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olderwomenenthusiast · 1 day ago

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southern accent (spencer reid)

PAIRING: spencer reid & fem reader DESCRIPTION: spencer is fascinated, maybe more than by your southern accent CAUTION: swearing, the usual smut, a flustered spencer WORD COUNT: 4.6k AUTHOR'S NOTE: proof read? obviously not x

You were frustrated. More than frustrated, actually. Your fingers gripped the edge of the desk in the BAU bullpen, knuckles turning white as you glared at your computer screen. The case report you had painstakingly typed up had just disappeared into the void of your glitchy system. And then, to top it off, the printer jammed when you tried to get a hard copy of what little had been saved.

Spencer had been watching you for a while. He always did, though he’d never admit it. But this time, he noticed something different - something fascinating.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath, voice sharper than usual.

He tilted his head slightly. There was something about your voice… a shift he couldn’t quite place at first. Then you exhaled harshly and muttered again, this time with an unmistakable drawl, “Lord help me, I swear this stupid thing is ‘bout to get thrown across the room.”

Spencer’s breath hitched. That was not how you usually sounded.

He blinked, taken aback, his analytical mind scrambling for an explanation. He had known you for quite some time now, and while you had once casually mentioned growing up in the South, your accent had always been faint, almost nonexistent. But now? Now it dripped from your lips like honey, slow and warm, curling around your vowels and stretching them out in ways that sent an unexpected shiver down his spine.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus on the situation at hand and not the way his stomach suddenly felt like it was flipping over itself. He knew accents could resurface in moments of high emotion, but knowing that intellectually did nothing to prepare him for the way yours affected him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice slightly uneven, betraying his intrigue.

You groaned, pressing your hands to your temples. “No, Spencer, I ain’t okay. This dang system just ate my report, and now the printer’s actin’ like it was built in the Stone Age.”

There it was again. That thick, sweet twang wrapping around every syllable. Spencer felt his pulse quicken. He wasn’t sure why this was affecting him so much, but he couldn’t ignore it. He found himself leaning in slightly, completely absorbed.

“I—uh—I can help,” he offered quickly, clearing his throat. He hoped you didn’t notice the faint pink rising to his cheeks.

You sighed, frustration ebbing slightly as you finally turned to look at him. “You sure, sugar? ‘Cause at this point, I’m ‘bout ready to throw in the towel.”

Spencer sucked in a sharp breath. Sugar. You had never called him that before. He suddenly felt like his brain had short-circuited.

“I—uh—yeah. Yes. I’m sure,” he stammered, quickly reaching for the keyboard to avoid making eye contact.

You didn’t seem to notice his internal crisis, but Derek, who had been passing by, certainly did. Morgan shot Spencer a knowing smirk, arching a brow before strolling off without a word.

Spencer took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He was going to fix your computer. He was going to focus. He was definitely not going to think about how much he suddenly wanted to hear you frustrated more often.

Or worse, what else that accent would sound like in different circumstances.

Later, in the breakroom, Spencer found himself cornered by Morgan, who was leaning casually against the counter with an all-too-knowing grin.

"So, pretty boy," Morgan started, crossing his arms. "You got a thing for accents, or just hers?"

Spencer nearly choked on his coffee. "W-what? I don't..I mean, it's just. It's fascinating how regional dialects can resurface under stress. It's purely academic."

Morgan snorted. "Right. Purely academic. That's why you looked like you'd been hit with a freight train back there." He smirked, watching Spencer squirm. "Be honest, man. You like it when she gets all riled up, don't you?"

Spencer opened his mouth to protest but, before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "I'd like to hear it in my bed."

The room went silent. Spencer’s eyes widened in horror as Morgan's grin stretched impossibly wider.

"Oh-ho, Reid," Morgan laughed, shaking his head. "Now that is something I did not expect."

Spencer groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is going to haunt me forever, isn't it?"

Morgan laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Oh, pretty boy, you have no idea. This one's getting filed under 'Reid's Greatest Hits' - right at the top."

Morgan, of course, didn’t keep it to himself. Over the next few hours, he made sure to drop little hints whenever you were around.

“You know, sweetheart,” he said casually when you grabbed a file from his desk, “it’s real funny how some people find accents so… intoxicating.”

You arched a brow. “Uh-huh. And what’s that got to do with me?”

Morgan smirked. “Oh, nothin’. Just an observation.”

Later, when you reached for your coffee, he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “I bet that drawl sounds even better behind closed doors.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “What the hell, Morgan?”

