#mgg x oc

[reiderwriter]

Little Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid × virgin!fem reader

Genre: SMUT, some fluff, a little tiny smidge of angst. MINORS DNI 18+

Summary: As the youngest and most innocent member of the BAU, they all take care of their little angel. When they find out just how innocent you are, though, one member takes his possession to the next level. You're his little angel, and he's determined to have you.

Warnings: loss of virginity, loss of innocence, degradation, pet names, oral sex, thigh riding, fingering, cum marking, love bites, Spencer is territorial and possessive, Dom! Spencer Reid, PinV sex, mentions breeding, but he pulls out.

A/N: We've reached Day 8 of kinktober! It's our second "long" fic, meaning there's a bit more plot to this, and the smut scene is longer too (WC is almost 7k!) I hope you love this one just as much as I did... The kinktober masterlist can be found here, and my regular masterlist is here too! If you want something specific, my requests are open ❤️

Your first three months with the BAU were a blur, and for good reason. Endless cases, back-to-back, interrupted only by the slight hint of a weekend or the ever possible death row interview. You were tired, stressed, and afraid to walk home alone at night, and absolutely satisfied. As far as you were concerned, it was all worth it to get these monsters off the streets, to help save their victims and to find out what made them tick. There was nothing else you'd rather be doing. 

The team had helped you settle in well, too. You'd joined the team after Alex Blake had left - she'd recommended you actually from the college seminars you'd taken with her. You were obviously lacking a bit of experience, so they took on two team members, and you and Kate Callahan had the great opportunity of both being the newbie. But you had a slight disadvantage of age, coming in as the youngest member of the team. You thought that might be why you'd settled in so well, in all honesty. 

Hotch and Rossi were both protective in a fatherly way. Hotch pushed you and Rossi encouraged you and that was everything you needed from them. A strong pat on the back at the end of a case and a "you did good, kid," and whatever hell they'd pushed you through, it was worth it. Morgan's tough love was brotherly, but he did a great job at getting you to relax on and off the case, reminding you to not take the work home. JJ and Kate were great mentors. It wasn't easy being women in the FBI, let alone the unit that specifically looked into some of the most misogynistic killings, rapes and abductions in the world. They both gave you tips about how to handle condescending officers, and JJ had held your hair back after you'd puked your guts up on a particularly harrowing day in the field. With Penelope, friendship was easy, and you loved talking to her about whatever hyperfixation you were on that week, loving that there was someone on your team that had filled their life with genuine joy in the face of so much horror. 

And Spencer. Honestly, you were beginning to think that you'd used Spencer as a human stuffed toy a bit too much. 

You don't know how it happened at first, just that after one of your first few cases, you'd been so elated to find a victim alive, safe but traumatised, that you'd thrown yourself into his arms the minute you got back to the precinct. 

"We did it, I thought she was going to be dead, Spencer but she isn't." Your head was pressed into his chest, you were almost surprised he even heard them, muffled as they were. If you weren't so elated, you'd have noticed the way he'd stiffened at your touch, panicking slightly before awkwardly wrapping his arms around you, too. But you pulled away before you could notice that he wasn't really used to any physical comfort, bouncing off to write up your case report. 

Spencer noticed, though. Noticed how the heat of your body made him feel comforted, the way his heart rate increased to 125 BPM from it's base rate and didn't fall back to normal for another half hour. He noticed that you smelt like jasmine and patchouli, and more importantly, he noticed that he didn't really care if you touched him, and that was new. 

It became a kind of ritual for you, finding him after a case and folding into his arms to celebrate. They were friendly hugs, after all, a sign that you'd been through hell together, and you'd made it through like avenging angels. They only lingered longer when the cases went badly. You turned to crying in his arms after you'd discovered the body of a dead street girl, Veronica, in pieces in the house of an unsub who'd committed suicide by cop moments earlier. 

"I told her she'd be safe if she talked to us, Reid. I told her we'd protect her, that I'd protect her." You were so hurt by that failure that he'd had to drive you home that night, holding your hand the entire way so you didn't feel so alone, left to fester in your guilt. 

The rest of the team had begun teasing you about the hugs, but you'd brushed them off. You hugged everyone else too, and you knew for a fact that Penelope hugged every member of the team, so there was nothing special going on between you and Spencer. No one had deigned to inform you of Spencer's germophobia and aversion to touch. 

"Gonna tell me what that's all about?" Morgan asked Spencer as you bounced away from a hug one day, leaving to remove your FBI vest. 

"What what's all about?" He replied coldly, turning away to remove his own vest, replacing it with his blazer. 

"What, you don't have a statistic for how many germs are passed between people during a hug, Kid, come on, you were practically smelling her hair." The older man's eyebrows raised in a question again, but Spencer continued to blow him off. 

"I hug people all the time, it's not a big deal." He shrugged. 

"It took you four years to return one of Penelope's hugs, and you still only do that on special occasions. That's not all the time." 

"Derek, just drop it. There's nothing going on, she just… She just does it sometimes." 

It was when you'd hugged him in the middle of the office, without a case to use as an excuse, that you noticed an underlying tension in the office. You were all celebrating, of course, Callahan had just announced her pregnancy, and you were all so happy for her. You'd heard the happy news and instantly turned and thrown yourself into Spencer's arms. Even you weren't sure why, not even questioning it until you saw the awkward glances on the other profilers' faces. You brushed it off by rushing to give each of them hugs, and running out in a mad flush, needing air, or water or something to get you out of what was looking more and more like an interrogation room. 

A few cases later, the entire team headed to O'Keefe's to celebrate. 

"To another case successfully solved," Morgan toasted, and you all joined him, lifting your glasses in triumph. 

"To the wonders of non-alcoholic beer," chimed in Kate, leaving you all laughing together. The booth was small, and as usual, you'd found yourself sat right in the arms of Spencer Reid. You hadn't intended it, honestly, having slightly avoided him recently, but you'd followed Penelope into her side of the circular table, and Reid had followed you. You were sat squished between them, your arms resting awkwardly on your lap between drinks. 

"Okay, a night of drinking is slightly boring without some games to spice things up, what do you say, hot chocolate?" Penelope said, addressing Morgan who was on her other side. 

"I'm all ears, baby girl. What were you thinking?" 

"How about twenty questions? We already know a lot about each other, let's see what we don't know?" Kate suggested, thriving off of the knowledge that as the sole sober member present, she'd hold all the cards tomorrow. 

"What, how is asking questions a game?" Reid questioned jokingly from beside you. "That's just an interrogation or a therapy session, there's no winner or loser."  

Already slightly buzzing from your drink, you turned to him and out your fingers in his lips, shushing him. 

"No time for logic in matters of the bottle, Spencer. Let's play." He pulled your fingers off him, but nodded, holding them in his grip still as you turned back to the table. 

"I'll start! JJ, are you and Will thinking of having more baby LaMontagne's?" Penelope jumped at the chance to probe her teammate, and you laughed at her enthusiasm. 

"There have been discussions, but I'll not confirm or deny yet." JJ said, taking a sip of her drink as she slyly avoided a direct answer. 

"I always forget why you were so good with the press, Miss No Answers. Okay, your turn to ask a question." 

"Okay, Morgan. Are you thinking of popping the question to Savannah anytime soon?" 

"Did she send you?" He laughed and took a drink. "If I do, she'll be the first to know." 

The game went back and forth like this for a few rounds before Penelope turned the spotlight back to you. 

"Okay, Y/N. You were a college student recently, I know you've got some wild stories. Where's the craziest place you've ever done it?" You knew Penelope didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. She was just an open person. 

But you shifted in your seat nonetheless, trying to figure out if you could answer or even if you would. Your tongue was a bit looser than you expected though, because before you could even finish thinking you just blurted it out. 

"Nowhere." 

The others blinked at you slightly before Penelope dived in with another question. 

"Is that Nowhere, Oaklahoma, or you're just not having sex in crazy places?" 

"No. I'm not… I'm not having sex. Period. Never have." You felt yourself shrink as the other members of the team awkwardly apologised for probing you so much. Really it wasn't that big of a deal, and it wasn't as if you were saving it for religious or moral reasons. But you'd not been the most popular teenager, and you'd started studying serial killers and sociopaths so early that you really hadn't wanted to get so intimate with someone else like that. 

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer's grip on his own drink had tightened ever so slightly, his heart race had picked up again, and suddenly the hand that was holding yours suddenly let you go, quietly dropping your fingers like they were glowing cinders, and he was dripping in gasoline, waiting to ignite. 

Lust. He felt sick with himself for the images that were suddenly flashing through his mind now that he knew you'd never been held in that way, trying not to fantasise about you underneath him, holding him, begging him, feeling all of him. He took another swig of his drink and politely excused himself to get another as he let himself catch some air, as the sudden realization that he wanted you - and had wanted you for quite some time now - finally hit him.

The next couple of weeks were normal, and you were thankful to have that discussion behind you. No one treated you differently, acted like you were more of a child than before, asked you how your dating life was or set you up on blind dates, which was really refreshing actually. You'd let some friends know previously, and that's all they'd done, surprised that you could live ignorant to wonders of sex without shrivelling up and dying. 

The only thing that was different was Spencer. And that wasn't really difference so much as growing more comfortable with each other. He'd rest his hand on the small of your back now in support sometimes, or have a hand slung over the back of your chair when sitting together. He was constantly at your side, especially if you were around male suspects or officers who'd taken a bit of a ballsy approach. 

You liked it, probably a bit too much. You gravitated towards him in a room filled with people, and found yourself hugging him more often, when you left a room, when you entered one, when he looked like he needed it. Which, recently, was all the time. A month went by with this increased comfort level, and soon you found yourself feeling wrong if his hands weren't on you. 

He stood close to you all the time, and you noticed the stares you were getting from everyone else. A few officers who'd approach you would apologise to him when they noticed him at your back, hand on your hip as he pulled you away. 

After one case, you could even swear that you felt more than him than you were expecting. He'd moved away slightly in between one of your hugs, but you'd pulled his arms back around you and stepped closer, pressing your back against his chest, letting your head rest on his arms. Something hard and long wedged up against your ass, and in a split second he was pulling away before you could ask him about it. He excused himself, and you felt your body burn up. It was Spencer, it was just Spencer and that wasn't because of you, it was some other reason. 

Spencer didn't know what he was doing. He grew more possessive over you by the day, and he'd honestly nearly bitten the head off an officer who asked him for your number. 

"Sorry, she doesn't have a phone." 

"But I saw her with one earlier. Look I get it she's FBI, and you guys are-" 

"Okay, so she's not interested."

"Hey, why don't you let her decide that wise guy?" 

"Oh sure, get angry I'm sure she'd love that. She's not interested, she has me." He couldn't help himself from getting in the officers face at that, and Morgan had to pull him back from the edge. 

"Wow, wow, hey, calm down." The officer stormed out, and he felt triumphant for only a second before Morgan rounded on him. 

"Whatever this thing you've got going on, Spencer, you need to get it out of your system as soon as possible." His voice was low and stern, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where you were sitting, staring confusedly through the glass at Spencer, whose eyes refused to move from your own. 

" I just wanted him to back off, she doesn't like him like that."

"No, you wanted him to back off because you've marked her like some animal marking its territory. She's not your prey, Spencer, she's our team member, now you're gonna have to get your act together and leave her alone, because we've got work to do." 

Sighing and throwing his hands through his hair again, he finally looked away from you and gathered his breath. He wanted to stop this too, this horrible perverted feeling of needing his hands on you, wanting to possess you day and night. To protect you. He just wasn't sure if he was strong enough to do that. 

The next time you all went to O'Keefe's he certainly tried. You expected him to follow you into the booth again - he didn't, sitting opposite you next to JJ. You expected him to talk to you or look at you for more than a second at a time - he didn't, avoiding most conversations entirely and keeping his eyes fixed on the bar. You certainly expected him to still be sat at the table when you returned from the bathroom, ready to slip into the seat beside him, force him to talk to you. Instead he was gone, and you scanned the rest of the bar trying to locate him. 

Something green and vile jumped you when you finally locked onto him, stood at the bar, surrounded by other women. Surrounded was maybe an exaggeration, as there were really only two of them, but they were practically draping themselves over him, and for some reason that set something alight inside of you. 

You watched them for a moment, how one of them trailed a hand up his arm as he shuddered away from their touch, the other pressing herself against the bar so her chest pushed up dramatically. The green bile in your throat carried your feet forwards, and before you knew it, you were clearing it from your throat to grab their attentions. 

"Spencer, there you are!" You brightened your tone specifically, as you locked eyes with his panicked ones. The two girls looked you up and down as you moved closer, brushing past them to climb up right into his lap on the barstool, pulling his arm around you as you pressed your ass into his crotch. 

"Are you going to introduce me to your new friends?" The smile didn't reach your eyes as you let your back rest against his chest comfortably, watching the women to see their reactions. The one touching him pulled her arm back instantly, and the other readjusted her dress before they both left silently, carrying their glasses back to wherever they came from. 

You watched them leave a little triumphantly before the green faded, and you realised what you had done. 

"Y/N…?" His voice was hesitant in your ear, and you shivered slightly before pushing off of him. 

"I'm so sorry, Spence, it just- it… looked like you were hard." You panicked again, pushing closer to him. "No, like you were in a hard situation, not that you were," your hand accidentally dropped to his crotch as you spoke your final words: "Hard."

He twitched beneath you as you finally looked down to where your hand was, as his mouth opened to say something. 

