#criminal minds au fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miedei · 4 months ago

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terrible profilers

(aka the team meets early seasons!spence's not-so-secret girlfriend)

a/n: this came to me in my dream last night and i cannot get over it, pls send asks/requests and tell me what you thought! (look at '#mystery girl!au' on my blog to see more musings about them <3)

cw: USE OF Y/N IM SORRY reader has she/her pronouns, the team is nosy, reader is a phd student, my niche personal headcanons of how i think spencer would text, probably more tech inaccuracies

wc: 3.5k

part one | part three | mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

The moment Spencer walks into the bullpen, he knows something’s up. Garcia never replied to the text he’d sent on Friday night, and he’d hoped she was just busy on their first weekend off in a while, but it’s clear there’s more. Clutching the strap of his satchel, he walks to his desk, observing the strange tension blanketing the room.

For one, Hotch and Gideon are in the bullpen, standing in the corner speaking in hushed tones. Weird. They usually go to one of their offices to talk, and either way, they usually are stuck in their offices until lunchtime when they don’t have cases.

Another thing. JJ and Penelope are standing around Elle’s desk, which isn’t out of the ordinary, but they’ve swivelled around to stare at Spencer like he’s an alien (which they do on occasion, but Spencer is pretty sure he hasn’t been strange yet. He just walked in!).

Derek is sitting on Elle’s desk, leaning over to huddle with the three girls, but he’s frozen with his mouth open, like he just shut up for some reason.

“Uh… Good morning.” Spencer furrows his brows, but tries to shrug it off, more interested in the smell of coffee emanating from the kitchenette. Setting down his bag, he quickly busies himself with pouring his signature overly-sweet (according to you) coffee.

It’s like his movements snap a thread that has been holding his colleagues together, and they suddenly start bustling around the bullpen again. Derek sidles up beside him as he’s stirring in sugar, and Spencer braces himself for some Morgan-esque prod. But what he says has Spencer confused.

“Kid. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Ok, something is going on. Spencer has worked with Derek since he was 22, and they’ve fallen into a very comfortable dynamic ever since. But neither of them have ever felt the need to reassure the other of their closeness.

“What’s up, Morgan? No jabs today?”

Derek stiffens, like he’s been caught in a lie, and scrambles to reply.

“Well… We- Um, Garcia worried about you on Friday. What was up with you leaving so suddenly?”

Spencer has to bite back a smile, memories of you, coming to O’ Keefe’s just to see him, flooding into his mind. But he answers as smoothly as possible, still turned away from Derek as he elaborates.

“Oh, I felt a bit sick. It was probably the drinking and travelling back and forth from the more arid parts of the country that did it. Did you know, travelling between warmer and colder climates makes you more susceptible to contracting viruses because it strains your immune and musculoskeletal systems, causing the feedback loop of homeostasis to-” Derek puts a hand on his arm, and Spencer quiets.

“Okay, okay, pretty boy, I get it.”

With that, he walks off, and Spencer is left at the kitchenette, stirring his coffee, confused. It’s not like it was a lie, he was feeling nauseous in the bar, so you insisted that you go home. He recovered that same night over a cup of tea, Metropolis on the television, and you cuddled up on the couch next to him.

When he walks back to his desk, mug in hand, he calls out to JJ, still standing by Elle’s desk.

“JJ, no cases today? …JJ?” The blonde is looking at him, but his words seem to fly right over her head, until Elle pokes her shoulder.

“Oh! No, the cases I’m being called about are still pending, we’re probably not leaving on anything until tomorrow.” Spencer smiles softly, glad to have at least one more night sleeping at home this week. Because of his reverie, he doesn’t notice the way JJ, Penelope and Elle are staring at him, befuddled expressions on their faces.

The day continues to be a little weird, much to Spencer’s chagrin. Around 1pm, Gideon emerges from his office again. This, already, is out of the blue. Gideon only leaves his office an average of 3.78 times a day, mainly to go to Hotch’s office, or to go home. This time, however, Gideon marches to Spencer’s desk.

Gideon comes to a stop next to Spencer’s desk chair, and it’s all he can do to muster a blank face and look into his mentor’s eyes.

“Hey, Gideon. What’s… What’s going on?”

The older man sighs wearily, looking down his nose at Spencer, looking uncannily like Spencer’s highschool Calculus teacher when she got irritated at him for being a ‘13 year old know-it-all’.

“Spencer. You weren’t sick on Friday, were you?” What is happening? Spencer doesn’t lie, he’s never told Gideon something untrue, so this is incredibly out of the blue.

“Huh? No, what’s wrong? I felt nauseous, which could’ve technically been a symptom for an inner ear problem, inflammatory bowel disease, gastroenteritis…” Spencer continues to rattle off a list of things he could have had, not noticing the uncharacteristically soft, paternal gaze that Gideon has trained on him.

“...and even a brain tumour, but it was probably because I drank more than I usually do. Why do you think that’s not true?” Spencer finishes his little speech, looking up at Gideon with a confused expression. There’s nothing else the older man can do but sigh, patting his shoulder softly.

“Okay, Reid. Glad you’re feeling better now.” With that, the experienced profiler walks away, not bothering to reply to Spencer’s continued questioning:

“Gideon! What’s wrong? Why are you-” Gideon’s office door slams shut.

Unfortunately, Spencer cannot ignore the rest of the signs, spending the rest of the day in a state of coiled anxiety. Something is going on, but he can’t get anyone to tell him.

Derek and Elle are constantly glancing over at him, unreadable expressions on their faces. Penelope keeps finding excuses to go to Spencer’s desk, and even if Spencer wasn’t a profiler, he’d be able to see the words bubbling up in her throat, but she never says anything.

JJ doesn’t come talk to him at all, which is strange. Instead, she shoots him knowing looks whenever she’s in the bullpen, sending Spencer into a spiral every time she doesn’t say anything about why they’re all acting weird.

He’s even caught Hotch and Gideon peeking through the blinds over their office windows to look at Spencer, with the analytical looks they get when they’re observing a crime scene on their faces. It’s driving Spencer crazy, and he has to tell someone.

You’re leaving your desk when your phone buzzes.

SPENCE <3: Hi. I looked normal when I left the house, right?

Your brow furrows at the text. Normally Spencer isn’t a fan of texting while he’s at work, and you’d told him multiple times how handsome he looked when he left the apartment this morning. He’s wearing his striped white button down and the purple tie you bought him for his birthday last year, he looks pretty. And you made sure to tell him so.

YOU: hi <3

YOU: no spence you look pretty i told you this morning didnt i?

SPENCE <3: You did, thank you. Everyone’s acting weird at work, and I can’t think of what it could be.

YOU: maybe its something with a case?

SPENCE <3: They would tell me if it was that, right?

YOU: ur right

YOU: if you cant think of it with that big beautiful brain its probably something to do with them

There’s a solid minute of silence before he texts you back, and you grin to yourself as you walk through the halls. You can see the flush growing over his face in your mind’s eye, the way he does every time you pay him a cheesy compliment.

SPENCE <3: I guess so. They won’t tell me anything about it, which is strange.

You frown a little, imagining his frustration at being out of the loop. Spencer has expressed his love for his coworkers to you many times, but he’s also told you about his struggles feeling like the ‘baby’ of the office, and the way it makes him feel isolated at times. Racking your brain to think of a way to cheer him up, you check the time on your watch (the twin of which is settled on Spencer’s wrist).

YOU: its nearly 6

YOU: if i leave my building now i can make it to your office in 30mins

YOU: i can pick you up and we could get thai for dinner

YOU: ?

The reply is instantaneous, and you smile, looking forward to seeing him earlier than you’d expected today.

SPENCE <3: That sounds great. I’m finishing up here but text me when you’re in the lobby and I’ll come down.

SPENCE <3: I need to go, I’ve been texting you from the bathroom.

SPENCE <3: See you soon :-)

The last half hour of Spencer’s workday flies by, unlike the way the clock had crawled previously. He finishes up the consults he was working on for the day, and begins packing up the moment the clock hits 18:27.

Derek and Elle are still sneaking glances at him, but Spencer couldn’t care less at this point. As he closes the flap of his satchel, his phone buzzes in his breast pocket. He can’t help but whip out his phone immediately, missing the bewildered looks that pass between his fellow profilers as he smiles down at the screen.

Y/N L/N: in the lobby now!

Y/N L/N: i forgot how fancy it is here i feel underdressed

He doesn’t bother replying, instead opting to leave the bullpen through the glass doors, nodding at Derek and Elle, and pressing the elevator button immediately. He’s so engrossed in his thoughts as he stares at the closed doors, that he realises far too late what’s happening behind him.

He can hear the sounds of shuffling feet, a squeak of surprise (Penelope), hissed insult (Elle to Derek), and a firm clearing of a throat (Hotch). After sighing rather petulantly, Spencer turns on his heels to find the entire BAU team standing there, faces just as confusing as they’ve been all day.

“I’d ask you what’s wrong, but none of you gave me an answer the last 23 times I asked, so.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Hotch, of all people, says, “Reid, we need to… ask you something. About last Friday.” That’s strange. Spencer cocks his head in confusion.

“What about it? I already told Morgan and Gideon, I was feeling sick, but it turns out it was just that I’d just drank more than I was used to.”

Penelope looks like she’s about to burst, and finally, she blurts it out, voice slightly shrill. “Reid! Who is she?”

“Who is who?”

Derek butts in, a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “Kid, that girl. The girl you were… close to, on Friday. At the bar?” Oh. That’s what they’re talking about?

“That was Y/N. My girlfriend. Are you mad I didn’t introduce you guys? I thought you were all busy.”

Spencer sees six sets of jaws drop. There’s more silence, before JJ croaks out, “Girlfriend?”

It’s a bit of a sight, to be honest. Penelope has clutched on to Derek, and Derek on to Elle. JJ looks gobsmacked, eyes bulging out of their sockets. Even Hotch and Gideon look the most shocked Spencer has ever seen them. But why?

“Uh, yeah. She came to see me because we’d had plans before we decided to go out. Then when she found out I felt sick we went home.”

Gideon looks a little green, and when no one makes a sound, Hotch speaks, his normally stoic voice coming out a little shaky. “Reid, we didn't- We didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”

What? Now they’re being even weirder. Spencer can hear the elevator doors open behind him, but he doesn’t bother. This is something he has to get to the bottom of.

“How did you not know? I’m sure I’ve mentioned having plans with her multiple times. Elle, I told you about the time I went to the movies in New York with her, when we were on that case.” Elle looks more shocked, if that’s possible, but doesn’t say a word.

“Garcia, I asked you to help me find florists that have Gibraltar campions in Vegas that one time.” Penelope jolts, muttering under her breath about ‘idiot geniuses and their mothers’.

“Gideon, I asked you for advice on how to ask her out!” Gideon stiffens, remembering the time Spencer had asked him about his ex-wife. Was that Spencer asking for advice?

“I ran into you, JJ and Morgan, when I was with her, don’t you remember? She was in the aisle over” Derek distinctly remembers a time at the bookstore, they’d seen Spencer, but not noticed anyone with him. JJ shamefully recalls being too busy making fun of Spencer’s heart-studded tie to look around.

Spencer looks bewildered, eyes bouncing between the different members of his team.

“Hotch, I literally told you about her! When I added her to my emergency contacts?” At this, Hotch pales. A year ago, Spencer had come to him with a request to change his 1st emergency contact from his mother to a Y/N L/N. How he never registered that this was a girlfriend, Hotch would never know, but he stares fixedly at his shoes as he contemplates quitting his job as a profiler.

Spencer looks at them, mystified. How did they not know? It’s not like he was ever hiding you! Of course, Spencer wanted to keep you to himself, so he didn’t talk about you that much, but they were profilers. He assumed they’d known, and just didn't want to embarrass him.

His phone buzzes three times, and he pulls it out to see more texts from you.

Y/N L/N: spence are you coming

Y/N L/N: a guy in a suit is eyeing me weird

Y/N L/N: he knows i dont belong come save me

A happy sigh leaves him, before he remembers the people standing in front of him, still gobsmacked. He scrubs a hand down his face wearily, and mutters slowly, as if he’s not sure if he wants to do this.

“She’s downstairs right now, we were going to take the metro home together. Do you… Do you guys want to meet her?” Penelope brightens up, and the rest of the team seem in higher spirits, despite their continued disappointment in themselves. Warily, Spencer opens the elevator door with a press of a button, and they all file in obediently.

“Please don’t be weird.”

“My good doctor, I would never!” He eyes Garcia with a fearful expression, but presses the ground floor button anyway. As the doors close, a strangled shout leaves JJ’s mouth.

“Wait, you live together?”

You are sitting on a bench inside the lobby of the FBI Headquarters. No matter how many times you drop Spencer off or pick him up, this will always be surreal to you. And, right now, it’s not just surreal, it’s a little scary.

A real Danny Ocean type guy is sitting on a bench across the room, talking on the phone and eyeing you. Clearly, you don’t exactly look like an agent, you know that. Dressed in the uniform of a PhD student, jeans and an oversized Doctor Who t-shirt (Spencer’s), you know that you look out of place.

You’re just hoping Spencer walks out of the elevator before you get escorted out on suspicions that you’re a spy or something.

Like some deity has heard your words, you look up at the ding of the elevator to see Spencer… and a whole gaggle of people behind him, slapping at his shoulders and barraging him with questions. He looks harried, a line between his pretty eyes.

The line disappears, though, when he locks eyes with you. His eyes light up, and his steps grow in length, before he's left his entourage behind, at least for a couple of seconds.

He uses this time to explain to you: “Hi, hello, I'm so glad you're here and I need to tell you something-” As if on instinct, your hands come up to rest on his upper arms, thumbs moving in circles soothingly as he continues to ramble, only catching the tail end of his sentence.

“-and well, they didn't know about you somehow? Which is crazy to me because you know I don't hide you so I don't know where they got that from but either way they were acting crazy, so I suggested they come meet you, and…” The group of people you now recognize to be the BAU have caught up to him, eyes darting between your face and Spencer's. His shoulders slump, and the agitated look returns, if a little less intense.

“Well, here they are.” He motions to the group behind him. “These are my coworkers, Jennifer Jareau, Elle Greenaway, Penelope Garcia, Aaron Hotchner, Jason Gideon, and Derek Morgan. Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

Rising on your toes to see over his shoulder, you wave with a smile, eyes zeroing in on Penelope Garcia, who looks like she's vibrating from excitement, shouldering past Spencer to hold both of your hands.

“Hi! It's so good to meet you! I'd say I've heard a lot about you, but you know that's a lie, we didn't realize you existed until 10 minutes ago, but oh my god! You're here! You're so pretty- Spencer, she's so pretty!” She's practically bouncing up and down, causing Spencer to laugh sheepishly.

“Yeah, Garcia, I know that.” The next few minutes are a barrage of introductions and handshakes, all so brief that you can only get quick first impressions of them all.

Penelope is incredibly kind, not letting go of your hands until Spencer pries her off of you, telling you that you have to come out on girl's night with us, exactly like Spencer described her.

Elle is nearly intimidatingly cool, giving you a handshake and a smile, mentioning that she likes your eyeliner.

Aaron (Hotch? You're not sure how to refer to him) is nowhere near as stoic and intimidating as Spencer makes him out to be, breaking into a smile as he introduces himself, and grinning even wider when you congratulate him and his wife on their newborn child.

JJ is the sweetest. You've heard a lot about Spencer's best friend, and she lives up to expectations, squeezing you into a chaste hug with warm words.

Gideon is a little terrifying. He gives you a handshake, quirking the side of his lips in what you assume to be a smile, but saying very little beyond an introduction. You know how highly Spencer thinks of him, and hope he will warm up to you (Spencer is over the moon that he smiled, and informs you later that Gideon loved you).

Derek is exactly how you expected him to be. Somehow, he makes you feel wholly comfortable after a single comment, and promises to regale you with all the Spencer stories you'd want (you see him punch Spencer in the arm, grinning and saying he approved).

Spencer pulls you away from them as quick as he can, citing your dinner plans as an excuse. He slings an arm around your waist, leading you out the door as you wave over your shoulder.

“It was great to meet you guys! We should go out to dinner or something!” You hear mixed shouts of agreement from behind you, before the doors shut and it's just you and Spencer, on the sidewalk outside the building.

