.”

“Mads, this is an emergency. Look at me. I can’t go to class looking like this. I still have pimples on my face. Can I use your makeup or not?”

“Of course.” She sets her backpack on the counter and takes out the massive bag containing everything she needs for a full face of makeup. It’s a damn good thing you’re the exact shade as her. “Why’d you wake up late?”

“I was out late last night.”

“And?”

“Why does there have to be an and?”

“Bitch, I know you.”

“I had too much to drink,” you sigh.

“There it is,” she laughs. “Who’d you do?”

“Why does there have to be a guy?” you chuckle and look at her. She raises an eyebrow as if you could actually fool her. “Okay, I don’t know his name. I was too busy making out with him to ask.”

“Do tell,” she smirks. You grab an elastic and put your hair up to have it out of the way while you do your makeup. She gasps when she sees the dark purple marks on your neck. “What the fuck are those?”

“So, they’re noticeable?”

“Noticeable? It looks like he was trying to suck your blood. God damn.”

“Mads, when I tell you this man was so fine, I mean it. I thought he was shy and awkward because he had that look about him, but he was the complete opposite. He took me to the back where the bathrooms were and had his way with me. God, he was so big,” you gasp.

“Tell me you got his number.”

“His friends came and got him before we could say anything. I don’t even know his name. I had to go home and put my vibrator to good use even after the orgasms he gave me.”

“Okay, new mission in life, find that man. It’s been a while since you let someone ruffle your feathers.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

You grab what you need and cover your marks as much as you can. They’re so dark that the foundation can’t cover it completely, but with your hair down, it’s manageable. Once you feel like you can walk out in public, you hand everything back to her.

“Okay, we’re good to go. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” she winks.

You take one look at yourself and remember what it was like to have his hands on your body.

You’ve never done this with a stranger before. Sure, you’ve had public sex before but nothing like this. None of your flings had this much passion. You’ve only met this man not even an hour ago and his tongue is down your throat.

There is a family bathroom next to the men’s and women’s restrooms, so he shoves you into that one and locks the door behind him. He grabs your hips and lifts you so that you can wrap your legs around his slender waist. He shoves his hand between your legs as his lips trail down your neck.

“You are one fine specimen, and I'm not saying that because I'm drunk,” you moan.

All you can focus on is the way his fingers are rubbing on your clothed clit and how his lips are sucking on your neck.

“Y/N!” You snap out of your trance and look at her. “We’re going to be late. Come on.”

“Right.”

You two leave the bathroom and head in the direction of your first class, Criminal Justice 101.

“Tell me what he looks like. It’ll help me try to find him.”

“Curly brown hair, brown eyes, very tall, slim build, and he was wearing a sweater vest. Not what you’d think he’d be like. He knew what he was doing, that’s for sure,” you chuckle. “I don’t know anything about him.”

“You just know what his tongue and cock feels like.”

“Madison!” You look away once and run into someone who is reading a book. “Watch where you’re going.”

“That is no way to speak to a professor, young lady.”

You look back and see the Dean of the school escorting one of the new professors. You lock eyes with the new professor with wide eyes. He’s the man you fucked last night. He recognizes you but doesn’t say anything about it. Madison can guess what happened based on how you’re looking at him.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“No, it was my fault,” he chuckles.

“Come, Dr. Reid. I’ll show you to Criminal Justice 101.”

“Wait, you’re teaching that class?” you ask, stopping the two men from leaving.

“Yeah.”

Madison grabs your shoulders and grins at Dr. Reid.

“Lucky for us, we’re your students.”

“Can’t wait,” he chuckles.

The Dean leaves expecting Dr. Reid to follow but the young doctor leans closer to you so you’re the only one who hears him.

“It’s a shame you covered them up. I’ll just have to make more.”

Your mouth drops open as he jogs to catch up with the Dean. You’re totally fucked. It’ll make class more interesting though.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[kisses4reid]

convenient pt. 2 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 1 (you cannot read part 2 with no context).

summary - he totally just cares if you pass your exams, nothing else. there is no other reason he keeps coming back to your convenience store.

genre - fluff, fem!college!reader x early season!spencer

warnings - school work, incorrect science stuff bc i’m just a girl

a/n - thank you all for the love on the first part!!! it was so surprising, especially since it was the first fic i’ve uploaded on this blog, i love y’all so much 🫶 thank you to those who suggested to make this a series, i would’ve totally made this a oneshot if not for y’all.

“you got any plans tonight spencer?”, morgan asked, taking his jacket off the back of his chair, passing spencer’s clean desk.

“uh, yeah actually.”

“really?” morgan stopped beside him, looking over his shoulder, a smirk crawling up, “with who?”

“moby dick.” spencer lied, morgan rolled his eyes.

“you’re no fun man.”

the doorbell rang, but after not seeing a certain skinny man for two nights, you’re mind starting to reset into the ‘studying grind mode’ it had been on before meeting spencer. stop thinking about spencer, keep studying.

three ladies dressed in short skirts, a white man with dreads (yikes), and a boy around 8 years old checked out with various items before a 3 minute cannelloni, bag of coffee, and an apple landed in front of you. before you could look up he spoke,

“how did your assignment go?” you jumped in your seat, nearly punching the man in the face before you placed a hand over your heart and sighed,

“good lord, you need to learn how to walk louder.”

spencer grinned. you scanned the cannelloni, he glanced at your hand still over your heart.

“rubatosis.”

“bless you?”

“the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.” you glanced up and saw him looking at your hand with a thin lipped awkward smile. you quickly put your hand down and continued scanning, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“we all know words. like… vellichor.” you spoke, packing his things in the same plastic bag he brought just little of a week ago. he tilted his head,

“the love of used bookstores?”

“i saw old books in your car.”

“you were looking in my car?” he put his hands in his pockets, as he looked out the window to his parked vehicle, not planning to pick up his bag of ‘groceries’ anytime soon. only then did you notice his tie was askew, his hair a little disheveled, his eyes a little sunken. the doorbell rung, a middle-aged balding man walking in behind spencer.

“i’m observant. $12.98.” he whipped out a slim wallet from his back pocket, flicking through some notes to pull out a $20. you ruffled through the register for his change as he remarked,

“you didn’t even look at the register.”

“don’t need to, you’re predictable.” you reply with a sneaky smile, causing spencer to copy reluctantly.

there was an awkward cough from behind him, the middle-aged man. spencer turned back to you after realising that he was in fact in a convenience store, and you were in fact the only worker there. “sorry sir, um. bye.” he took his bag, the thin lipped smile becoming nearly as predictable as his late-night groceries.

“bye.”

the tall, awkward, superbly smart man who smelt like wood didn’t show up for 5 nights. you thought there were only three possibilities at his absence: sickness, death, or he’s learnt how to cook.

you thought the next time you saw him you would ask more about him. in between studying, classes, and working, there wasn’t much time for a social life in your day to day. or maybe you wouldn’t. maybe he wasn’t showing up because he wasn’t really a regular, just a guy who needed quick meals, coffee, and apples on those specific nights. that’s insane, you are insane, get back to studying.

you almost didn’t recognise him the next night. same clothes, same height, same cologne, different face. dark circles under his eyes, permanent lines between his eyebrows, and a purple bruise on his left cheek. it was silent, he was the only customer at 11:30pm. you both made eye contact while you scanned his items, (same things plus a travel first aid kit) silently observing his expectant expression before you broke the silence.