"Y/N…" was all you heard before you turned around, and fast walked to the entrance, picking your bag up quickly on the way, and then sprinted the second the cold air hit your face. 

You cursed yourself inwardly as you ran the three blocks more to your apartment, thankful that you were at least in walking (or apparently running) distance. What the hell had you been thinking? Practically sexually harassing one of your coworkers like that, grabbing his dick, albeit accidentally. 

You slammed your door shut behind you, leaning against it and sliding to the floor as you finally accepted that whatever this was with Reid, it wasn't friendship for you anymore. And you weren't sure if it had ever been. 

With your head between your legs, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you started replaying each moment with him, each touch from the very first. How even the memory of a brush past you could excite a fire in your heart, a heat between your legs growing by the second. 

You wanted to crawl pathetically into bed and not think about him until the next morning at work,  but fate, or Doctor Spencer Reid, had other plans. 

The knock at your door was sudden and incessant, the banging starting loud, and staying consistent until you tentatively pulled it open. 

He was stood there, chest heaving, looking down at you, sweat coating his forehead. 

"Can I… Come in?" He asked, and you nodded, too stunned at his sudden appearance to tell if this was real or just your fantasy becoming a little too realistic. 

He thanked you for letting him inside, and you showed him inside, guiding him to he couch, where you took a seat opposite him. 

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, you left in a rush and…" He trailed off, eyes flicking down to your lips. His Adam's apple bobbed with his swallow, and you watched it yourself, trying to avoid meeting his eyes, as if you were a schoolgirl about to get in trouble with a disappointed teacher. 

"I'm okay." 

"Okay, that's great, that's… Great." His breaths caught up to him, and he took another deep breath and a swallow before continuing. "How about we continue that game from last time. Twenty questions?" 

You'd do anything to stop him walking out of that door, but you felt too shy to touch him again, even in the friendly ways you were used to, so you eagerly accepted. 

"Yes, that… That sounds fun, thank you." 

"Okay. Question one. Do you know why I'm here?" He asks as he shifts closer to you, still not touching, but at a proximity where it would be natural to accidentally brush against one another. 

"N-No. But I might have an idea." He nodded at your response before moving on to his next question. 

"Question two. Are you a virgin?" He didn't trip or stumble over the words, pushing them out slowly and delicately so as not to offend. 

"Yes." The lump in your throat was thick, almost as if he'd put something there that you couldn't help but choke on. 

"Question three. Do you want to remain a virgin?" 

You shook your head no, following it with your voice seconds later as he stood up from his seat, putting some distance between you. 

"Question four. Do you feel intoxicated or drunk right now?" He held himself still as you sat on the very edge of your chair, desperate to feel his hands on you now. 

"No, I only had one sip at the bar before…" He held up a hand to silence you, and you did. 

Question five. Answer me honestly. Do you like it when I touch you?" 

"Yes." Your breath was a whisper, but it was breathy, sounding almost pornographic in your neediness. 

"Question six. Do you like it when other people touch you?" 

"Do you?" His head snapped back to yours, and you froze under his gaze. "Not as much." You answered and relaxed again, pouting slightly at his lack of answer. 

"Question seven. Do you like me touching other people?" He took a step closer to you again with this question, but you continued pouting as you shook your head. 

"No. I don't." His lips quirked upwards before he could stop them, but he gathered himself together again. 

"Question eight. Do you want me to leave?" You met his eyes at that question, taking one good, hard, long look at him. You noted the tensed jaw, the clenched fists, his stiff body language, trailing your eyes over him before looking him directly in the eyes. 

"No." You let the word hang on your tongue, pulling it out a bit longer than was necessary as you watched him take in a shaky breath. 

"Question nine. Do you want me to come over there and kiss you?" 

"God, yes." He was on you in seconds, restraints gone, throwing himself back at you as his lips collided with your own. Virgin you may be, but you'd kissed men before, and it had been nothing like this. 

His hands trailed up to your hair, tipping your head back slightly so he could gain better access. He bit your lip and thrust his tongue into your mouth when you gasped, so eager to consume every part of you whole. 

You'd never felt like this before. 

He pulled away, and you tried desperately to chase his lips, even as your lungs begged you to stop. 

"Last question," he whispered in the space between you, holding the sides of your face at a distance so neither of you could be tempted to dive in for a second kiss, or a third, or fourth. "Do you want me to fuck you?" You whimpered at his words, nodding furiously as you tried to lunge at him again, but he held you firm. 

"I need you to say your answer, baby. I need to hear your consent, okay?" You nod again and open your mouth, eyes never leaving his lips as you moan out a definitive "yes."

Instead of letting your lips fall against his again, he lunges for you, grabbing your legs and hauling you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style all the way back to your bedroom. 

"Gonna do it right," he mutters to himself as he throws you down on the bed, pulling back to take off his jacket and unbutton the cuffs on his shirt, rolling the sleeves up meticulously. 

"I'm going to take care of you, Y/N, okay?" You nod at him and flush, suddenly feeling the strength of his need for you as he holds himself back. He puts his hands on you again, gently coaxing your legs apart, pushing your skirt up over your hips. Reflexively, you move your hands over yourself, covering your sensitive places with your hands. 

"Don't cover yourself." His voice is strong, deep, as he orders you, and you let your arms drop back to your side. He traces his hands up and down your legs, almost as if he were memorising every inch of your skin, how you felt under his hands. 

His hands make their way up to your panties, and you watch with baited breath as he moves you, pulling your hips up so he can let them fall down. The lace material tickles you as he pushes them past your thighs, over your knees and finally off your legs entirely, balling them up and putting them in his pocket. 

"I'm going to touch you now, okay?" He asks it like a question, but he doesn't wait for your answer, unable to hold himself back before diving straight between your legs, so desperate to taste you that he's deaf to everything else. 

His tongue connects with your sensitive area first, tracing up and down at a steady pace as his legs half-heartedly push your legs open. It's almost as if he's enjoying the pressure of your legs wrapped around him, suffocating between your thighs as he feels your pleasure build, and build. 

Eventually he pushes your hips further apart, letting himself push his face into even more of you, his tongue entering your hole as he begins fucking it in and out of you, fingers coming back up to your clit to keep up the pressure there. 

"Spencer, please, please, fuck." 

"I love it when you beg for me like a needy little slut," he whispers, holding your legs apart as he looked up at you, face slick with your arousal. Your mouth drops wide at his words, and he immediately begins to retract them. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N, if that was too far, I just got caught up -" 

"I liked it." You said, quieting him as you spread your legs a bit further apart, begging for him to continue. He smiled and dived right back in, bringing his other hand up under your dress, all the way to your chest as you kept your legs open yourself. 

He sucked your clit into his mouth, lapping up all the juices you were releasing as you moaned underneath him, bucking into his face at the memory of his degradation. 

You were a needy little slut, and you needed him to make you cum. He was more than happy to oblige. 

He kept you there for what felt like forever, drinking you in for as long as he could. You orgasmed twice before he finished, completely overstimulated by the way he was desperately fucking you with his mouth. 

He was obsessed with you, with your scent, your taste, with being the first ever person to ever touch you like this, to fuck you, to make you feel so good. Without him even realising, you're pushed to the brink for a second time, shuddering under the heat of his mouth as he drinks you in. 

He finally pulls his head up again, coming up for air as you're twitching under him. 

"Perfect, baby, so perfect for me." His lips fall down to your own, and suddenly you're tasting yourself on his tongue. It's hypnotising, and despite the pleasure you've just received, you need more, desperate to feel him on you again. 

When he pulls his mouth away, he replaces himself with his fingers, pushing them into your mouth. 

"Suck," he says and you listen, as he watches the way you lick yourself off of him. 

He unzips your dress with his free hand, carefully pulling your arms out of the sleeves and pushing your dress off your body. You trace your tongue around every ridge of his fingers, leaving no inch undiscovered. He moved you to pull the dress of, and you graciously followed, letting him do whatever he wanted to you. 

"Nice little slut, tasting herself on my fingers?" He whispered when you were finally bare, pulling his fingers from your mouth, letting the trail of spit hang between you as you moaned. 

He removed himself from over you, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. 

"Come here. Come and sit on my lap." 

You cautiously followed his directions. You'd thought that he'd fuck you then, after spending so long getting you ready, but apart from his tie, which he was in the middle of discarding as you crawled over to him, he hadn't derobed any further. 

"That's it baby, come and sit yourself down right here." He pat his thigh and you crawled over, lowering yourself down onto his clothed leg. 

"What now, Spencer?" You stuttered the words out, heart beating as you awaited his instructions. 

"Now, I want you to rock your hips back and forth. Just like this." He grabbed your hips and started moving you against his leg, pushing you down to grind into him. 

"Spencer, wait, I don't know-" 

"I do. I know you can do it, so please try. For me." You pulled you in for a kiss, and then removed his hands from you, leaving you to rock against his thigh. 

You were unsure of the movements at first, moving slowly as you dragged your aching cunt up and down the top of his pants, watching as you saw the wet patch you were making. You moaned with each movement, growing faster and more confident as you continued. 

"That's it baby, use me to get yourself off, okay? Let me see you." He whispered in your ears, pushing your sweat-slicked hair ou of your face, holding it up for you. 

"Spencer please," you don't even know what you're asking for as you beg him, feeling that familiar bubble in your stomach grow. 

"No, you can do it. You look so beautiful like this, Y/N, so desperate for my cock, huh?" You start trying to unbutton his shirt, desperate to see more of him, to feel more of his bare skin on your own. But he stops your hands and holds them against his chest. 

"You need to ask nicely first, before trying to undress me like a needy little whore." The words should sound violent, should humiliate you, but his voice is so soft you simply move faster, moaning and desperate to cum one more time. 

"Fuck, Spencer, I'm gonna… I'm gonna…" 

"No, you're not." Before you finish, he pulls you off his leg, hauling your body back onto the bed, and laying you back down on your back. You moan in disapproval, so frustrated with the lack of release that you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

"Don't cry, baby. I'll give you what you want soon." He practically rips his clothes off, pulling his vest over his head, stumbling over each button and removing his belt and pants before climbing over to you. His cock finally free you take your first glance at it. 

You'd never entirely been sure how it was that the male appendage fit inside something as small as your pussy, and you were doubly unsure about how Spencer's was ever going to fit inside you. You stared at it wide eyed, as you took in the length, the girth, and the heat of it as he stroked it in one hands, pushing on top of you. 

He let go of it as soon as he was between your legs, letting it fall onto your stomach as he crawled between your legs. He trailed a finger over your lower abdomen just around where his cock was twitching against you as his other hand came up to stroke your hair. 

"You look worried, Y/N, what's wrong?" 

"Will it, um, will it fit?" You asked, knowing how cliché you sounded. 

"We've spent the last thirty-seven minutes loosening you up with foreplay. It should fit, but I can't promise it won't hurt."

"Right, if my hymen is still intact you have to…" 

"That's right. And then it's going to reach all the way in you to here," with each word, he stepped his fingers up from your clit to where the tip of his dick sat on your stomach, letting you come to terms with exactly how full you were about to be. 

"I'm going to fill you, and you're going to be mine, and I'm going to be yours. My sweet angel." He stroked your face, catching his thumb on your lips on the way down, tempted to thrust it into your mouth again, to see just how much of a whore you could be, given the chance. 

Instead, he lined himself up with your dripping core, and, making sure one last time that this is what you wanted, slowly pushed in. 

It was uncomfortable at first, having something so wholly alien inside of you, you weren't sure how to react. You wrapped your arms around him, digging your nails in, deep, as he pushed in further. 

"Y/N, I need to move more now, and it's going to hurt a little, you just have to trust me, okay?" He kissed the top of your head, but you were so lost in the sensations to answer. With one swift jerk of his hips, he pushed through your hymen, and fully sheathed himself inside of you. He pressed small kisses everywhere on your face, while whispering to you how beautiful you were. 

"You're doing so good for me angel, I'm going to take care of you. Going to make you feel so much better than this. You're so beautiful." His lips were distractingly sweet, as were his words, and soon you found yourself relaxing into him, the sharp pain of earlier fading to an electric buzz inside of you. 

You jerked your hips up to meet his, and with that, he knew you were ready. From his words, you'd assumed that he'd move slowly in you. But with one final lingering kiss to your lips, he lifted his chest up, pinned your legs tightly down, and started thrusting hard and fast. 

"Sorry, just couldn't help myself baby. Needed to see you looking ruined underneath me." Moans spilled out of your mouth with his every movement, and the orgasm you'd built up earlier hit you like a ton of bricks, blackness hazing over your eyes as they rolled back in your head. 

"Fuck, fuck, Spencer, don't stop!" You screamed at the top of your lungs, unable to control your pitch or volume as he slammed into you desperately. He was so turned on by the sight of you beneath him, so proud of having fucked away your virginity, to have given you your very first penetrative orgasm that he wouldn't have heard anything that came out of your mouth. 

His eyes were fixated at the place between you, where you joined, where he was entering you, defiling you, claiming you, using you, breeding you. 

He knew he wouldn't cum inside of you, not the first time, but it was tempting. Instead, he chose to move his lips back to your skin. He marked you with love bites and hickeys across your neck, chest and shoulders as you moaned with every roll of his hips, shuddering on his cock. He was close. And seeing you like this, displaying all the signs that you were his and his only, he finally lost it. 