It's butterfly-inducing, the way you can see the tension leave his shoulders when he turns to look down at you, brown eyes shining.

“I'm sorry that was so last-minute, I know they can be… a lot.” You giggle at the weariness in his tone, resting your forearms on his shoulders.

“They were really nice, Spence. I'm glad to finally meet them. They didn't know who I was?” He sighs, hands tightening slightly on your waist.

“I don't know what goes on with them half the time. I've told them things about you so many times, but they were just being dense, I suppose. They saw us on Friday, at O’ Keefe’s, and they had no idea I was seeing someone!” He bends to rest his forehead in the crook of your neck with a sigh. As if on instinct, your hands come up to play with his hair.

“I guess they would have found it a little strange that you acted like nothing had changed, huh? Is that why they were being weird today?” He grumbles unintelligible words into your skin, before raising his head to look at you.

“I guess… You know I wasn't hiding you, right? I really thought they knew about you,” The earnestness on his face makes you want to implode, his thumbs rubbing minutely on your waist. Speaking would pop the bubble you've found yourselves in, so you find the best next option for you to show him your assertion.

Your hands roam up his neck to cup either side of his jaw, and slow, slow, slowly, you rise to your toes and kiss him.

Suddenly, Spencer's not worried anymore.

#divas send me an ask and tell me what you thought!!!!#requests are welcome!!#reader is so self-indulgently me in this miniseries #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #posted from my phone bc im at the airport tell me if there are any formatting mistakes pls #mystery girl!au

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reidphobic · 4 months ago

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i’ll show you heaven (if you’ll be an angel all night) - s. r.

in which you give your pretty boy neighbor a few much-needed lessons in pleasure. 4426 words. part two.

inexperienced!sub!spencer x dom!fem reader, unprotected sex, mommy kink, brief hint at nursing, praise, oral (f receiving), no use of y/n, reader is super condescending at times but it’s hot i promise

You’re utterly enamoured with the pretty boy next door. You know next to nothing about him, only that his name is Dr. Spencer Reid (his mail); he’s bookish (you first met when he literally bumped into you in the hall with his nose in a book); he keeps very odd hours; and, most crucially, in the four years you’ve been his neighbor, he’s never had a girl over.

It’d be enough to make you think he just isn’t particularly interested in sex, if not for the paper-thin walls you share. You’re not trying to listen, but it’s hard to keep yourself under control when you know he’s only feet away, stroking himself to a whimpering, moaning orgasm in the dead of night. He just sounds so pretty, pliant and delicate, like he’s begging to be wrecked.

Your little crush has been spiralling out of control for a while now — you’re going through a dry spell, and it’s hard to keep your gorgeous neighbor out of your fantasies when they’re all you have. Your heart flutters when he smiles and waves from across the street, kicks in your chest when he nods at you in the hall. It’s embarrassing. Eventually, you have to take action. You order a parcel to his apartment, put your feet up and wait.

There’s a soft, timid tap at your door a day or so later, and you force yourself not to sprint to the door. “Hi,” Spencer says, bright and cheerful, an openness in his face that you’re dying to take advantage of. “Is this yours? It was delivered to my apartment by mistake. I- I’m Spencer. Reid. I live next door.”

Time for the performance of your life. You paste on a shocked, grateful look. “Yes! Oh, thank you!” you gasp. “I’ve been trying to get my money back all day, and it’s been a fucking nightmare,” you laugh, taking the box from him and leaning against the doorframe. Your eyes flicker down his body, tall and lean, catching on his hands for a second before landing on his lips. You smile, lick your lips. “Hey, d’you wanna come in? I’ll make you a coffee as a thank you.”

Spencer glances at his watch, then smiles, and, oh. You swear to yourself right then and there that you’ll do anything in your power to make him smile like that again. “Sure. I can’t stay long, though. Work,” he adds with an apologetic shrug.

“What is it you do?” you ask politely, closing the door behind him and busying yourself in the kitchen.

“I’m in the FBI,” he answers, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. Your eyes bug out of your head, and you turn to face him. But then you catch his expression, resigned and almost bored.

You let your eyes widen just enough that he knows you’re impressed, and then shrug. “And I bet that’s all you get to talk about when you meet someone new, am I right?” His face cycles through surprise, confusion and then relief, and he nods. You sit, slide him a cup of coffee, try not to be too transfixed by the muscles in his throat as he swallows. “So let’s talk about something else. You’re a doctor, right?” He tilts his head quizzically. “You’re not the only one who gets other people’s mail by mistake. The whole FBI thing means you’re not a medical doctor, at least, I don’t think, which only leaves a PhD.”

“Three, actually.” At that, you can’t stop your eyes from bugging out. He can’t be more than twenty-five! “Mathematics, Chemistry and Engineering.” He almost sounds sheepish, deliberately tucking in his shoulders to seem smaller as he speaks.

“Oh, my God,” you say faintly. “Well, I was going to ask about your thesis, but apparently I have to specify.” You pause. “Which one is your favourite? No, I wanna hear,” you say when Spencer opens his mouth to protest. “I won't understand a word, but I’m told I’m a really good listener.” You lean forward, smiling sweetly, and he fiddles nervously with his tie, stumbles over his words.

True enough, you don’t have the faintest idea what he’s talking about, but the way his eyes light up and his movements grow more animated the longer he talks more than makes up for it. You’re content to sit and listen, carefully memorise him as you hang onto every word, and the best part of an hour flies by like that. He pauses to take a breath, checks his watch and winces. “Crap. I’ve gotta go. This was… really nice. Thanks,” he says, setting his empty mug next to your sink on his way out.

“Hey,” you call out, and he pauses. “You’re welcome to come by another time, if you’re up for it. No offence or anything, but I kinda get the sense you need someone to talk to who’s not in the FBI.”

Spencer chuckles softly. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little,” you tease. “I’m sure your work is super serious and important, but, really, drop by if you get the chance. I’d like to see you again,” you add, letting the smallest note of interest creep into your voice at the last sentence, and you can tell by the way he falters mid-step that he picks up on it.

But he only smiles, offers you a polite goodbye, and disappears into the elevator. You don’t see him for a little while after that, but just when you’re starting to kick yourself for not getting his number, he taps on your door. It’s so late that you’d thought he wasn’t coming home for the night, but you smile warmly when you open the door, assure him he’s not bothering you at all, of course not, and you work nights anyway, so it’s not even close to your bedtime.

“You want something to drink? It’s a bit late for coffee, but I have tea? Wine?” You pad across the living room, hyper-conscious of Spencer’s gaze on your bare thighs, your short silk robe doing very little to protect your modesty.

“Wine would be great, actually,” he says, balancing himself delicately at the edge of your couch.

“Rough day?” you ask, pouring two healthy glasses and passing one to him.

He laughs ruefully. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Spencer bites his lip. “I’d really rather not,” he says quietly, looking down at his shoes. “How about you talk and I listen this time? About anything.” He laughs softly and you launch into your best first-date stories, slowly working your way through the wine and inching closer with each new glass. Both slightly tipsy, your head rests in his lap and he’s staring down at you like you hung the moon, and you can’t take your eyes off his lips, his pretty, flushed cheeks. “Hey, what was in that package they delivered to my apartment?” he asks, and you’ve got him.

“You don’t wanna know,” you smirk, toying with the hem of your robe and dragging it up, revealing just a sliver more of your bare thigh.

“I do, though,” he pouts, carding a hand gently through your hair.

Your smile broadens. “Well, you know what they say about curiosity.”

“It killed the cat?”

“Sure,” you answer, hands sliding up to the tie around your waist. “But satisfaction brought it back.” You untie your robe, let it spill into his lap and across the floor, hear him suck in a sharp breath at the sight of you. Lace in a shade of red so deep it’s almost black cradles the curves of your body, and you study his face carefully for a reaction. Spencer’s eyes are wide, pupils blown, and his hands tremble where they hover above your skin. “Do you like it? I bought it to cheer myself up. I’m in a real dry spell at the moment — but, you know about that, right?” you tease.

Spencer clears his throat. “I, uh… huh?” He sounds practically tongue-tied, poor thing, and you reach up to smooth his hair behind his ear.

“Spencer. Come on. Unless your mute girlfriend only comes in through the fire escape, you’ve never had a woman in your apartment,” you say, playful but just mean enough to get under his skin.

He flushes crimson to the tips of his ears. “Is it, uh…” He licks his lips. “Is it really that obvious?”

You smirk. “Yeah. Be honest, is this driving you a little crazy? Do you think I look pretty?”

“I think you’re beautiful.” You sit up, plant yourself squarely in his lap. He’s stiff, back ramrod-straight, fists clenched by his sides.

You shift your hips, grind down against him. “Do you want me?” you breathe, leaning in close. Spencer nods weakly, entirely at your mercy. “Spencer,” you purr. “Are you a virgin?”

“No!” he says indignantly. “I’ve had sex. Just not, you know, for a long while.”

Taking his hands, you place them on your waist, and his head tips back like he can’t believe his luck. You laugh, low and dark. “You blush like one.” Leaning in, you speak against his lips, so close he can practically swallow your words. “Do you want to fuck me, Spencer?”

He nods frantically, so hard you’re afraid his neck is going to snap. “Please. I want… God, I can’t—”

You drag your thumb across his bottom lip to silence him, resist the urge to press it deeper into his mouth. “Aw, you’re so needy, baby. So cute,” Spencer whines, pouts up at you as you shift your hips. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you,” you murmur, finally leaning in to kiss him; nothing more than a soft press of lips, at first. Then his hands slide up from your waist to your jaw, pull you in again. His kiss is starving, feverish, almost crazed, like he’s gone so long without it that he can’t relax.

You nip playfully at his bottom lip, pull it into your mouth. He slides his hands into your hair, happily cedes control as you slip your tongue into his mouth. His face scrunches up in displeasure when you pull away. “You’re not very experienced, are you?” you say, taking one of his hands and skimming it down your back. “All the theory in that brain of yours, but no application, right? Does that make you nervous?”

Spencer flushes impossibly redder. “I… Yes. I don’t… I want it to be good for you,” he murmurs, deliberately avoiding your gaze until you tilt his head up to meet his warm, honey-brown eyes.

Pressing a soft, near-chaste kiss to his lips, you gently twirl a strand of his hair around your finger. “It’s okay, baby. I can teach you, huh? How’s that sound?” You slip your hands under his sweater, slide them up his slim, toned chest.

“Mhmm,” he murmurs, head dipping to kiss your neck.

You giggle. “Such a quick learner, baby. You wanna bruise me up, just a little?” His teeth scrape at your neck, a messy, graceless thing; pain blooms under his touch, skitters down your spine. “Good boy,” you murmur, and he shudders. “Oh, you like that, don’t you, pretty? Be a good boy and take your shirt off for me, okay?”

He scrambles to obey, practically rips his shirt over his head and tosses it away. You pull back to gaze at him, trace your fingertips over his bare chest. “Stop it,” he says quietly, almost a whine, squirming under you. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Can’t help it,” you grin. “You’re just so pretty.” You grind your hips down, moan just a touch theatrically. “And so hard. This all for me, sweetheart?” you ask, and he melts under you at the epithet. “I asked you a question,” you add, digging your nails just slightly into his jaw.

“Yeah, it’s for you. S’yours, baby, I want you,” Spencer pleads, eyes wide and lips parted.

“So eager, baby. I’ll give you what you need, don’t worry. You wanna stay here or go to bed?”

Spencer grabs at your hips, squirms under you, meets your hips at an angle that sends pleasure cascading over you. “Bed. Please,” he gasps, burying his head in your neck and whining.

You stand up without a word, affecting casualness, but you feel the loss of his warm body between your thighs like an ache. “You coming, pretty?” you smirk, glancing over your shoulder to where Spencer is still sitting, stunned. He scrambles to his feet so fast he almost pitches over, stumbling after you as you pad into your bedroom.

Spencer doesn’t follow you into bed, though, casting a sweeping, curious look around your room. You snap your fingers impatiently. “Hey. Stop profiling the half-naked girl who wants to have sex with you.” Obediently, he climbs onto the bed next to you, kisses you sweetly as your hands slide down to unbuckle his belt. You tug his pants and boxers off in one motion, let him awkwardly kick them to the floor. Suddenly, he’s gorgeously naked in your bed, his cock hanging heavy and hard between his legs.

You stare openly, mind blanking for a second as your mouth waters. All you can think about is how beautiful he is, how good he’ll feel inside you. “Are you… Am I, uh… Okay?” Spencer asks softly, like he’s embarrassed. You gasp, grab his face, kiss him fiercely.

“Sweetheart,” you murmur, cupping his cheek as he blushes. “You’re gorgeous. Such a pretty boy for me, huh?” you breathe, connecting your lips and taking easy control of the kiss, your movements languid where his are frantic and desperate.

“Please,” he murmurs against your lips, the pathetic sound of it falling straight between your legs.

You smirk against Spencer’s lips as his hands rove along your back like he’s searching for something. “It undoes from the front, honey.” You guide his hands to the clasps, let him loosen your lingerie and pull it off, and he moans openly at the sight of your naked body.

He sits up to gaze at you, lips parted and eyes darting around as if he’s mapping every inch of you. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, hands hovering over your chest until you grab them and rest them on your boobs. Arching up, you press your chest into Spencer’s hands, moan when he squeezes softly. One hand trails down your body, down your side and along the curve of your hip, under your leg to grab at the point where your thigh meets your ass. “How do you want me?” he breathes, a nervous tremble in his voice.

“It’s alright, baby. Take your time. I’m all yours, promise.” You smile softly up at him, let him cautiously explore your body, learn exactly how to pull a soft moan from your kiss-swollen lips. Spencer dips his head, kisses the hollow of your throat, works his way down until he’s wrapping his lips around your nipple. You whine when he sucks softly, laps at the peaked bud.

It seems like you’ve found something that makes him tick, because it’s minutes before he lifts his head, and only to switch to the other side. His eyes are glazed over with lust when he finally looks up, and you smile down at him. “Enjoying yourself?” you tease, and he flushes a now-familiar red. “It’s okay, pretty. Don’t need to be embarrassed. But I wanna fuck you now, ‘kay?” You crawl on top of him, grind your soaked cunt against his stomach. “Feel how wet I am, baby? S’all for you, gorgeous.”

Slowly, you push yourself up onto your knees, Spencer’s hands clutching your hips like you’re a mirage, like you’ll fade into a dream if he lets go. “Oh, my God,” he moans, eyes fluttering closed as his hips twitch in desperation.

You circle your hips, carefully line him up with your dripping hole. “You ever done cowgirl before?” He shakes his head mutely, mouth open but no sound coming out. “You want to?”

“Yes,” he rushes out. “God, yes. But, don’t you wanna… condom?”

You lean down to whisper in his ear, conspiratorial. “No. It’s hotter that way.” You shift your hips again. “I mean, I know I’m clean, and you haven’t had sex in over four years, I’m on the pill… I can go and get one, if you want, but I really want to feel you cum inside me, Spencer,” you murmur, and he gives a full-body shudder. “Yeah?”

He nods frantically. “Yeah.” You trail your hands down his stomach, the muscles bunched tight under your fingertips.

“Relax, okay, sweetheart?” you coo, still roaming your hands across his stomach. “S’only gonna feel even better if you just relax for me.” Spencer breathes in deeply, closes his eyes, exhales the tension. “Good boy.” Oh-so slowly, you sink down on him, the aching stretch delicious between your thighs. His whimpered fuck when you’re fully seated makes you pulse around him, back arching involuntarily. “Do you need a minute, baby?”

Spencer looks up at you, dazed, and nods. “You feel so good,” he groans, half-broken already. A moment or so passes, giving the both of you time to adjust to feeling each other. You can sense that he wants you to move by the way he starts twitching inside you, his nails digging harder into your hips.

You watch him suck his bottom lip into his mouth, screw his eyes shut, fight not to make a sound. Pouting, you slide your thumb over his mouth until his lips part obediently around the digit. “Who taught you that?” you murmur, scrunching your face in displeasure. “Who told you to be quiet, Spencer? Don’t do that with me, okay? I wanna hear all your pretty noises, honey. You gotta let me know you feel good.”