He just laughed and walked off, leaving you thoroughly confused - and curious.

By the time you finally cornered Spencer, you had a strong suspicion that whatever Morgan had been hinting at involved the good doctor himself.

“Okay, what the hell is goin’ on with you?” you finally demanded, catching him in the hallway when he thought he was in the clear. Your accent was softer now, but still present, and Spencer cursed the way it made his stomach twist.

“W-what do you mean?” he asked, adjusting his satchel, avoiding your eyes.

You crossed your arms, narrowing your gaze. “You’ve been actin’ weird all day. Avoidin’ me like I got the plague. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were runnin’ from me.”

Spencer swallowed hard, knowing he was caught. His brain was screaming at him to say something, anything that wasn’t the truth. But instead, his mouth betrayed him. Again.

“I, um… I just—I didn’t mean to say that earlier.”

You blinked. “Say what?”

Spencer turned red. “What I said to Morgan. About… your accent. And my—uh—bed.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. Spencer wished the ground would swallow him whole. But then - then you smiled. It wasn’t mocking, nor cruel. No, it was slow and teasing, a wicked glint in your eye.

“Well now, Dr. Reid,” you drawled, voice dipping into that honeyed Southern lilt. “That’s quite the confession.”

Spencer’s brain short-circuited. Again. He opened and closed his mouth, his thoughts scrambling like papers caught in a windstorm. He had no idea how to recover from this. How did one backpedal from such a blatant admission?

“You—uh—weren’t supposed to hear that,” he finally managed, cringing internally because he basically just told you that himself – aloud. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, gripping the strap of his satchel like it was a lifeline.

You took a slow step forward, and Spencer, for all his intelligence, had nowhere to run. He was effectively trapped, his back against the wall, your voice curling around him like a warm, velvety ribbon.

“So… you like my accent, huh?” You let the words roll off your tongue lazily, like you had all the time in the world to watch him squirm.

Spencer’s breath hitched. “I...it’s—um—linguistically speaking...”

“Oh, bless your heart,” you teased, reaching out to lightly tug at his tie. It was barely a touch, but Spencer felt it like an electric shock. “You can dress it up however you like, sugar, but the way you reacted earlier tells me all I need to know.”

Spencer swore his heart was trying to escape his chest. “I—uh—”

You leaned in, just close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his ear. “And just so you know… I don’t mind one bit.”

His brain completely flatlined.

You pulled back, giving him one last lingering glance before turning on your heel and sauntering away, hips swaying just enough to be intentional.

Spencer stood there, stunned into silence, pulse racing, mouth slightly parted.

“Oh-ho, pretty boy,” came Morgan’s unmistakable voice from behind him. “You are so screwed.”

Spencer groaned, pressing his forehead against the wall.

He was so in trouble.

The bullpen was eerily quiet now, empty save for the two of you. Everyone else had left ages ago, even Morgan, though not without throwing Spencer one last knowing smirk before heading out.

Spencer had tried, like really tried to shake the feeling that had been simmering in his chest ever since your little exchange in the hallway. But it was impossible when you were still here, moving around like you had no idea what you were doing to him.

He stole a glance at you as you gathered your things, your soft hum filling the silence, that accent of yours still lingering in his mind like an unsolved puzzle he desperately wanted to figure out.

He was so screwed.

“Y’ready, sugar?” you asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Spencer blinked rapidly. “Uh yeah. Yes. Ready.”

You smirked, clearly amused by how frazzled he still was, and led the way toward the elevator. The ride down was quiet, but not awkward. The air was thick with something unspoken, something Spencer wasn’t quite sure how to navigate.

When you stepped outside, the night air was crisp, carrying the distant hum of the city. You started toward your car, and Spencer, ever the gentleman, fell into step beside you.

It was a short walk, but with each step, Spencer felt his nerves coil tighter. He knew he should say something, should at least attempt to recover from his earlier humiliation, but his words failed him.

Finally, as you reached your car, he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “Well, uh… goodnight,” he said, voice slightly higher than usual.

You raised a brow, lips quirking as you leaned back against the car door. “That’s it?”

Spencer frowned. “What do you mean?”

You tilted your head, studying him, clearly enjoying the way he fidgeted under your gaze. Then, before he could register what was happening, your fingers hooked around his tie, giving it a gentle tug.

Spencer barely had time to gasp before your lips crashed into his.

