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mytherapyisreading14 · 3 days ago

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Drunk Confessions

Summary: You got drunk during a night out with your best friend and accidentally send your Professor a photo of you in lingerie. Now you try to avoid him, which is not really working.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Smut (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, dirty talk, dom!spencer, semi-public sex, hair pulling, thigh riding, spanking, fingering, praise kink, multiple orgasms, oral sex (kinda, he comes in her mouth)

Word Count: 4,6k

Author’s Note: My last posts got so many likes, I didn’t expect that at all, thank you sm!! <3

Your alarm goes off - 8:30am. You groan. Your head is pounding and the sun shining into your room is just way too bright. Your stomach turns and you close your eyes to escape the wave of nausea. You slowly sit up and search for your phone on the nightstand. It feels like your head is going to explode. You reach out and unlock the screen, turning your alarm off.

It's way too early. And you drunk way too much last night. It was a chaotic but nice yesterday, a night full of laughter, way too much alcohol and karaoke. Your best friend celebrated her birthday and you promised to go to your favorite bar with her. You have to smile when you think back to the night and start checking your messages. You see that she already texted you this morning to find out how you are doing.

How are you?

I have the worst headache after last night

It was fun though, wanna go again tonight?

Just kidding, I feel like I need a week to recover from this

You can’t help but laugh and answer her quickly. You are about to put your phone away to finally get ready when a new chat catches your eye. You freeze in shock. It’s your Professors name. The one you’ve been crushing on since you saw him for the very first time.

Back when you found out that you were getting a new professor, you didn't expect much, a lecture like any other with someone who was only concerned with reciting his material. But then he entered. He came through the door and for a moment it seemed as if time stood still. The room, which had just been immersed in the murmur of conversation, suddenly became silent.

He was tall - taller than you expected and his presence filled the room in a way that you couldn't put into words. He wore a simple but elegant suit that somehow effortlessly fit him perfectly. His hair was a little longer, curly and fell slightly over his forehead. And then he looked up. His big, brown eyes met yours and in a split second everything became clear to you. You immediately knew you wanted, needed, this man.

Now you stare at the chat in complete horror. He recently gave you his number for a project. That's how this whole texting thing could even happen. Your heart is pounding in your chest. Obviously you can't remember texting him. You were so drunk yesterday that you can't even remember how you got home.

You open the chat - and your heart stops for a moment. It wasn't just a message that you sent him. It was a photo. Of you, in lingerie. It’s one of your favorite sets, you got it a couple of weeks ago. "I wore this for you today, Professor. Do you like it?” You wrote in addition to the photo.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. You just stare at the screen, the picture of you that you should never, ever, ever have sent. And the worst part: He read it. But didn't reply. Confusion and panic spreads through you. You jump out of bed, your feet barely finding purchase on the floor, and your heart keeps racing. You try to think clearly, but your thoughts are a complete mess.

You reach for your phone again and frantically tap on the chat with your best friend, but you pause and call her instead. "Hello?" Her voice still sounds sleepy and hungover. “Oh my God, I need your help!" you gasp and immediately start telling her everything.

The line is silent, then you hear a short laugh. "Wait a minute... what? You did that?" You close your eyes and search for the right words. But before you can say anything, it hits you like a blow. You also have a lecture with him today.

"I’m not coming today," you tell her. “You can't just cancel!" she says immediately, and you hear her getting herself settled in her bed. Her voice sounds determined, but also worried. "You know how it is, our seminar today. We can't miss it. We said that celebrating wouldn't stop us," she says. "Celebrating isn't what would stop me either. Seeing him definitely is," you say and lean back with a groan.

You close your eyes and sink even deeper into the pillows. Your stomach clenches when you think about it. She’s right, You really have to go today. But the text, the picture that you sent him - what if he wants to talk to you about it? Or worse, he reports the whole thing?

"I can't just sit in front of him today and pretend that everything is normal. I sent him a picture of me in lingerie... I can't face him. It's just... it's just too much!" There is silence on the other end of the line for a moment. She still hasn't said anything, and you know she's thinking. Then you hear her take a deep breath.

“Okay, the thing with the picture, that's really... a little crazy. But hey, you can skip the lecture. Just disappear after the seminar and then hide in your apartment. Or you can go and hope that when you run into him, he'll do completely different things after you seeing this photo. I bet you looked hot, was it the new set you recently bought?” she asks and you can hear her grin even though you're on the phone.