Nodding, Spencer moans your name the second you free his mouth, hips jerking as pent-up, needy whines spill free. Something that might be the word please stumbles from his lips, over and over until it’s the only sound you can hear, filling the room and humming under your skin.

Despite all his efforts, you hold still, though every nerve in your body is screaming, begging for you to fuck yourself on his cock. “Is there something you want, sweetheart?” you say, sickly-sweet and patronising. “Beg me for it, pretty.”

“Fuck, come on, please!” he whines. “Want you s’bad, please. God, I need you, please, Mommy, want you to fuck me, you feel so good, please!” he gasps. You don’t think he even realises what he’s said, too far gone in his desperation. You, however, are far more lucid.

You rock upwards, lift your hips off him, and he whines at the loss. “Is this what you need, baby? Need Mommy to fuck you like this?” Spencer covers his face in embarrassment, but he can’t hold back the gasping moan that slips out when you sink down on him, grind your clit against his stomach. “Stop it,” you snap, pulling his arm away from his face. “How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t be embarrassed, and don’t hold anything back. How’m I supposed to teach you if you don’t let me know what makes you feel good, huh?” Setting a slow pace, you start to bounce in his lap, every sound that escapes him pathetic and delicious. “I’ll be your Mommy if that’s what you need, pretty.”

Whining, Spencer gazes up at you, eyes fixed on your tits and practically drooling. “Tell me— shit— tell me what to do,” he pleads, grabbing greedily at your ass and moaning.

“Such an eager boy. Just wanna please, right?” He nods, moans your name and yes and Mommy. “Give me your hand, okay?” You take his hand, carefully press his index and middle fingers against your clit, moaning at the sudden stimulation. “Little circles, okay, baby? Just keep goin��, try and find—oh, fuck!” You choke on your words, a bright bolt of pleasure shooting up your spine as your thighs clench around his hips. “That’s it, baby, good fucking boy. Don’t stop,” you moan.

To his credit, Spencer knows what don’t stop means; doesn’t try to move faster, harder, just works at you in those same tight little circles, arousal sliding hot and sticky down your spine. His hips jerk, fucking up into you harder, and you grind down into his lap, against his fingers. Ecstasy pools in your belly, drips out between your legs, your hands fisting in the sheets.

You clench around him, roll your hips, lean down just enough that he can wrap his lips around your boob, grazing your skin with his teeth in his desperation. “Feel so good, Mommy,” Spencer moans, writhing desperately under you. “I’m gonna— gonna fucking— please,” he whimpers, choking on his own moans. Desire threads under your skin, pulls taut in your belly.

“You gonna cum, pretty? Aw, baby. Cum for me, yeah? I wanna feel it.” Your instruction seems to be all Spencer needs, twitching and jerking under you as he spills in your cunt. “Good boy,” you murmur. He shudders, goes limp, smiles dazedly up at you.

“Thank you,” he gasps as you climb off him, kissing you sweetly, frantic desire dispersed into slow, indolent passion. “That was… you’re… I mean…”

You giggle. “Oh, my God, are you speechless?” You press your lips against his, chest clenching with affection as he blushes. “God, you’re so cute,” you add, and Spencer closes his eyes, scrunches up his face in embarrassment.

He pouts up at you, all pleading brown eyes and soft hands skimming up and down your body. “You didn’t finish,” he says, and he sounds genuinely forlorn, earnestly apologetic.

“It’s okay, baby,” you say, and although it’s far from the first time you’ve said that in bed, you really do mean it. “This was about you, yeah? First time you’ve had sex in, oh… five years?” He nods. “You were never gonna last, sweetheart, it’s alright,” you coo, stroking his cheek as he presses his body close to yours.

“Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me? If I just… like that… How am I supposed to learn?” Spencer says slyly, the corner of his mouth quirking teasingly upward.

Oh, he’s learning, all right. You grin. “I’ll teach you something, Spencer. You ask a woman anything with that look on your face, she’ll do it.”

Spencer smiles faintly as you slide his hand down your body, along the inside of your thigh, let him explore you with the tips of his fingers. “Can I… I wanna taste you. Please?” You thread your fingers into his hair, tug lightly just to make him whine.

“Yeah? S’that what you want, pretty?” He nods as you lift his head, straining frantically to reach your lips where you hold him tantalisingly out of reach. “Oh, you’re so good, honey. God, I’m so lucky I got my hands on you, sweetheart, so good for me, such a sweet boy,” you say indulgently, and he scrambles down your body as soon as you let go of his hair. “Slow down, baby, s’not a race. You wanna take your time, alright? Kisses, a little bit of tongue, make me want it, yeah?”

“Okay,” Spencer breathes against your skin, kissing at your lower belly. His tongue swirls over your body, tracing delicate patterns over your skin that work you into a frenzy. You’re desperate, a fire burning you from the inside out, your body aching with it. You moan his name, and you feel him smile against you. “You want something?” he says, sounding all too pleased with himself.

You scoff, tugging on his hair. “Don’t get cute,” you scold, pulling him down until his lips meet your core.

Still teasing, he presses soft little kisses to the insides of your thighs. “What am I supposed to do?” he asks, wide eyed and faux-innocent even with his mouth achingly close to where you need it.

“Use your imagination,” you groan, tugging his head down until his tongue finally makes contact with your core. He’s hesitant, at first, licking a slow stripe along your cunt, but your moan and the way you slam your thighs closed around his head seem to spur him on. Suddenly, he’s frantic, hands clutching at your hips as he buries his tongue inside you. Pleasure burns under your skin, creeps up your spine, drips out against Spencer’s mouth. He pauses between every new motion, every movement of his tongue, every trace of his fingers, studies your reaction oh-so carefully.

He’s hungry, and it only makes you more feverish, his sweet little moans into you coaxing matching ones from your own lips. His nose bumps your clit and you whine, a bolt of heat lurching through your body. Smiling, Spencer repeats the motion, brings his fingers up to circle your soaked clit. You grind against his face, down on his tongue, arousal winding tight between your thighs. “Shit, honey, I’m close,” you moan, holding him close, crossing your legs behind his head. He murmurs something unintelligible, but the words vibrate deliciously through you all the same, dragging you ever closer to your peak.

You whine when he moves his fingers away, clenching uselessly around nothing and bucking your hips in a silent plea. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly and moaning into you. The sudden wave of stimulation is all it takes, your vision cracking and splintering as ecstasy crashes over you. Your cunt pulses against his mouth, his name spilling from your lips in a nearly crazed litany, pure pleasure wiping your mind clean. You’re half-convinced you left Earth for a second, your body melting into the mattress with his still tangled between your hips.

When you finally regain the strength to move, you let go of him, and he climbs eagerly up your body. “Was I good?” he asks, quiet and almost fragile.

“Oh, sweetheart.” You cup his jaw, kiss your own taste off his lips. “You’re so good for me, baby, did so good. C’mere, let me hold you.” You hook one leg over his, let him tuck his body into yours. “Such a good boy,” you murmur.

You’re conscious of the state of both of you, sweat-soaked and sticky between your thighs, but, selfishly, you just want to hold him a little longer. “Thank you,” Spencer says softly. “Do you… Can we, um. Do this again sometime? Maybe?”

You smile. “Honey, I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

#coming out of the gate swinging with this one lol #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #every tag under the sun on here lol #writing #smut #neighbor!au

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rumplereids · 8 months ago

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spoiled rotten.

tags: spencer reid x reader. social media au. spencer sugar daddy era?? jk a/n: honestly, i dont think spencer is the type to spend a lot of money on material things (besides books, and maybe a cologne or two) BUT he would 100% want to be able to spoil his s/o bcos (inserts rant abt money insecure reid pre-s1) requested? yes ! thank u so much for the req <33 masterlist. requests are open !

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid social media au #spencer reid text fic

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goorgeousz · 3 days ago

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luther | aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!female!reader

summary: during a case you realize hotch knows you more than you imagined.

content/tw: sexism (from a captain), mentions of killing and torture, reader not liking to be vulnerable, reader flirting with hotch, hotch being protective (<3), deep subjects, fluff!!

word count: 2.8k

a/n: my requests are open! Not only for this au, and not only for hotch! i really liked how this one turned out, hope you enjoy it too <3

this is a part of a little series! you can read it as standalones but if you want some background, this is part 1 and part 2. I’m working on a masterlist asap😩

“JJ and Morgan, go to Ashley’s parent’s house. Reid and Rossi, check with the coroner. The rest come with me to the PD” Hotch announced, still on the plane after debriefing the case. The team agreed and went back to individually analyzing the case files.

A few months passed since you joined the BAU, and you already felt like you had always been there. The team was great and you bonded almost immediately.

At first, Hotch didn’t trust you fully. Not that he thought you were unqualified — he would never accept anyone but the best on his team —, but after what happened between you, he felt like he had to be even more careful. Not just because of you, but because of him too. All of his decisions — always made after a lot of pondering — had to be rethought at least twice. He feared somehow mistreating you, or even the opposite. He was scared of letting himself treat you differently because of what happened. To end up ruining your career, and obviously his too.

It only took him one case. Less than that, actually. At the very first time you worked together, on a kidnapping case in a small town in Nevada, he realized just how professional you truly were. He obviously read your resume — very obsessively so — but seeing you in action in person was a whole other story. Despite your playful and flirtatious demeanor, you didn’t let your emotions and personal beliefs influence your job — at least for the most part. On the contrary, you used them as a mechanism to improve yourself and your skills

You were tougher than you appeared to be �� never being underdressed, always with at least one red item on display. You fought tooth and nail for the team, believing truly that everything worked out in the end. You were kind, respectful, thoughtful and appreciative with everyone who crossed paths with you, what made you the perfect partner to help him deal with the public.

“Agent Hotchner?” one of the officers approached him as soon as the team arrived at the station.

“Exactly.” he shook the man’s hand, introducing you and Emily right after.

“Let me take you to the conference room, your team can stay there” he said kindly, guiding you through the bullpen.

…

Later that morning, while Emily was discussing strategies with the rest of the team, you and Hotch went to the captain’s office, who had just returned from a press conference with the public to discuss the case.

“Sir” Hotch said as soon as he stepped into the office, introducing himself and you shortly after. The captain glanced at you up and down, and winked knowingly at Hotch.

“Atta boy.” he smiled, nodding approvingly and smiling like they knew something you didn’t.

Aaron's reaction to this was the same reaction he had for everything: stoically ignoring the teasing.

“She’s extremely qualified, indeed.” he said, trying to end the subject. But before he could managed to explain his thoughts on the case, the captain interrupted him.

“And quite a view, if you know what I mean.” he winked. You were about to snap at him, but Hotch was faster.

“Graduated in forensic psychology, major in communication and experienced in sex crimes. Given the case we’re currently working on, I really don’t see anyone more qualified.” he took the lead, slightly puffing his chest and holding his chin high, proudly standing up for his team members — especially for you.

The captain just laughed, raising both hands in mock surrender “You guys can’t take a little compliment. I wonder why most agents in the sex crimes division are women.” at that you finally break.

“Take a wild guess, smarty as—” you snapped, not even bothering to mask the poison in your voice.

“Agent.” Hotch interrupted. If you didn’t know him, you would’ve missed the way the corner of his lips twitching just slightly. “Anyways, the case.” He said, finally beginning the explanation about what the team had figured out until then, questioning him about the conduct of the investigation of previous murders.

…

Moments later, the meeting with the captain going smoothly from that — without any other uncomfortable situations, for the most part —, you stopped by at the break room to grab a coffee before meeting the rest of the team.

“What a gentleman” you murmured, ironically.

“I’m sorry about him” Hotch stated, his voice gentle and apologetic, staring deeply at your eyes, so intensely it made your legs wobbly.

“Don’t be” you waved him off “But if you really want me to feel better, you should get on your knees and beg nicely. I like my man a little submissive.” You teased, winking.

He sighed, his posture not even flinching besides the very tip of his ears, that blushed adorably.

“You can’t flirt with me every time I say something that makes you uncomfortable just to make me drop it” he said, giving you a pointed look.

“I’m looking forward to see how you plan on stopping me, sir” you blinked innocently, walking past him to the conference room to gather with the rest of the team.

…

The entire team sits at the conference room, scattered across the table are notepads, case files, pictures of the victims and delivery. Hotch, JJ and Rossi were discussing suspects and family interviews. Emily and Morgan are trying to replay the unsub’s steps. You and Spencer are silently sitting across each other, rereading some files between bites.

The profile you gave to the officers repeater inside your head: ‘our unsub is a male in his middle to late twenties. He’s acting guided by his hatred towards women. He chooses his victims based on their similarities to the person object of his hate. Which means they are all a representation of who this person is to him. He’s escalating and getting more confident, which probably means it’s a matter of time until he decides to go for the main victim, the one he truly hates…’

But something didn’t sit right with you.

“There’s something wrong.” you stated, deep in thought, interrupting the team’s conversation.

“Yeah, definitely” Spencer agreed with you, raising his eyes off of the file and looking at you quizzically.

“What do you have in mind?” Emily asked, her elbows resting on the table to pay full attention to the two of you.

“Alright, look.” you started, finishing the last bite of your sandwich and throwing out the empty wrapping. Hotch silently offered you some napkins, which you accepted and used without even acknowledging it, way too focused on your train of thought “The bodies were disposed without much of a thought, not one signature or M.O, which could mean the killing wasn’t part of the plan. The bruises in their bodies show overkill, which indicates that he knew the victims and had a personal problem with them. But we haven’t found any connection between the victims.”

“The only thing in common between the four women was their personality.” Spencer continued “All of them, Ashley, Laura, Riley, and Kendall were considered angelic. Their friends and families, to describe them, used terms amongst “saint-like” “too good to be true” “kind soul”. They all engaged in charity events, were outstanding academically and considered role models inside to family and neighborhood settings.

“But just under the curtain they weren’t so perfect. Ashley was into shoplifting for fun, Laura was on drugs, Riley cheated on her boyfriend and Kendall paid other students to do her school projects. That’s probably how he chose his victims.” Morgan realized.

“Exactly. We profiled the unsub acted guided for his hatred towards women in general. But what if we got it wrong?” you suggested.

“So you don’t think they hated the victims?” Hotch asked, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “Yes and no.” you started “I don’t think that he hated them at first. The opposite actually, I think he loved them. He saw them not as the personification of his hatred, but as his loved one. He saw them and thought they were perfect, kind, educated, reserved, probably the same way he felt towards someone in particular, the true object of his fantasies. He thought he found substitutes on the victims, but it turned out they weren’t as perfect as he thought. That’s when it turned to hate.” you explained.

“Wait a second.” Spencer dialed a number on his phone, turning the call on speaker and placing it on the center of the desk.

“Yes, my beautiful genius and friend, how can I help you?”

“Garcia, I need you to find men in their mid twenties that live somewhere in the comfort zone I sent you earlier.” he asked.

“I need more than that, handsome. I got 107.”

“Eliminate the ones who work full time jobs.” Rossi suggested.

“Now we’re getting somewhere. But still, 80.”

“Eliminate the ones in relationships, or that have been in relationships in the last two years.” Hotch said, leaning closer to the phone.

“Yes, sir! Down to 43.”

“Garcia, how many of them lost a female figure in the last 3 years? Maybe a mother, a grandmother, a sister…” JJ asked.

“Only 6!”

“Send their information, please.”

“Coming, give me a moment.” she said, turning off the call without waiting for an answer.

…

“Ok, we can rule out the first one. He lost his grandmother last year, but lost contact with her 10 years ago” Rossi commented, analysing the files Garcia sent you.

“And the second one too. He lost his mother but she had drinking problems, so it doesn’t fit our profile.” Hotch said, his eyes entirely focused on the papers before him.

“Hey, guys” Emily started “Look at this one. Daniel Scott, 26, had a twin sister, Linda Scott. At school she was the prom queen, graduated with honor in Havard, straight A’s student, was very active member of the city church and engaged frequently on charity events. Died in a car crash in november, 2 years ago.

“Right when the killing started” Spencer agreed, his eyes wide open.

“We got him.” you said, the whole team standing up and getting ready to follow the address Garcia sent to your phones.

…

Hours had passed since the arrest. With the case wrapped up, the night grew late and the team gathered in silence in the jet on their way home, all of them deep in sleep.

All of them, except for you and Hotch.

You wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. After cases like that, you hardly could, with the adrenaline still high on your blood from the pressure you were under just a few hours ago. The quiet humming of the jet blended with Rossi’s snores and the music coming from Derek’s headphones – you swear to god that man’s going to end up deaf –, you stood up from your seat in front of Spencer, who laid splayed out on the empty seats, and went to the little kitchenette at the very front of the jet.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, you made some brewed coffee, the strong scent and the heat warming up your hands immediately. You insisted that the coffee you stored – at the jet, at least – was a little bit better than the one you kept at the bureau – which was straight garbage, in your opinion – and you and Rossi compromised to always keep the cabinets filled with good branded coffee. And a few candy bars and crackers. The good one, obviously.

Hotch thought it was unnecessary, but you changed his mind – by that you mean ‘made him lose his patience and give up fighting, letting you do whatever you wanted as long as he didn’t get bothered by it’ – explaining how changing to a better coffee, something you consumed multiple times a day, would improve your health and performance on the field. Also how having candy bars and good chocolate stored on the jet would help your bodies relax to not associating the jet rides only with the disturbing cases you worked on, but also with good and delicious snacks to warm your heart and soul – with those exact words. Spencer even hopped in, adding some scientific facts and research about how to improve work morale and how improving productivity was directly connected with the quality of the work environment, which honestly sealed the deal for you.

You got two cups filled to the brim with freshly brewed coffee and a few mini chocolate bars and walked quietly between your teammates, settling on the seat across from Hotch, who stared daggers to the paperwork in front of him.

“What did the poor paper do to you? Glaring at it like it’s our unsub.” you teased, placing one of the cups and three flavoured chocolates in front of him. Just then he raised his head up at you, blinking his eyes as if to adjust his eyes, which were already hurting because of the tiny little letters he head to read and reread.

“Thank you” he said, quietly. He leaned back on the seat, watching fondly you sitting in front of him, curling up against the window and covering yourself with a cheetah printed furry blanket, that you also insisted on leaving on the jet to make the place more comfortable and cozy. “This coffee is actually really good.” “You’re welcome” you winked, smirking smugly from above your own cup. He rolled his eyes, his barely-there smile making an appearance.

“Good job today.” he recognized, and before you could make a joke about how much he was praising you in the spare of 2 minutes, he asked “How did you notice?” genuinely interested, like he always did. And it made your heartbeat quicken, every. single. time.

“I can’t explain it. I just felt something was off. It didn’t add up, you know? We didn’t have any connections between the victims, so it could only be him. From that point it wasn’t hard to come to the conclusion about how he really felt. This kind of behaviour is really common in men.” you shrugged and he frowned, silently asking for you to elaborate. So you did. “It’s the same old patriarchy. The woman is raised to be the perfect housewife, her whole life just waiting for her husband to come. If she’s not chast, virgin, submissive, she’s not marriage material. Therefore, useless. And when the woman doesn’t attend to that… requirements, if you will, she turns from the object of his desires to the victim of hatred, disgust. I just applied that thesis to the profile we already had and changed what it didn’t fit.

“Very impressive.” he praised. “There’s a really good article about that. Spencer and I were discussing it a few weeks ago. If you want to, I can send it to you.” you offered, starting to actually feel shy under his attentive gaze and admiration. And to the annoyingly but persistent desire you felt under your skin every time you had any deeper interaction with him, like a little personal reminder about what you couldn’t have.

“I would love to.” “Sure.” you agreed, giving him a small smile. You sip on your coffee, grabbing the mug tightly with both hands to keep them warm.

For a few minutes you stayed like this, in a comfortable silence. You gazed at the stars shining on the dark night and him writing on the reports, stopping just to sip at his own coffee and eat the chocolates.

You felt his gaze shifter to you again, almost like your body had a motion sensor that alarmed you every time he looked at you. You stared at each other, and before you could blush or make a little joke to ease up the tension, he started to speak.

“I’m sorry for that capitan.” you grimaced with the topic. It happened three days ago, you were over it. Just as you were going to flirt with him – by saying something incredibly unhinged and inappropriate until he got so uncomfortable he had to change subject, exactly like he accused you of doing – he raised a hand, stopping you. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… I’m sorry.”

You relaxed back on your seat, shifting slightly and turning your gaze back to the widow. Hotch knew you too well. Well enough to understand that situations like this made you feel uncomfortable. You were one of the most emotionally intelligent people he’d ever met. You were strong, kind, giving, and never afraid to show your true emotions. You just didn’t like to feel weak. You dealt with victims every day, all different kinds. And although you know deep in your heart that there was nothing wrong with it, you hated feeling like one.

But as much as Hotch knew you, you knew him too. Well enough to know that he didn’t feel like that was a weakness whatsoever. He felt sorry for you, yes, but he didn’t pity you. He knows you. He sees you. And you were so beyond grateful for it.

“Yeah. Me too.”

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reidology13 · 9 days ago

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this is a state of grace

Aaron Hotchner x fem babysitter!reader - Drinks with the team

cw: fluff, a hint of angst, age gap, hotch calls reader 'sweetheart', drinking, pining, reader's hair is straight/wavy, the team is as desperate for them to get together as we are wc: 2k a/n: they're so hopelessly in love I hope they kiss one day (I'll write it guys I promise maybe)

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Aaron could come up with as many reasons as he wanted as to why he invited you out for a post-case celebration—you deserve a break from your constant hard work, he wanted you to get a second meeting of the team that didn’t involve dating accusations—but nothing that he could come up with rang true. Honestly, he just wanted to spend time with you, not in babysitter mode, but as yourself. Instead, he found himself spending time with a very drunk version of you, courtesy of a drinking game Garcia had roped you into.

“Sweetheart, please don’t.” He wrapped his hands around your waist, tucking you into his side, much to the amusement of the team.

“I want to dance.” You didn’t struggle against him, crossing your arms as you slumped into the seat, frowning up at him in annoyance. Adorable.

“Just stay with me.” He squeezed your waist gently, rubbing your side in an attempt to comfort and calm you, to keep you by his side, rather than letting you run off into the flock of drunken clubbers.

“You’re so clingy.” You groaned, dropping your head onto his shoulder as you spoke, which diminished any thoughts in his mind that you were actually annoyed. He brushed his fingers through the soft strands of your hair in the hopes that it would quiet your hushed grumbling.

“I need to keep my favourite babysitter safe.” He pulled you in closer, too distracted to notice the looks being exchanged between the others at the table with you.

“I’m your only babysitter.” You corrected, glaring at him.

“So be grateful I didn’t call you my least favourite.” Aaron couldn’t help the lazy grin that spread across his face as he spoke, unbothered by the fact that the team was there to witness it. He became bothered when they decided to disrupt the two of you, popping the bubble he had been happily residing in, and would have remained in forever if he could. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

“Aww, you two are so cute.” Garcia cooed, bringing Aaron’s attention away from you and back to his unruly team just in time to see several eyes dart away from their boss and his babysitter-who-was-just-his-babysitter-thank-you-very-much. He was also just in time to see Morgan slap Garcia on the arm with a look he presumed meant something like ‘why would you say that?’ and her returning pout that undoubtedly meant ‘because they’re cute and I know this face will make you forgive me.’ Which must have worked, because Morgan sighed, then pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head.

He gave her a warning glance, although from the lack of worry on her face he assumed his usual air of intimidation was being diminished by the way you seemed to be attempting to crawl into his lap.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He untangled his hand from your hair, relocating it to your waist alongside his other as he tried to gently redirect you back into the seat beside him, although it became apparent that you would not be so easily persuaded.

“Seat’s too warm. And sticky. Just really gross.” You fought against his efforts, struggling to stay where you were, half across his lap, one of your legs draped over his own while the other remained on the leather booth.

“The alcohol in your system is raising your internal temperature, that’s why you feel warm.” Reid piped up from across the table after a moment’s delay as he swallowed his sip of water, and you appeared to listen, pausing for a moment to ruminate on what he’d said.

“I think it’s just the seats.” You shrugged and moved again, catching Aaron off guard as you swung your other leg over both of his, then readjusted yourself so that you were delicately perched sideways on his lap. Almost immediately, you struck up a conversation with JJ, who had all of Aaron’s amusement, without his apprehension or current embarrassment. After a few more minutes of jeers and teasing remarks, he decided enough was enough, leaning in so that you could hear him over the sound of the bar.

“We should go home.” He used a hand resting on your waist to tap your back lightly, hoping you would take it as an invitation to move off of him. You didn’t, only clinging tighter to him and staunchly refusing to move.

“Aaron, I don’t want to go. I wanna dance.” So you were back at dancing again, just as insistent as before—if not more so—and he had no idea how to persuade you away from it.

“Sweetheart, it’s getting late, we don’t have time to dance.” He tried to plead, to convince you that you simply didn’t have the choice to stay, despite the bar not closing for another two hours. It must have worked, you climbed off him, landing back where you had been sitting, and slid out of the booth as Aaron sighed in relief, thinking it would be smooth sailing from there. As always, you had other ideas, and as he followed you out of the booth, you—much to the amusement of his colleagues—wrapped yourself around his arm and bargained.

“Can we dance as we leave? It won’t even slow us down.” Really, how was he supposed to say no? There wasn’t a single reason he could come up with that aligned with his previous excuses as to why dancing was off the table, and the implication that Aaron was now expected to dance alongside you was making him wish he’d just let you go earlier.

“We will be doing nothing of the sort, you can dance on the way out.” He tried to sweeten you up, prying you off of his arm and spinning you in a circle under his arm, rolling his eyes at the wolf whistles sounding from the table behind him.

“No, no-no-no-no-no, you have to dance with me.” You whined, using the hand he had spun you with to pull him away from the team, an outcome he wouldn’t say he was disappointed about. He glanced back at the table to see Prentiss winking, as Morgan mouthed ‘get some,’ and Garcia was managing to draw hearts in the air without lifting a finger. He was going to make Monday a nightmare for them.

“I’ll spin you one more time, but that’s it, okay?” He pulled you back to him, holding you close as you both walked towards the exit, only to keep you safe, of course.

“Fine.” You pouted, his gaze flickered to those soft, unfairly tempting lips that were still somehow coated in a sparkly pink gloss, despite spending the night sipping on various drinks. He supposed you must have been reapplying it every time you went to the bathroom, but you had no purse, and he couldn’t figure out where you were storing it.

“Come on.” He tore his eyes away from your lips, guilt creeping in at the corners of his mind, admonishing him with reminders of who you were and who he was.

You managed to convince him to spin you four more times on the way to the car—he would have made the world spin faster if you’d asked him to—and he watched as you flopped into the passenger seat. Tired, drunk, slightly dizzy. It was a deadly combination that had knocked you out within minutes, your head lolling against the window with a soft ‘thud’ that made Aaron wince each time.

It was just past one when he parked his car in the driveway, gently shaking you awake, “Hey, sweetheart, I need you to get up for me.”

You mumbled something unintelligible, and Aaron decided he shouldn’t have woken you up in the first place as he carried your almost limp body into the house. The only noticeable difference to if you were unconscious was the pressure of your arms wrapped around his neck.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He murmured in your ear when you started to show clear signs of distress at the loss of one of his arms that kept you from falling. He had the door open a moment later, without dropping you, which you had clearly been nervous about. The door swung closed behind him, and he quickly disarmed the alarm before taking you to your room. Your door was slightly ajar, so all he had to do was push it open with his hip and carry you in.

He cupped the back of your neck as he sat down on the bed, tenderly lowering you onto the mattress beside him, “I need to leave for a minute, is that okay?”

“No, don’t leave, I don’t want you to go.” Those sad eyes almost had him staying, but he had to lock up the house, because the thought of you getting hurt was unbearable, and he would take your momentary disappointment if it kept you safe.

“I’ll be back before you know it, sweetheart.” He adjusted you to lie more comfortably against the pillows, “There we go, good job.”

When the fight was successfully coaxed out of you, he returned to the entryway, securing the locks and alarm before heading to the bathroom. He found your makeup wipes, the spare pack you kept at his house for the many nights you stayed over, before returning to your room.

You were fast asleep, and this time Aaron couldn’t bring himself to wake you. Sitting beside you, he tried to put his weight down gradually to keep the dip of the mattress from being sudden enough to disturb your slumber. He pulled one of the damp wipes out, distinctly familiar after years of baby wipes, he wondered if that was why you used them instead of anything else. Maybe they were just ‘in,’ and Aaron needed to stop overthinking things.

He rolled you onto your back, closely watching your face for any signs that your sleep wasn’t as deep as it seemed and finding none, your demeanour as peaceful as ever. He brushed your hair out of your face, replacing it with the wipe, softly swiping it over your skin, each pass bringing with it your foundation, blush, the sparkly eyeshadow you’d insisted on wearing for a night out, and that had thoroughly dazzled him.

When no more came off, Aaron took another wipe in hand, one final pass over to make sure that none was left. He stood up just as slowly as he’d sat down, taking a step away from the bed before he allowed himself to look at you. You were as breath-takingly beautiful as ever, so calm in your sleep, and he thought he might have seen a slight smile dance across your face, indicative of a nice dream. For a moment, he let himself imagine waking up to that kind smile, those bright eyes watching him from the space on his bed that would no longer be empty.

He stepped out of the room before he could think any more, before he started to truly feel like a creep. But not before one last look at the space you had built around yourself—the candles on your nightstand, the posters of your favourite artists on the walls, the framed photo of you and Jack—so completely yours, he’d ceased calling it the guest room years ago. You made the space brighter, all the little touches of you in the house were like rays of sunshine through the clouds on a gloomy day. Something that you’d baked and left in the fridge, a necklace forgotten by the sink, his house may as well have been yours. He wished he was, too.

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tysm for reading!!

Tags: @reidmoony-toast @selmasdaydreams @khxna - Comment to be added <3

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peanutalergy · 1 month ago

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stray cat ꨄ s.r. × reader

in which spencer reid sneaks into fem!reader's room at night

tags: high school au !! no explicit content duh ? tooth rotting fluff in a brain rottingly terrible written way, reader is a cheerleader and like a popular girl ? idk I'm a sucker for the popular × nerd trope; not canon accurate obviously because if it were spencer would be twelve and bullied by everyone; mentions of blood and cuts and weapons and getting hurt but not in the way you might think ..?; reader's dad is mentioned ? yeah anyway idk what else sorry

w/c: 2k (this was meant to be a blurb ?)

a/n: okay so I found this draft from last year (back when I was still in hs (r.i.p.)) and I decided to finish it because it seemed cute. turned out terrible I hate it whatever, it's very ooc idk sorry ALSO inspired by a situation I lowkey went through myself hence why there's things spencer would never say/do, sorry

you’re sitting in bed with your computer atop your thighs, stressing over the third essay you have to finish by the weekend, when you hear a noise coming from outside. you ignore it, at first, thinking it's just a raccoon or a stray cat, until you hear a very human grunt from right beneath the window. immediately, you jump to grab the small—and frankly, quite useless—knife that you always keep in your bedside drawer in case of an intrusion or something of the sort.

you pull out your phone, contemplating dialing 911, until you see spencer's head pop up at the window. putting down the "weapon", you run across the room to open it, laughing confusedly as your boyfriend stumbles in. you help him inside, taking his hand in yours, which he holds onto like he might fall right now from right here.

you open your mouth, but he starts mumbling breathlessly before you even get the chance to say anything.

“i don't know what i was thinking, i’m never doing that again. i don't think just reading the stealthy guide to climbing roofs was enough, i mean, the writer didn't even take into consideration everything that could've went wrong. do you know how many terrible things could have happened? i could have fallen and broken my neck, someone could've seen me and called the police, or– doesn't your dad have a shotgun? do you think he heard me? god, i'm all dirty, i’ve got leaves all over me, i don't–”

you press a quick kiss to his lips, the most effective way you've found to shut him up. when you pull away, he's frozen, trying to catch his breath, cheeks rosy from the physical exercise–something he doesn't usually engage in–and from your touch, as well.

“what are you doing here?”

“sorry…” he mumbles, staring down at his fingers as they fidget with the sleeves of his cardigan, “i wanted to see you. did i wake you up?”