“i’m not going to ask.”

“i got hit with the butt of a gun.” he said matter of factly.

you halted, coffee bag in hand, and stared at him, squinting. “…okay. actually i am gonna ask. who would hit a librarian with the butt of a gun?”

he scrunched his eyebrows and tilted his head, blinking, “i’m not a librarian. why do you think i’m a librarian?”

you packed his things, “smart, dressed posh, just general mysterious good looking librarian vibe,” he handed you a $20, “you remind me of a pipe cleaner with eyes.”

he raised an eyebrow, breaking eye contact, “not the first time i’ve heard that.”

you laughed, thinking it was a joke. his shoulders relaxed, the lines between his eyebrows softening. he grabbed his things, “bye, y/n.”

“bye, spencer.”

you were so close to finding out more about him. how the hell does a man that looks like that get into so much trouble?

you finish your shift, packing your textbooks and now flat laptop, locking everything up and turning the lights off. it was 1am. and, spencer was asleep in his car.

you looked around and put your jacket around your shoulders before jogging up to his driver’s window. his head was lulled to one side, mouth closed, chest rising softly. you knocked, and suddenly he was wide-eyed and searching for something.

“spencer? what are you still doing here?” you speak just loud enough for him to hear behind the window, which he promptly put down. you had a split second realisation how crazy this was. checking in on a regular, watching a regular sleep, feeling safe enough to approach a man’s car just because he buys the same thing every night he comes to the convenience store.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to fall asleep. i- uh,” he wiped his face, “sorry.”

you look at him with concern, “it’s okay, just.. try not to look like you were waiting for me to finish my shift to kidnap me next time, okay?”

he sighed and nodded. waving goodbye, you started down the street, your apartment only being a block away. over the music now playing in your ears, you heard a car drive away, mixing with your confused thoughts about who this regular really is and what he does for a living. and how does he look that good.

he was back the next night, same black slacks, with a purple sweater a shade darker than your own.

“hey spencer, before i scan your 3 minute bolognese, coffee and bag of apples-“

“how did you get that perfectly-“

“i’m going to ask this and you’re going to answer, okay?”

you know nothing about this man, but talking to him like a good friend felt natural now. though, you still tried to avoid over stepping it.

“-though you don’t actually have to answer it. you are a customer and i can’t force customers to do anything but- seeing as though you know i’m a college student and that i work at this convenience store and that i sort of suck at biology- sorry i’m rambling,” you take a breath, “where do you work?” you finish, spencer smiling slightly. you were surprised he didn’t cut you off to stop you, like everyone else did. he didn’t answer at first, the squeak of your shoe against the floor displayed your anxious tell.

“i can’t tell you.”

you sighed, rolling your eyes and packing his stuff, he already had a $20 ready in his hand. you took it, fingers brushing slightly against his. “you suck, and your so suspicious. i should just call security.”

he looked around, fiddling his fingers together, “you don’t have security.”

you pointed to a dead cockroach outside underneath the warm street light. “yes we do. why do you think he’s twitching? he’s insane, he’ll hurt you.”

he chuckled, the sound bringing a shade of pink to your cheeks. “you don’t work on weekends.”

you squinted, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and maybe a bit of fear. “what.”

“i came in on a weekend and a man was here.” he explained as you nodded.

“yeah, no i don’t. why?”

spencer gulped, taking his bag, and smiling awkwardly, “nothing, bye!”

you waved, confused. also stressed, you hadn’t worked on your psychology assignment while waiting for him to show up.

pt. 3

taglist- @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @wannabewolf @evysian @trashmonstersara

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

Nobody asked me for my opinion on the controversy that dropped today when the Sonic Movie cast pay rate was revealed, which is fair ig since I try to stay positive on this blog. But in case you're wondering, yeah as a certified AFAB™ I'm pissed, but not really specifically at the Sonic crew. Actor pay rates are usually negotiated between agents and the production companies so just like all the other problems with the Sonic movies, this is most likely an issue with Paramount and their patented dumbfuckery. Disclaimer that obviously it could very well be a Sonic crew issue as well, obviously I don't know the inner workings of the entire film production.

Also, if you're mad about this: please be mad about the pay gap that has been going on as long as Hollywood has been alive. This isn't a problem unique to the SCU. I know the phrase "pay gap" is thrown around a whole lot but do you guys actually know how big an issue it is?

Recent percentages are that male and female actors have "a wage difference of about 25 percent," with an estimated difference of $1-2million between star-power men and star-power women.[x][x] Basic Instinct star Sharon Stone said she made $500k to Michael Douglas's $14mil– and when she was asked to be lead in a film being made in ~2022, the lead male, who was "new", was going to be paid $8-9mil, with her salary still at $500k. Last December, Biggest Monopoly In The World Disney was sued by 9,000 women over their pay gap.

This article is from 2019 but brings up some big fucking pay gaps between leads– for instance, Gillian Anderson was offered half of what David Duchovny was for the X-Files reboot as one of the two main fucking characters, Amanda Seyfried has disclosed she made 10% of what her male co-star made on an undisclosed film, Natalie Portman made 1/3 of the salary of Ashton Kutcher in No Strings Attached, and Ellen Pompeo, the titular character of Grey's Anatomy, was paid less than the actor playing her love interest, Patrick Dempsey. In fact, Dempsey was being paid almost double what she was.

However, BIG issue with the 2019 article: it only focuses on what White actors are being paid. Research shows that Black actresses make 57 cents to every dollar white actors make on a good day. Viola Davis, one of the most popular and talented actresses of our generation, has said that black women "get probably a tenth of what a Caucasian woman gets. And I'm number one on the call sheet." Octavia Spencer had to collaborate with Jessica Chastain to make sure they both got paid the same amount of money on a film they both worked on, and revealed that her new salary increased 500% afterwards.

At the end of last year, while promo-ing The Color Purple, Taraji P. Henson broke into tears while talking about how little she's being paid when compared to her white and male contemporaries. And when she talked about the gap, I find it so fucking frustrating that the general audience response was to immediately blame the only Black female producer on the film. I have a million gripes with Oprah Winfrey but TCP cast has said that she herself managed to fix a lot of the problems on set and was nothing but supportive to them. Oh, and there were a lot of problems on set, including a lack of food and dressing space for the main actors. And this is all from celebrity women. Just think about how Hollywood is treating women who don't have the star power to speak up.

Of course this isn't even a problem solo to Hollywood, let alone Paramount, let alone just one movie. And honestly it was probably really sad that when I saw the pay rate for the Sonic 3 cast, I wasn't even surprised, because I've seen worse on bigger projects.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

OUUH WHAT ABOUT spencer watching her do her makeup, pick out an outfit, get dolled up to go meet his team

fem bimbo!plus size reader, wc: 498.

a/n: AWW OMG writing this actually gave me cavities. this is probably the fluffiest thing i've ever written on this account!! i really tried to get into the mind of our precious bimbo reader, and i feel like i did a pretty good job if i do say so myself! 😏

You always liked to say that you did your best work under pressure, so why in the hell wasn’t your eyeshadow… eyeshadowing?

You looked at yourself in the vanity mirror, your gloss covered lips turned down into a deep frown. The lines caused by your frustration left behind little creases in your carefully laid foundation. You were one more mishap from a total breakdown.