Pulling his dick out of you, he stroked it through his release, spraying his seed over the parts of your skin he hadn't bruised with love. Your stomach, your breasts, hell, one spurt even landed dangerously close to your lips, he was everywhere. You. Were. His. 

He fell beside you, panting for a few moments as you finally cracked your eyes back open, realising what the two of you had just done. You wiped the cum from your face with a stray finger, staring at it for a second before licking it off your finger. 

"As hot as that was, I think we should get you cleaned up properly, angel." He spends forever cleaning you up, carrying you to the bathroom, washing your entire body with hot water and a fresh cloth, running you a hot bath to relax your muscles. You snuggle into his chest at some point in the bath, relaxing so much into him, that you drift off to sleep. 

You feel him carry you to bed, semi-conscious, tucking you in and climbing in next to you. He holds you through the night, the way he holds you after your bad cases. He holds you until he doesn't. 

You're blindsided by the cold bed the next morning. You knew he would be there, you'd felt him inside you and next to you, and you'd needed his warmth, but he was gone. You looked for him in every other part of your home, looked for a note or an explanation, but there wasn't one. 

Through tears, you got ready for work, ready to face him and make him answer why he was suddenly gone. You wanted him to apologise, especially since he'd marked you so badly the night before you looked like a car crash victim from the neck down. 

Dark lavender blossomed along your collar bones as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trailing a finger along every place that he touched the night before. 

"How could you be so stupid?" You cursed yourself. If you'd have listened to what he was saying last night, really listened, you'd have known he wasn't going to be here in the morning. He wanted to ruin you, to possess you, to take away your virginity, and he'd done just that. 

You almost wanted to keep the bruises on display going into work, to make him confront the pain he caused you by leaving. In the end, it was the inevitable stares from everyone else that convinced you otherwise. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. 

You pushed through the doors to the bullpen and didn't bother putting your bag down before you started scanning the room for him. 

"Where's Spencer?" You practically shouted the words at Morgan, unable to hold back your anger. 

"Y/N, what's wrong?" 

"Where is he?" You demand, and there must be something in your eyes that speaks to your devastation because Morgan shuts up and just points to the top of the stairs, where Spencer is exiting Hotch's office without a care in the world. 

You don't realise that something is tears until you're beating a hand against his chest in frustration as they spill down your face. 

"Where were you?" You demand, sobbing into his chest, as he pulls your hands away. The entire office is watching your commotion, but you don't care, you're not letting him move you out of the way. 

"Y/N, I need you to sign this." His voice is calm, and you hate him for that. That he can stay so neutral when he's just broken your heart. 

"No, not until you tell me why you left." 

"Sign the papers, Y/N, trust me." He pulls your chin up so you can look him in the eye, and you catch a glimpse of the man who has been holding you, comforting you for the last four months. You snatch the pen from him and sign the papers, thrusting them back at him with a scowl. 

He smiles as he looks down at them, placing them back on his desk before pulling you in for a long, deep kiss. You're shocked at first, but you melt into it, pulling him closer so he can't leave again. 

"I'm sorry. I had to come into the office to declare our relationship, Morgan sometimes tells me I have a one track mind, and when I woke up this morning, the one thing I wanted to do was get it in writing that you were mine." 

Your push the tears out of his face, and attempt to pull him down for another kiss. You don't get the chance, as the sound of several throats clearing around you burst your bubble. 

"Public space, no canoodling." Rossi shouts down at you from the balcony, a soft smirk on his face. 

Penelope runs in from her office, and stares wide-eyed at the lack of space between the two of you. "You! And you! Security cameras….. You!"

"Now, I'm sure there's a story here, but from the state of our little angel's neck here, I'm sure I don't want to hear it." Derek laughs, smacking Spencer on the back in praise as he walks up the stairs to the meeting room. 

You slap a hand over your neck, trying to pull the turtleneck further up to hide the mark you evidently missed. 

"She's my angel, now." Spencer calls up to him. "I have the paperwork to prove it."  

[venusbyline]

GUYS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!!! I NEED TO RIDE THIS MAN IMMEDIATELY

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin]

Kiss

Spencer leans over you as he gets your attention. He’s gone from a germaphobe to an affectionate lover. You cup his face in your hands and kiss him softly, you shift on the couch in case he wants to join you. He knees the couch as he sighs into the kiss, deepening it as he gets closer. He leans more into you pushing you lower into the furniture. He tries to put a hand behind you to stop him from crushing you but you stop him pulling him against you. He yelps giving your tongue access, you grin against him, his blush growing. His knees are on either side of you.

“Angel…” he mutters against your lips. “ M’heavy.”

“Don’t,” kiss. “Care.” kiss.

Spencer’s tongue seems to explore every crevice in your mouth, his hands running up and down your sides. He pulls you slightly into him before setting you back down again.

“Your neck.” he explains but you can hardly care.

You try to move out of the kiss, the need for oxygen winning but he whines and slots his lips back on yours. He’s breathless as he ruts into your leg, his hands sneakily going under your shirt. He reminded you of an animal going into heat.

“Spencer?” you break off the kiss again, turning your head for air.

“M’yeah, need you, need you really really bad, please.” he kisses down your neck still rutting into your leg. “Please, Please, Please.”

“Where do you need me?” even though the answer is glaringly obvious.

“Stop teasing.” he whined into the crook of your neck.

“Alright.” you chuckled. He looked up at you, his hair was a mess, his glass were so lopsided that you took them off for fear of them falling, his face was flushed and his eyes glossy, his lips were swollen and he was a complete mess. You could feel his ‘need’ evident in his pants.

“Use my leg.”

[alana-reid-2005]

mgg’s eras

model pretty

baby reid 🥹

glasses reid 😍

doe eyed baby deer reid 🥹

literal prince charming 🫅

jesus hair reid on crutches

boyband cut reid 🥵

daddy reid

rumple buttercup gubler 🥰

[hereforhalstead]

Shall I try someone else?

Spencer/MGG x Reader

Listen, I have no shame in using this gif

NOT PROOFREAD

*******

‘ I cant believe I’m gonna text him’

You scoffed to yourself, eyeing the phone you held in your hand, thumb hovering over his name on your chat list on whatsapp.

Almost daring yourself not to give into the desires you knew you craved and that he could so easily fulfil.

‘are you awake?’

You sounded like a foolish teenager, thinking that sounded better than the stereotypical ‘you up?’ at 3am text.

Spoiler alert, it didn’t .

You almost threw your phone on the ground, it landing face up beside you as your knees were instinctively bought to your chest in panic, regretting sending the text as soon as you pressed send.

Almost instantly, the screen lit up. You could see it from the corner of your eye, reluctant to look down.

You peered over your arm, wincing as you read the message through squinted eyes.

‘Of course, darling’

Your heart melted, your stomach flipped, your heart rate quickened.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t feel this way.

He told you not to fall for him.

Yet what did you do, oh yeah.

You fell absolutely head over heels, 100%, life consumingly in love with him. Good one.

Mere moments had passed, you hadn’t unlocked the phone as you sat and mustered a response.

He hardly gave you much to go from, did you completely out yourself and admit why you messaged him or did you play it off with a simple ‘cool’?

Your phone once again, lit up in your hand. Your eyes darting to the screen without a second thought or hesitation as you scanned the words on the screen.

‘any particular reason you wanted to know, pretty girl?’

Shit, even through a screen he had you backed against a virtual wall. Making the hunger for him to have you actually pushed up against a wall, ten times more intense.

‘just wondered if you wanted to come over, cant sleep ☹’

You laughed at the innocent sad face added to the end, feeling the complete opposite and knowing he would see through it.

The grey ticks turned to blue as soon as you sent the message, quickly exiting out of the chat as though you didn’t want to seem desperate.

Not like your phone was now stuck to your hand with your eyes not leaving the screen as you wait for his response.

‘Poor baby, not sure how I would be able to help though?’

You could practically see the smug grin on his face, arm folded behind his head to prop himself up against the headboard of the bed. Thumb dancing over the keypad as he probably typed out all the ways in which he could help, before deleting them as if nothing happened.

‘oh no!’

You yet again, sarcastically added the exclamation. Clearly having too much fun with the situation yourself now.

‘guess I will just have to try someone else’

Ordinarily you wouldn’t have sent such a text, you didn’t have anyone else you could ask, you weren’t one of those girls who had the ‘lucky’ bunch stored in your phone who you could text at early hours of the morning to come over.

Even if you did, you wouldn’t want anyone else. Just him.

You wanted to see how far you could push him, knowing the way his eyes would’ve darkened with reading the message.

Probably reading it a few times to ensure he read it right, phone clutched in his hand, bringing it up to his pursed lips in frustration.

It took a significantly less amount of time to yet again see ‘typing’, flash up next to his name on the chat. Your heart rate though the roof as you hear your phone chime.

‘baby you are funny, we both know you wouldn’t dare’

You sat on his response for a minute or two, letting him sweat as he could see you’d read the message.

‘goodnight sweet cheeks’

You were proud of yourself for your blunt response, even if he didn’t reply, you’d sure be obscenely offended but you wouldn’t be shocked.

If he had sent you a message even close to that, the phone probably would’ve been launched across the room and loud groan that could’ve been heard from down the corridor of your apartment building.

The grey ticks, stayed grey for what felt like an eternity. In fact, you stared at the screen for 4 solid minutes, waiting.

You huffed, regretting your text. Had you ruined it? Took it too far?

He could be an annoying prick sometimes and knew exactly how to push your buttons, especially when it came to making you jealous but in all honestly you couldn’t imagine him sending you a message like the one you had sent.

The room was silent, you took yourself over to the mirror as if you needed to take a long hard look at yourself, but in actual fact you just chuckled. Grow up.

You needed to test him, needed to see how he felt. If he wanted you, he would.

Simple as that.

If you were going to keep falling for him, the least you could do was find out if you were both kind of on the same page, even the same book would be good.

You continued to stare in the mirror as you got ready for bed, accepting your defeat and pondering on how you’ll deal with such rejection on a clear mind in the morning.

Scraping your hair into a ponytail, you saw your phone light up on the bed. Seeing his name flash at the top of the screen with the green and red ‘accept’, ‘decline’ buttons staring you in the face.

You froze.

He knew you hated phone calls, especially when he hadn’t told you he was going to call. Prick.

Your thumb hit the accept button before your brain could scream at you to let it go to voicemail, holding the phone to your ear to hear that raspy voice you so desperately craved.

‘I’m outside, little one. You gonna come and let me in or should I try buzzing someone else?’

[piqtescue]

this photo is rewiring my brain

[wallowslistener]

s. reid as ur boyfriend! ೨ৎ

𐙚˚ my headcanons on how i think spence would show his love for u.

✦ spencer shows his love by being thoughtful: spencer is really thoughtful and always pays attention to the little things you mention. if you mention a book you want to read or a movie you like, he’ll surprise you with it later.

spencer shows his love by taking you out on dates: he loves planning dates that involve learning together. whether it's going to a museum, attending a lecture, or solving puzzles.

spencer shows his love by being sweetly awkward: spencer is a bit awkward at first, especially when it comes to expressing his feelings, but his nervousness is endearing, and you can always tell how much he cares, even if he stumbles over his words.

spencer shows his love by being protective: spencer is very protective of you. he’ll use his intelligence to keep you safe, whether it’s by being hyper aware of your surroundings or giving you advice on staying safe. in public, he'll gravitate toward standing close to you, especially in crowded or unfamiliar places. he’s protective and wants to make sure you feel safe and secure at all times.

spencer shows his love by being gentle and patient: spencer is incredibly patient and always takes the time to listen to you. he never rushes you to talk about things you’re not ready to, and he’s always there to support you.

spencer shows his love by telling you random facts: he has a habit of sharing random facts with you. at first, it catches you off guard, but over time, you find it adorable how excited he gets about sharing his knowledge.

spencer shows his love by being supportive of your interests: even if your interests are completely different from his, spencer takes the time to learn about them and support you. he listens attentively when you talk about your hobbies and would surprise you by getting involved.

spencer shows his love by being romantic unexpectedly: spencer isn't traditionally romantic, but he surprises you with his own form of romance. whether it’s writing you a heartfelt letter or taking you to a hidden gem of a bookstore, he always knows how to make you feel special.

spencer shows his love by always being there for you: he’s the type of boyfriend who will drop everything if you need him. no matter how busy he is, he’ll make time for you, especially when you’re going through something.

spencer shows his love by encouraging your growth: spencer believes in your potential and is always encouraging you to pursue your dreams. he’ll support you in any way he can, whether it’s helping you study for an exam or just being your biggest cheerleader.

spencer shows his love by giving you subtle touches: spencer prefers small, discreet gestures like holding your hand, a quick squeeze on your arm, or brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. these small touches mean a lot to him and are his way of staying connected to you without drawing too much attention.

spencer shows his love by showing you private affection: when you’re alone, spencer is much more open with his affection. he’ll cuddle up to you, give you kisses, and express how much he loves you in a way that feels natural and comfortable for both of you.

spencer shows his love by being affectionate: he expresses his love verbally in public, whispering sweet things or complimenting you quietly. his words are heartfelt, and even though he’s not overly demonstrative, his affection comes through in the way he talks to you.

spencer shows his love by being attentive: spencer isn't for grand public gestures, but he’s always attentive to your needs. he’ll open doors for you, offer his jacket if you’re cold, and be there to support you in any way that he can!