“oh, baby” you giggle, patting away the dirt and leaves from his body gently, “don't apologize, i'm glad you're here. i wasn't asleep, don't worry. you scared me, though. i thought someone was breaking in.”

“oh, i'm sorry, i didn't want to scare you, i’m really sorry. i should've called you.”

“no, don't worry. it's okay. it’s a nice surprise.”

“yeah…?” he asks, glancing up at you hesitantly.

“mhm.” you nod before taking his face in your hands. he tilts his head, leaning into your touch, similar to an animal who wants to be pet, but doesn’t know how to ask for it. you chuckle and give him another kiss, your fingers moving up and tangling in his hair.

“why did you go through the window, though? you could've just knocked on the door, my dad doesn't have a shotgun. he's a sweet little old man, he would've let you in just fine.”

“i don't know, i was scared. i'm sorry.” he says shyly. he's blushing furiously, heart almost jumping out of his ribcage, and it doesn't have anything to do with the adrenaline from the climb anymore.

“no, it's okay. you're fine, it's fine. are you hurt, though?”

“i- uh, i hurt my hands a bit, but it's nothing major, i’ll be fine.”

“aw, you poor thing. lemme see.” he looks down at his palms, and you take them in your hands to see they're all scraped, red and raw, blood mixing with some of the dirt. “jesus, spence. we should get that cleaned up, no?”

“no, no, it's fine. we– it's okay, we don't need to, i'll be fine.” he tries to pull his hands away, but your grip on his wrists doesn't let him, and he lets out a shaky exhale.

“hm, no, c'mon, that's gonna get infected or something. then your hands will get necrosis and fall off. do you want your hands to fall off, baby?”

he shakes his head, and you can tell he's holding back a chuckle, “well, that– that's not really how necrosis works, but–”

“no, it is, shut up.” you cut him off and give him a playful nudge, “please, just a few band-aids?”

he looks at you reluctantly, and after a second, he sighs and finally nods, “sure. but just because you're worried. i wouldn't get necrosis either way.”

you giggle and press your lips to his again. as you pull away and walk to the closet, you point to your bed and mumble, “go sit down,” which he does immediately, settling awkwardly at the edge of it.

while you search for the first aid kit, you notice spencer looking around your room with a smile. he's been here a few times before, but never at night, and he finds awe in the way the moonlight reflects off a mirrorball that sits on your desk, and the way your posters look when the only other source of lighting comes from a few vanilla scented candles.

it’s actually quite ironic how much you two fit together. no one would have to look at you twice before guessing your interests, and they'd be right if they were to say things like pop music and cheesy 2010s romcoms; but there's a side of you, a side only spencer reid has ever met, that matches him perfectly.

after a while, you walk back to the bed, little box in hands, and you sit down on the ground in front of him, looking up at him with a smile.

“please, don't sit on the floor.” he murmurs as you settle between his legs.

“why not? it's clean.” you mumble as you start rummaging through the first aid kit.

“no, but, you're– this is– just… it'll hurt your back.”

“it won't, though, don't worry.” you give him a smile, and before he can protest again, you put out your hands, “gimme.”

he gives you his wrists once more, where you hold as you begin gently wiping his palms with antiseptic. he winces at first, and tries to hold back a noise so as to not worry you even more.

“what were you thinking about?” you ask. he answers with a hm?, that makes you say it again, “when i got back. you looked like you were thinking about something.”

“oh, just… your room.”

“what about it?”

“it's so… you. i mean, the space in which one lives does tend to be a reflection of themselves, but… it's like you took everything that makes you yourself, and you spread it all around the place. it's adorable... like you.” he mumbles awkwardly.

you chuckle, looking around the room, glancing at him, then turning your attention back to his hands. this time, when the wipe touches his raw skin again, he hisses. “ooh, sorry, that hurt? i’m sorry, baby. i’m trying to be gentle, i swear.”

he shakes his head. “no, you're being gentle–” very gentle, more than anyone had ever been to him before, “–it's just the alcohol. it- uh… alcohol molecules activate the same nerve receptors in your skin that let you know hot is hot, so it burns. it's chemical. you're being very gentle, don't worry, it's not you.”

you hum, smiling and nodding, before you both go quiet. he's staring down at you as you work, brows furrowed as you concentrate on his hands. “y'know, i could've done this myself,” he mumbles.

“mm, yeah, well, we could do it all by ourselves. we'd be miserable, though, no?”

he's quiet for a second, thinking about a way to deny that, but when he can't find one, he just mutters a soft yeah and goes silent again.

scared of the situation getting too awkward, he starts rambling on about his day, telling you all things he believes you’d find interesting as you listen and nod and hum along and laugh. it's like he doesn't notice the words coming out of his mouth when they do, “i missed you at school today.”

“oh, i’m sorry, honey. i, uh– i wanted to talk to you at lunch, but, i– i wasn't sure you'd want to see me. i don't know, i didn't know if you'd want to be around the girls, and they wouldn't leave me alone, so... i didn't want to make you uncomfortable.” you say, looking at him between placing band-aids.

“of course i would've wanted to see you. yeah, your friends are… a lot. i think they don't really like me. but i don't mind being around them, if it means being around you.”

“no, they like you. don't worry about that, they like you."

“they sure have a strange way of showing it”

“yeah, well, they're– they look a bit, like, uhm… mean girls, but they're not. they're nice. they're just a bit... vain and shallow.”

“vain and shallow usually means mean girls.” he whispers with a chuckle.

“nah, not really. just means boring. to be fair, you're much cooler than them.” you answer with another laugh, to which he shakes his head in disbelief, right as you finish bandaging his hands.

you place two gentle kisses to his palms, which you can notice makes his breath hitch a little, and you put the kit to the side. you shuffle closer to him and tilt your head, resting it on his knee and smiling up at him, “i missed you, too.”

he nods and tucks a strand of your hair behind an ear, his touch lingering at your jaw. there's another moment of quiet, in which you just stare at each other, grinning. he looks at you and touches you almost as if you're not real, almost as if he's convinced this isn't actually happening.

he can't help but be fascinated by the intimacy of this moment. a few months ago, he had never even been looked at for more than a few seconds, and now he's doing staring contests with the captain of the cheerleading team, in her room, at night.

sure, the people at school still see him as a loser, but that doesn't matter to him. all he cares about is you. you're here, holding and taking care of him, looking at him like he's worth something. that's all that matters right now.

“hi.” you break the silence, though barely, your voice a quiet whisper.

“hi.” he whispers back with a smile, “please, will you get up from the floor…?”

you chuckle and stand up again, him being sat allowing you to press a kiss on his forehead while your fingers run through his hair. when you do so, he wraps his arms around your legs and burrows his face into your stomach, letting out a noise, almost a purr as he nuzzles against you like a kitten.

after a while, he pulls his head away to look around the room again, and his gaze falls on the laptop that had been sitting in your bed this whole time, the essay abandoned. "when is that due?"

"history class on friday."

"i could help you with it, if you want."

"no, no, no, you don't have to. don't worry. i'll get it done... sometime." you say with a chuckle.

he nods–he woke up the next morning and finished it for you while you got ready–and hides his face back in your shirt.

“are you sleeping over?” you ask, and it makes him lift up his head to look at you once more.

“can i?” he mutters reluctantly, “i don't want your parents to wake up, and see– y'know… a boy in your bed. and we've got school tomorrow, so…”

“do you want to sleep over?”

“mhm” he hums with a nod, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your shirt.

“my parents won't mind, then.”

“are you sure? i mean, teenagers are–” he starts rambling again, and you shut him up with another kiss.

“my parents won't mind.” you repeat after pulling away, leaving another peck on his nose, “and we can just skip school tomorrow. it’s gonna be boring, anyway. we don't even have any classes together. we can spend the whole day here, yeah?”

“okay, yeah.” he mumbles under his breath, trying not to look too nervous.

you smile and lie down on the bed. he immediately follows suit and curls up next to you, face buried in your chest, arms around your waist, leaning into your touch and clinging to you like you'll be gone if he lets go. “i love you,” he whispers, his warm breath against your skin sending tingles down your spine.

“i love you” you whisper back, placing yet another kiss on the crown of his head. it's not long after you start running your hands through his hair that he falls asleep.

and in the end, you realize that, in a sense, it actually was a stray cat at your window.

#fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #fluff #high school au #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #love u #🐁

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hoe4hotchner · 1 month ago

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Retirement | [A.H]

Pairing: Retired!Aaron Hotchner x Fem!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: Nothing but cuteness

A/N: Don't worry, Hotch is not an old man he's like late 50's early 60's in this based on Jack being in college ;)

The porch was bathed in the golden light from the afternoon sun, casting long shadows across the wooden planks. The gentle creak of the rocking chair kept rhythm with the distant hum of cicadas, a sound that had become so familiar it felt like part of the air itself.

A soft breeze carried the scent of summer—freshly cut grass, the lingering sweetness of honeysuckle climbing the trellis, and the faint, smoky remnants of the firewood stacked near the house.

You leaned against Hotch’s chest, his arms loosely draped around your waist, fingers idly tracing patterns on your bare legs. The warmth of him seeped into you. You let out a content sigh, snuggling further into his chest.

It had been six months since he left the BAU. Six months of long walks through the countryside, of mornings spent in bed with no reason to rush, of rediscovering a man who had spent years sacrificing himself for the safety of others.

At first, the transition had been difficult. Aaron had been hesitant, unsure of who he was outside of the job, as though his identity had been stitched together by the cases, the late nights, the endless chase of justice.

He had been restless, waking up at odd hours as though his body still expected the call of duty. Some nights, you had found him on the porch, staring into the darkness, lost in thought. And other's you had found him sitting in the kitchen, his phone open on either JJ or Emily's contact in his phone, debating whether he should check in and see how everything was going without him.

But in this almost sanctuary you had built together, he had begun to unravel—layer by layer, breath by breath. The sharp edges of stress had softened, the lines around his mouth no longer weighed down by exhaustion. He still carried the past with him, no doubt he'd always have it with him, but it no longer defined him.

Your legs stretched over his lap, the warmth of his hands resting against your skin. His thumb brushed absentmindedly over your knee, and you smiled, closing your eyes as the wind tousled your hair.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, edged with that lingering gravel that had always made your stomach flip.

You hummed in response. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

You tilted your head back, meeting his eyes. The sunlight hit them just right, turning the brown into something lighter, warmer. “How much I love you.”

His lips twitched, a ghost of a smile appearing as he squeezed your thigh. “You always get sentimental when we sit out here.”

“Can you blame me?” you teased, running your fingers through the graying strands at his temple. “Look at this. It’s peaceful. I never thought we’d have something like this.”

He exhaled, long and slow. “Neither did I.”

There was something about the way he said it, the weight behind the words, that made your chest tighten. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “Are you happy, Aaron?”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his gaze soft but intent. “More than I ever thought possible.”

You kissed his shoulder, letting the moment stretch, settling into the quiet contentment that came so easily now.

You tilted your head slightly against him, voice soft as you asked, "How's Jack?"

Aaron exhaled, a small, fond smile pulling at his lips as he continued tracing patterns against your skin. "I talked to him yesterday," he said, his voice warm with pride. "He sounds happy. Settling into college well, making friends. He even mentioned joining an intramural soccer team."

Your smile widened at that. "That’s wonderful. He always did love playing." You recalled the games Aaron had invited you to when Jack was only a young boy

Hotch nodded, the tension he once carried about Jack leaving for college no longer evident in his expression. "He said his classes are challenging but interesting. And he likes his professors."

You ran your fingers gently along his arm, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek. "He’s thriving, then. Just like you wanted."

Aaron let out a quiet chuckle. "Just like we wanted. He’s got a good head on his shoulders. I think Haley would be proud."

You squeezed his hand, understanding the weight of his words. "She would be. You’ve raised a good man, Aaron."

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, silent gratitude passing between you. You let the moment settle between you, filled with warmth and love.

A rustling sound caught your attention, and when you glanced to the side, a small smile pulled at your lips. “Aaron,” you whispered, nudging him lightly. “Look.”

He followed your gaze, and there, across the wooden railing of the porch, a handful of ladybugs had gathered, their tiny, spotted bodies crawling along the grain of the wood. One took flight, landing on your outstretched hand.

Hotch chuckled. “Looks like you’re a favorite today.”

You watched the little insect as it wandered across your palm. “You know, my grandmother used to say ladybugs were good luck.”

“Did she?” He tilted his head, watching as another landed near his wrist. “Mmhm.” You met his eyes, a teasing glint in yours. “I think it’s a sign.” He arched a brow. “Of what?”

“That this—” you gestured around you, at the house, the land, the life you had built together— “was always meant to be.”

His expression softened. He brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss against your fingers. “I don’t need a sign to know that.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the only sounds the distant chirping of birds, the whisper of leaves rustling in the breeze, and the steady rise and fall of Aaron’s breath. He had a way of making the world feel smaller, simpler—of making you feel like the only thing that mattered.

“Jack texted earlier by the way,” he murmured after a moment, remembering something he had forgotten to tell you when you asked about him. “Said he wants to come up next weekend.”

Your heart warmed at the mention of a visit. “That sounds perfect. Maybe we can take him fishing.”

Hotch’s lips quirked. “You still think you can out-fish me?”

You grinned. “Oh, I don’t think—I know.”

He chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest. “We’ll see about that.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink, you leaned back against him, letting the moment settle deep into your bones.

The world felt softer here, free of the chaos and darkness that had once consumed so much of your lives.

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seasprincess · 7 days ago

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Unsub!Spencer reid x reader

An au where Spencer Reid is like Joe goldberg from the series ‘You’

warnings-suggestive language, smut, use of y/n, mentions of drugging, spencer’s thoughts written in ‘’, misogyny linked through out, probably more

wc:2.4k

this is part 1

Spencer Reid is not a psycho. He’s not some creep like the other men in this world. No. He’s caring because he’s doing all this for you because he loves you. He wants to prove to you that he loves you.

Ever since that day you came into his bookstore looking out of place, gliding through the aisles like a goddamn angel. You were so beautiful as you looked over the books and actually taking the time to appreciate them. Most of the people who come in here don’t care about the books. Just here to take a quick selfie for their instagram to show that they are so mysterious and read. Of course Spencer hates that crowd. He’s always trying to avoid them as much as possible. He’d rather be reserved and by himself. But you, oh you. He wants to be around you.

And from the moment you walked up to the counter with the book ‘The narrative of John Smith’ he knew you were made for him. Sent to him by whatever god or angel that is watching over him. A blessing.

You both chatted about the author, you actually knew the author. Spencer couldn’t stop watching you. Watching the way your hair falls so perfectly as you laugh at one of his stupid jokes that would usually earn some weird looks. But you understood the joke. ‘Oh you are perfect.’ One of his thoughts.

And you flirted with him. He knows you flirted with him. He’s not crazy. He knows he’s not crazy. He’s a man in love that will do whatever he needs to to show you. To show you you are his and he is yours.

He’s not confident enough to outright ask you for your number. The whole idea to him is forehand and terrifying.

But when you got out your bank card to pay his eyes flickered down to see your name. And the stuff he can find with just a name.

Of course he researched you when he got home. He isn’t a fan of social media. Why would someone want to showcase a fake life to a bunch of followers that they didn’t even know? The whole idea was just not appealing to him. But he is thankful that it is too you.

He can find out so much about you. All the embarrassing college memories, all the things you like, what you did on the 21st of May five years ago. Not that he will probably need that information but he can always ask you about the family holiday you went on.

He found out your relationships with your family, your friends, where you liked to hang out with said ‘friends’. He knows all about them too, and he can tell it’s not your crowd. You’re a girl who likes books, likes to write, likes dorky little things. And they. Well they’re just loud mouthed rich party girls who are certainly not good enough. But you have to fit in. You think you have to lower yourself to fit in with them. ‘Oh Y/n, you don’t have to be different with me. You can be yourself with me.’

Your social media portrays different sides of you. Facebook isn't as active as the others. You’re gen z of course it wouldn’t be. But instagram? Oh he’s had fun with your instagram.

A bikini photo of you that you posted in 2021. You look so beautiful he can’t stop staring. His eyes roaming all over your curves and your tits. Oh your tits. He’s a fan to say the least. The thoughts he’s had about them.

Spencer can’t help but get hard as he looks at it. He just can’t stop looking at you and all your photos. Who needs porn when he can stare at photos of you and use that imagination of his?