A soft, muffled sound of surprise escaped him, but he didn’t pull away. No, he melted into you, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your waist, fingers twitching against the fabric of your blouse.

Your lips moved slowly, deliberately, and Spencer - despite his usual awkwardness - was a quick learner. He responded in kind, his breath hitching when you deepened the kiss just slightly, your body pressing against his.

It was intoxicating.

Everything about you, the warmth of your skin, the way your fingers tightened around his tie, that damn accent still lingering in the air, had him utterly undone.

When you finally pulled back, Spencer’s lips were parted, his breathing uneven, his pupils blown wide.

You smirked. “Goodnight, sugar.”

Spencer stood there, frozen, his mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened. You had kissed him. You had kissed him. And it had been… electrifying.

He swallowed thickly, adjusting his tie like it would somehow fix the fact that his entire body was burning from the inside out. His lips tingled, still carrying the warmth of yours, but he forced himself to take a step back.

“Uh - goodnight,” he said again, voice weak, shaky.

Then, like an absolute idiot, he turned and started walking away.

You watched him go, amusement flickering in your eyes as you leaned against your car. Bless his heart, you thought, shaking your head.

But Spencer only made it a few steps before something inside him snapped.

No.

No, he couldn’t just walk away from that.

Without another thought, he spun on his heel and strode back toward you, determination flashing in his eyes.

Before you could even register what was happening, Spencer’s hands were on your face, cupping your cheeks with a newfound confidence.

Then he kissed you.

Not hesitant, not unsure - this time, it was fierce.

Your back hit the car as he pressed against you, his fingers threading through your hair, tilting your head just the way he wanted. His lips moved against yours with a hunger you hadn’t expected from him, but damn, you weren’t about to complain.

A soft noise escaped you, and that sound, that sound, sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine. His grip tightened slightly, one hand slipping to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

It was overwhelming, the way he kissed you now. Like he’d been holding back for far too long. Like he needed to make up for the mistake of walking away in the first place.

And God, he was good at it.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours.

“That,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, “was the actual goodnight.”

You blinked up at him, dazed, lips still tingling. Then, with a slow, wicked smile, you whispered, “Well, sugar… if that’s how you say goodnight, I might need you to stay a little longer.”

Spencer’s breath was still uneven, his hands still gripping you like he was afraid you might disappear. Your words echoed in his head - if that’s how you say goodnight, I might need you to stay a little longer - and something inside him snapped.

He kissed you again, harder this time, as if the act itself might ground him, might make you more real in this fleeting moment. His body pressed against yours, his fingers digging into your hips, and you let out a soft moan against his lips, the sound like a spark to dry tinder.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice hoarse, desperate, like he was fighting a battle with himself.

You exhaled a shaky breath, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him even closer, your heart racing with both anticipation and something deeper, more vulnerable. “Don’t you dare stop, sugar.”

That was all the permission he needed.

With a low growl, Spencer’s hands moved quickly, his fingers fumbling with the car handle before it gave way with a soft click. His urgency had you breathless as he guided you inside, never breaking contact, never letting you slip away from him. The car was cramped, but neither of you cared.

The moment you pulled Spencer into the backseat with you, any hesitation he might have had melted away. His body pressed flush against yours, his lips moving hungrily over your own as the car door slammed shut behind him.

It was rushed, desperate, like the two of you had been holding back for far too long, and now that the dam had broken, there was no stopping the flood.

Spencer’s hands were everywhere - trailing down your sides, gripping your hips, sliding up under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. He groaned against your mouth when your nails raked lightly over his scalp, tugging at his curls just enough to make his hips jerk against yours.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice shaky as he rested his forehead against yours. “You.. this..God, I want you so bad.”

His confession sent a shiver down your spine, and you rolled your hips against him again, grinning when you felt just how hard he was through his slacks.

“I can feel that, sugar,” you teased, your accent dripping, knowing damn well what it did to him.

Spencer let out a strangled moan, his grip tightening on your waist. “You’re gonna kill me,” he murmured, but there was no frustration in his voice - only pure need.

“Mm, not before I make it worth your while,” you whispered, slipping your fingers down between your bodies to work at his belt.

His breath hitched, his entire body tensing as you made quick work of the buckle, then the button, then the zipper. The second your hand slipped beneath the fabric, wrapping around his cock, Spencer whimpered.

“Jesus Christ --”

His head dropped to your shoulder, his hips jerking into your touch as you stroked him slowly, teasingly, savoring the way he trembled beneath your fingers.