Tonight was the night that you were going to meet your boyfriend’s team, which in your mind translated to his family. You had met his mom already, and she liked you, so why were you so intimidated? Maybe it was because these people were like your precious boyfriend just twenty times more terrifying.

Tonight had to go well, or you swear that you might just die!

“Spence?” You turn around in your porcelain white chair that  completely contrasts the dark coziness that was Spencer’s room. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” Spencer responds from behind the book he had his nose buried in. He had been resting against the headboard, the lower half of his body relaxed and his legs were stretched out carelessly. The advantage of being a human string-bean, you supposed.

“Does my makeup look okay?”

Your exasperated tone in your voice forced his eyes away from the page and onto yours.

He was surprised by the light tones of eyeshadow you had picked, they were a lot different from the bold pink, purples, and blues. That could only mean one thing.

“There’s no need to be anxious, honey. You look beautiful.”

Usually, you were very susceptible to Spencer’s praise, often turning bashful and shy, as well as giggling and grinning like a schoolgirl. Nope, not today. Today felt like not even the sweetest of hymns could bring you down from your anxiety ridden stupor.

“Really? Because I don’t know about the color… I feel like the eyeliner makes it look clumpy.”

Spencer Reid was trained for this, if the hours of cosmetology research he had done counted for something. Why you may ask? Well, the first time you had asked him about your makeup was when you two had first started dating, and it had unfortunately gone a little bit like this:

“Does this look okay?”

“It looks fine, angel.”

“Oh God, I should just start over, shouldn’t I?”

“That’s not what I said.”

Spencer smiles fondly, “It doesn’t look clumpy at all. In fact I think the dark and light colors complement each other well, they make your eyes look large and enchanting.”

And just like that, all of your apprehension melts away. “Oh, good!” You all but cheer.

He watches with a lovesick smile on his face as you pull out outfit-after-outfit from the closet – that’s really more yours than it is his – with an excited grin.

“How about this one?”

Spencer knows he’s in for a long night; with his book long forgotten, he doesn’t have the heart to tell you that you have an hour before you guys have to leave.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #1 (Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader)

A/N: After being dead on this account for years, like Christ (or bread?), I have risen (I'm not religious). The point is, if you are new to this series, welcome! I am rewriting this series for myself (and anyone still reading after all this time). It is something I want to see through and that I loved re-reading all these years later. The original reception was so warm and lovely, sometimes making me feel guilty for leaving so abruptly. I loved every reblog, comment, tag, and like for this series. I hope that if you're still here, you like the remake. This series DOES contain sensitive matters such as kidnapping, death, torture, sexual themes, and more. If you struggle with this material please know you are not alone and always reach out for help. I will be making a new masterlist once I have more chapters out. Please let me know what you think and enjoy! - Much love, Em <3

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Next Chapter: Tape #2

WARNING: stalking, mention of kidnapping, blood, cursing, and sensitive material ahead.

Tape Contents: You start recording videos for the BAU once you find out you have a stalker.

Word Count: 2,196

Tape #1- December 29, 20XX

Your face looks a little apprehensive as you move away from the webcam on your computer. Your eyes flick off the screen, leaning forward to read something as if you had planned out a script for yourself. You wave at the camera, offering the lens a weak and shy smile. Your posture slumps for a second, letting out a prolonged sigh. “I,” you frown at the camera, “I’m not good at talking to myself on video, it seems.” 

“I guess bluntness might be a saving grace for both of us,” you whisper as you play with a ring on your middle finger, sliding it up and down your finger, “You know that feeling you get when you’re driving home late at night and you think to yourself, ‘Oh my god. I think that car behind me is following me.’ I think it all started with that.” A hand reaches for your hair, and you timidly move a stray strand away from your eyes. 

“I tried everything I could think of and kept turning randomly, but it was too late. I would rush up to my apartment, and across the street would the same red van every fucking weekend. I tried to get the plate one day as I watched them leave from my window, but no such luck.” You swallow thickly, your voice suddenly full of emotion. 

A sad smile crosses your face as you shake your head, “Fucking dumb, this is so fucking dumb.” you cry softly as tears dance along your lash line. You take a deep breath and push your shoulders back in a desperate attempt to regain your composure. 

You hold up a wilted, purple rose. Loose petals fall as you twist the stem between your thumb and index. “Got this last night, just on my windshield.” You mutter with a tone of disdain. “Don’t even like roses.” you joke lightly as you set the rose on your desk. 

“I’m going to the police tomorrow. I just… thought maybe doing this would make me feel better,” you pause and let out a bitter laugh, leaning toward the camera, “It hasn’t.” 

Then the screen goes black. 

Tape #2- January 3, 20XX. 

Your eyes have bags under them, and you gently rub the bridge between them. “So, got told off by the police.” 

You lean back in your desk chair and shake your head before pointing accusingly at the camera. “Went to the station, brought my stupid fucking rose and everything. They told me they would patrol the area. Of course, what car do I not see across the street anymore? That fucking red van. Guy told me that I was just imagining things.” 

You relax for a second before speaking again, your shoulders squaring defensively. “And! And, the second they leave, guess who is back again. Every single weekend, 7 pm to 11 pm.” You let out a weary sigh and rest an arm on your desk, staring directly into the camera. 

“The Police said they couldn’t even do anything until something boarding physical assault happens.” You trail off with a sideways glance away from the screen. 

“I’m not going to just sit idly by waiting to get assaulted.” You hiss out, leaning forward and stopping the video. 

Tape #3- January 14, 20XX 

You’re playing with the edges of your sweater as you lean back into your chair, rocking slightly. “Got another love present today,” Your voice distant as you pull a Polaroid from the desk, holding it up for the camera to see. 

The Polaroid was of you at the library where you worked. You were sitting in a striped sweater, your hair down. You were smiling at one of the volunteers who works ‘story hour.’ You threw the picture back on the desk with a grimace. 

“No one told me that my sweater that day looked so hideous.” You croak out in a desperate attempt to make yourself laugh in the moment, and for a second, it works. You start with a slight chuckle, but it quickly takes a sharp turn for the worst and becomes a full-on sob. 

“I’m sorry,” you choke out before you wipe tears from under your eyes, “I’m just scared. My mom and I talked about it, and she said that maybe it was a ‘secret admirer,’ which… does not make it any better. I feel like everyone thinks I’m fucking crazy.” Your voice raises before you cut yourself off and look down at your sweater again. 

“I’m not,” 

Camera off.

Tape #4- January 17, 20XX

You smile at the camera and scoot a little closer. “Hey,” you say with a gentle sigh of relief, “Great news—I’m organized!”

You lean back and relax in your chair slightly, “So I’m Y/N L/N. I work as a librarian here in Richmond, Virginia. My apartment will be in my records, I’m sure.” You laugh out softly, holding up a photo of a tattoo that seems to reside on your lower collarbone. 

“I didn’t want to flash the camera, so I took the liberty of taking a photo of this lovely tattoo of mine,” you say, glancing at the photo of the line-art floral tattoo next to your face. “If you think this doesn’t seem like me… well, you’re partially right. I was drunk in Vegas for my twenty-first birthday, and then I woke up missing a good chunk of money and a tattoo.” You shrug as you slowly set the photo on your desk. 