Obviously she knows about your crush on your professor. You couldn’t stop talking about him after your first lecture and she took every opportunity to tease you about it. You look at your phone as if it were the only thing that could help you think clearly. Of course she's right. You have to go to your seminar. And you can really skip his lecture. Still, the idea that he might be thinking about it makes your heart beat faster and not just in excitement.

“You're right, I... okay, I'll come," You say after a short pause, but the thought of maybe running into him still makes you nervous. “You'll see, it won't be as bad as you think. You'll get through the seminar, it's only an hour. And then we'll be out and we can take our time for everything else. And you'll just avoid your favorite professor today," she continues to teases.

“Today? More like forever," you mutter and finally get up, even though the thought of getting out of bed still paralyzes you. “See you soon then. I'll shower and get dressed now, then I'll come. Let’s meet outside the building, okay?" you ask. "Sure!" she calls out happily. "See you soon and don’t forget to wear another fancy set for your professor today. Just in case you run into him,” she jokes.

After you hang up you put the phone on the pillow and stand there for a moment, your legs heavy, your head still about to explode. But then you take a deep breath. It'll be fine, you just have get through the seminar. With a sigh, you go into the bathroom and take painkillers first. Then you start getting ready.

You turn on the water and let it run hot. A short time later, you go into the shower. The hot steam envelops you and slowly your body feels a little alive again. The nausea subsides and the hangover becomes more bearable. After the shower, you get dressed in peace - black skirt, a comfy sweater and your favorite sneakers. You quickly walk through the apartment again to make sure you packed everything and when you leave the house, you somehow feel less like a wreck.

The smell of freshly served pasta is still in your nose as you say goodbye. You got lunch together after your seminar and it was nice to get a little break and talk about everything that happened. Now you are ready to leave but you still have to go to the library to get a book that you need for your upcoming assignment first.

“I still have to go to the library," you tell her, pulling your bag over your shoulder. “Are you coming with me?” you ask her. “I’m sorry, I have to pick up my sister now. But be careful, you don’t want to run into your favorite professor, or do you?” she teases again. “I’m not going to run into him. I’ll hurry up and leave immediately. I’ll call you later. See you tomorrow," you say and give her a quick wave before you set off.

The campus is full of students rushing through the halls, carrying their books around or sitting in groups and discussing. You slip into the library and head straight to the section where the book you need is. Unfortunately it’s at the top of the shelf and you realize that you probably won't be able to reach it. You jump up a few times, but the distance between you and the book just seems too big. You sigh. If only you were a little taller.

As you attempt the jump for the third time, you suddenly feel a presence building behind you. One that seems familiar. Your heart beats faster and a nervous tremor takes hold of you. You turn around and stare straight into Professor Reid's eyes. He is standing just inches away from you and you can hear the soft sound of his breathing.

The look he gives you is almost piercing - warm, but somehow also searching. He leans forward slightly without saying a word and effortlessly grabs the book with one hand. You avoid his gaze as he hands it to you. “Thank you," you murmur, trying to hide the slight nervous tremor in your voice. He nods and stands still for a moment.

"You weren't at my lecture today." You stare at the book in your hands and feel your stomach clench. This is not good. “I..." you take a deep breath. "I haven't been feeling so good. My head..." He waits, his eyes still fixed on you, and you get the feeling that he wants to hear more. You feel his gaze on you and when you finally raise your eyes to look into his eyes, there is a silent understanding, and for a moment you wonder if there’s more. “Sick, or...?" he asks calmly. You hesitate and bite your lip.

"I went out partying with my best friend yesterday, it was her birthday… we drank a little bit too much and... well, I'm not feeling so good today. That’s why I skipped." His expression remains neutral, but something in his gaze changes. You can hardly believe it, but it's almost as if he's interested. He frowns slightly. "I understand," he then says. "But it's not ideal to miss class, especially when important topics are involved."

You nod. “I know, Professor. I won’t happen again.” You just want to get out of this situation, and as you try to take a step back he stops you. "No, wait. I need to talk to you." You pause and turn back to him. "About what? I don’t really have the time -" you begin, pretending you don't have any idea what he wants to talk about, when he cuts you off.