He usually ends up here. Sat at his desk staring at his laptop screen. stroking his cock as he imagines you kissing him, sinking down on him as you moan his name.

It’s not weird. He’s not weird. He’s your soulmate.

Spencer stands by a tree, trying to appear as normal as possible. His hat and dark clothes allowing him to blend in. He’s trying to make his presence minimal as he looks through the windows. He knows this is okay for him to do, but if you or someone else saw. No one would understand that he’s doing it because he loves you.

It’s late. The sky dark and filled with stars. If only you could properly see them without all this air pollution. But that’s a rant that Spencer will just have to go on another day.

There’s a light. It is a distant street light. Of course it’s blinking every so often. He lives in one of the most famous cities in the world, the big apple, but they can’t afford street lamps that actually work. ‘Typical.’ He thinks to himself before sighing. But all his annoyance melts away as he sees you.

Spencer’s eyes are locked on you as he watches you walk around your apartment in just an oversized shirt and panties.

‘Oh come on Y/n. Walking around in that with the curtains open? Any creep could be watching you. You’re lucky I’m here.’ Spencer thinks to himself. Eyes scanning for anybody that appears to be a threat to you. But all there is is no one. Just you and him. You, and him.

Spencer’s watches as you get changed. Into some small dress that he is definitely going to have to fight some men away from you. ‘Oh you don’t make things easy for me, do you love?’

You’re going out. He can guess that much. The make up, the outfit. You’re going clubbing.

Spencer is not a fan of clubbing the same way he is not a fan of social media. He thinks it’s all stupid. Why would anybody want to be up close and personal with a bunch of sweaty strangers who are dancing like imbeciles. No. It’s not his scene. But if you’re going. So is he. I mean he can’t let you go to one of the places many people are attacked at alone can he? As your soulmate he has to protect you, to watch you. Keep you safe. Safe from the world he knows is willing to hurt you.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts as he hears the door slam shut. His gaze once again falling onto you and how good you looked. The way your breasts are on show from the low cut in the dress. Oh he’s definitely going to be using his eidetic memory to recall this image when he’s alone later. The way they bounce up and down as you walk down the stairs towards what he can only presume is an uber.

Looks like Spencer is going clubbing.

The music is pounding, lights all around the room that would give any regular person a headache. And they have. Spencer.

He’s sat in a corner, out of the way of everyone. He does not want to interact with people. He’s only here to protect you. To watch you.

The heat of the place giving him slight discomfort, he’s not exactly dressed for this place. No, he’s dressed to blend in to the streets of New york. To keep himself warm in the night breeze and not to be in some place that quite frankly might be his hell. ‘Oh Y/n, the things i’m going to have to do for you.’

He watches you dance. Watching how you move so easily and still look so fucking attractive. He knows if he tried he’d look like an idiot. He’d end up embarrassing himself and most likely falling over.

But you. Oh you move so effortlessly he’s actually getting lost in the way you move.

The way you’re laughing and smiling with your friends. He can’t wait to be the one to make you laugh like that. Laugh the same way you did at his stupid joke. He’s never felt love like this. He’s never felt his heart swell and feel so full the way it does when he looks at you. You’re so-

‘Hang on. Who’s this?’ Spencer watches as some guy comes up to you. It doesn’t take a genius to see he’s flirting with you. He’s the opposite of Spencer, all muscular and probably can’t tell his left from his right. And he’s definitely a dick. Spencer can tell he’s a dick. That stupid smile, that look in-

‘Are you flirting too?’ Spencer’s eyes narrowed as he watched your hands on this guy's arm. Why is your hand on his arm?

Maybe you’re just being nice. Maybe you’re just trying to be polite. He can only hope.

If looks could kill, this jock would be 20 feet in the ground and have died a horrific death.

Spencer has been staring him down for the past thirty minutes. Watching you two talk, dance and get way too handsy for his liking. He hates having to see another guy touch you. Only he should touch you like that. He’s actually radiating jealousy. His whole body can feel it. Anger pumping through his veins. He has to sort this out right? He has to stop this guy from taking advantage of you.

Spencer watches you like a hawk as you head off to what he can presume is the bathroom. So as you leave his sight for the first time this evening his eyes fall upon the jerk standing at the bar. Ordering drinks for the pair of you.

Of course he orders the cheapest there is for you.

‘Y/n you deserve so much better than this.’

The guy is joined by some friends, all greeting each other the typical frat boy way even if they are in their late twenties. Morons.

Spencer glides through the crowd. Not wanting to draw attention to himself. He just wants to listen to this douchebag's conversation with his so-called ‘bros’.

“Dude for real she’s all over me. I’m so getting pussy tonight!” He exclaims to his friends which of course doesn’t sit well with Spencer. You’re so much more than a fuck. You’re a smart, talented, beautiful woman who deserves nothing but the best. He knows about your exs, having stalked their socials to make sure he’s perfect for you. That he’s nothing like them. Not that he is anyway. God he has multiple PhDs and they were lucky enough to have even got into college with their grades.

As you return from the bathroom and his frat bros disappear into the club somewhere he decides enough is enough.

This guy is not touching you. This waste of air is not going anywhere near his girl. His soulmate.

“I’m just gonna go piss I’ll meet you outside.” Frat boy says before heading off. Leaving you to make your own way outside. You look uncomfortable, he knows you’re uncomfortable. So he’s going to save you.

He’s going to save you from a night of regret.

Before he can think anymore Spencer follows the guy, following him into the bathroom before he ‘accidentally’ bumps into him.

“Oh man, I’m sorry.” Spencer says before looking at the guy. His chest covered in the liquid from Spencer’s drink.

“You should watch where you’re going bro.” He’s not pleased to say the least. I mean who would be if they’ve just been covered in alcohol?

Spencer scans his surroundings like some spy as his hand slips into his pocket. All the stalls are empty, it’s just them. Him and his current number one enemy.

“Yeah absolutely.” Spencer’s eyes flick back to the guy. Scanning them for a moment before deciding to waste no more time.

He pulls out a needle and stabs him in the neck, quick and fast. The guy can’t even cry out or defend himself before it takes effect. Slowing down everything in his body.

Spencer has to hold him up as he guides him back out and through the crowd. To anybody looking it will look like two guys and one of them has drank way too much.

He has to chuckle and make light conversation with all the clubbers which does not please him but does help his facade.

The cold air hits both of their faces as they exit the building, having to go through a different exit to not be seen but you.

But now he faces another problem.

He has a practically unconscious mumbling man hanging off his arm. The lengths he’s going to go for you apparently have no line he won’t cross.

But to avoid this asshole saying anything when he’s back to consciousness. He has two options.

Kill him, kidnap him.

And seeing as you’re right round the corner waiting for a man that is never going to come. He decides that he can’t miss this opportunity.

He didn’t like killing him. No. It wasn’t enjoyable. But it had to be done. The man was a misogynistic prick. Who was also carrying drugs. Drugs he may have put in your drink. So Spencer is helping out really. One less prick.

As he was a bit pushed for time and in an alley he had to be quick. Stabbing him repeatedly, making sure to not leave any fingerprints and that no cameras were there. Good job Spencer is a smart man and enjoys crime shows.

His disposal wasn’t great either. But he didn’t have many options.

So a bin will have to do. Worst comes to worst he’ll have to come back and move the prick. This guy is just causing issues like he did when he was alive.

But right now all he needs to do is go find you.

As he turned the corner he had seen you. Poor you waiting for that guy to come meet you.

‘You look so good Y/n. You should be waiting for me. Matter of fact I’d never let you wait.’

Spencer’s having to sike himself up to go talk to you. He has a habit of embarrassing himself and he really didn’t want to do that with you. He refuses to do that with you. But the way you two were in the shop. It was so comfortable. So…right.

He had finally reached the stage of being able to head towards you. The nerves will never leave but this is the calmest he thinks he’s going to get.

His feet move before his head. Walking towards you. Palms sweating. Heart pounding.

But before he can reach you, you slip away. Getting in a taxi.

You’re out of his reach and gone.

He’ll just have to wait.

a/n: this is a different style of writing that i’m not sure if i like it. Part 2 will be coming soon.

#unsub spencer reid #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #agent spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #criminal minds au #spencer reid au #spencer reid fic

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strawbeerossi · 2 years ago

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Trapped In A SUV

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Unit Chief!Spencer Reid

Description: Whenever you and Spencer are on the way to investigate the house of a suspected unsub, the SUV breaks down in the middle of nowhere. It’s a shame that you are both practically cooking in the Texas heat.

Content/Warnings: Case matter but nothing specific, extreme heat, undressing, Spencer is a bit of a pervert, car sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 1.6K

Kinktober Day Thirteen: Car Sex

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

The sound of the engine completely blowing out had you groaning softly as the smoke was coming from the hood of the car. In hindsight, you two probably shouldn’t have left in such a hurry in the first car you could get your hands on. However with a search warrant to search the house of a suspected unsub who you’ve been hunting for days, there was no time to waste.

Until you were stuck on the side of the road, your hand shielding your eyes from the harsh sun as Spencer tugged open the SUV’s hood to be met with a black cloud of smoke. “Jesus,” He muttered, using his hand to waft away the evidence of a vehicle that needed urgent repair. “We are stuck here until someone can pick us up.” You filled in the unit chief as you frowned softly. “Emily said that they had a lead when I was texting her. They will be here whenever they can get here..”

“Of course. That’s just our luck isn’t it.” The male pursed his lips as he pushed the hood shut. “We should get back in the car before we melt out here.” You commented, already feeling beads of sweat forming from the blistering heat.

“We won’t melt but it’s a good idea. The engine isn’t too far gone to the point we won’t have AC. I’m trying to avoid a heat stroke.” Spencer spoke while heading to the drivers side while you had returned to the passenger seat. The blow of the air wasn’t as strong as you preferred it to be but you counted your blessings, you could’ve been stranded and left to cook in the heat.

“Well. I guess you and I are on our own.” He murmured, his gaze on you while his eyes were widening as he watched you work to unbutton your shirt. “What? I’m sweating my ass off. It’s not like I’m getting completely naked.” You stated, now moving to shrug the button up off of your shoulders and tossing it to the side. “You’ve seen a woman in a bra, I’m sure.” You muttered while leaning back against the seat.

His golden eyes were focused on your chest once your eyes were closing, the swell of your breasts being eye-catching in the black bra. It was like they were threatening to spill over the lace. His cheeks were bright red as he noticed a bead of sweat trail down your chest as it rose and fell steadily from your breathing.

He could feel his pants tighten, constricting his hardening cock as he gazed at your body. As he was so focused though, he hadn’t noticed your eyes opening or the fact that he caught you. The hungry look on his face had you intrigued. You didn’t expect for him to be watching you so intently, to have to look as if he was holding himself back from touching your bare skin. “Would you mind if I took my pants off too? I’m burning up here.”

“W-what? I mean, if it’ll be comfortable go ahead..” His voice was at a higher pitch, feeling caught as he was bringing his hands up to loosen his tie.

“You know that you can shed some clothes too, right? I highly doubt the team will judge us.” You suggested, biting back a smirk of amusement while Spencer was letting out a squeak in response. “I don’t know.” He began, his own body going against him as his hands were moving to undo the buttons on his shirt. Waiting for the rest of the team was gonna be fun, at least.

After both of you were stripped down, it was like Spencer was desperately avoiding your gaze, his face cherry red. This was a lot. He wasn’t actually thinking that anything but embarrassment would come out of even attempting to look at your body again. You obviously caught him staring.

You’d turned up the air the best you could, leaning forward. With a moan of satisfaction at the coolness hitting your skin, you turned your head to face Spencer for a reaction. His body was frozen in place as he kept his gaze out the windshield, the smoke coming out of the hood less than it was earlier. The moan was enough to make him shift uncomfortably from his throbbing cock in his pants.

“Hey,” You began while leaning over the console separating you both, offering a smile. “What are you thinking about?” You mused, knowing all too well what you were doing as you were squeezing your arms together slightly, making your tits push up in the bra you had on.

“I-I was just thinking of how, uh, hot it is outside.” And here. Jesus.

“You’re so red, oh, Spence..” You gave a faux pout while bringing a hand up to pat his cheek, thumb running over his skin. Spencer felt like he was going to have a heart attack. This was a lot to handle and you seemed to be eating up every reaction. “I’m fine..” He spoke softly while leaning into your touch.

What happened next happened in a flash, you pushed yourself over the small barrier between you both before you were settled in his lap. The man’s face was red, eyes widened and mouth agape in shock as your clothed cunt was brushing over the very obvious bulge in his underwear.

“I knew it! You were looking at me!” You laughed in victory, hands moving to rest against his shoulders once his long arm was scrambling to push the car seat back to make sure that you were comfortable without having to be shoved against the steering wheel.

“Can you blame me? You practically got naked without needing any prompting.” Spencer found his voice again as he was bringing his hands to rest against your hips, thumbs running over your soft skin. “Plus.. You look so gorgeous, I can’t help it.”

“Spencer.” You gush, nudging his shoulder while you offer a smile. It was your turn to feel your cheeks heat up from the compliment. “”Well.. I can assist you with getting rid of your… Issue.” You wiggled your eyebrows while moving to test the waters of rolling your hips against his, his breath hitching as he let his head tilt against the leather seat. “God, yeah, okay. I’ll bite. Help me out here.” He chuckled, his hands squeezing your hips while you leaned down to press your lips against his in a soft kiss.

As your lips were slotting against one another, Spencer was in a frenzy to get your panties pulled to the side before letting his finger swipe through your folds and brush against your clit, grinning at the gasp muffled into his mouth. You were pulling from the kiss to lift your hips, using your hands to squeeze the tent in his boxers to elicit a groan before getting his cock out of his boxers. “I hate to rush this but I don’t think I can wait any longer.” The both of you were in agreement as Spencer’s hands were grabbing a handful of your ass before you were aligning his swollen tip with your leaking cunt and sinking yourself down.

Both of your groans mixed in the SUV, your ass hitting the front of his thighs as you gave yourself a moment to get adjusted. You could feel every curve, every vein as your cunt was welcoming the intrusion. Letting your hips roll at a slow pace, you were bringing your hands to grip his shoulders.

“Does it feel good? Bet you’ve wanted to do this for years. You like fucking your boss while on the job?” Spencer’s words caused a moan to rip from your throat. “What about you? Fucking your subordinate because you couldn’t keep your eyes to yourself?” You spoke back while Spencer chuckled. “You had your tits out, I’m a man. We are pretty notorious to have an attraction to the female physique.” He chuckled.

“Fair enough,” you spoke softly while continuing with your movements, getting into a good rhythm that was eventually disturbed by the male thrusting upwards, your pussy swallowing his thick cock with no issue.

“Fuck, don’t stop.” You cursed, the windows fogging over from the actions inside as a thin layer of sweat was spreading over both of your bodies, the smell of sex starting to fill the SUV, the vehicle rocking at a steady pace as you both were wrapped up in your rendezvous.

As you fucked like rabbits, you were leaning down to press your lips against his once more. You never thought of having sex with him in a car before, mainly because you always believed it would’ve been different. Maybe after being put together in the same hotel room or the both of you letting out pent up stress in Spencer’s office.

“I’m gonna cum.” Spencer warned, voice husky as he let out a deep groan at the way your velvety walls were clenching around him, his cock twitching inside of you. “Ah!” He panted, a bruising grip on your hips as he roughly thrusted upwards, damn near making your head hit the roof of the car.

The sheer force behind each thrust was enough to have your body trembling, your head falling onto his shoulder as you let out a soft cry of his name, teeth biting down onto his shoulder as your creamy cum was rolling down his cock. He wasn’t deterred, instead now groaning as he couldn’t help but follow right behind. You could feel his cum gush inside of your cunt, eyes fluttering shut as you clutched his shoulders as your partially clothed bodies were pressed against one another’s while coming down from the high of your mixed orgasms.

“I guess I should probably get off of you, huh?” Your words were slurred while Spencer let your hand gently rub your back. “Not yet..” He chuckled, pointing the air vents towards the both of you.

“We have a little bit. Let’s just enjoy the air.”