“I’m not trying to freak anyone out if they do see this. I just…” you pause, releasing a slow and controlling breath, “I want to be found if I do go missing. I want to be easily identified if I’m not alive. I want people to know I was a person and not just a body, you know?” You let your lips grow into a weak smile, nodding slightly, seeming to agree with yourself. 

“I’m making these to help myself, to feel like I have more control. The presents stopped recently, but they’re still watching me every weekend. It feels like it's about to get worse. I can’t explain it. I’m not trying to make the police feel bad. I just… don’t like going down without a fight.” 

“Speaking of not going down without a fight,” You reach over to grab a photo and proudly turn it over to the camera. “You know who this is?” You ask your silent audience. “This is the lovely Jennifer Jareau.” You answer with a weak smile, feeling strange as you talk with yourself. 

“I decided to beg the police to email this video folder to her. Currently, just the police have this, as I’m annoying and persistent but also very charming. That’s a lie. My coworker's boyfriend’s friend works at the station. Hopefully,” You swallow gently as the photo slips away from your fingers. “Hopefully, they won’t have to send it to her and the BAU team, but in the unfortunate case, she does see this.” You smile, wave a little, mouth a soft ‘hello,’ and lean forward—screen black. 

Tape #5- February 10, 20XX

You’re wearing a red, pink, and white striped sweater with a white headband pushing your hair back as the camera focuses again on you. “Happy Early Valentine’s Day to everyone who got a gift from their stalker on the top of their car today,” you say with mock happiness before your smile falls, and you hold up a copy of Wuthering Heights. 

You flip through the pages before stopping on one and facing it toward the camera, trying to get it to focus, but you quickly find the task irritating. You groan and decide to read the line, “Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad.”

“That's one of the lines circled, underlined, and highlighted…” You say, flipping through more pages slowly. 

“The only scenes highlighted seem to involve Heathcliff and Catherine, which are romantic scenes, of course, but just that one quote is emphasized.”  You say, shaking your head, and you laugh a little, setting the book somewhere outside the frame. 

“What a shitty gift, I already have a copy.” You joke before the screen turns black. 

Tape #6- February 14, 20XX

Your face is flush red, eyes swollen and raw from crying as you sit in front of the camera, speechless for a short amount of time. You look positively catatonic for a second, unmoving. The sound of you raking in a shaking breath scares you as you bring yourself to speak. Your face doesn’t match your attire, as you sport a sweater with a giant pink heart in the center and small heart-shaped earrings hanging from your ears. 

“They were in here,” your voice is soft and hoarse. “They were in here, everywhere. They left roses everywhere. They were in here! They got into my apartment and left dozens of rose petals on my bed, floors, couch, and kitchen table!” Your voice raises in volume as you cut yourself off, a small tear rolling down your cheek. 

“Something isn’t right,” You were shaking your head and letting out fast breaths, on the verge of hyperventilating. “This is all getting so,” you raise your hands to run through your curls, pulling gently. “I need you to find me. I’m doing so much already. I went to the police station, and they searched everything: cameras, streets, but there was nothing! Just petals!” You yell softly, voice rasping softly at the end of your outburst. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” you mumble softly, tears filling your eyes. 

Tape #7- February 17, 20XX

You smile awkwardly at the camera and hold up Jane Eyre, opening it to a dog-eared page. “You are my sympathy --my better self --my good angel.” You read off the quote softly with a light sigh at the end of your reading. 

“Seems like we have a Brontë fan in our midst,” you try to be light-hearted as you set the book to the side. 

“I wrote down all my passwords, but it's not like you’ll need them. Nonetheless, you can never be too safe.” You quip the sentence in a soft voice. 

“I’m trying my hardest not to do anything crazy. I just, nevermind.” You say, annoyance thick in your voice as you shut the camera off quickly. 

Tape #8- March 2, 20XX

A terrible gnawing was growing in your stomach. Your hands clutched your waist gently as you leaned back in your chair. You felt like you might be sick as you stared off-camera toward your newest ‘gift.’ Your throat felt taut as you swallowed, a shaky sigh coming from your lips as your pale face looked at the camera. 

“I’m scared this might be my last video,” you say, your voice hoarse and tense, “It all just suddenly stopped. There was no more red van, no more gifts—nothing to write home about, but today,” 

You lean over to pull a pair of white, blood-soaked panties from a plastic bag into the frame. “These were on my door knob today when I got home. I tried not to touch it. I put it in this bag to ensure I didn’t contaminate it more. It doesn’t look like blood blood, more like period blood.” As you throw the bag back to your desk, your voice edges into an emotional tone, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

 “I think that they’re mine,” You cried softly, shaking slightly as you tried to control your breathing, “Th-the panties, not the blood. I haven’t, those can’t be from my period. Mine hasn’t come y-”

“I’m not going to be okay. I was stupid to think I might be, but I’m not!” You cry into your hands, and your shoulders shake as you let out a weak sob. “Please find me if I go missing. Please,” Tears fall on your cheeks as you lean toward the computer. 

“I need you to find me.” 

March 5, 20XX. 

A clicker is in J.J.’s hand as she turns off the videos. “Richmond PD sent this over this morning when twenty-eight-year-old Y/N L/N didn’t show up to her job,” She hands out folders as she speaks, “Her coworker called her mother to see if she had gone out of town when she said no. Y/N’s coworker’s boyfriend called a cop friend to check her apartment and found no trace of her or anyone else in her apartment. They sent this video folder over the second he called it in.” 

Spencer was frowning as he flipped through the pages of your file, hating the idea that you knew. He knew that dread, that feeling when something bad was about to happen to you. That innate and raw feeling that pushes through a person like a wave. He opens his mouth to say something, but Hotch is already speaking before he can get the chance to. 

“We leave here in ten,” He says before leaving the room, cutting everyone’s comments short in one small miraculous moment. 

Within ten minutes, the team finds themselves away from their jet, stuffed into groups in black SUVs, barreling toward Richmond. 

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader genre: established relationship warnings: mentions of assault, tiny bar fight, mentions of alcohol consumption a/n: i wasn't really sure how much i liked this, but i hope you guys do! i wanted to post something because i won't be online much for finals :( wc: 1.16k

You meant it when you offered to get the drinks for the table. You offer to do the first round: four rum and cokes, whiskey (neat, because Aaron would rather get his money’s worth) and whatever bright pink concoction Penelope ordered written neatly in purple glittery gel pen on an old receipt. Rossi’s glass of wine that he ordered costs double the entire order, and Spencer orders an Arnold Palmer. 

“Did you want to start a tab?” The bartender asks kindly, her pretty green eyes framed by dark brown hair clipped by a barrette. 

“Oh! Um, sure.” You smile, gesturing to the booth where the rest of the team were sitting at. “You can put it down for that table.”

She nods, tapping a few buttons on her POS system before looking back up at you. “There’s already a card for that table. Under… Aaron Hotchner?”

Your brows lift in surprise at her words, a laugh of disbelief leaving your lips. “Of course he did. That’s fine, thank you.”

You return carrying a tray of far too many drinks, setting them down with a soft sigh of relief. Everyone takes their respective drinks while Aaron pulls you into his side, his thigh pressing against yours as he lets his lips linger on the side of your head. 

“Thank you for that,” he murmurs lowly into your ear, squeezing at the flesh of your waist. His other hand swirls his whisky around the glass. “Did you carry them alright?”