"Doesn’t matter, it’s important. We'll sort it out in my office." His gaze is intense as he steps towards you. The thought of him asking you to come to his office makes your heart beat faster. The idea of being alone in a room with him is tempting. "Okay," you say quietly, unable to prevent a nervous tingling from spreading in your chest. You follow him, even though your legs feel like they're made of jelly.

He leads the way, his steps calm and determined, and you can barely keep your eyes from lingering on his back. As soon as you reach the door to his office, he opens it and lets you enter first. You step in, your heart now beating loudly in your ears. The moment he closes the door behind you, you realize that it is more than just a conversation about the seminar.

The look he is giving you now is not the look of a professor. It is the look of a man who wants more than just academic discussions at this moment. And the thought that you’re alone with him in this room inevitably leaves you nervous and intrigued at the same time.

As the door closes behind you, you’re left breathless for a moment. His office is quiet, almost too quiet, compared to the crowded hallways outside. The room is sparsely decorated, except for the desk covered with stacks of paper and a few personal items. He is still standing at the table, his arms loosely folded in front of his chest and looks at you.

"Sit down," he says calmly, pointing to the chair on the opposite of the desk. You hesitate, then finally sit down, your heart pounding in your chest. The nervous energy inside you grows as you try to organize your thoughts. Before he can say anything else, you can’t hold it back any longer. The words come out of you hastily, almost in a rush, and you feel your body tense.

"The picture, it was a mistake! I didn't mean to... It wasn't meant for you. I was drunk, and it was stupid of me, really. I'm sorry." You look at the table, avoiding his gaze. But as you say the last words, you immediately notice how the atmosphere in the room changes. He remains silent for a moment, but then his body language shifts slightly - his gaze becomes more intense, the tension between you almost tangible.

"Hmm," he says after a pause, his voice deep and calm, "so the picture wasn't meant for me?" You flinch when you hear his question. What exactly does he want to hear? What does he want to know from you? You try to stay calm and answer hesitantly.

"It... it's none of your business." His expression hardens instantly. "It is," he says, and his voice sounds sharper, more determined now. "Because you sent it to me." Your heart beats faster as he continues. "I don't think it was an accident, even if you were drunk. You wanted to send it to me. And you did."

A cold shiver runs down your spine. You open your mouth, trying to say something, but you can't find a way to defend yourself. Instead, you just stay still, looking at your hands, which are resting nervously on your lap.

He laughs quietly, a mocking, almost challenging laugh. "So you're really sure it was an accident, huh?" He slowly leans forward, rests his hands on the table and looks straight into your eyes. The look in his eyes has changed, and something in his expression shows you that he is the one in control.

"Do you really think I haven't noticed how you look at me in class? How you keep watching my hands? How you press your thighs together when I approach you?" His words hit you and you freeze for a moment. Your cheeks burn hot, you feel your heart pounding uncontrollably, but you keep quiet. Everything inside you screams to defend yourself, but you stay silent because you know he’s right.

"I noticed from the beginning, angel," he continues, and a shiver runs down your spine. You can’t believe he just called you that. It turns you on immensely. "I know you didn't just do it because of the party and the alcohol. You also sent it to me because you wanted to." He leans further forward, his presence overwhelming, and you can't help but feel small even as you try to assert yourself.

You open your mouth to say something, but the words stick in your throat. What could you say? That he's wrong? That would be a lie. “You sent it to me," he repeats, his voice now almost like a command. "Because you wanted to show me. And I don't think it was an accident. You were drunk, yes, but you wanted me to see you like this."

Your body is paralyzed. It feels like the room has suddenly become smaller. You can hardly breathe. His words and his look have completely captured you in that moment. “I... uh," you begin, but the thought that he is in control, that he sees you like this at this moment, leaves you speechless and you’re unable form a proper sentence.

He remains silent, only his eyes continue to focus on you. "You have to understand that you can't just play with me like that." His gaze becomes more intense, and for a moment it seems as if he wants to say more but then he slowly stands up, walks around the table and stops right in front of you.

"I'll show you something," he says in a calm but unmistakable voice. "And you will understand why it wasn't just an accident." Your heart beats faster. His hand reaches for your chin, lifting it up and tracing his thumb over your bottom lip. Your breath hitches and you lean closer, craving his touch. “Get up and lock the door for me,” he says and pulls his hand away slowly.

You do as your told immediately and when you turn around, he is sitting on his chair with his legs spread. He looks so hot and you desperately clench your thighs together to relief the pressure between your legs. “Good girl. Come here,” he says and pats his thigh. You shiver in excitement and when he notices a grin spreads across his face.