[samuelsdean]

Stay With Me

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary:  "you’ve been shot countless times, huh?” “that sounded a bit more reassuring in my head.”

genre: angst & fluff

word count: 1.1k

author's notes: almost a year of no writing, but i'm finally home (i posted a new fic)! it's been one hectic year for me. uni was crazy & i started my clinical rotations. plus, i did my thesis & it even got a distinction mark so i'll be presenting it at a research congress pretty soon (yay!). with that, i'm really sorry for ghosting ao3 & tumblr. i couldn't find the time to insert it in between uni & breaking down lol. anyway, i'll be posting a lot more while i'm on break. i hope you'll enjoy reading my first fic after a year of zzz. have fun!

YOU CAN HEAR SIRENS AND PEOPLE SHOUTING.

They say when you are knocking on death’s door, hearing is the last of your senses you will lose. If you’re dying, you don’t know it. Nothing makes sense at the moment. It’s all just blurry hues of blues and reds and shouting—Stay with me—the smell of something metallic. The only thing you’re sure of right now is that your head hurts and it seemed like a van ran right through you with how achy your body feels right now. 

Who’s  that? You mused. Why are they yelling at me?  I’m  right here. You turned your head slightly and tried to open your eyes.

It’s quite the task.

“T-That’s it,” The person, whom you think was yelling at you, said. “Stay with me, Y/N. Don’t close your eyes.”

You groaned and gripped the person's hand tightly as if to stand up, but you couldn't. Everything ached. And the person holding you, just kept on talking, their voice a low murmur at first. But even through the haze of pain, it was starting to sound familiar. You recognized that dulcet tone, the rich, smooth sound that could captivate your attention with random facts or lull you to sleep with equal ease.

The voice, you realized with a flicker of a smile, belonged to Spencer, its familiar cadence a warm current cutting through the blossoming pain.

“Reid?” You croaked.

Your throat’s dryer than any other desert in existence right now. And you sound worse than you look—you think—you don’t know for sure, except the fact that you can’t move much.

“It’s me,” Spencer chuckled while sniffling. “I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?”

Even through the haze of pain, a new wave of discomfort bloomed in your shoulder, sharp and insistent. Before you could react and get up, Spencer's hand tightened on yours, his voice laced with a tremor you'd never heard before. "Don't move, Y/N. You've been shot."

He applied pressure on your wound—which you just noticed. The pain hit you in a delayed wave, a white-hot stab that stole your breath. You hissed a weak sound that did little to mask the spike in your heart rate. 

"Stop moving or you're gonna bleed out even more!" Spencer's voice, usually so calm and collected, was laced with a raw panic you'd never heard before.

"Easy there, tiger," you tried to joke, your voice raspy. "I've been through worse. I’ve been shot countless times. W-why are you so worried?"

The question came out in a shaky whisper, the concern evident in his voice a stark contrast to the usual intellectual debates you shared.

Spencer's grip tightened, momentarily cutting off your circulation. "Because you could have died, Y/N!" he snapped, his voice cracking with a choked sob. "You… you were…"

He trailed off, unable to put into words the terrifying image that had flashed before him when he saw you collapse, after hearing the sound of a bullet whizzing by and hitting you.

The sight of your vulnerability stripped away his usual composure, leaving a raw fear he couldn't conceal. It took him a moment to regain his composure, his voice softening as he continued, "You shouldn't be so glib about this. It was a nasty shot, close to a major artery."

Despite the pain, a warmth bloomed in your chest. You'd never seen Spencer like this, so shaken and afraid.

"Okay," you murmured, forcing a weak snicker. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, at least I got you to patch me up, right, Dr.Reid?"

A ghost of a smile glinted across his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Hold still," he mumbled, amused but also bothered at your dreadful timing for jokes. He applied pressure more gently this time. "You’ve been shot countless times, huh?”

“That sounded a bit more reassuring in my head” You quipped. 

A bit lightheaded from the pain, you clutched Spencer’s hand. The shriek of approaching sirens and the glare of headlights cut through the haze. You struggled to focus on the lifeline thrown in a storm of confusion.

"They're here," Spencer said, his voice tight. A sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead, a stark contrast to his usual cool composure.

"About time," you rasped, trying to lighten the mood. The effort cost you a fresh wave of dizziness, the world tilting slightly on its axis.

To which, Spencer shot you a look that was half-annoyed, half-worried. "Don't try to be a hero. You're losing a lot of blood. Any movement can dislodge the clot forming in your wound, renewing the bleeding. So, stop moving!"

"Just keeping things interesting," you mumbled, the words slurring slightly. “Wouldn’t want my last moments here on earth to be so grim…”

Spencer's jaw clenched for a moment, then he sighed, the sound heavy with relief. "You always were a pain," He muttered, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You’re  going to be okay, he thought.

The sirens reached a fever pitch, pulling up right beside you. A flurry of activity erupted as paramedics swarmed, the rest of the team trying to make sure you were tended to and that you were going to be okay, their movements a bit panicked but practiced, and efficient. Relief washed over you, a sweet wave that threatened to pull you under. 

"Hold on, Y/N," Spencer said, his voice desperate despite the composure of his words. He kept his hand pressed firmly on your wound, his touch a grounding anchor in the chaos. “Help is here. Everyone’s here. Just… stay with me, okay?"

"Going somewhere," you slurred, your eyelids drooping.

"No, you're not," he said fiercely, his voice barely a whisper above the shouts of the paramedics. "You're coming with us."

You coughed a sharp rasp that sent a jolt of pain through your shoulder. "Stats say shoulder wounds aren't usually fatal," you wheezed, trying to distract yourself from the ache.

Spencer's hand stilled for a moment, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head. "What?"

"Yeah," you continued, your voice weak but persistent. "L-look, I get it, you're scared. But statistically, shoulder wounds aren't as serious..." Your voice trailed off as a wave of nausea washed over you.

"Maybe you shouldn't be reciting medical statistics right now," Spencer said sharply, his voice laced with a hint of panic.

“S-shouldn’t that be my line, boy genius?” You continued to joke, as the world dissolved into a scramble of flashing lights and blurry faces.

The last thing you registered was the feel of Spencer's hand tightening around yours, his touch a silent promise that resonated louder than any siren.

[blackdollette]

"riding the ride." | spencer reid

get free. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: it was a win-win for you. you could finally shut spencer up, and managed to get a good orgasm too.

fill out the taglist form!

female!reader x spencer

word count: 1.6k

contents: cunnilingus, cum-eating, snowballing (inverted), not proofread

date night. the one night a week where neither of you were working late and finally had the chance unfold in each other’s arms.

as cool breeze blew through the living room window as you flipped through tv channels, spencer’s arm wrapped around your torso as you rested your head on his chest. “what do you feel like watching tonight?” you asked, his thumbs rubbing slow circles onto your flesh. “i don’t mind, baby. i’m not picky.” you nodded, clicking the down button on the remote and landing on a reality show.

spencer hissed and you looked back at him. “what’s the matter?” you asked. “i don’t mind it, but i’m just worried about you. you know i found a really intresting article about reality tv. statistics show that around 47% of people use them as guilty pleasures and 92% of that is the female population who admit that they feel pressure to conform to the unrealistic beauty and relationship standards portrayed in the shows. besides, everything is one-hundred percent staged anyway.”

with each word he spoke, you felt braincells getting killed off in your brain. you nodded, consdiering what he said. “alright then. no reality tv, got it.” you scrolled further down the tv guide, landing on a horror film this time. but he spoke again. “are you sure you wanna choose that, babe? horror movies have been proven to desensitize viewers to violence, major disturbances and other dangers, which may all end up messing up your perception of risks.”

you felt your eye twitching as he droned on. you decided to find something that he couldn’t nitpick and analyze. you click on a weather forecast. boring, monotonous, but no dangers in sight. or so you thought. “did you know tha-” you rolled your eyes, snapping at last. “god, don’t you ever get tired of working that mouth of yours?” 

you squirmed at how provocative the statement came out. surprised at your outburst, spencer smiled proudly. “i have yet to, darling.” his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you in even closer to him. you rose an eyebrow, eyes narrowing at him ever so slightly. “is that a challenge, spence?” he caught a glimpse of the cheeky grin on your face in the corner of his eye. 

as the weather man blabbed on in the background, your face lit up as an idea popped into your head. you clicked the off button on the remote, making the tv screen turn black. you crawled so that you were fully sat on his lap, your hands starting to play with his hair as you whispered in his ear. “i’ve got a better idea for date night…”

spencer reid, the human computer who could sense even the slightest change in atmopshere seemed to be having a malfunction as you gently pressed his face into your chest. his breath heat up, the warmth seeping throug the thin fabric of your tank top. you moved your hips against his lap, taking the air from his lungs. “how about i put that tongue of yours to good use..?”

it was at this moment that he knew he was powerless. his hands were at your waist, clinging to them like he was afraid to let you go. his eyes trailed down to where your two body connected, taking in the sight of your legs in those little pajama shorts. he brought his hand down and began twirling the drawstring between his fingers, gazing up at you with those deep brown eyes. he tugged at the waistband, silently begging for the shorts to come off. you grinned, seeing that he was finally lost for words. “use your words, spence…” you never thought you’d have to tell spencer to speak, but here you were, watching as he struggled to formulate basic english.

he pressed his chin into your soft chest, muttering under his breath. “can you take ‘em off, hon..?” his biceps flxed slightly under his t-shirts as his grip tightened. you dug your thumbs under the waistband of your shorts, giving him a teasing glance of your bare hips and listening to his breath hitch.

you grinned as his eyes widened like saucers at the sight of your panties. “why don’t you lie down for me, spence.” he nodded, following your command in an instant like an obedient puppy. you stood up from the couch, his eyes glued to your body as you finally took off your shorts, letting them fall to the ground before kicking them off your feet.

the tension in the room grew thick enough to cut through as you lowered yourself onto his chest, not wanting to move too fast. spencer was panting like a dog, eyes triling down to where you cunt with covered by that pesky little strip of fabric. he longed to tear it with his teeth, to finally have access to the honey between your legs.

you slowly rose up once again, crawling slowly until you were hovering over his face. spencer’s mouth watered at the area of saturated fabric that was the perfect telltale of your arousal. your hips swayed slightly, hypnotizing him and making that familiar sizzle burn in this grey sweatpants.

a taste of heaven was just a touch away, and he didn’t know how much longer he could wait. you took a deep breath. “a-alright, just lemme know when you’re rea-” he couldn’t bear the torture any longer. he grabbed your ass, tearing off your panties and connecting his lips with your dripping cunt. 

completely taken by surprise, you yelped, gripping the couch cushion as your whole body tensed. he was going at it like a starved dog, his tongue greedily lapping up all your juuices as he tossed the leftover fabric of your panties to the side, his hands kneading the soft flesh of your ass as he flicked his tongue over your puffy clit.

he groaned deeply as he finally tasted you, desperate to have you. his pulsating cock twitched in his pants, begging to be let free. he bucked his hips into the air, moving against anything he could. “you taste so good, baby…” he muttered into your pussy, moving a hand down to rub quiet circles on your clit.

you tossed your head back in pleasure, grinding against his face as he found the perfect rhythm between his tongue and his fingers. he jutted his tongue in and out of your hole, hasilty bringing a hand down to his sweatpants and needily palming himself through the plush fabric. the contact made his vision go starry, the abundance of pleasure doing wonderful things to his head.

he snaked his hand into his pants, whipping out his precum-glazed cock. the tip was red and swollen from being neglected for so long. he gave himself a few lazy strokes, more focused on your right then than anything else. 

his tongue ventured deep inside of your hole, desperate to taste every fold and crevice. you were sure that he wasn’t even breathing at this point. he was completely drunk off the taste of your body. he pumped his cock at a more rapid pace, feeding his moans into your core and sending powerful vibrations through you.

the base of his hand slapped against his balls each time he went back down, his thumb ghosting against his tip when he came back up again. the living room filled with the succulent noises of him devouring you like your were his last meal.

your back arched as he suckled your hard pearl between his lips. you attempted to rise up from his face to let him have a breath of air, but he gripped you even tighter. “c’mon baby, i’m not done yet…” he had your cum pouring down his neck, grool bubbling from his lips and nostrils. he was making an absolute mess of you, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

his hips violently thrusted into his fist as the sounds of your moans and whimpers fueled his desire even more. he growled into you, eating you up like a starved predator who had finally caught its prey. your legs clenched aorund his head, nearly suffocating him. you rode his face rapidly, tits bouncing through your tank top.

the sight from above made him run wild. he moved his hand from your hip, sneaking it under your shirt and starting to knead your breasts, toying with your hard nipples.

you were so close to reaching such a satisfying climax. every nerve in your body was responding to his intimate touch, never wanting him to stop. your hands grabbed his hair as the band in your stomach snapped, utnring you into a screamed mess as thick white liquid cascaded out of your pussy.

he hungrily lapped up every last drop, not wanting to let a single drop go to waste. his cock had ejaculated hot strings of cum so far that they had hit your back, painting you like a piece of art. he took his time finished you off like the last scoop of a sweet dessert before finally letting you off his face. as you got back to your feet, he sat up and pulled you into a sloppy kiss, feeding your cum into your mouth and groaning softly. “...see how good you taste, my love..?”

your lips began to swell at how deeply he took you in, the heat in your body reaching an all time high. after several long minutes, he pulled away from you, a string of saliva connecting you two before breaking. he looked down, seeing the cummy mess on his t-shirt. but it was nothing compared to what streamed down his neck. you giggled softly, patting him on the cheek. “such a messy boy…”

he stood up from the couch, picking up your shorts for you. “how about we take this date night to the shower? would you like that, baby?” you smiled, nodding as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. he walked away with you, a smle on his face and a sticky mess flowing down your inner thighs.

author's note: thank you everyone for 1,000 followers! never thought i'd live to see the daythat i reach my longest goaal

[cuddleprofiler]

A SECRET IN YOUR SMILE - When Spencer and you go on a date and end up dancing in the rain

Word count: 3.4k approximately

Genre: Fluff

A/N: I have written this fic for @pathologicalreid 's Margovember. I hope you like it Margot <3

I have tried to change my writing style.