“Mm. I’ll have to go back to get Penny’s drink. The lady at the bar said it’ll be in a couple minutes or so because the order was so specific.” You’re smiling at him despite your original annoyance. “I meant it when I said that I would treat everyone to the first round of drinks.”

“I meant it when I said that I would take care of you,” he responds simply. “The drinks they ordered was more than just a pretty penny.”

From the corner of your eye you spot the bartender waving you over, and you laugh before  pressing a soft kiss against Aaron’s face. “I’ll be right back, handsome.”

You really did mean it when you said that you would be right back. With a napkin wrapped around the cocktail glass, you turn around to make your way back to the table when a voice catches your attention. 

“Pretty drink for a pretty girl,” the man comments, and it takes a second for it to register in your mind. 

“Oh. Thank you, it’s for my friend and she is really pretty.” You smile politely. Wrong move.

“Not as pretty as you, I’m sure,” he continues, his eyes gleaming in your direction. You don’t really appreciate the way he thinks that his words are a proper compliment. “Let me buy you a drink, sweetheart. The name’s Colby.”

“That’s alright, I really do need to get back to my group.” You take a hesitant step away but he takes another step forward. 

This is dangerous, how close this stranger is. Anxiety wells in your throat and your stomach drops with nerves. 

“Just one drink,” Colby insists, inching closer. “C’mon, sweetheart, don’t be such a stick in the mud.”

“I don’t need one,” you say, searching for  your voice. “Excuse me…”

Colby scowls, taking a step forward as he tries to prevent your escape. His fingers graze against your side dangerously close to the waistband of your pants and you can’t help but jolt, the glass slipping from your grasp and shattering against the cold tile of the bar floor. Your heart plummets to your stomach as the man grunts in frustration. 

“Look at what you did,” he snaps, shaking the drink off his hands. His eyes are dangerous as he glares at you, his hand lunching up and out, aiming directly for your arm. “You little–”

“That is enough.”

You almost cry out in relief when you see Aaron step in front of you, effectively shielding you away from the assault. He’s big and tall, and though you do not see him upset very often, it is even rarer for you to see him angry and mean. 

Aaron stretches to his full height, his eyes narrowed and his gaze dark. He stares down this man– this pathetic excuse of a human being– with the same hatred and disgust as he does with the unsubs he faces on the daily. 

“Oi, back off, would ya?” Colby sneers, crossing his arms over his chest. Aaron has half the mind to think that he would start stomping around like a petulant child. 

For once, Aaron wastes no time digging into his suit pocket and pulling out his badge, a grim look on his face. “FBI. If you make one more comment or so much as glance in her direction again, I will be arresting you and taking you in for custody before you can breathe your next breath. Do you understand me?”

The silence is almost deafening and Aaron finds his patience withering with every passing second. 

“I said, do you understand me?”

“Fuck you,” Colby snaps, drunkenly lunging with his fists clenched to clock Aaron in the face.

Aaron resists the urge to roll his eyes as he handcuffs Colby’s arms behind his back, dragging him out of the bar. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court…”

Everything after that is a blur. The bar awards you and the rest of the team free drinks and food for the remainder of your stay, and Colby is taken off to the nearest police precinct in record time. Regardless of all the delicious food, your appetite no longer exists as you curl into Aaron’s side, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” He murmurs, his lips grazing lightly against your forehead. “I’m sorry that something like that happened. You didn’t deserve to go through that.”

“You didn’t deserve to almost be punched in the face,” You respond back, a wry smile spreading across your lips.

He laughs, squeezing your shoulder. “He was punching air, sweetheart. I don’t really know where he was aiming, but there was no way that he was going to actually hit me.”

Aaron watches you, the way you turn away from him and pick at your fingers. He exhales after a moment, dipping his head to meet your woeful gaze. “None of this–” he gestures to where one of the staff members is carefully cleaning up the broken glass– “is your fault. I hope you understand that. What happened was not your fault and you shouldn’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions.”

His words make you smile a little and you can’t help but press a soft kiss against his cheek. “Yeah. You’re lovely, Aaron, you know that?”

“I could say the same for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, squeezing your shoulder again. “You’re the loveliest.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

[irndad]

if you’re still doing flower prompts i’d love either Rainflower or Purple Lilac with spencer <3

a/n: heyyyy im alive! writing from my trip, love you guys, don't know the wc! flower prompts

Rainflower - realizing that you/they love them/you back

It comes on all at once. 

Spencer- he’s never been particularly good at knowing when he’s feeling romantic. There wasn’t any experience with it. He knows that he’s hardly anyone’s dream guy- all awkward gangly limbs, too tall and too full of information that no one wanted to hear.

He’s carved out a little corner of the world that he can be seen in, that he can be loved in- but he’s never really been under the notion that someone could want him. Spencer knows that he’s lucky to have even this- to have people that ignite the prickly and irritating parts of himself and love him despite about this. And while he might fantasize, daydream about a life where he can lace his long fingers with those of someone who sees him only in a loving gaze of joy, Spencer knows that he’s not the kind of person that gets that. He’s being rational about it- most days, he’s able to relegate this desire to be filled with fantasy. 

Except- something has been up lately.

His best friend is probably the best person that he’s ever met in his life. She’s a consultant with the BAU, and it’s been nice to know her, in so many ways. She’s funny and kind in a way that never seems to have a victim. Spencer is not the kind of person that particularly values physical beauty, but she possesses it in such a large margin that it is difficult to ignore. He’s actually distracted by it sometimes, having to take extra mental attention to her words when all he is drawn to is the lovely curve of her Cupid’s bow, and the both light and heavy weight of her gaze in him. I like when you look at me, he thinks. She never makes him feel small. 

When they’d met, he was reluctant to her presence in most regards. Spencer knows that when he is focused, he can be a solitary creature, and that he’s an acquired taste. But she never seemed to need time to acclimate to him. From her first day, she listened to him when he spoke, and god, she squeezed his shoulder when she walked past him. 

She never had to try to like him. He was never a concession to her. 

This morning, she is late to work. He tries not to time it, but he enjoys the ritual of his mornings far more when he’s with her. He makes her tea and greets her first thing, and she asks about his evening the day prior. He tells her about whatever foreign film or Russian book he read the night before, a little too earnestly. She listens with her lovely doe eyes, sipping slowly as she transitions into her day. It doesn’t feel like patience with her- it feels like she actually cares what he has to say. Their routine is a warm radio crackle of familiarity, his favorite part of his day.

But she’s late today.

When she walks in, she’s a little frazzled and  so, so, adorable. She’s in a T-shirt that looks so familiar to him, and a pair of jeans that look lovely on her pretty legs. It’s a pleasure, looking at her. He wish he had more time to do it, wants to leisurely drink in the sight of her like he has all the time in the world, it never feels long enough to look.

Her hair’s frazzled and she’s just about 5 minutes late- Hotch hasn’t even come out of his office yet, but she’s clearly nervous.

“You’re okay,” he hears himself say, as she plunks down her bag on the desk, “I have your tea.” 

He doesn’t expect her to look up, but she does. She looks up at him and beams, and Spencer- his heart swells. She grabs the cup, dainty pretty fingers wrapped around the curve of it, and she beams her so-sweet smile at him, and god, his knees might buckle. Has it always been this way? 