“You’re so sensitive, baby,” you mused, kissing the shell of his ear.

Spencer groaned, his teeth grazing over your neck before he retaliated, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pants, slipping between your folds.

“Shit --” Your back arched, a gasp tearing from your lips as he teased your entrance, his breath hot against your skin.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured in awe, sliding one long finger inside of you, then another, curling them just right. “Is this all for me?”

You moaned, rocking against his hand, your grip tightening around him. “All for you, baby. Just you.”

Spencer groaned at your words, capturing your lips in another desperate kiss as he worked you open, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate strokes.

The car windows were completely fogged now, the space thick with the sound of your heavy breaths, your moans, the slick slide of skin against skin.

And then, just as you were teetering on the edge, he pulled away. His hands suddenly gripping your hips as he pushed you back against the seat, his eyes dark with hunger.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasped.

You didn’t hesitate.

You lifted your hips, shoving your jeans down just enough, and Spencer did the same, his movements frantic, desperate.

And then - God, then - he was there, his tip pressing against you, his breathing ragged.

“Tell me you want this,” he pleaded, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You cupped his face, brushing your lips over his. “I need this, Spencer.”

That was all it took.

The second Spencer thrust inside you, a ragged groan tore from his lips, his forehead dropping against yours.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his fingers gripping your hips, nails digging in like he was afraid you’d disappear. “You’re so - Jesus, you’re tight.”

Your body clenched around him at the filth in his voice, at the way his words were completely wrecked, breathless. He was already losing it, and you’d barely even started.

“You like that, baby?” you murmured, voice thick with your accent, teasing as you rolled your hips up against him. “Like how good I feel wrapped around you?”

Spencer groaned, his hands flexing against your skin. “Yes—I can’t—God, I can’t even think.”

“Then don’t,” you whispered, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him whimper. “Just fuck me, sugar.”

And he did.

He pulled back and slammed into you, deep and hard, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck, Spencer --”

The words barely left your lips before he set a brutal pace, thrusting into you again and again, deep enough that you could feel every inch of him stretching you open, filling you to the point of pure blissful pain.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice rough and shaking as his hips snapped against yours. " I need to feel more.”

His hands roamed your body, greedy, desperate, palming your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers until you cried out.

“Spence --”

He swallowed your moan with a bruising kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he fucked into you harder, faster, like he couldn’t get close enough, like he needed to own you completely.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he panted against your lips, his voice thick with lust. “You like this, don’t you? You like letting me take you like this?”

“Yesyes, baby, don’t stop..”

He growled, his teeth scraping against your jaw, down your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks.

His fingers found your clit, circling it just right, making you arch against him, nails clawing at his back.

“That’s it,” he groaned, watching you unravel beneath him, his pace turning even more frantic. “Fuck, you’re so perfect, I wanna feel you come all over my cock.”

Your whole body tightened at his words, the filth of them pushing you even closer to the edge.

His thrusts turned brutal, deep, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you, over and over, dragging you closer and closer to pure bliss.

“Spencer, oh my God..”

“Cum for me, baby,” he groaned, his fingers pressing against your clit just right, his cock hitting deep, his breath hot against your skin. “I wanna feel it, I need to feel you fall apart for me.”

And you did.

Your whole body clenched, your back arching as you screamed his name, pleasure crashing through you in wave after wave.

Spencer cursed, his hips stuttering, his grip on you bruising as he followed, a wrecked moan leaving his lips as he buried himself deep inside you. His whole body shaking as he came hard, spilling into you with a groan that was damn near filthy.

For a long moment, the only sound was your heavy breathing, the quiet hum of the city outside.

Spencer’s forehead dropped to your shoulder, his body still trembling from the force of his orgasm. Then he let out a breathless, wrecked laugh, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses against your damp skin.

“Well,” he murmured, still catching his breath, “that was… insane.”

You smirked, running your fingers through his sweat-damp curls. “That was just the first round, sugar.”

Spencer groaned, already hardening again inside you.

“Oh, fuck.”

Spencer’s chest was rising and falling rapidly as he pressed his forehead against yours, barely able to keep his hands still as he traced patterns down your back. But you weren’t done yet. Not even close.

Without warning, you flipped yourself around, swift and confident. Spencer's eyes widened as he realized what you were doing, and before he could process it, you had already positioned yourself over him, your knees on either side of his hips. His hands instinctively grabbed your waist, his fingers digging into your skin.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groaned, his voice raw, desperate. He could barely take his eyes off your body as you lowered yourself slowly onto his still-hardening cock, the slow stretch sending waves of pleasure through both of you.