You go over to him and when you stand in front of him, he pulls you down into his lap. He leans forward to whisper into your ear “That’s what you wanted, right? To be my good girl. That’s why you send me that picture. You wanted to end up here,” he says and places his hands on your hips. You press yourself closer against him and inhale his scent, he smells like cinnamon, peppermint and aftershave, it’s addictive.

However, you get interrupt by his hand reaching into your hair to pull your head back. You gasp in surprise and he leans closer to you, looking deep into your eyes again. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer,” he says and you can feel yourself getting even wetter. “Yes, that’s true. I - I always wanted that,” you manage to say and he releases your hair, satisfied with your response.

Then he leans forward and you finally feel his lips against yours. It’s even better than you always imagined and you start to grind against his leg, desperate to release the friction between your legs. But Spencer quickly stops you. “Did I allow you to move?” he asks and you shake your head.

He sighs in disappointment but before he can say anything you quickly answer him. “No, you didn’t,” you say and his grip on your hips looses a little. “That’s right. I didn’t. And you’re not allowed to move until I tell you to. You’re going to listen to me and do exactly what your told, do you understand?” he asks. “I understand.”

“See, it’s not that hard. You listen to me, you behave and you’ll get your reward. Now, do you want to ride my thigh?” he asks, his hand slowly sliding behind your back to your ass, squeezing it. “Yes, please. Can I?” you ask and he leans forward to kiss you again, his tongue exploring your mouth. When he pulls back you can see his eyes sparkling with lust. “So polite, I like that. Yes, you can,” he says and you finally go back to moving against his thigh.

It feels good, so good and when Spencer starts to slide one hand under your shirt to grab your breasts you press closer against him. You can feel that you soaked your underwear trough and wearing only a skirt, you can already see a small wet stain on his pants. His gaze follows yours and he chuckles. “Someone’s needy,” he says and you nod, leaning against his chest, grinding down more against him.

“Spen - Spencer, I’m going to come,” you whimper but he pulls you back by your hair again. “It’s Sir for you, angel,” he says and you correct yourself immediately. “Please Sir, can I come on your thigh now?” you breath out and he grabs your hips again, stopping you.

“No, not yet,” he simply says and you whine when he stands up and you lose contact. “But I thought - “ you start but he doesn’t let you finish. He turns you around and pushes you down onto his desk. “Doesn’t matter what you thought. I decided I’m not letting you come yet,” he says and flips over your skirt to expose your underwear to him.

“I see, another pair then the ones you wore yesterday. I’ve got to admit, I prefer the other ones, but you look pretty anyway, angel,” he says, sliding his hands over your thighs and your ass. “Last night when you send me that picture, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admits and you can feel your whole body reacting to his words.

A wave of confidence flashes through you. “Did I keep you up last night, Sir? Did you have to stroke your cock while you looked at my picture? Thinking about all the ways you want to fuck me?” you ask him and turn your head slightly back to look at him with a smirk on your face. His eyes darken and he tightens his grip.

“Oh you have no idea, angel. I’m going to show you exactly what I was thinking about last night,” And suddenly you feel a harsh smack on your ass. He just spanked you. And you liked it. Your breath hitches and you bit down on your lip to keep quiet. You don’t want anyone to find out what’s going on in here.

His hand strokes the spot he just hit before going further down to pull at your panties. He takes them off and stuffs them into his pocket. You are convinced you’re not going to get them back. Then you feel his long, slender fingers sliding between your legs before he presses onto your clit. You gasp in surprise and try to press against him but his grip on your hips is firm, holding you still.

Then he pushes two fingers inside you. “So fucking wet.” His eyes wander over your body down to your legs hungrily, appreciating every curve and every spot. “I’ve never seen such a pretty pussy. And it’s all mine now. You’re all mine now,” he says. The way his fingers move and the way he stares at you intensely feels just way too good.

When his thumb goes back to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles, you can feel how your orgasm builds up inside of you and you can no longer hold back your moans. “Spencer - Sir, feels so good. Please,… I need more,” You clench around his fingers and he quickly puts a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. “Shh, be quiet, angel. As much as I would love to hear all these lovely sounds you make, I don’t want to get interrupted. Not now, when I finally have you, after all this time.”