He drinks in the sight of her, as she runs a hand through her hair in a worried, incredibly endearing gesture. She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself. He wonders aimlessly, that she might have been meeting with a man this morning. It might be the explanation for the dishevelment. 

The burning bit in his chest this causes is one that lacks explanation. It hurts in a way that he cannot explain- she is not a realistic dream for him to have. It’s not like he’s never thought about the idea of the two of them together. It’s a fleeting thought, like the consideration if your life if you could fly. It’s not a dream that warrants real consideration. 

But when their fingers brush, her light touch on his hand, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like if she wanted him.

“Thank you, Spence,” she says, warm voice dripping with gratitude and something in his heart warms at the nickname, “You’re my hero.”

She takes a sip of it, and closes her eyes in a contemplative, restful moment. It’s unfairly adorable.

He’s never actually thought about it, until this moment. But her beauty transcends just being pure fact, a thing to note about his reality. It would be nice, Spencer thinks. It hits him like a tidal wave, images of her gorgeous laugh washing over him on a Sunday morning, the curve of her cheek, a world where he can hold her by the dip of her waist, where her ever-present kindness meant that she might, could, maybe, love him.

Love him back.

She has whipped cream on her finger. She took the lid of the drink off to have the whipped cream. 

He is so, so fucked. 

“Have I told you that I love you today, boy-genius?” 

Even though she’s kidding, and he stammers out a reply of acknowledgment, it is in this moment he knows, with the certainty of every empirical journal he has ever read. 

Spence Reid is hopelessly in love with his best friend, and there is absolutely nothing he can do about that. 

It’s still nice to want, though. 

[reidsdimples]

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Spencer Reid x Reader (BAU!Reader)

18+ ❤️‍🔥 MDNI

in which you’re shoved into a closet for a fun little game of seven minutes in heaven with your work crush Spencer.

The team is gathered at Rossi’s while he makes some authentic Italian cuisine that you can’t remember how to pronounce. You’re with the girls, talking about JJ and Will and Penelope and Kevin, when they ask you if there’s someone you’re interest in.

Your eyes swim to the other side of the room where Spencer is helping Rossi chop some vegetables.

“Not really,” you drop your gaze.

“Mhmm,” Emily hums sarcastically.

“Just tell him,” JJ nudges you.

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

“My smartest love!” Penelope calls to Spence. “Come here!”

No no no. Your cheeks flame, you beg whatever god is above to spare you from what they were about to do. The wine had gone to their heads.

Spence washes his hands and walks over while drying them on a towel, you watch the movements closely. You fantasized far too often about those damned hands.

He takes long strides towards you, that dark purple button down fitting his skin body perfectly. You catch yourself staring and look anywhere else.

“You’ve been dragged into our game,” Penelope purses her lip.

“What game?” He looks intrigued.

“Truth or dare but right now the dare is seven minutes in heaven,” Penelope says. At that JJ and Emily light up.

“Yeah,” Emily nods.

“What’s that?” He tilts his head. You’re horrified, there’s not way they’re doing this to you.

“Did I hear were playing seven minutes in heaven?” Derek slides into your little group.

“Guys, keep it clean,” Hotch warns.

“I don’t even wanna know,” Rossi laughs but continues to cook.

“Okay! All but Rossi are in,” Penelope chirps.

“What’s the premise of the game?” Spencer asks again.

“The group selects a couple to go into a dark closet for seven minutes,” JJ smiles and sips her drink.

“For what purpose?” He asks. Derek claps him on the back and leans down to whisper in his ear. His eyes widen and color stains his cheeks.

You’re pretty sure you couldn’t press yourself further into the wall if you tried.

“Anyway we were playing truth or dare and I dared Y/N to play seven minutes in heaven with you,” Penelope tells him. His hazel eyes dart over to yours where your hand is covering your face.

The girls give you wicked smiles.

“Okay?” He raises his eyebrows suspiciously.

“Go on lover boy,” Derek urges and he’s leading Spencer to a walk in closet in Rossi’s guest room.

“All of you are dead to me,” you bite out as JJ ushers you in behind him.

The door snaps shut and you’re plunged onto complete darkness.

The room outside of the closet goes silent.

Your ears burn, your body tenses as you listen for Spence who moves next to you.

“Why did they pick me specifically?” He asks, of course he asks.

“No idea,” you lie. “But we don’t have to do anything.”

“Timer starts now!” Emily yells and you hear the bedroom door shut too.

Your body hums as Spencer steps closer to you.

“I can’t see you, it’s hard to profile you in the dark. My guess from your rapid breathing and fidgeting though is that you’re hoping something happens,” he speaks lowly.

“What if I do?” You decide to be brave.

The feeling of being so close to him in utter darkness is exciting and hot as hell. You were aware of his every movement and as your eyes adjusted, you could see him. Not very clearly but he was right in front of you.

“I’d be okay with that,” he exhales a shaky breath.

You place a hand on his chest and run your finger down to his waist band where his shirt is tucked in. You pull him closer to you and lean up. He slowly and clumsy finds your lips in the dark.

His hands grip your hips as your tongue starts to explore his mouth. The taste of wine lingers between you, making him taste sweet. The softness of his lips and feeling of his hands on your body make you moan into his mouth.

You’re pleasantly surprised to feel his erection grow in his pants so you hurriedly undo his belt.

“What are you gonna…” he asks.

“I just want you, Spence,” you whisper. You’re thankful for the darkness of the space, it’s making you more bold.

You wrap your hand around his silky skin and pump him gently. A small moan escapes him and he’s running his hands up your skirt.

“We have to be quick,” you say after kissing him again. He nods. “Sit, against the wall,” you usher him to the back wall.

He obliges as you step out of your panties and shove them into your pocket. He’s looking up at you from the floor, his cock hard as he registers what you’re about to do. You stand over him and lower yourself slowly, teasingly. He bites his lip in anticipation. You’d been wanting to sit on his cock for months.

You straddle his waist and reach down to line his cock up with your entrance. You slide down on it with a restrained moan. Taking him felt like finally getting everything you’d been missing. The whimpering that escaped him awoke something inside of you that you’d long lost.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers in awe and grips your ass.

“I told you I wanted you,” you smirk and start riding him.

He throws his head back as though in disbelief of how good it feels. You’re wound so tight from the excitement and anticipation of the ordeal that you know you could cum at any second. Something about the team being just two doors aware adding an extra thrill to what you were doing.

“4 Minutes!” Someone yells, you don’t register who.

You wrap your arms around Spence’s neck and ride him until his clawing at your back and digging his nails into the flesh of your ass. You inhale his fresh scent, one you’d always been fond of but now it’s mixed with something else. Like you can smell his arousal, it’s addicting.

“So tight, I’m gonna..” he groans.

“Shhh.”

You rock your hips, feeling him as deep as possible while your clit rubs against his lower abdomen. You lean down and kiss his neck, before probably stretching the collar of his shirt to access his shoulder.

Your orgasm seizes you and you’re biting down on that sweet spot where his neck meets his shoulder. You suck on his soft skin hard, needing to taste him while you fall over the edge.

A loud groaning sound begins to escape him and you clamp your hand over his mouth. Your pussy clenches around him as you move, taking in the delicious feeling of cumming around him. It’s better than you ever thought it would be. Especially when his cock twitches and he’s biting down on your palm to cum with you. You feel his hard cock throb and his massive amount of cum starts pouring out of you, around him.