“That was nice,” Spencer says, looking at you like he’s trying to send a secret message through his eyes. You swear he’s about to pull out a satellite dish and try to communicate via telepathy. Seriously, if he could figure out how to do that, he’d be the first person to turn it into a PhD thesis.

You smirk, leaning slightly toward him. “Then would you say I made your night, Dr. Spencer Reid?” You say it playfully, your voice light and full of sweetness. The night air is cool against your skin, and the moonlight casts a soft glow over the empty street around you.

Spencer turned his head to you, a smile tugging at his lips, but it was the way his eyes lingered on you that made your heart flutter. The gentle curve of his smile didn’t just come from the joke—it came from something deeper, something unspoken that was hard for him to name.

When you said his full name, Spencer felt a stirring he wasn’t used to. It was as if, in that moment, you had torn down all the walls that usually kept him safe from his own vulnerability. You didn’t just speak his name—you made him feel as though it had purpose, as if it meant something. Maybe it was because no one had ever softened it like that before. Not since his mother.

His breath caught as you looked up at him. You always made him feel safe in a way that nothing else could. There was no judgment in your eyes, no expectation, just an openness that let him be who he was—broken, complicated, and sometimes unsure. Yet with you, he never felt any of those things were reasons to pull away. With you, they were just pieces of him, and you loved them anyway.

“Spencer?” Your voice gently pulled him out of his thoughts. He had been lost in them, but it was a place he didn’t mind being—especially when you were there.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice a little breathless, as if you had caught him off guard. He glanced over at you, eyes wide, and a quiet smile spread across his face. “You did. Yeah.”

You smiled at his flustered response, though you sensed a deeper current beneath it. There were things in his past, things he didn’t share with anyone, but you knew—he knew—he didn’t have to say them for you to understand. Your smile softened at the thought. You knew that this—this moment, this connection—was something more than he ever let himself believe he deserved.

“Actually, no one has done something like this for me,” he said, the confession coming out quieter than he’d intended. A flicker of shame, maybe. Maybe just self-doubt. His voice wavered, but there was something else behind it—something that told you he had more to say but couldn’t quite get it out.

You can tell he’s thinking about something deeper — about how no one has treated him this way before. And you can’t say you’re surprised. Spencer Reid is the type of guy who doesn’t get a lot of praise or affection, at least not in the way he deserves. You know that. He’s always had walls up, and yet, somehow, you’ve always managed to slip past them without even trying.

You smiled, but it was gentler now, aware of the weight of his words. Your heart twisted slightly, but you masked it with a softness in your expression that only Spencer would recognize. You knew this wasn’t just about the date—it was about the history he carried, the unspoken scars he hid.

“So you hadn’t been corrupted yet?” you say with a dramatic gasp, raising your fist to the sky. “YES!” You almost trip over your own feet, but you recover and strike a pose like you’re the hero in a cheesy action movie. Spencer cracks up, shaking his head, but the way he looks at you? Like you just won the gold medal in charm.

 “Alright, now I’m gonna teach you how a real woman treats a handsome, insightful, gentleman like you,” you tease, winking at him. Spencer’s laughter is pure, his whole face lighting up at your theatrics.

You raised an eyebrow. “Actually, you’re more insightful.” You could feel the pride in his gaze, in the way his eyes followed you with quiet admiration.

“That’s not possible. You profile people, Spence, and you have three PhDs,” you said with a playful grin, but there was an undertone of sincerity in your voice. It was so easy to get lost in Spencer’s brilliance that sometimes you forgot how rare it was for someone to be this passionate, this dedicated to something they loved.

Spencer’s gaze softened, and he tilted his head as he met your eyes. “And you’re a Quantum Computing researcher. You’re more insightful than you’re giving yourself credit for, Y/N,” he said. The pride was still there, but now it had grown into something more personal, something that made you feel seen in a way you rarely allowed yourself to be.

“Your field is amazing, Y/N. It has so much potential to grow—mixing quantum mechanics with computers. It has huge research potential.” His words were earnest, but it was the way he said them—like he meant every syllable like he was truly captivated by what you did—that made your heart swell.

You blinked at him in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d be so… fascinated by it,” you said, genuinely touched by his interest. You smile, feeling a little self-conscious but secretly thrilled. “It’s not exactly a field a lot of people understand.” You laugh softly, thinking of all the men you’ve met who couldn’t even look past your work to see you as anything other than ‘too smart.’ Spencer, though, he sees you. Really see you.

"Honestly, I don't know how Emily Prentiss managed to get us together, but thank god she did," you murmur under your breath, sending a quiet prayer to whoever’s listening.

"Your field is amazing," Spencer says, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Mixing quantum mechanics with computing? That's huge. You’ve got so much potential to change things."

You smile at him, feeling both proud and a little shy at his praise. "Well, thank you. You're not so bad yourself, you know." You wink, and his grin stretches wider.

"I’m just lucky I found someone who actually gets me," he says, glancing sideways at you with that quiet intensity. "You're the most intriguing person I’ve ever met, Y/N."

You laughed softly, but the warmth of his words lingered. "And not all men would be interested in their girlfriend’s field," you say, your voice softening. "I mean, I've had more than a few dates with men who... just couldn’t handle it, you know?"

Spencer laughs softly, a fondness slipping into his tone. "Well, they’re all missing out. They can’t see the full picture like I can."

You looked at him, captivated by his words. A small laugh escaped you, but it was warm, touched with something deeper.

“You know, the shine of your words would brighten your reputation in any girl’s mind, right?” You asked, teasing him, but your eyes searched his face, hoping to gauge whether he knew how much power his words held over you. His tilted look made you laugh out loud.

“You’re so adorable, Spencer,” you said, your voice softening with affection. “You know not all men would be interested in their girlfriend’s field. Many women face those who belittle them for their intelligence, who don’t appreciate them for who they are.”

You leaned closer, your voice quiet but sincere. “If they got to know I have such a great boyfriend, they might try to snatch you away.” You winked, playfully swiping your hand across his arm.

“Well, they’d all be disappointed,” Spencer said with a smile, his fondness slipping through his words. “I have a very gorgeous girlfriend who I’m not gonna leave. No matter what.”

You feel the weight of his words, the sincerity that lingers in the air between you two, and it makes you pause for a moment. Like he’s offering you a secret promise only the two of you understand. It feels like home.

You freeze for a second, your heart skipping a beat at the way he said “not leaving.” It’s casual like he’s just stating the obvious, but for some reason, it makes your chest feel a little tight. A warm little bubble of emotion rises inside you, and you blink it away, hoping he doesn’t notice.

You roll your eyes dramatically. “I swear, Spencer, you keep making these ‘I’m-not-going-anywhere’ declarations, and I’m gonna need to see a cardiologist.”

Spencer, utterly unaware of the havoc he’s wreaking on your heart, just grins. "I’ll go with you if that’s what you need. We can make it a date.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection.

“What if she drinks your whole pot of coffee?” you asked, your voice taking on mock seriousness.

Spencer’s eyes widen, his voice going up a pitch. “You wouldn’t!” He looks at you, half horrified, half playful, and it makes you laugh again.

“What if I eat all the sugar as well, Spencer?” You asked with a sly grin, your words teasing him as you shot a glance over your shoulder to gauge his reaction. You could almost feel the weight of his answer hanging in the air, a playful, stormy tension crackling between you two.

Spencer stood there, motionless, his gaze unreadable. His hands were at his sides, and there wasn’t even a twitch in his expression. You stopped walking and turned back, brows furrowing in confusion. Was this really bothering him this much? Your eyes searched his face, waiting for something, anything to give you a clue.

“Spencer?” You poked him on the cheek, once, then twice, your eyes searching for any flicker of expression that would tell you what was happening in his mind.

“Spencer!” A third poke, this time more insistent, and still, nothing—just that maddening stillness. “Did I break him?” You muttered under your breath, a small, teasing laugh escaping as you wondered if your mention of sugar had been too much of a blow to his senses.

The moment you saw him raise his hand, a smirk threatening to escape, your eyes widened. With a sharp, playful shriek, you bolted in the opposite direction, knowing exactly what was coming.

“I trusted you,” you called over your shoulder, eyes wide in mock outrage as you sprinted down the street, your heels clicking loudly against the pavement. Spencer was right behind you, his long legs easily closing the distance.

“Y/N, you made a mistake by telling me.” His voice was steady, almost teasing, but the underlying tone of warning was clear.

“I shouldn’t have told you about tickling.” You slumped against him, your arms folding over your chest as you surrendered to the inevitability of his grip. His strength was a comfort—one you never minded giving in to when it came to moments like this.

“Technically, you didn’t tell me.” Spencer’s voice was light, but there was that mischievous glint in his eyes that made your stomach flip. “You just made it obvious. You feel ticklish when someone touches your shoulder. It was kind of hard to miss.”

“Not always!” You half-yelled, the protest feeling more like a playful challenge than an argument.

“Mostly, honey,” he said with a shrug, his smile knowing, the corners of his lips curving in a way that made you want to melt and run at the same time.

But before either of you could continue your teasing back and forth, the weather—so far so quiet—suddenly began to shift. A few drops fell, small at first, almost apologetic, but then the heavens opened, and rain poured down in torrents, soaking everything in its path.

In an instant, you were both running, your hands still clasped together, trying to keep your balance in the downpour. You could hear the echo of your footsteps against the pavement, the soft splash of rain on the street. Spencer had his cardigan out, draping it over your head to shield you, but it was a losing battle. Within moments, both of you were thoroughly drenched, your clothes clinging to your skin, water running down your faces.

As you reached the bus stand, you pulled the cardigan tighter around your shoulders, seeking any relief from the cold. The yellow lamplight flickered overhead, casting a soft, golden hue on the wet world around you. The sound of the rain hitting the ground was the only thing that filled the space between you, soothing and quiet. The storm raged, but here, in this small patch of light, you were safe.

You tilted your head back slightly, taking in the sight of the rain pouring down, your lips parting in a gentle smile. There was something about it—the rawness, the purity of the moment—that filled you with a kind of peace.

“I love rain,” you said, your voice soft, almost a secret shared with the world around you.

Spencer’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes searching your face, as though trying to understand this new piece of you that had revealed itself. “You do?” His voice was laced with both curiosity and admiration, his smile widening as he took in your fascination with the moment.

“Yeah,” you answered, simply and truthfully.

Spencer thought about it for a moment, weighing his options. And in that quiet pause, you saw his heart make a decision. With a gentle pull, he took your hand, his fingers warm against your chilled skin. “Come on,” he said, his voice firm, but with the warmth of someone who only ever wanted to see you happy. “Come on, we’re going out there.”

You blinked, laughing incredulously as you looked at him. “What?”

“You love rain, right?” He didn’t hesitate. His grip on your hand tightened as he gently tugged you further. “Then come on.” His gaze softened, something more than just fondness there—trust, perhaps.

“But you don’t…” You hesitated, still unsure.

“Not exactly. I don’t love getting drenched, but you do. And besides,” he shrugged, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, “I love the solitude it brings. The quiet.” A little smile tugged at his lips as his eyes danced with a deeper affection. And I love you, he thought, but didn’t say aloud.

The way his confidence shone through told you everything you needed to know. Without another word, you let him lead you out into the storm.

The world felt quieter now, as you both stood in the middle of the street, drenched and laughing. You closed your eyes, the rain falling around you in a symphony of gentle sounds—earth and water and life—all mingling together.

You extended your hand toward Spencer, a silent invitation, a beckoning that pulled him toward you as you both began to move together. The rain no longer felt like a downpour, but like an invitation to something new, something shared, something simple. You danced together, the rhythm of the rain matching the beat of your hearts, your spirits blending into the quiet, beautiful chaos of the storm.

The rain fell harder, but neither of you cared. You spun, and he spun with you, not perfectly, but it didn’t matter. You were together, lost in this simple, beautiful moment of joy. Spencer pulled you close, his hand around your waist as his other arm snaked around your back, holding you steady. You could feel the warmth of him, even through the rain.

And in that moment, Spencer Reid, for once, didn’t feel different. He didn’t feel out of place or disconnected from the world around him. He felt... home. And he knew, without a doubt, that you were his home.

Spencer realized that everything he once thought wasn’t possible for him was now right here in his arms. Your presence was his answer, his unspoken dream come true. And for that, he could never express enough gratitude—for you, for this life, for Emily, who had brought you to him.

He continued to gaze at you, his eyes intense yet somehow full of wonder, as if trying to read the hidden depths of you. The air between you both felt different now, charged in a way it hadn’t been before. Something had shifted. Something that neither of you had anticipated, but both felt with a quiet certainty.

You flushed under his steady gaze. Normally, you avoided staring directly into Spencer’s eyes for too long. You preferred glancing at him, quick little moments of connection, but right now, his gaze felt like too much—like it was peeling back layers you weren't ready to share.