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mandarinmoons · 7 months ago

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hi! i have an idea ive been thinking about for a while. spencer and the team (plus reader) are at a bar and reader goes off to get a drink/dance/talk to someone and either a girl or a group of girls come up to spencer and start flirting with him. the first thing she/they ask ofc is "do you have a girlfriend?" and spencer (not realizing they are flirting) is like yes!!! her name is _____ and she is amazing and i love her so much.... and he goes on like a 20 minute rant about reader. reader finally finds him talking to these girls/girl and has to recuse them/her from his ranting about herself and explain what they actually meant.

sorry that was a lot but i wanted to make sure understood what i was envisioning. thank you so much!!!

“Spence, please!”

Spencer kept pulling you closer as he tried to nuzzle his way into your neck and leave a few kisses behind your ear. He wasn’t one for PDA, but after a few shots he was puddy in your hands and everyone had to witness what a mess you made of him in this state.

“I just wanna be close to you,” you could feel him pout as his lips were pressed against your neck, his thumbs rubbing over your waist.

“Looks like you’re not getting out of here anytime soon, huh pretty girl?”

Derek chuckled as he took pleasure seeing his younger brother of a coworker finally have a girlfriend, especially with how clingy he was being at the moment. It was as if Spencer would follow you if you were to leave for only a minute, which he had done approximately half an hour ago when you excused yourself to go to the bathroom and somehow he still had enough brainpower to talk about how hand-dryers could actually spread more germs and not remove them. He’d even taken it upon himself to take some paper towels and dry your hands for you, making sure to even dry the spaces between your fingers.

You had had only one drink and you were not going home unless you had a second one. Spencer had already downed three in that time, and looking at the state that he was in, it was obvious that he wasn’t going to get served any more tonight.

“Spence, I'm going to get a quick drink, okay? Stay here.”

Prying his hands off of you, you quickly slipped out of Spencer’s grasp before he managed to put his hands on your waist again.

A few minutes later, Penelope pulls Derek to the dance floor while Emily comes across an old friend and excuses herself to have a word with her, leaving Spencer all by himself at the booth, his tongue sticking out from the side of his mouth while fidgeting with his fingers. He was too deep in thought that he didn’t notice a group of girls come over and sit next to him, their intentions clearly not innocent.

“Hi! You’re here all alone?”

“Oh, I’m not! I’m here with my girlfriend and team mates!”

“I don’t see any girlfriend around.”

“She went to get a drink. Oh, she loves an aperol spritz, she’s got great taste, in general not just in drinks.”

The girls watched in amazement as Spencer kept talking about every small thing he could come up with about you, from your favorite color and the psychological meaning behind it to your Myers Briggs personality type and how you’re both compatible.

As the endless line at the bar finally came to an end and you managed to get your drink, walking back to the team’s spot you noticed the unfamiliar girls surrounding Spencer and your stomach churned in nerves. The closer you got however you noticed their bored and confused faces and that’s all you needed to know that Spencer had most probably pulled his book smarts out on them and left them speechless.

“Oh and this one time- Y/N, you’re back!”

Spencer pulled you in for a hug, nearly knocking the drink out of your hands. Managing to put it down on the table, you rested your hand on his back as you turned your attention to the strangers, them clearly on the edges of their seats and ready to bolt at any moment.

“We’re gonna go, nice to meet you both.”

Your eyes followed them as they quickly got up and made their way to the other side of the bar, even from a distance you could see the red hue on their cheeks, embarrassment written all over their faces.

“Spence, what did they want?”

“They came over and asked if I had a girlfriend.”

“That’s it?”

Spencer nodded as he nuzzled into your stomach, “And I talked about how great you are and how I’m going to marry you one day.”

Laughter erupted from your mouth as you heard the answer, also because of Spencer’s fingers practically digging into your sides that it was tickling you.

“Sweetie, I don’t think that’s what they meant by that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Usually when someone asks “Do you have a girlfriend/boyfriend?”, it’s their way of asking “Are you single?”

Spencer blinked his eyes, your words not yet registering in his head.

“They were flirting with you.”

“Oh… really?”

Nodding along, the conversation was put on halt as everyone made their way back to the table.

“You guys had to leave him alone, huh?”

“Why? What happened?”

“Some girls came up to Spencer and tried to hit on him.”

“Oh, pretty boy’s got game now, huh?”

The team chuckled, but Spencer kept burrowing his head more into your embrace. It was clear that no matter how many girls tried their luck with him it would inevitably fail, as you were his home that he would come back to every time.

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

#spencer reid #spencer reid au #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff

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l0standn0tf0und · 2 months ago

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Spencer Reid ❀ fic recs p.2

part 1.

part 3.

♡ = smut, 18+ only

all those dreams where you’re my wife

spencer x adhd!girlfriend.

quantum fellings

out on the couch

making the bed

wedding night

low and found

hypothalamus

la vita è bella

sock drawer

marked up

orange

home

firsts

6 am

♡persimmon

♡hair pulling

♡wet dreams

♡do you believe me now?

All credits and support to original authors: @parfaitblogs @nereidprinc3ss @parfaitblogs @dronningreid @angellic4l @drowning-rabbit @siriuslylantsov @nachrosas @enderlovez @reginyani @springtyme @spxfav @reidrum @endearng @gf2bellamy @beelmons @anhedoniawrites @girlkisser13

masterlist

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angellic4l · 3 months ago

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la vita è bella - s.r

in which; sunshine!bau!reader and season2!spencer see a foreign film together after work.

content: fem!reader and season2!spencer, they’re so in loveee, fluffy fluff, mentions of drinking but no one actually does it, brief mention of spencer’s germaphobia, mention of the holocaust and ww2.

a/n: i wrote this all in one go bc my draft that i’m working on is so not ready, so i apologise if it’s bad. also, la vita é bella means life is beautiful, the Italian name of the film, which is why i called the fic that. WAIT I JUST READ IT AND I NEED TO SAY I DON’T THINK ELLE IS MEAN I LOVE ELLE! anyway, kisses!!

After a pretty rare, uneventful day at the BAU - just hours of paperwork, filing, reports, and a lot of team banter - the team of profilers begin to pack up. Coats are lifted from the backs of chairs, bags slung over shoulders, chairs put under desks, and a chorus of contented sighs coming from the agents.

The team, bar Hotch and Gideon, begin to make their way to the elevator together, walking in a huddle on their way out of work while making light conversation about their plans, considering everyone’s getting out early today.

“I say we all go the bar, a few drinks, maybe some darts, and lots of fine women,” Morgan suggests with a smirk, patting Spencer on the back when he says ‘fine women’.

Elle and JJ laugh, the thought of Spencer trying to talk to ‘fine women’, as Morgan called them, an amusing thought to the two of them.

Spencer, who’s walking in between you and Morgan, pushes his glasses up his nose with his index finger, his face sporting one of his infamous looks you’ve come to know, his brows furrowed as he silently questions Elle and JJ’s laughter.

“Actually, I was going to go and see a foreign film downtown, if any of you want to come. It’s an Italian film, but I can whisper translate, called ‘Life is Beautiful’, which is kind of ironic because it’s about a Jewish man and his son becoming victims of the holocaust, but-“ Spencer’s cut off by a comment from Elle about him being ‘dorky’, his face loses the small smile he’d had while talking about the film, and his once gesturing hands fall to his sides.

You think your heart might’ve actually shattered at the sight, Spencer’s dejected look never becoming easier to see, no matter how many times you do see it. The other three agents agree to go to the bar together while you and Spencer remain silent, walking in step with each other.

“You coming, sunshine?” Morgan asks, looking past Spencer to gaze at your face, Elle and JJ turning their heads slightly to look at you stood behind them, all of you coming to a stop at the elevator doors.

“No, I think I just want to have a quiet night in. I hope you guys have fun, though,” you reject them, a small smile on your face because only you know what you’re actually going to do.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

All of you step out of the FBI building, JJ, Morgan, and Elle splitting off to head to the bar, Spencer walking through the parking lot and starting his journey to the metro station, while you wait for the other 3 to be gone.

It’s not because you’re embarrassed of Spencer, no, you wouldn’t have cared about offering in front of the others, but you knew he’d probably be teased for it, and that’s the last thing you want. He’s so sweet to everyone, unbelievably kind to you, but everyone teases him regardless. It hurts your heart every time he goes quiet after being told to ‘shut up’ or someone comments on his rambling.

Once you’re sure Morgan, JJ, nor Elle are in earshot, you hurry over to Spencer’s slender figure that’s slowly dissipating, emerging with the dark night sky, becoming nothing but a shadow as he gets further.

“Spence! Wait, come back!” You call out, quickly realising his long limbs are no match for you and he was getting further by the second.

Spencer stops almost immediately, spinning on his heels when he hears your voice. He could recognise it anywhere, your sweet, melodic voice engrained into his brain; it’s one of his favourite things about you, how each word you speak seems to be infused with honey, ringing out sweet and soft.

Although, even if your voice is sweet and soft, despite the fact that you’re shouting, adrenaline spikes in his body - Why are you shouting him? Are you hurt? Are you okay? - the questions plague his mind, increasing his heart rate faster than anything ever has before. That’s saying something, considering he sees dead bodies, crime scenes, and confronts serial killers almost weekly.

Spencer’s legs have carried himself over to you before he’d even processed it, his own mind had distracted him, thoughts had clouded his head, and he only realises he’s stood in front of you and that you’re okay when he hears your melodic voice again.

“Spence? Spencer? Are you okay?” You ask, brows furrowed ever so slightly and pink lips pouted to express your concern for the brunette boy.

You didn’t ask him to ‘snap out of it’, make a joke about him being stuck in his big brain, or say ‘are you even listening?’. No, you just asked if he was okay. Spencer smiles softly at that, another gentle reminder that you really are an angel personified, despite his agnostic beliefs, regardless of whether he prays to a God or not, you are angelic to him.

“Yeah, yes, I’m okay,” Spencer reassures you, the soft smile on his face still there as he looks down at you. His brain catches up after he stops being dazed by your seemingly divine presence, in his opinion.

“You called me over, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s okay. Could I come and see that movie with you? I know some Italian and you said you’d whisper translate.”

Standing in the middle of Quantico’s parking lot, the pair of you clad in thick coats due to the recent spike in cold weather, your head tilted back so that you can look up at Spencer and his tilted down so that he can see you. You watch Spencer’s face go from a small smile to a full blown grin, his teeth peaking out from behind his pink lips making your heart warm in your chest, winter weather aside.

“Yeah? You’re serious?” Spencer asks, you nod.

“I’ll drive us there, no need for the metro. I’ll take you home, too,” you say, dangling your keys on your ring finger. The pair of you begin to walk to your car as Spencer explains what the movie is about, not being cut off this time.

In the car on the way there, he starts to talk about WW2, rattling off all of the details he knows about it, mainly ones he thinks will be relevant for context to the film. Smiles rest on both of your faces as he does so, his hands moving frenetically as he talks. When you know what he’s talking about, you’ll wait for him to finish before talking yourself, but mostly, you just listen to him.

Spencer stays true to his word and whisper translates the film to you, his voice in your ear something you like much more than you probably should, close proximity between the two of you because of it. His head is tilted towards you, lips by your ear but not so close that all you hear is his breath, Spencer’s very mindful of that.

At some point, you both reach for the popcorn between you without looking, his hand coming to rest on top of yours in the bucket. Suddenly, you’re very thankful for the dark room hiding the pink tint of your cheeks, completely unaware that he’s thinking the same thing.

Retracting his hand from the bucket quickly, he whispers a small “sorry,” secretly hating the loss of contact with your smooth, silky skin, warm fingers, no longer under his.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, eyes never leaving the screen in front of you for fear of him seeing the blush that’s painted your cheeks. You reach into your bag and hand him a hand sanitiser, knowing how he is with germs.

Spencer can’t help but wonder if you carry this just for him as he takes the clear bottle from his hands, reading the label as best as he can in the dim theatre and learning the hand sanitiser smells like vanilla. So do you, he notes, and he decides he doesn’t mind his hands smelling like you, in fact, he actually quite likes it.

An hour into the film, despite your best efforts not to, you succumb to sleep, the sound of Spencer’s voice in your ear every few seconds, the dim room, and how warm you are all lulling you into the unconscious state you currently find yourself in. Well, Spencer finds you in that state when your head drops to his shoulder, looking down at you through his glasses, and realising you’d fallen asleep.

He blushes at the sight of your head on his shoulder, the weight of it grounding him and sending him to some extreme height at the same time, your hair splayed over his shoulder making him smile to himself. In this moment, he decides that, despite all of the horrors he sees daily, the trauma he was subjected to growing up, and everything else in between, life is beautiful.

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reidphobic · 3 months ago

Text

crashing into him tonight (he’s a paradox) - s. r.

in which your lessons continue, and you want to be more than spencer’s teacher. 4004 words. part two to the neighbor!au.

inexperienced!sub!spencer x dom!fem reader, jealousy, mommy kink, mutual masturbation, fingering, praise, very very mild degradation, brief cumplay? i guess? no use of y/n, reader is still super condescending but it’s still hot

It starts to become a routine for Spencer to knock on your door late at night, wearing a nervous smile and offering a quiet plea for another lesson. It’s not every night he’s home, but it’s enough that you start to notice his absence after a couple of days. You try not to read too far into it, remind yourself that the two of you just have fun, that Spencer is just your little plaything, and it doesn’t matter if he’s away somewhere using tricks you taught him on other women. And, besides, you’re hardly celibate yourself.

But after three nights of silence, you hear something so unfamiliar you almost don’t recognise it at first. A second voice in Spencer’s apartment — in his bedroom. You can’t quite make out any words, but you can tell exactly what’s happening, low murmurs giving way to soft moans, the shape of his name reaching your ear in a high, pitchy, voice. You scowl, huff. You know Spencer knows the walls are paper-thin. Has he even noticed that you haven’t brought anyone home when he’s there since you started sleeping together?

You lie awake, listening, until you can’t take the hurt any longer. You storm out of your apartment, drown the ugly feeling in the pit of your stomach in cheap, sour liquor. It’s not long before you’re leaving the bar again, head spinning, and back in your apartment with a willing body between your thighs. The guy — whose name you’ve already forgotten — is perfectly eager, all the right words, praises, moans as he touches you. His kiss is perfect on paper, just enough tongue and teeth and wandering hands, and you moan and stretch and purr when he fucks into you.

But it’s still all wrong. There’s too much of him; square shoulders and broad chest where you crave a slim, slight body. He praises where you want pleas, calls you baby instead of Mommy. The prospect of waking up to him in your bed makes your skin crawl, and you bundle the guy out of the door practically before he’s finished cumming. Sobered up and unpleasantly sticky, you stumble into the shower and try to scrub off the night’s sins. It doesn’t feel like it works.

Trying not to think about Spencer doesn’t work either. It doesn’t work as you toss and turn in bed, or when you’re getting ready for work, not even while your shift drags on and on and your mind is filled with a billion other things. You can half-feel the ghost of his presence, his favourite of your mugs undrank-from on the counter, one of his ties slung across a dining chair, a book he’d thought you might like resting on your coffee table.

It’s worse that he’s gone for so long — he’s been away on a case for ten days, and your lasting memory is the noise of him fucking someone else. The sound is still rattling dimly around your head as you stare aimlessly at the TV, your whole body sore after a long, late shift, when there’s a knock at your door. Unthinking, you open it, expecting your food delivery guy and instead coming face to face with Spencer.

You’re half-convinced you’ve fallen asleep, that he’s a cruel trick of your subconscious, and it must show on your face because Spencer’s face screws up in concern as he speaks. “Hi,” he murmurs. He’s disheveled in a way you’ve never seen him, bleary-eyed and shirt untucked, like he’s been sleeping in his clothes. “I, uh. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I came straight here, which sounds kind of stupid, ‘cause I live here, too, but, uh… I haven’t been inside my apartment yet.” You keep your face cool, impassive. “What… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I missed you.” Never mind that he fucked someone else the night before he left.

“Is that all?” you say, folding your arms across your chest. His face crumples, and you feel guilty all over again.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks, innocent and forlorn, and, God, you just want to sink your teeth into him right then and there.