It’s messier than you hoped but it’s so fucking hot, it feels so good as you grind down onto him on last time to enjoy the feeling.

“Is that okay?” He pants, clarity returning.

“Yeah I’m on birth control,” you swallow and move off of him.

“It’s been a while since I..”

“Me too,” you sigh. You didn’t want him to feel bad for cumming so much, you fucking loved it.

He stands and you stop him from pulling his pants back up. You clean up the mess on him with your underwear and shove them back into your pocket.

“Thanks,” he huffs a shy laugh before tucking himself back into his pants.

“I’m gonna need to go to the restroom to…”

“Yeah…” he sucks air through his teeth in an ‘oops’ kind of way.

“One minute!” It’s Derek who yells it.

You grab Spencer’s shirt and pull him into a kiss, one that he smiles into.

You help him adjust his collar and fix both of your hair before opening the closet. Heat seems to roll out of it and you’re sure it smells like sex. You’re just grateful the team is in the living room when Garcia screams that time is up.

Spencer steps out of the room first, his head down as he b-lines for the kitchen.

You hear Derek stop him as you hurry to the bathroom to clean up.

“Okay I dare Hotch to eat an entire pickle!” Emily says. He protests because he hates pickles.

“What happens in the closet stays in the closet,” is all you say when they turn their attention towards you.

Spencer is back in the kitchen helping Rossi cook.

“Yeah, keep it in that closet. I don’t want to fill out any unnecessary fraternization paper work,” Hotch grins.

“I’ll cheers to that!” Rossi calls and raises him glass.

You all clink glasses, Spencer’s eyes meet yours and he smiles shyly.

[ginkgo-phyta]

I'm back again 😅

Hopefully, I'm not the only person with this opinion, but how do you think Spencer would react if his significant other told him that they thought he looked hot with his bulletproof vest on? 👀

omg is this injured spencer request anon?? I NEED TO KNOW im so sorry if it's not tho, whoever you are thank you so much for coming back!! i love you with all my heart you should use a special emoji as like ur own lil signature! :D

okay so i wanted to try blurb(?) format but mmm okay not really cuz just a wall of text was stressing me out but this is def more informal than my other work (look no capital letters!) and because i love you so much i present two scenarios for you :P... i cant fight this feeling anymore guys he rlly is so hot in his vest im becoming my most feral self grrrrr RAH RAH ALRIGHT hope you enjoy, my love!

OKAY SO SPENCER REACTING TO YOU TELING HIM HE'S HOT IN HIS FBI VEST gn! reader, fluff, second scenario a little steamy in tone but nothing explicit just h*rny vibes, no other warnings

if you weren't a profiler: you'd never thought about it before- spencer in his bulletproof vest. sure, you knew that his job required him to go into sticky situations where the prospect of gunfire was imminent and he would have to wear proper equipment, but you never put two nd two together. you never even thought of a kevlar vest as something that could be hot...until you saw a picture of him wearing it.

"what the hell is that." you blurt out, voice serious with hints of concern.

"huh?" spencer's as clueless as ever, a little worried about your reaction. he was just showing you random photos his team members had taken over the years, all printed out for easy viewing courtesy of the ever-so-accommodating penolope garcia. someone had taken a pic of a beautiful lake where the bau had saved yet another victim, the sun dipping below the horizon line of pine trees, painting the sky purple and pink. "um...the sunset?" spencer was confused, "i guess maybe it was kinda a weird time to take a photo, but no one was hurt and we caught the unsub and the sky really did look-"

you cut off his rambling with a wave of your hand, eyes never leaving the photo in front of you, "no, no...what's that." you point to what you were talking about, a figure standing off to the side.

spencer takes a minute, becoming even more bewildered "...me?" in that moment your world changed.

"oh my god... "you whispered in a daze, firmly pulling the picture out of spencer's fingers and into your own, "what...what are you wearing?"

"honey what's wrong? it's just my bulletproof vest. i know it might look a little funny, but it, y'know, keeps me alive..." he scratches the back of his neck. a couple seconds of silence pass, but to spencer it feels excruciatingly long.

"spencer," you look at up at him deadpan "you look so fucking hot." to say your boyfriend was shocked would be an understatement.

he was absolutely blown away by your response, so much so that the way his face contorted looked borderline disgusted. "wha-what?? huh? what?" he clamored, eyes flitting over your face to find any sign you were joking.

"seriously, baby, you look so good. oh, my God!!" you almost shriek, gripping the picture tighter, the widest, dumbest grin pulling up your cheeks as you giggle like a schoolgirl.

spencer smiles at your reaction, still a little perplexed "you really think so?" the notion begins to sink into his bones, making him giddy.

you very enthusiastically nod your head, "are there any more pictures of you like this?" you rip the rest of the photos out of spencer's hands, scouring through them at light speed. out of nowhere, spencer laughs out loud, his nose scrunching in delight.

"i...don't know what to say. i'm flattered you think that," a wonderful blush shimmers over his cheeks, "but no i don't think there are. sadly." he playfully adds.

you stop all movements, slowly turning towards him, suspiciously calm. "well then," you grab your phone and suddenly stand up "looks like i'll just have to ask penelope for some!"

"wait! wait, no!" spencer calls after you as you start speed-walking away, your shirt barely escaping his fingertips. he yells out your name, his serious tone interrupted by a giggle of his own as he begins chasing you, "get back here!" he knows: garcia can never ever find out about this...

if you were a profiler: you had seen spencer don his FBI branded bulletproof vest hundreds of times over the years. although you had pined over him for years and were now finally in a relationship with him, seeing him like that didn't make you feel any type of way really. sure, you thought he looked strong and handsome, but most of the time you were too caught up in the case or situation at hand to focus on how he looked. until now. something had shifted in him in the last few months, not just with his ever-changing haircut, but within the way he held himself; more confident, more sure of himself, even more cocky, if you will. whatever it was, it drew your eyes to him in his tight little vest like a lightbulb draws in moths- instantly and continuously. it all came to a head when you caught the unsub responsible for drowning and resuscitating his victims until they couldn't be brought back to life. spencer dove into the lake with emily to apprehend the killer while you had helped the kid he had hostage reunite with his mother. you smiled at the scene in front of you, the teenager running into his mother's shaking arms, her holding him close in a tight embrace. another good ending, you thought to yourself before turning back to watch your fellow profilers make the arrest. suddenly, you mouth goes dry. there spencer reid stood; soaking wet, clothes sticking to his skin, chest rising and falling as he panted to catch his breath, his hand pushing his wet hair out of his face. and that stupid, goddamn kevlar vest. oh, fuck. the others walked away from the dock to situate everyone and themselves in respected vehicles that sat back on the road a few hundred feet away from where you currently were. as spencer moved to follow behind emily, hands trying to flick the water off of him, your gaze stopped him in his tracks. he stood there, a bit confused as to why you were walking towards him, seemingly entranced, instead of beelining behind everyone else.

he spoke out your name, but you remained silent, stopping just a couple feet away from him. you took him in one more time: the way his shirt became translucent, granting you with peeks of his skin; his sleeves rolled up, showing off his delicious forearms; the way his soaked pants choked his thick thighs. you became woozy with desire. spencer watched as your eyes dragged over his figure, drinking in every inch of his dripping body. "oh, baby..." you voice drawled out as soon as your gaze landed on his bulletproof vest, "you're absolutely soaking wet." spencer's eyebrows shot up his forehead at the suggestive twinkle in your timbre. you approached him further, chest just inches away from his. if he wasn't so intrigued by your reaction, he would have been a bit more cautious of lingering teammates. your hands came up to ghost over his vest, "did i ever tell you how good i think you look in this?" you looked up at him through your lashes.

spencer chuckled, "in the bulletproof vest?" you nodded in response, but spencer still couldn't really believe it. "uh, no, actually, you haven't." his eyes glinted at the way you bit your lip, his hands moving on their own accord to rest on your hips. you could feel droplets of water seep into the material and lick your skin, but you didn't give a rat's ass.