You looked away, awkwardly focusing on something else—anything but the intensity of his eyes. But before you could settle on the car parked nearby, you felt his hand gently lift your chin, guiding your face back toward him. His thumb traced a small, tender circle on your skin, and you couldn’t help but shiver slightly.

“You keep looking away, honey,” Spencer’s voice was soft, almost like a quiet confession, and it shot warmth straight through you. His words curled inside your chest, grounding you in a way that left you speechless. You tried to break the silence.

“There was something there,” you muttered, attempting to save yourself from the teasing look he was giving you. But you knew there was no escaping that playful glint in his eyes.

The two of you continued down the path, but the sharp pain in your feet that had been there before seemed to disappear. The moment was too perfect to think about anything else. Still, the quiet frustration over your heels persisted. “Damn, these heels,” you muttered under your breath, rubbing your aching feet.

Spencer, ever the observant one, heard your soft exhale and noticed the slight wince as you walked. “What happened?” His voice was concerned, gentle.

“It’s just these heels, nothing much,” you replied, but you couldn’t help but shoot the shoes a look that spoke volumes. Spencer, ever the mind reader, saw through your act.

“What if I pick you up? You wouldn’t feel any pain,” he offered, voice laced with genuine care. The thought of you in pain hurt him more than he cared to admit, and he wanted to do anything—anything at all—to ease that discomfort.

“Spencer, it’s okay. I’ll manage,” you reassured him, but the look on your face, part stubbornness and part affection made it clear that you weren’t fooling him.

But Spencer, always the one to offer help even when it wasn’t asked, didn’t wait for permission. One moment, you were standing on your own two feet; the next, you were in his arms, effortlessly lifted by the man who could do anything in your eyes.

“Spencer!” You laughed, your voice a mix of surprise and mock protest, but you knew from the look in his eyes that nothing was going to stop him now.

He smiled, clearly proud of himself. “Did you know that red carnations symbolize love, admiration, and deep affection?” The words tumbled out, a sudden shift in conversation that you knew was leading somewhere. “While roses are associated with purity and innocence, they also symbolize respect and sincerity—”

You looped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself a little closer to his chest, knowing exactly where this was going. You’d heard him talk about flowers before, but this time, it felt different, like he was trying to say something beyond the simple meanings of petals and stems.

“—and their combination together—”

You finished for him, smiling up at Spencer with a playful glint in your eyes. “Means passionate love, respect, and pure affection.”

Spencer blinked in surprise, his lips parting slightly as if he hadn’t expected you to finish the thought. You smirked, delighted at how easily you could read him.

“I was seeing how long it would take you to notice the significance,” you teased, the corners of your mouth tugging upward.

He studied you for a moment, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “You really thought about today a lot?” His voice held a note of amusement, mixed with affection.

You raised an eyebrow, your smile widening. “Sweetheart, when one has a lovely boyfriend like you, they ought to put in the effort. I’d put thought and effort into you every day.”

His heart swelled, and for a moment, the rest of the world disappeared. It was just the two of you, standing together, entwined in the quiet love you’d both found—something Spencer had never believed would happen, but now couldn’t imagine living without.

[xxnymeriatargaryenxx]

hot take…. but the BEST sex of your life with spencer would be immediately post-prison when he finally gets to go back to his apartment with you 😭😩😻😻🤭

all over his bed, on his desk, in the shower, on the bathroom sink, on the couch while watching a movie, on the kitchen counter, against the front door ‼️

[reiderwriter]

More Than Words

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU!Reader

Requested: yes

Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, your forced to beg your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.

Warnings: Light smut at the end, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.

A/N: Thank you for the request on this one! Ever since I rewatched Season 7 and saw Spencer dancing with everyone at JJ's wedding I've been thinking non-stop about him just holding you close like that and I'm going to shut up now because 8k words of that is more than enough lmao.

You can find my masterlist here, and I just started posting all my stuff on AO3 as well, so if you prefer to read there, check it out!

Despite knowing about your brother’s impending nuptials for the last 18 months, it was in the final two-week stretch that you actually started panicking about getting the date that you’d promised them. It was one sweet little white lie that you had made that had just spiraled out of control, but you’d yet to actually manifest the secretive boyfriend who was “very real actually, mom, he’s coming to the wedding actually.”

It was that statement that had sealed your fate, and always one to wear your emotions on your face when you weren’t on a case, it wasn’t long before someone noticed your building anxiety and guilt.

“Okay, spill Y/N. You look like you just witnessed your favorite author kick a puppy or a kitten or something,” Penelope said when you dropped some files off in her room that morning, spinning around on her chair to face you as soon as she caught your reflection in her monitor.

“It’s this wedding I have to go to,” you sighed dramatically, falling into one of the other chairs in the room kept for visitors.

“Want me to help you get out of it?” Penelope offered, patting your hand comfortingly.

“I’m not sure my brother would be too pleased about that, since it’s his wedding and all. My mother would drag me down all the way from here herself if she had to.”

“Okay, so a no-show is a no-go. Then what gives, my sweet avenging angel? There has to be something serious to get you looking all glum.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair before straightening up and leaning into Penelope more, creating an air of secrecy.

“Promise you won’t tell?”

“Oh sweetie, if only you knew the secrets these four walls held,” she replied dramatically, pulling a laugh from you.

“Last year, I was so, I don’t know, jealous I guess, of all the attention my brother and his fiancee were getting because of the wedding, and it just felt like every time my mom called me, she would only want to talk about them because of the wedding. I felt left out, and I already live so far away anyway, so it’s hard to have that connection with people back home, so I might have told a small, tiny, inconsequential lie that now actually has consequences?” Your face flushes at the confession, and you can see Penelope trying her best not to blurt out her thoughts, intent on letting you continue.

“I told her I was seeing this guy. He’s amazing, he works in the FBI just like me, and he’s smart, and he takes me on dates to these amazing places, like museums and interesting restaurants and to book fairs. I told her he was handsome and that he looked at me like I put the stars in the night sky, and he just doesn't exist, Penelope. And now I have to disappoint my mother again by turning up to my brother's wedding without a date.”

“Oh sweetheart,” was all she said for a minute, and the sympathetic look on her face made you want to run out of there immediately.

“I know, I know, I need to tell her the truth, but I don’t want to do it at the wedding and spoil her happiness. She loves weddings.”

“And this fake boyfriend is supposed to be your plus-one?” she asked.

“My invitation read ‘To our darling sister and her mystery man,’” you groaned, wondering how you could have been so childish in the first place. You’d acted like any child on a playground would, inventing lies to make yourself seem more important and cooler.

“I think I have the perfect solution for you, angel, but you might not like it,” Penelope grinned from her chair, leaning back and playing with the pen in her hands nefariously as if she’d been waiting for this chance her whole life. You didn’t trust that look, but you had no other option, so you took a deep breath and listened to her plan.

–X–

Three days later, and you were suddenly pacing the hallways with a coffee and a croissant, poised and ready to kidnap an FBI Agent the second he passed you.

At first, you’d laughed at the suggestion she’d made, outlandish as it was. But 72 hours of reflection, and a timely phone call from your mother, and suddenly you were on board and ready to lock on to your target. You stopped pacing when you heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of Spencer Reid. You were thankful that his schedule was so regular and timed down to the minute that you had just enough time to ambush him in the hallway before any other member of your team noticed.

“Spencer! Here I bought you coffee and a croissant from that cafe I mentioned a while back,” you panicked, unloading the gifts into his arms quickly, taking him off guard, before checking left and right before pushing him into the nearest empty room and shutting it behind you.

“Good morning to you, too, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re in a closet right now?” he asked, looking down at you with knitted eyebrows.

“Yes,” you gumped, afraid to say anymore.

“Are you going to tell me what the reason is?”

“I need you to be my boyfriend for a weekend,” you finally blurted out.

“You need me to… Just for a weekend?” He looked confused, and you felt your cheeks flame up, as you tried your best to explain the situation for him.

“My brother is getting married in LA this weekend, and I need a date. I told my mom last year that I was in a relationship with a really great guy who also works for the FBI.”

“Oh. So, you broke up with him and don’t want to tell your mom?”

“No, he never existed. Long story, I can explain on the plane, but I really need you to come with me! I’ll pay for everything, and I’ll even get you this coffee and any pastry of your choice every day for a month, please, please, please!” You begged him, so desperate that you were moments away from dropping to your knees and grabbing his leg, refusing to move until he acquiesced. You didn’t have to in the end.

“Oh, sure, I’ll go. When did you say it was?” Your jaw fell open in shock, and it took a few seconds to pull yourself back together as you reacted to his words.

“This weekend? The flight is tomorrow at 6 a.m.” You smiled sheepishly as his eyes bugged out of his head.

“This weekend? What were you going to do if I said no?” He laughed at you a little, taking a sip of the coffee you bought him.

“Honestly? Plan B was to cry, and plan C was to kill off my mystery man in a freak accident.”

“Wow, we just started fake dating and you’re already trying to bump me off.” His smile made you burn hotter than before, as you playfully hit his arm in response.

“Stop saying we’re dating. I pulled you in here to ask you privately because I didn’t want weird rumors circulating in the office,” you pouted.

“Then you better let me out of the closet, Y/N, before people think we’re doing something we shouldn’t be. At least three people saw you drag me in here, you know.”

With that, you rush to open the door and run out, shouting a reminder back at him.

“Just be ready, okay. I’ll see you at the airport at 6 a.m.”

–X–

The flight, despite being ridiculously long, was altogether quite pleasant, and you made it back to California in one piece, Spencer trailing behind you like a lost puppy for a while, letting you take up the role of “airport dad” as you guided him through the airport and to the hotel where the wedding was being held.

“So what’s our cover story?” He asked in the taxi on the way there, breaking the comfortable silence.

“What cover story?” you asked, looking up at him from your phone, still focused on just getting to the destination.

“Where did we meet, how long have we been dating, how much do they know about me?” He listed off the possible questions that his parents were absolutely going to interrogate him with soon. “I need to prepare so we don’t get caught out, right?”

“Oh, right. Based on what I told them, we met at work and we’ve been seeing each other casually for about a year now. I didn’t give them a name yet, which annoys my mom to no end, but I was always pretty private as a child so she didn’t find it all that suspicious. Other than that, they don’t know that much about my mystery boyfriend apart from the things we’ve done together.” He listened attentively as you spoke, taking each of your words in and committing them to memory.

“What was our first date?” He asked.

“Coffee shop. That place I got you the coffee from earlier, it’s called Flondon. I’m a regular there, so it made sense to use it in my story.”

“What else have we done together?”

“There was a book fair in New York a few months back that we, uh, spent the weekend at. You surprised me for my birthday with the tickets.”

“Wow, so I’m a really great boyfriend then.” He joked a little, and you let out another groan of annoyance at his teasing. You didn’t get the chance to finish your conversation though, as the taxi finally pulled up to the hotel.

You climbed out of the taxi after paying the driver, Spencer having already left to grab your bags, before walking into the foyer of the hotel.

“Y/N, just one last thing before we go in,” he stopped you at the door, grabbing you by the arm gently. “Are we… the, um. Hotels tend to get booked up pretty early for weddings, and I’m sure your family will be suspicious if we don’t share a room so…”

He didn’t have to finish voicing his thoughts before you were cursing, not having made the connection before.

“Shit, you’re right. My brother made the booking for me months ago. We just have to go in and get the room key but I totally forgot… It’s fine, right? We’ve roomed together on cases, haven’t we?” You asked, looking up at him.

“No, we haven’t. 67% of our motel bookings allow for single occupation rooms for Agents, I end up sharing a room with Morgan for 15% of overnight stays where double occupation is necessary, Hotch for another 17%, and the remaining 1% is made up of outliers where I had to share with Rossi or Prentiss, but we…we haven’t shared before.” He gestured between the two of you for a moment there, letting the facts sit with you.

“Spencer, it’s okay with me, is it okay with you? I understand if you’re not comfortable with it. We can just turn around now if you want.”

“No, no it’s totally fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable with it. Morgan says I snore, so I guess I’m not the best roommate in the world.” He smiled at you then, reassuringly, and moved his hand down your arm until it reached your hand.

You looked down at where his hand had entwined with yours and your heart gave a little jolt. Spencer didn’t like physical touch, and you knew that. You tried not to initiate any contact with him, despite being a touchy person, but there had been times after particularly tough cases and with close calls where you’d thrown yourself into the nearest person's arms, and he always happened to be near.

But those hugs had been thoughtless, natural reactions to stressful situations and this was intentional, and more importantly, he’d started it.

“Sorry, I just assumed we should get used to, uh, touching each other, I guess? We’re going to be doing it all weekend, you know, might as well start now.” He gave you an awkward closed-lip smile, and you giggled at his awkward explanatory tone. Squeezing his hand a bit, you grabbed your suitcase again in your free hand, and pushed open the door with your shoulder, pulling Spencer in behind you.

The lobby was filled with people arriving for the wedding, and you instantly spotted three cousins and two aunts from across the room, giving them a little smile as you made your way to the reception desk, Spencer right at your side.

“Hi, reservation for Y/N L/N, please.”

“Sister of the groom, right? Your mother asked me to give her a call when you arrived. Please wait one minute.” She handed you your key, and you felt yourself go pale, turning around to Spencer for reassurance.

“Oh god, she’s coming now, what do we do?”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay, we knew we were going to have to see your mom tonight at the reception anyways.”