His fingers curl inside you and keep hitting your g -spot. You clench around them, he notices and chuckles. “Can I - please,” you stutter. “Yes angel,” he says, already knowing what you’re asking for and you come around his fingers. You never had such an intense orgasm from foreplay before, but you don’t mind. It’s even better than you always imagined.

He wants to give you a moment to recover but you want more. You somehow manage to turn around, even though your legs feel like they are going to give in any second and push yourself up on his desk. He looks surprised and opens his mouth to say something but you interrupt him by pulling him closer by his tie.

You wrap your hands around his neck and rank your fingers through his soft, brown hair before kissing him. You moan into his mouth and he groans, sending a shiver down your spine. “Thank you, Sir. That was amazing,” you say with a smirk on your face when you pull back. “Now is the time to lose your pants and relax, I want to return the favor.”

“As much as I want to see you down on your knees with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, we don’t have much time left. Office hour starts in less than 30 minutes. And I need to fuck you. So drop it and spread your legs for me. Now,” he demands and you obliged, sitting further back on his desk with your legs spread.

He takes a step back and starts to unzip his dress pants. When he takes out his cock your eyes widen. He is even bigger than you expected. “Are you on the pill?” he asks while he starts to pump his cock. “I am,” you say. “Good. I want to fuck your pussy and then, since you suggested sucking me off, come inside your mouth. I want you to taste me. You don’t swallow until I say so. Do you understand?” he asks, sliding his cock through your folds to tease you. “Yes Sir, I understand,” you whimper and he wastes no time and pushes inside you.

His first thrust already make your eyes roll back and you feel like you’re going to die from the intense pleasure. Your legs wrap around his waits and your hands are on his back, pressing him even more against your body. Everytime a whimper or a moan escapes your mouth his thrust become deeper, rougher and faster. You can feel him throb inside you and he keeps hitting your g- spot over and over again.

One of his hand is sneaking through your breast, squeezing it and toying with your nipple. You graze his back with your fingernails and make sure to leave marks on him. Your mind goes blank and you lose yourself in the pleasure completely. After a few more thrust you can feel the orgasm building up inside of you. “Close,” you breath out and he nods. “Me too. You can come on my cock now.”

You let go and your orgasm is even more intense than you expected. You moan his name so loud that he quickly covers your mouth with his hand again. He picks up his speed and a few thrusts later he pulls out of you to shove his cock into your mouth. You can feel his cum inside your mouth and taste him, just like he told you to. He watches you closely the whole time while he recovers from his own orgasm.

“Now swallow,” he says and you do. Then he pulls you forward with both of his hands to kiss you. The kiss is different this time, more gentle and caring, not just full of lust. When he pulls back you both smile. “I guess sending you this picture was not bad at all. And I was so worried.” He laughs. “I’m glad you send it, angel. Now I finally have you all to myself. It's a shame I couldn't take more time for you right now. There's a lot more I'd like to do with you,” he says with a mischievous smile on his face. “Why don’t you show me after your office hours, Sir?” you say with a smirk on your face. “Make sure to be here on time, angel.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #professor reid #professor x student

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mandarinmoons · 2 days ago

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Dessert

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! reader Summary: Upon finding out that Spencer left his lunch at home reader heads over to The BAU to hand it over to him along with an extra sweet surprise Words: ~ 600 Warnings: None

“Spence, someone’s here to see you!”

Spencer looked up from his paperwork toward the voice that called him. He saw JJ near the doorway with another woman next to her, not a stranger, but someone he knew all too well. It was you.

As his eyebrows furrowed, Spencer stood up and made his way over to you. His work was the last place he expected you to show up, not that he wasn’t happy to see you, but his relationship to you wasn’t something he had mentioned to anyone, not even his mother.

You and Spencer had only been dating for a few months and with everything going extremely well during that time he still hadn’t told anyone on the team about you, and why should he? Spencer was a fairly private person and with how demanding and dangerous his job could be he didn’t want to open the door of horrors to you to keep you safe, to not scare you away. Everything was still so new, the highs of the honeymoon phase were still felt by the both of you and with Spencer’s life going down the way that it has, he was determined to make it last as long as he could. He needed a break from everything, as anyone else does, and being in your arms was his escape.

“Y/N, what’re you doing here?”

You chuckled as you held up a tupperware container to Spencer’s face, his confusion turning to realization in an instant.