"well, you do." you whisper, hands wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull yourself up to press a kiss to his lips, "really, really good." your mouth moves enticingly with his.

"oh? is that so?" he whispers against your lips, diving back in, his fingers digging in your hips. he graciously kisses you for a moment before it dawns on him that you're both still at work- in an active crime scene, at that. "mmh, mmh!" he vocalizes between kisses as he tries to move his head back a smidge. his eyes peak open just enough to see if anyone else was around. your lips are addicting, rendering him unable to fully tell you to stop, unable to fully pull away himself. he's relieved when he spots no one. still, he know this is far from appropriate. spencer's hands move up your body to wrap around your wrists behind him, pulling them away from him and the same time he pulled away from you, "okay, okay!" he breathes out with a chuckle, "i believe you now" he tries to catch his bearings, but your pouting face causes him to laugh again

"spencerrrr," you groan at the loss of your beloved's kisses and he turns you around and pushes you towards the spot where the others vanished, walking behind you with his hands on your shoulders, your body held at an arm's distance.

"let's go, angel." his words brought out a hmph! from you. "we can do more of that later at home" he whispers, leaning in ever-so-slightly.

you turn your head back to get a glimpse of him, your eyes and smile equally wide with excitement, "can you bring the vest with you?!"

A/N: OKAYYYY lemme stop myself before things get filthy LOL do yall know which episode im referring to in the second scenario? that end scene will always get me my eye are GLUED to spencer the entire time GODDAMN. okay anyway i hope you liked this anon!!! pls tell me yalls thoughts <3

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 12: "This is spooky" "Really?"

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

“Spencer, do we really have to do this?”

From your spot, you pouted while watching your boyfriend struggle with the TV, trying to insert the VHS tape. Seriously, who still had those? you thought as you watched him, but knowing the man, it wasn’t surprising at all.

“Come on, sunshine! We’ve been watching romantic comedies for months. It’s my turn to show you something.”

“But I hate horror movies.”

“We’re starting with the Scream series—it’s no big deal,” he reassured you. “I promise.”

Once he managed to insert the tape, he practically ran back to your side, settling on the couch where there was already popcorn, some Halloween candy, and a couple of other movies Spencer had lined up for the marathon.

“Is that Drew Barrymore? She’s in a great movie, Never Been Kissed. Want to watch that one instead?”

“Is it a romantic one?” he asked, looking at you seriously. You couldn’t deny it.

“I’m going to have nightmares!”

“You’re not going to have nightmares, baby,” he murmured confidently, leaning in to plant a loud kiss on your cheek. “Come on, do it for me. I love these movies, and besides, it’s October. It would be a crime not to watch them!”

You grumbled a bit, resigned to the fact that you wouldn’t get your way, and then shifted to get comfortable, laying your head on your boyfriend’s chest. The truth was you didn’t want to break his heart by saying you didn’t want to watch those movies, but everything involving blood and death completely terrified you. You didn’t even know how Spencer managed to deal with it every day at his job, especially when, once, by accident, he had brought home photos from a case, and just seeing them made you feel like throwing up. You spent several nights with that image stuck in your head and begged him never to share gruesome details about his work with you again.

You reminded him a lot of Garcia. Always in such pretty, feminine dresses, with maybe 80% of your belongings in shades of pink, purple, or any pastel tone, and, of course, a sweet and delicate personality.

He always thought his taste in women was pretty defined in certain aspects, but you had completely broken the mold. You left colorful post-it notes with motivational messages on his beige bureau folders, bought him skincare products, and once a week, you’d do face masks, manicures, massages, among other things for him.

You were the complete opposite of what he saw every day, and maybe that’s why he was so in love with you. Like a beautiful flower in the middle of the desert.

“Did you watch this stuff when you were a kid?” you suddenly asked, still looking at the screen and tracing uneven patterns with the hand you had resting on his chest.

“Some, yeah. I started with the classics, like Carrie, The Craft, The Shining… slasher films were never my favorite subgenre, but they’re the easiest to digest for beginners.”

“So, in this one, that guy just wants to kill everyone?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Lovely,” you muttered sarcastically, making him chuckle.

After thinking about it for a moment, he dared to express the doubt that had been growing from your attitude.

“Hey, baby, do you really not want to watch these? It’s okay if you don’t want to, I didn’t mean to push you. I just thought…”

“It’s fine, Spencer. I mean, I freaking hate jumping out of my seat every five minutes, but if you enjoy this, I want to share it with you. I highly doubt you enjoy my favorite movies as much as I do, but you always let me pick. And you comforted me for almost an hour after we watched The Notebook, so this is the least I can do for you.”

He knew you were being sincere when you said that, and to ease any lingering doubts, you stretched up to kiss him sweetly.

“Besides,” you continued, “you never get any days off, and if the price to pay for spending the whole night cuddling with you is watching these movies, then I’m okay with it.”

He smiled broadly and pulled you closer against his body, as if wanting you to feel completely protected from anything. He was the one who hunted monsters in real life, after all, and you knew that if some crazy killer ever stalked you, Spencer would take care of it.

The truth was, you were getting pretty interested in the movie, as the mystery of Ghostface’s identity kept you hooked. Unfortunately, you were about halfway through the movie when a scene startled you (more than the others had), and you quickly hid your face in your boyfriend’s neck.

“What’s wrong?”

“This is spooky”

“Really?” he laughed, trying not to sound too amused. “I can’t imagine what you’ll say when we watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

“Spencer!” you practically screamed, lifting your head to look at him and playfully hitting him on the shoulder in protest.

“I’m joking…” he defended himself, kissing you as an apology. “Do you want to stop?”

“No, I want to finish it. I’m enjoying it, and I need to know who the killer is.”

“Any guesses?”

“You’re the profiler here, not me. The only thing I can tell you is that the makeup artist on set did a great job.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, and you snuggled back against him, occasionally grabbing some popcorn while letting him feed you candy and marshmallows.

After two more movies, Spencer noticed you had fallen sound asleep against him, and not wanting to disturb your rest, he simply pulled the blanket over you. Once you were fully covered and the TV was off, he rested his head on yours to get some sleep, lulled by the scent of your hair.

To his surprise, on the next movie night, you asked to watch a horror movie, and when he questioned your choice, you simply shrugged.

“When we watch them, you hug me the whole time and kiss me whenever something scares me. Plus, you enjoy them, so we both win.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that and happily obliged, sticking to what you had said. After a few weeks, the truth was you weren’t that scared anymore, but either way, it was always nice to pretend if it meant getting extra cuddles from your boyfriend. And he, who quickly figured out your little lie, was more than happy to play along.