“You’re right. Okay, right. Okay.” You breathed out, as Spencer wrapped his other arm around you, holding you in a closer embrace while keeping your hands locked together.

“One of my aunts is looking at us. She looks like she wants to say something. Oh god, she’s coming over, Spencer act natural,”

“Saying act naturally is actually counter-active-” but he didn’t have time to finish before you had turned to greet the older woman, disentangling yourself from Spencer’s arms as you hugged the woman warmly.

“It’s so good to see you, Y/N, you know how we all worry about you doing that job of yours. The other week we saw you on the news about that tragedy with the young girl…” she trailed off, giving you a worrying look before quickly shifting her gaze to her actual target, Spencer.

“I think I saw you too, young man. You must be Y/N’s boyfriend,” she smiled at him, waiting to hear a response so she could return to the other matrons with the gossip.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, I’m Spencer.” You could tell he was thankful that the woman hadn’t stuck her hand out to shake his, as he positioned himself mostly behind you, keeping his hands occupied by letting one settle on your hip and the other keeping a hold of your suitcase.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?” You heard your mother before you saw her, turning around in your place to finally see her, as Spencer whipped his head around as well. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

Your mother had none of the restraint of your aunt, and unfortunately, you’d inherited your clingy side from her, which is why she immediately swooped in to give Spencer a hug. To his credit, he greeted her warmly as well and didn’t avoid the touch, but he kept it short and polite nonetheless.

“Mom, how did you know…”

“You tell me about your coworkers all the time, I’m just surprised I didn’t work it out sooner. I always said that you talked about that Spencer with a fond tone, you should ask your father, he’ll tell you that I did.” You rolled your eyes at your mother’s words, doing your best to avoid Spencer’s gaze. He’d fallen back into place by your side as you greeted your mother.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, You know, Y/N has been keeping you as this big secret for the last year, and it’s so nice to see that you’re actually real. You’re here!” She sounded so excited for you that your heart almost broke under the weight of your guilt, knowing that you’d have to come clean at some point after the wedding. As it was, you were already going to have to try really hard to avoid the photographer and videographer throughout the night so you didn’t have to be constantly reminded of your idiocy whenever your mother got the photo albums out,

“Sorry, the two of you are probably exhausted after that flight, right? Go and get yourself unpacked. The rehearsal dinner is at 8 p.m. so we’ll catch up then, sweetheart.” She left in a whirlwind, having deposited you next to the elevators, and left you with no other option but to do exactly as she said, making your way to your space for the weekend.

–X–

The following few hours had been a little awkward, to say the least. You’d awkwardly pulled away from one another in the elevator up to the room, apologizing for invading each other's personal space. The room was a decent size, but still small enough that you’d be constantly tripping up over one another the entire weekend if you weren’t careful.

Reid carefully unpacked his tuxedo when you got into the room, and then quietly informed you that he’d need a shower. You’d unpacked your own things while he did, trying not to listen to the water flowing over his body in the next room. His earlier touch had ignited something in you, and your heart was beating at his every gesture now, something that you were sure it hadn’t done before.

What was it about weddings that made you so open to even the possibility of romance that even someone so off-limits could become the object of your affection?

So you tried not to listen, not to wonder why it was taking the man so long to just take a shower, not to let your mind wander to a place where it was perfectly acceptable to wonder what he looked like in that shower, and you unpacked and organized your things.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m really sorry but I forgot to bring my clothes with me,” he called awkwardly through the door a few minutes after you heard the water turn off, and you turned to the bathroom, not expecting the sight before you.

You’d assumed from the quiet volume of his voice that he was calling from within the bathroom itself, but instead, he stood awkwardly in front of you, a towel wrapped around his waist and torso, held together desperately in one hand.

“Oh shit, sorry, I’ll just turn around, I guess,” you stumbled over the words, dragging your eyes back up to his face as you did so, whipping yourself around to stare ahead of you.

“No, no, it’s my fault. I was so hasty I forgot my outfit for tonight. It’s okay.” You heard him fumble for his clothes and return to the bathroom quickly with another mumbled apology, finally allowing you to let out a deep, almost dreamy sigh, startling yourself. Mentally chastising yourself once again, you finished your organizing and let yourself fall onto the bed in the middle of the room sleepily while you waited for him to come out again.

You must have dozed off a little because you woke with a jolt when you felt a soft touch on your arm. There he was above you, a soft and concerned look on his face as he woke you up as kindly as he could.

“Y/N, it’s 7 p.m. We need to get ready for the rehearsal.” He whispered as if he weren’t too bothered if you didn’t want to go down at all, content to let you sleep. But you forced yourself upright anyways, and nodded at his words, swiftly moving yourself towards the bathroom he had since departed.

“Thanks for waking me, Spence,” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, gathering your towels and change of clothes before turning back to him. In the four hours you’d apparently been dead to the world, he’d managed to dry his hair, change his clothes, and, from the looks of the book on the bedside table, read through an entire book twice.

He noticed you looking and cleared his throat. “Sorry, you looked so tired I didn’t want to wake you, so I just sat here and read while you got some sleep.”

“It’s okay, Spence. I guess I was pretty tired. I’m gonna go…” you gestured towards the shower and stepped towards it with an awkward smile, not letting him answer before you had closed the door between you and taken a deep breath, setting thoughts of him aside for the night before you focused on getting yourself ready to face your lies.

An hour later, you were making your way back down to the lobby, having received a text from your brother that that was where everyone was gathering before making their way to the dining room. Spencer offered you his arm in the elevator on the way down.

“Here, grab my arm.” He said softly down to you, a sweet smile playing on his lips.

“Oh yeah that makes sense,” you said distractedly, looping your own through his and leaning into him.

“It’ll also stop you from picking your nails,” he joked.

“I don’t pick my nails!”

“You so do. You do it when you’re nervous and when you lie about something. Last month on that case in Chicago when that officer asked for your number, you told him you had a boyfriend and started picking your nails,” he laughed down at you, enjoying your pouting face a bit too much as he profiled you.

“You’re one to talk. The last time a woman asked you out, you started rambling about the linguistic history of the phrase “go out,” in the romantic sense. She stood there for five minutes before she gave up.”

“Wait, when did that happen? I don’t remember any woman trying to ask me out.”

“Then you’re even denser than I realized, Doctor Reid, because they do it constantly.” Your back and forth ended there, though, as the elevator doors finally opened into the lobby. You smoothed out your dress and tried your best to act natural as the two of you made your entrance.

“Y/N! Over here,” you heard your brother and saw him wave at you from the other side of the room, his fiancee next to him receiving guests.

“It’s been so long since I saw my kid sister. Get over here,” he smiled at you, beckoning you over, and you released your hold on Reid to give your brother a warm hug.

“Now who is this kid sister you’re talking about because last I checked you’re only 18 months older than me.”

“18 months, 18 years, all that matters is that I am, in fact, the older one,” he released you from the bear hug and glanced up to Reid, standing awkwardly watching the scene waiting for an invitation to the conversation. “Holy shit, you’re real.”

“Hey! Be nice. This is Spencer, he’s my… he’s my boyfriend, we work together.” You felt your cheeks flame as you introduced the two of them, your brother looking at Spencer through knitted eyebrows, taking on a faux protective stance.

“Spencer, hey. Mom mentioned you were here earlier, but I didn’t think you’d be so gangly… It’s my wedding, and I’ve been told I have to keep all threats to a minimum, but if I see you getting all handsy with my sister, just know that I have a blackbelt in jiu-jitsu.”

“No, you don’t. You have a yellow belt in karate at most, and you got that at age 10.” You laughed at the man.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Oh my god, it’s been almost 20 years, I already apologized!”

“Apologised for what?” Spencer finally managed to butt in, watching your sibling bickering as if it were a tennis match.

“This little rodent,” your brother said, scruffing up your hair as he spoke, “broke my wrist when she was 8 and I was 10.”

“It was self-defense! You were trying to use your karate moves on me and I panicked!”

“And now, you’re a hot-shot FBI Agent and you get to break bad guys wrists all the time.” He finished for you and you laughed, suddenly glad to be back around family.

“So, Spencer, you’re an FBI Agent, too? I thought my mom mentioned something about you being a Doctor earlier.”

“I am. A Doctor. And an FBI Agent, uh, they’re PhD’s not medical degrees, though. Three of them, Math, Chemistry and Engineering. I also have Bachelor's Degrees in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology.” He answered, and you looked up at him proudly, taking his hand as you noticed him growing slightly uncomfortable with the attention from your brother.

“Wow,” was all your brother said, until he finished the statement with “All those degrees and my sister was the best you could do, huh?” You punched him in the arm after that, and you felt Spencer physically relax a bit, twinning your fingers with his as you chastised your brother.

“Anyway, thanks for taking the time to come to our, hopefully, lovely wedding, the reception will be starting soon. The dining hall is just through there.” You hugged your brother again, and, with a breath of relief, led Spencer down the hall to the dining hall.

“That went well, I think?” you whispered to him, conspiratorially.

“Your family is nice,” he replied. “Does he always act like that, or is it the wedding spirit possessing him somehow?”

“If you’re referring to my brother, I think he’s probably partaken in a few flutes of champagne already this evening. But yes, he’s always like that. They all like to treat me like a baby when they see me.”

“I think it’s nice. They care about you a lot,” his words were warm, but his eyes were sad, and you remembered what you’d been told of Spencer’s own childhood and felt your heart ache for him. His mom loved him a lot, but Spencer had needed to grow up much too fast. You squeezed his hand, still clasped in yours and before you knew it you were pushing onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Spencer. For being here,” you said as his now flushed face met yours. You didn’t let him respond though, simply pushing forward into the dining hall, ready to live in the fantasy of your own making for the evening.

–X–

“Spencer, you were amazing!” You giggled, walking down the hall to your room, stumbling slightly in your excitement and haste.

“Those magic tricks? The little babies couldn’t get enough of you,” you spun around, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and pulling him in close to you, letting him hold you against the door to your room. He laughed a little at your antics as he pulled out the key card.

“Y/N, are you drunk?” he asked, one hand firmly planted on your waist to steady you now.

“No! I’m just happy. And if that happiness was caused by an array of cocktails forced into my hands by distant aunts and cousins who all wanted to know about my absolute catch of a boyfriend, then that is simply secondary to the feeling itself. And furthermore-” He pushed the door behind you in on itself, and your words were cut off by your legs giving out beneath you.

You were so sure you were about to take a tumble to the floor that you shut your eyes tight and braced for an impact that didn’t come. Opening them again slowly, you saw Spencer closer than before, his face mere inches from your own as he held you in an improvised dip, having caught you just before you’d hit the ground.

“Sorry. I… Shit, maybe I am drunk,” you breathed out, not letting your eyes drift from his own, knowing that if you ever considered a glance down at his lips at that moment, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from closing the measly distance separating you.

“You should use the bathroom first,” he told you, but without making any move of his own, stuck in that pose with you as if he was content to stay there for as long as he could hold you. “You should take your make-up off. We have a long day tomorrow, right?”

You were the first one to move, letting your feet find a more solid footing beneath you and twisting up from his grip. His hands didn’t leave your body as you became more upright though, still keeping you in that close embrace.

“Yeah, I should… I should go wash up.” You said, and he nodded, still looking at you with the same intensity as before.

“Spencer, that means you need to move,” you whispered quietly, and he jumped back as soon as the words were out of your mouth.

“Sorry. I’ll just… I’ll just be over there,” he held his hands up in surrender before moving further into the room, leaving you next to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom and were ready to sleep once again. Thankfully, you of earlier that day had managed to store your pajamas in the bathroom ready for their use. Upon exiting the bathroom, you saw that Spencer was getting ready to sleep too, slacks and a shirt having been replaced by a pair of flannel pants and a very old and beaten-up CalTech sweater, looking perplexedly down at the bed.

“Spence, what’s wrong?”

“We didn’t speak any further about the sleeping arrangements…” he mumbled and you looked at the bed in front of you, still confused at his meaning. “Y/N, we have to share the bed.”

“Oh.” You knew you probably sounded dumb, but after the amount of alcohol thrust upon you that night, that was all you could muster at this point.

“I can sleep on the floor if that makes you feel more comfortable. It’s probably no worse than some of the motel beds we’ve stayed on before,” he offered, but you instantly shook your head.

“No, I dragged you out here, I’m not making you sleep on the floor as well,” you sighed and made your way to the side of the bed you’d slept on earlier, beginning to pull the covers down so you could get in.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, perplexed by your somehow contrasting words and actions.

“I’m getting ready for bed. It’s late.” You replied, not looking up at him again, for fear that he’d spot the blush on your face. “You should too,” you continued, patting the other side of the bed, gesturing for him to get in, too.

“Oh.” It was his turn to stand there shell-shocked in the moment, and you almost let out a giggle but held back thinking that would be too much for him to take in at that moment.

“Come on, Spence, I’m tired, I’m sure you’re tired. We’re just sharing a bed, it’s not like you have to marry me after this.” You climbed fully into the bed, making sure that your nightgown covered you decently before pulling the covers up around you. Spencer mumbled something that you didn’t catch, but he acquiesced and climbed in after you. You turned your head over on the pillow to face him, turning onto your side as you watched him turn his head to you as well.

“What?” he smiled, noticing your stare.

“Nothing. Good night, Spence,” you smiled, finally letting your eyes drop closed.

“Good night, Y/N.” He whispered, and the sound of his voice carried you off to sleep.