But if you bite too hard, he’ll bleed. “I don’t know, Spencer. Did you? Or did you have fun?” you snap. “Did you use what I taught you?” The words taste bitter as they spill free, but you can’t swallow them back down. Spencer’s mouth opens and closes, but he stays silent. “Or, what, she wasn’t happy with you? You after one last practice run before you give the real thing another shot?”

“I… What?” He pauses. “This is because I… slept with someone else?”

You roll your eyes. “Wow. That 187 IQ really works wonders for you, huh?” You move to shut the door in his face, but he blocks you deftly, steps past you into your apartment so quickly you barely realise what happened. Right. FBI agent.

Spencer crosses the room, sits down at your dining table, motions for you to do the same. Your feet carry you into the chair without your permission. “So, you’re angry with me for sleeping with another girl, despite never communicating or agreeing on any kind of exclusivity. After… this.” He gestures vaguely to the space between you. “All started because I don’t know what I’m doing and you wanted to teach me?”

You sigh, turn his words over in your head. When he puts it that way, you sound ridiculous. And his saying I don’t know what I’m doing isn’t lost on you either. “I don’t think I knew, honey. I thought, this is just fun, just friends helping friends. And then I heard you, and I got so… possessive, I guess. And I couldn’t talk to you, because you were gone, so I just got more and more bitter.”

Reaching a hand across the table, Spencer gives you a tentative glance before taking hold of yours, running his thumb soothingly across your knuckles. “So, that night, the guy you were with, that was…”

“Fucking awful,” you joke, but he just looks concerned, doesn’t pick up on it. “No, it was… retaliation. God, that’s so embarrassing. The sex was fine, but he wasn’t you, honey.” At that, he finally smiles, and you feel it warm you from the inside out.

“And that’s what you want?” He licks his lips, touches his hair. His particular brand of skittish nervousness looks so good on him that it’s almost unfair. “Me?”

The disbelieving look on his face, frankly, is criminal. “Spencer, sweetheart, I can’t think of anything I’ve ever wanted more.” Your chairs scrape against the floor as you scramble up, grab at him everywhere you can reach, crash your lips into his. It’s sweet, soft, and you fight to hold your hunger at bay, trace his lips with gentle affection.

You work your way through the room, bumping into every possible piece of furniture and giggling into Spencer’s open mouth until you land on the couch in his lap. “This is familiar,” he says, smirking a little. Grabbing his jaw, you scowl playfully, leaning in to peck him on the lips.

Experimentally, you roll your hips down, find him deliciously eager under you. “It’s so cute how hard you get just from making out, sweetheart. So needy, baby.” You lean down, kiss his neck, suck a bruise into his soft skin. “What’d you think about?”

“Huh?” he murmurs, eyes glossy and lips swollen, wearing a pretty, dazed face. He’s oh-so gorgeous when you’ve kissed all the thoughts out of his head, operating on pure impulse, uninhibited.

Your fingers creep up to loosen his tie. “You said I couldn’t stop thinking about you. What were you thinking about?” You pull his tie off, untuck his shirt, start working on his buttons. “Was it dirty? Details, honey, c’mon.”

Spencer smiles up at you, angelic. “Not all of it,” he says, tracing delicate little patterns across the small of your back. “Thought about kissing you. A lot. About you laying in my lap, and we’re supposed to be watching a movie, but I’m just looking at you.” Your chest clenches. “How you listen when I talk… I don’t— People think I can’t tell, if they just nod in the right places, but I know.”

“Spencer, honey,” you say softly, kissing and nipping gently at his chest as you unbutton his shirt, exposing inches of silken skin with each movement. “God, you’re perfect.” You sigh, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Spencer brings his hand up to pet your hair, blunt nails scratching soothingly over your scalp.

“But… I, uh. That’s not all I thought about.” He’s nervous, now, the embarrassment that always comes when he wants to voice his desires; you’ve been trying to train it out of him, but it’s achingly slow going.

You smile encouragingly, kissing at his chest and gazing up at him with your best fuck-me eyes. “S’alright, baby. Tell Mommy, okay?”

“Thought about you on top of me. Your pretty… How pretty you look up there.”

You grin wickedly. “My tits, is that what you mean to say? You love your Mommy’s tits, don’t you, honey?” Spencer nods, head falling forward to bury his face in your chest. You let him hide for a moment, collect himself, before you nudge him to speak again.

Spencer’s eyes are glossy, his mouth red and bruised. He looks so sweet, your pretty, pliant little toy, perfectly ready for you to sink your claws into. “Mhmm. Love your tits, Mommy. Thought about you touching me, n’when you’re all mean and you don’t touch me.” He pouts, just a little, and you can’t resist shifting your hips and dragging a thumb across his swollen bottom lip.

“You like it when I’m mean, sweetheart?” He nods, dazed. “You want me to be a little meaner?” Spencer freezes under you, suddenly seeming tense and afraid. Damn. And you’d just gotten him to relax. You stroke his face with the back of your hand to soothe him. “You can say no, honey, it’s okay, I won’t be mad. Just wanna find out what makes you feel good, alright, pretty?”

“No, I… I want it. But just a little. Please.”

“Yeah, honey, that’s alright. But you gotta tell me if it’s ever too much, okay?” Spencer nods, and you raise an eyebrow. “Words, baby.”

It seems to take him a minute to find the words, spit-slick lips parted as he stares at you with lust-blown eyes. “Yes, Mommy. I will. I’ll tell you.”

You grind your hips down in reward, let Spencer roll his up to meet you. Pressing your lips to his, you swallow his whimper. “Good boy,” you murmur, and he beams. “Love it when you get all dumb like this. S’good for you, honey, not to be the clever one all the time.” You pull off his shirt, slide off his lap to admire him from a distance. Before he can whine at the loss, you cut him off. “Did you touch yourself?” Spencer tilts his head. “Sweetheart, did you masturbate thinking about me?”

Spencer’s mouth drops in a soft ‘o’ of understanding, cheeks flushing ruby-woo red. “Yes,” he admits, avoiding your gaze until you force his eyes back to you.

“God, you really are just clueless, huh? C’mon, show Mommy, baby. Show me how you touch yourself.” Spencer blinks dumbly. God, he must be worse off than you thought. “Spencer, honey, I know you jerk off. I heard you every damn night. S’what made me decide I had to get you all to myself.”

At that, the corner of his lip quirks. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was smirking at you. “Is that why you had a box of lingerie delivered to my apartment?” It’s your turn to be speechless. “Profiler,” he adds with a shrug.

“Alright, smartass. It worked, didn’t it?” you scoff. “And stop distracting me.” You set to work on what’s left of his clothes, unbuttoning his pants and palming his cock through his boxers. “Do you take off all your clothes first? Or do you keep ‘em on, make a mess of yourself?”

“No, I… I take them off,” he says. You raise an eyebrow as if to say go on. “Oh, y- you want me to..? Oh, o-okay.” With shaking hands, he slips out of his pants, then his boxers, stained with precum; the evidence of his desire has you practically drooling. His pretty dick springs free, thuds sickly against his stomach with a wet smack.

You can’t help the pulse of arousal that throbs through you at the sight of him. “Good boys don’t keep Mommy waiting, Spencer,” you chide, careful to avoid touching him. It’s clear how acutely he feels the lack of a pet name, the implication of your words, and he babbles out an apology.

Eagerly, you watch Spencer curl his hand around his cock, but he doesn’t move. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s hard— Don’t,” he interrupts himself when you smirk. “It’s difficult… with you watching me like this.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you croon. “You like to think about my tits, right?” You pull off your shirt, flick it across the room. As if magnetised, Spencer’s eyes fall to your chest as you grab your tits, roll a nipple between two fingers. “There you go, honey. S’just you and your fantasy, okay? Now show me what you do when you think of me, okay?”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, takes a steadying breath. He’s endlessly fascinating; he’ll stare down killers without so much as flinching, but a willing girl with her boobs out is just too much for him. Slowly, he starts to pump his cock, spreading precum down his length. You watch him speed up until he’s jacking himself furiously, hand flying along his dick so hard and fast he must be giving himself friction burn. He bites down on his lower lip, whimpers through his teeth, the sound familiar and erotic. “Mommy,” he whines, high and breathy, hips jerking up into his hand. You can’t watch this much longer.

Placing a palm on his thigh to still him, you slowly cover his hand with your free one. “Honey, is that how you get yourself off?” Brow scrunched in confusion, he nods. God, the poor boy is hopeless. “And that feels good?”

“It makes me orgasm quickly,” Spencer answers, as if that’s remotely the same thing. “I- I have trouble sleeping, and an orgasm releases endorphins that relax both the mind and the body. It helps,” he says placidly.

You nod slowly. “And when you make yourself come like that, does that feel the same as when I make you come?” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t, right? It feels better when I do it?”

“So much,” he breathes. “You’re so much better.”

You smile indulgently down at him. “Oh, honey. That’s because you’re doing it all wrong,” you say, syrupy and condescending. “When you get off, it makes you feel better, right? Yeah. And you’re so focused on that, you forget to make yourself feel good. That genius mind of yours’d be blown finding out how long I could spend getting myself off.” You pat his cheek. “Maybe I’ll show you someday.

A punched-out whimper slips from his lips, the sound falling straight between your legs. “What am I doing wrong?” Spencer asks, low and feeble.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mommy’s gonna show you, okay?” He nods eagerly. Sure, you’ve jerked him off before, but this feels different. You’re not just giving him pleasure, you’re showing him how to take it for himself. “Show me again, but slow, okay?” Obediently, Spencer curls his hand again, pumps his cock. “See, honey, feel that drag? Hurts, right? And not in the good way,” you add with a grin, and Spencer gulps. A slightly wicked idea crosses your mind. “We’re gonna go to bed now, okay?”

Like a lost little puppy, Spencer trails after you, joins you on the bed. You let him kiss you again, until his whines get too needy and his hips start to twitch. “Will you open that top drawer for me, sweetheart? Got something in there that’ll help you, okay?” Obediently, he rolls over, tugs the drawer open. You study his face carefully, watch his jaw go slack as he realises what you’re showing him. Your collection of sex toys stares up at him, and he gapes like a fucking fish. An adorable fish, but a fish all the same.

“What do you… you want me to..?” he says, still staring like he couldn’t possibly compute what you’re asking of him.

You laugh, only a little meanly. “Don’t worry, honey,” you say, padding around the bed to help him out. “You’re not ready for that stuff. Not yet, anyway. You’re such a good boy for Mommy, Spencer, such a quick learner. Pretty soon I’ll have you begging for ‘em. But not tonight, alright?” You lean down to pluck a small plastic bottle from the drawer. “This is all we need tonight. Do you know what that is, baby?”

Squinting his eyes, Spencer inspects the bottle. “Lubricant?” he says, mouth forming the word into a question.

“Such a clever boy,” you croon, settling yourself between his legs and taking his hand. You turn it palm up and squint a generous amount of lube into Spencer’s hand. “Spread that on your pretty dick for me, okay, baby?” The slick sound of it fills your ears, pulses in your cunt, and you can see on his face how much better he feels even from a scant touch. Eyes fluttering shut, he groans, but waits obediently for another instruction. “That’s it. That’s Mommy’s good boy, huh? Alright, honey. Now stroke yourself for me. You wanna start nice and slow, okay?”

You’re transfixed as he begins to touch himself, cock wet and glistening as it disappears into his fist. Lube drips out across his fingers, slick noises filling your room. “Feels so good, Mommy,” he whimpers, free hand fisting in your sheets.

“Oh, honey, I know,” you murmur, sitting up and sliding your hand into your panties. You moan as you brush your clit, collect your wetness on your fingertips. “Okay, I want you to just draw some little circles across the head, yeah? Like you do on my clit. Just try it out, see what feels good.” The sight is fucking mesmerising, and from the sounds spilling from his lips and the flush in his cheeks, it’s a miracle he hasn’t cum all over himself yet. “Alright, baby. Doing so good. You can make yourself cum now, alright? Just keep doin’ what feels good.”

Your lips part around a moan as you watch him. He speeds up, slows a little, experimenting with pace and pressure. You’re strangely proud even as you rub frantic little circles into your clit, slowly start to fuck yourself on your fingers. Desire pools at the base of your spine, and you moan his name as you speed up, cunt pulsing around your fingers. It seems like that’s what does Spencer in, a pathetic whimper of Mommy, yes spilling from his lips as ropes of cum splash up against his chest. His body convulses, gasping and moaning incoherently as his orgasm takes over.

Still panting as you finger yourself, you smile blithely over at him. “Still with me, pretty? How was that?”

Gasping, Spencer blinks helplessly at you for a moment. “Thank you.” Suddenly dismayed, he looks down at himself. “Gross,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “All messy, aren’t you? You want Mommy to get you cleaned up?” He nods, expecting you to get up and fetch a washcloth. Instead, you press him down until he’s lying supine, lean over him so your boobs hang in his face. Like he can’t resist, Spencer licks a stripe along your chest. You giggle softly, press a kiss to the hollow of his throat, start to work your way down. Carefully, you lap up the mess dripping across his chest, and he moans brokenly. Your eyes flutter closed as his taste hits your tongue, a needy ache burning between your thighs the longer you lick him clean.

He chokes on a breath when you wrap your lips around his head, clean up the last drops of cum beaded on his tip. “I can’t-” he clears his throat. “I can’t… go again… yet,” he says, cheeks pinking up adorably.

You pull off, lick your lips exaggeratedly. “S’okay, honey. I don’t need you to. Yet,” you add with a wink. “Just wanted to get you cleaned up.” Still desperately horny, you crawl up his body, kiss him furiously. “Spencer,” you moan against his lips. “I want you to make me cum. Do you wanna make Mommy cum, baby?”

“Mhmm. Yeah, I want to. What do you…? Can I, uh… Eat you out?” he asks timidly, the final few words unfamiliar on his tongue and belying his desperation.

God above, where did you find this boy? “Another time, honey. Later tonight, if you’re lucky. But I’m planning on keeping your mouth nice and busy for now, okay?” You grab his hand, slide it around to the front of your panties, grind your clit against the heel of his palm through the lace. “Want you to fuck me with your fingers, okay, sweetheart?”

Nodding frantically, Spencer tugs your panties down just enough that he can fit his hand against your cunt. You cup his jaw, kiss him hard as he slips a finger inside you. “You’re so warm,” he breathes, rubbing delicate circles into your clit as your cunt pulses around him.

“That’s it, pretty. Such a good boy. Just like Mommy taught you, alright?” you moan, arching your back as hot pleasure twists under your skin. Spencer slides another finger in, curls then expertly, as if he’s been practicing. Then, a blinding spark of pure ecstasy flashes through you. “Oh, my fucking God! There, baby, right there. Don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you babble, your kiss more spit and moans than tongue and lips. Spencer doesn’t let up, hits your g-spot over and over, still rubbing soft circles into your clit. You were already close before he started, and his glorious, frankly brutal assault on the most sensitive places in your body leaves you powerless.

You surrender to it willingly, pure pleasure wiping your mind clean. It’s so forceful you almost black out, gasping into Spencer’s mouth and writhing against him. Ecstasy floods every inch of you, pulse roaring in your ears and hammering in your chest. Spencer’s fingers are still deep inside you when you come to, and he’s staring down at the point they disappear into your cunt. “Sorry,” he murmurs, gently pulling them out. “I just really like being… inside you.”

God, you can’t wait to teach him about cockwarming. “So sweet,” you coo. He lifts his hand, sucks your arousal off his fingers, and you groan. “I think we need to have a little talk, honey,” you murmur, brushing sweat-soaked hair out of his face. He nods.

“I didn’t enjoy it,” he says quickly. “The other night. I mean, it was… It wasn’t… I don’t know. All I could think about was that she wasn’t you. I was, uh… Sort of afraid?” he says with a humorless laugh.

You make a soft, concerned noise. “What do you mean, honey?” Your fists clench at your sides, head pounding furiously all of a sudden.

“Just that… I feel so safe with you. And it wasn’t that she made me feel bad, or unsafe, or anything. But I was so worried about doing something wrong, and I never felt that with you, and all I wanted was you instead.” Spencer curls his body into yours as you hook a leg over his waist.

Brushing your thumb over his cheek softly, you gaze into his sweet, long-lashed eyes. “You have me, sweetheart. I promise.”

#i’m really supposed to be writing an essay but LALALALA #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #writing #smut #neighbor!au

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