You could feel every inch of him filling you, stretching you out and the tightness in your chest twisted with desire as you began to ride him slowly at first. The feeling of control was intoxicating, and you moved deliberately, savoring every moment.

Spencer’s hands couldn’t stay still again. One hand slid up to cup your breast, his thumb rubbing over your nipple, making you gasp in pleasure. The other hand trailed down, gripping your hips as he pulled you closer, helping you move faster, deeper.

“Fuck, you feel so damn good,” Spencer moaned, his eyes glued to your body as you rocked against him, your breath coming in shaky gasps. “You’re gonna make me lose it again…”

You responded by grinding harder, faster, desperate for the release that was building between you. Spencer’s hand tightened around your breast, his fingers pinching and pulling your nipples, drawing out soft moans from you. You couldn’t hold back anymore, your body trembling as the pressure in your core built.

“Spencer, I - oh God - I’m close,” you breathed, your movements becoming more frantic as you chased that release, that perfect feeling of completion.

“Me too,” he rasped, his voice so strained with lust that it made your whole body ache. “I want to feel you come all over me. Do it, baby. Let go…”

You did.

With one final, desperate movement, your body exploded in pleasure, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. You gasped his name, gripping onto him as the waves of ecstasy swept through you. Spencer wasn’t far behind, thrusting up into you as his own release finally overtook him. His hands were gripping your hips so tightly it left marks, pulling you down against him, ensuring every inch of him stayed buried deep inside as he came with a groan.

You both collapsed against each other, sweaty and breathless, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. The only sound in the car was the rhythm of your heavy breathing. Slowly, you lifted yourself off him, a satisfied moan slipping from your lips as his softened cock slid out of you.

You both just stared at each other for a moment, the air between you thick with tension and satisfaction. A small trickle of his cum dripped from you, slowly running down his cock as you both took in the aftermath. Spencer’s hands were still on your body, unable to let go, even now.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his lips still swollen from your kisses.

You grinned down at him, wiping away a bit of the mess from your thighs with a teasing finger. “Yeah. That was perfect.”

Spencer’s grin grew, though his eyes still burned with want. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” he said softly.

After everything, the both of you sat there for a moment, catching your breath, the cool night air gently brushing against your skin. Spencer’s hand was still resting on your thigh, his fingertips lightly tracing over the sensitive skin, the aftermath of what had just happened still hanging heavily in the air between you.

With a deep sigh, you slowly pulled yourself off of him, your body still tingling with the aftershocks of your release. Spencer watched you, his eyes dark and full of desire, as you reached for your clothes, grabbing your top off the floor. He followed suit, his motions slow but deliberate, as if he were savoring every second of this.

He didn’t break eye contact as he began buttoning his shirt back up, his fingers working with practiced ease, but you noticed the faint tremor in his hands, the evidence of how much you had completely undone him.

You did the same, pulling on your jeans with a quiet hum, your movements deliberate as you slowly dressed, taking your time. There was something undeniably intimate about the way you both silently communicated with every motion, the connection between you thick and palpable.

Once you were both dressed, Spencer ran a hand through his tousled hair, sighing as he leaned against the car. “I—uh, I’m really not ready for this night to end,” he said softly, his voice still low with the remnants of desire.

You stepped closer, your body brushing against his as you reached up to adjust his collar, your fingers lingering on his skin. “Then it doesn’t have to,” you whispered, lips close to his, the warmth of your breath mingling with his.

His gaze softened, his lips barely a whisper from yours as he cupped your face in his hands, eyes searching yours with something deeper than just lust. “Next time, we’ll go out—dinner, drinks, something nice. I’ll take you on a real date. I promise.”

Your lips quirked upward into a teasing smile as you reached up, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It was soft, lingering, as if the promise of what could come next hung in the air between you both.

“You better keep that promise, Reid,” you murmured against his lips. “Or next time, I’ll make you regret it.”

He grinned, eyes still glimmering with desire as he kissed you once more, deeper this time, a soft growl rising in his chest. “I’m counting on it,” he whispered back before pulling away slightly.

He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure whether to walk away or pull you back in for more, before he finally let out a breath. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice almost a plea for just a little more, a touch more.

You heard his plea in his voice and smiled softly, moving closer to him again. "Come home with me?"

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