–X–

You weren’t sure if it was the light streaming in through the window or the rise and fall of a chest that wasn’t your own was the first thing to wake you in the morning, but nonetheless, you woke from the comfortable warmth of sleep and found yourself wrapped around your fake boyfriend.

To be fair to yourself, he was also wrapped around you. Your head had gravitated from your pillow to his chest, his left arm wrapped up and around your back. Your leg had also risen in the night, pulled up over his waist, held in place by his other arm, which was, almost embarrassingly, cradling your ass, pulling you in closer to his core. Unsure about how to go about disentangling yourself, you resigned yourself to just waking the man up.

“Spencer… Spencer,” you whispered, letting the hand that had fallen onto his chest tap him slightly. He stirred a little and then cracked an eye open, looking confused with the situation.

“Y/N, is it time for the wedding?” He asked through half-lidded eyes, evidently wanting nothing more than to fall back into whatever dreams he was having. You shifted uncomfortably in his arms then, suddenly growing stiff in the position you’d probably held for hours, and found your nightgown had risen dangerously high on your body, his hand on your near bare ass.

“No, no, it’s just…” You rolled your hips against his in discomfort, and the movement had his eyes breaking open as he finally took in your positions.

“Shit, I’m….Sorry, I don’t know what happened, I must’ve grabbed you when we were sleeping,” he said, reluctantly slipping his hands away from your body, trailing his hand around your leg, and letting it fall onto his stomach. The movement sent a shiver up your spine, as you finally had enough room to lift your torso up, not quite ready to relinquish the proximity of your entire body yet.

“It’s okay, I think it was probably me who started it in the first place. Those pillows weren’t that comfortable…” you tried to explain, the hand on his chest rubbing slow circles into his skin before you could realize what you were doing.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position then as well, clumsily. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, you had no choice but to move with him, suddenly finding yourself straddling him, the bedsheets suddenly pressed away from your body. If he looked down, he’d see a lot more than you planned for him to see, your panties on clear display as your nightgown twisted itself up into the sheets.

“Shit sorry,” he moaned out again, as you steadied yourself with hands on his shoulders.

“No, it’s okay, I didn’t move quick enough.” You quickly pulled your dress down again, and extracted yourself from the bed, lifting your leg up and off of him and finally pushing off the bed, leaving him sat there.

His hands fell into his lap and you started gathering things around the room, readying yourself for the busy day ahead.

“I have to be in the bridal suite at 11, so we have about… two hours to kill before then. Do you want to grab a shower first, or should I?”

“You first,” he mumbled quickly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “You should go first. You probably have more to do today, right?” You nodded at his words and made your way to the bathroom again. Out of the corner of your eye though, as you let the door close behind you, you watched his hands come up to cradle his flushed face, as he let his head fall back again into the pillow.

–X–

The morning was so busy after that, you barely had any chance to talk to Spencer again. You spent the early afternoon in the bridal suite with the wedding party, welcoming your new sister to the family, then made your way to the aisle space set up outside, checking up on last-minute details and helping to flower girls into position. You weren’t walking down the aisle yourself, but you could see that the extra help was letting the very stressed-out Maid of Honour get some well-needed respite. And more importantly, it stopped your wandering thoughts from letting you fantasize about Spencer.

You’d woken up in bed next to people before, of course, but it had never felt so comfortable. In fact, other people you’d slept with said you were pretty distant in your sleep, choosing to move as far away from physical touch as you could get, but you knew with no doubt that you had been the one to move in first, to touch him first. That he’d pulled you even closer had your heart singing, and you wanted to be wrapped up in him all over again, suddenly desperate to seek him out. So you distracted yourself, not wanting to make any mistakes you would regret when you were no longer wrapped up in your own fantasy.

So you kept your distance as the ceremony started. Then the wedding march was playing, and you were holding back tears as his hand slipped into yours, your head falling onto his shoulder as you watched your brother marry the love of his life.

You kept your distance as you reached the reception hall, watching all the old ladies on both sides fawn over him, asking him questions, and watching from his side as he blushed at the attention. You swept the hair out of his eyes as the couple was announced, and you took your seat for the wedding meal and the speeches, his hand falling to your back to guide you to your chair, pulling it out for you like a true gentleman.

You kept your distance as your new sister tossed the bouquet, and despite your low effort and the ravenous looks of the bridesmaids, it fell neatly into your hands as if it belonged there. You ran excitedly over to him to show him and he lifted you into a hug, caught up in your own excitement.

You kept your distance until you realized you’d not kept your distance at all, physically unable to keep yourself away from the man who had somehow stolen your heart in the middle of the night.

“I know that look,” your brother said, somehow sneaking up on you later into the night as you watched Spencer perform even more of his magic tricks for the smaller guests.

“What look?” you asked, not for one second letting your eyes drift from Spencer.

“You’re in love with him,” he said, taking a swig of the drink in his hand.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said reflexively, turning to the drinks table behind you and picking up one for yourself.

“No, he isn’t. Or at least he wasn’t before this weekend,” your brother said, as your eyes finally snapped up to him.

“Oh, don’t act all surprised, Miss FBI Profiler. You may be good, but I’ll always be your older brother, and contrary to popular opinion, I do in fact pay attention to things.” You sighed and leaned back against the table.

“How’d you figure it out?”

“You were picking your nails the entire way through the reception dinner when the aunties were asking you about your relationship. You did that when we were younger too, when you tried lying to Mom and Dad about how I broke my wrist. Doesn’t take two PhD’s to figure that out.”

“Three.”

“Three what?”

“Three PhDs. He has three of them.” You sighed dreamily and ran a stressed hand through your head.

“He’s just my coworker. I didn’t want to disappoint Mom by coming alone after telling her all those stories, but now…” You tried to explain yourself but words were escaping you in that moment.

“You should tell him, trust me. He definitely feels the same.”

“How are you so confident about that? How did you manage to end up with all of the confidence between the two of us, when I can barely work up the courage to tell my own mother I’m still single?”

“Y/N, look at me. You got the brains, I had to have something. And no man flies to the opposite side of the country on a few day's notice for a girl who is just a friend, okay? That’s more logic than confidence, and that’s supposed to be your strong suit.”

You considered his words for a second, turning back to look at Spencer. Evidently, he’d finished his magic show and was beginning to say goodbye to the children, but he felt your eyes on him somehow and met your gaze. He brought his hand up into a shy wave before a little girl grabbed his attention again, and he looked at her seriously, nodding along to each word she was saying.

“Fuck, what do I do, I’m not good with… any of this.” You turned back to your brother, but he’d left you there, stranded in your own thoughts as you let yourself hope, let your brain dream that one day this would be your wedding and the man by your side would be Spencer Reid.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom request the presence of all the couples on the dancefloor for this next song.” You saw your brother again, next to his wife, whispering his explanations in his ear as she turned to look at you and winked as well. God, they were going to be a force to be reckoned with together now, you thought, as people started pushing past you to make their way to the dancefloor.

You recognized the song of course, and it was almost so on the nose you almost rolled your eyes. More Than Words by Extreme. Perfect.

“Y/N, may I have this dance?” He had somehow snuck up on you from behind as you watched your brother, and held his hand out to you. You put your drink down and took it, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

“I didn’t think you danced, Dr. Reid,” you teased him as he pulled you in, letting his hands rest on your waist, as yours came up around his neck, gently letting him sway you side to side in time with the music.

“I don’t really, but it seemed wrong not to,” he smiled. “I’m at a wedding, with the most beautiful girl on my arm, and the couple made it very clear that we should be dancing, so here I am.” You blushed at his words as he spoke. He removed his hands from your waist, instead grasping one of yours in his own as he pulled you closer.

You stared up at him with a soft smile for a few more seconds before letting your head fall back to his chest.

“I know I’ve said it a lot this weekend, but thank you, Spencer.” You said into his shirt, letting him hold you close as the song went on.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.” He insisted, and you looked up at him again. “Actually… I didn’t exactly agree to this with the best of intentions.”

Your heart lept to your throat as you stared up at him, hoping that he would take your silence as a means to continue.

“I’ve been… I thought that maybe…” he struggled to get the words out, his face aflame with the effort.

“You promised me those coffees right?” He finally stuttered out, and you were left confused and a little disappointed.

“Yeah, Spence, it’s okay, I’ll get you those coffees for the month, just like we promised.” You couldn’t help the sad smile that played on your lips as you answered him, so sure that he was about to say something else.

“No, I mean… Y/N I don’t want the coffee. I want this. I want us to go home, and make everything that you made up come true. I want to take you on a date to that coffee shop. I want to be a boyfriend you can call and tell your mom about because it’s serious and it’s going to work out between us. I even… God, I even spent the morning looking up book fairs in New York City so I could make that come true as well,” he rambled the words out and you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.

“Spencer,” you said softly, trying to get him to focus on you, but he’d started speaking and he wasn’t going to be stopped so easily.

“And if any of that creeps you out, just say the word and I’ll never mention it again. Because I know I’m not good with this, and when I feel something, I tend to feel it overwhelmingly, and Derek tells me I can be really oblivious sometimes, which I don’t really get, but-”

“Spencer,” you put a bit more force into your words this time, punctuating them with a hand on his face.

“Spencer, kiss me.” And he does. He takes your head in both of his hands, and he draws you up to him perfectly, letting your hands fall to the lapels of his suit jacket as he steals your breath away one more time. The kiss is lingering, but short, and he hesitantly backs away, looking around to spot witnesses. But you don’t care and you pull him back down for another, and another, until you’re just two lovers on the dance floor that cannot get enough of each other, gasping for breath between chaste kisses as you let him hold you there, gently swaying.

“Spencer,” you whisper finally, forehead resting on his, as the song finally draws to a close.

“Yes?”

“Spencer, take me to bed.” You tell him, and he nods. He leads you over to the bride and groom where you offer each of them a hug and a happy future before making your excuses and running away with Spencer back into the hotel like two love-drunk teenagers, a mess of giggles and stolen kisses as you stumble up to your room for the second time that weekend.

But this time, you don’t hesitate, don’t pull away. He backs you into the door and you let him hold you there, his mouth on yours, your tongues entwined as he fumbles for his key card. You fall together into the room, laughing and smiling the entire way, not letting him escape your touch.

“May I?” He asks, playing with the zipper of your dress as you kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck, anywhere you can reach, nodding and moaning your consent. The moment the zip is pulled down, he lets you go for a second, and the dress falls straight to the floor. You're practically bare in front of him, chest exposed, neck littered with the beginning of love bites that he’s about to absolutely build upon.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, softly, wrapping his arms around you again, lifting you up so your legs can wrap around him as he delivers one more soul-crushing kiss to your lips. Your brain is a mess of emotions, your only solid thought is that you will never let him go again. You both eagerly worked on unbuttoning his shirt together, a desperate mess of breaths as he finally laid you on the bed. His hand fell to your core, tracing a finger over your sensitive nub as you begged him for more, needing to feel all of him, to devour his very existence.

He pulled himself out of his remaining clothes, lips still attached to yours, climbing over you and holding you tenderly, his arms wrapping around your body as his legs came to settle between your own. Dropping his forehead to yours, he finally spoke again, his hand dropping between the two of you to line himself up.

“Is this… are you sure?” You heard the restraint in his voice, the desperation, the love, the overwhelming lust as he held himself back, needing to hear your consent.

“Spencer, I love you,” you whispered, and he finally pushed himself into you, joining the two of you together in a moment of bliss. You shared another sweet kiss, letting him swallow each and every one of your moans as he began thrusting into you, your hips rising to meet him in your delirious pleasure.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ears, brushing the hair off your face every now and again to tell you how beautiful you looked, and how well you were doing.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N, you’re doing so good for me,” he pressed kisses against your neck with each word, keeping his pace steady as you chased your inevitable high, already clenching around his thick cock.

“Spencer, I love you,” you let the words drop from your tongue like a prayer, repeating them over and over with each thrust as small tears welled up out of your eyes. He kissed them away from your cheeks, listening to each confession as your stomach tightened and your climax spilled over you. He grabbed your waist then, leaving one hand cupping and stroking your cheek as his own thrusts grew sloppy, finally spending himself fully inside you.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into you then, unwilling to let you go for even one second. You spent the rest of the night whispering the words back and forth to one another, waiting with bated breath for the fantasy to break, for the magic of the wedding to wear off.

It never did.

[spencerslover-blog]

But while in this world i think I'll take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three, baby, you're too sweet for me.

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin]

What the text said

[alana-reid-2005]

i need him like i need the blood in my veins

[hereforhalstead]

I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS SO PLS ENJOY

So you and Spencer had a friends with benefits thing going for a while but you broke things off when you felt you were getting emotionally attached and it didn’t feel like he was and in so many words he had already told you not to fall for him

Anyway you’d distanced yourself for a few weeks and ignored his calls but one night you get a call from one of the team saying that Spencer had been drinking at the office after a tough case and all he wanted was for you to go and get him

After thinking for a few seconds, you say no and tell them to say you’re out or busy so you can’t go and get him.

Time goes by and then he turns up at your door, looking super disheveled and honestly broken with his head hanging, leaning on your doorframe as he barely mutters out like ‘you wouldn’t come and get me? Don’t I mean anything to you?’

Then you have an argument with your pent up feelings and it ends in the old classic where he kisses you and whilst you’re trying to push him off he’s like ‘tell me you don’t want me here and I’ll go’ BUT YOU CANT