“You forgot your lunch. I thought that I’d bring it over.”

Spencer cleared his throat and took the container in his hands, his eyes falling to the floor as he felt his teammates glance over at you both from across the bullpen. He felt his cheeks heat up and it was evident that he wasn’t going to be able to keep his sweet little secret under the wraps. With the room being filled with profilers, everyone was bound to know what role you played in Spencer’s life.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Spencer’s lips were quick to turn into a small smile when he heard you chuckle and the smile grew wider when you took him in for a hug. Hugs were usually something Spencer wasn’t accustomed to, but he could never pass one up when it came from you.

Your arms wrapped around Spencer’s neck, your fingers lightly caressing the back of his nape making a shiver go down his spine. Spencer’s free hand went to rest on your lower back, his fingers copying your movements with his thumb caressing the fabric of your sweater, this is exactly what he needed to get through the day.

“Oh, don’t forget dessert.”

Before Spencer had a chance to question what you meant, your hands cupped his cheeks and Spencer froze as you peppered light kisses over his face. His eyes blinked rapidly as he took it in, his cheeks now on fire from the loving act.

Spencer watched as you waved at him goodbye and walked out the door, feeling as if his feet were glued to the floor as he wasn’t able to move. His gaze stuck to the doorway you departed from, hoping you’d perchance run back in for one last kiss.

Spencer felt a slap on his back and nearly jumped on the spot from the sensation, then hearing a familiar chuckle belonging to Derek and a sigh parted his lips, knowing what was bound to come next.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, player.”

You can find my masterlist here! Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

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anhedoniawrites · 3 days ago

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just feeling my way back to you.

gif by @reidgif

lovers - anna of the north

part one!

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader

summary: the two youngest BAU agents explore their wants & needs together.

genre: smut🔥

word count: 5.2k

warnings: 18+, NSFW, MDNI! no use of y/n, proofread, size difference, nipple play, oral (f receiving, only if you squint), fingering (f receiving), unprotected p in v, cream pie, aftercare.

masterlist!

Spencer sat beside you, his gaze drifting over to you in the quiet of his apartment. You took slow, thoughtful sips of your wine, your eyes wandering around the space as if you were trying to memorise every corner of it. You looked at the bookshelves stacked with well-worn novels, the photographs framed on the walls that captured moments from Spencer’s life—some familiar, some foreign—and the odd assortment of trinkets and souvenirs scattered across the surfaces. It was as though you were taking the time to piece together who he was, each object a small window into his world.

The way you moved—so effortlessly, so naturally—caught Spencer off guard. You weren’t just occupying the space; you were making it your own, adding a layer of comfort to a place that had always felt a little disordered and incomplete to him. It was a quality he found magnetic, the way you seemed to settle into any space with such ease, as if you could make anywhere feel like home.

Without realising it, he found himself staring, lost in the soft curve of your profile, the way your fingers delicately held the glass, and the gentle way your eyes traced the walls. He was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t notice when your gaze shifted to meet his.

Your brow arched slightly, and you set your glass down with a soft clink, the sound breaking the quiet. “What are you looking at?” Your voice was light, and playful, but there was a warmth in your eyes that made Spencer’s heart skip a beat.

He blinked, startled, but a soft chuckle escaped his lips, his usual self-consciousness melting away in the moment. “You’re just captivating,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper, the sincerity in his words impossible to hide.

The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and without thinking, he reached out. His fingers brushed against your cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, the touch gentle, lingering for a second longer than he intended. It wasn’t a grand gesture—just a simple act of intimacy—but it felt monumental. There was something about the softness of the moment that made everything else fade away.

Spencer smiled softly, his heart fluttering in his chest at the way you looked at him. The warmth in your eyes made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t quite experienced before. Your breath caught for a brief moment, your cheeks flushing with a delicate blush as their eyes locked, and then, without another word, you leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, almost tentative, as if neither of them wanted to break the fragile intimacy they’d built. But the softness of it, the way your lips met his with such quiet certainty, deepened the moment in a way words never could. Spencer’s breath caught, his pulse quickening, as his hand instinctively found its way to your face, his thumb gently brushing the side of your cheek.

For a moment, time seemed to slow, the world outside of the apartment fading away. It was just the two of them, wrapped in the warmth of the kiss, the tenderness between them undeniable. The soft pressure of your lips against his felt like the culmination of everything that had been building throughout the night—the laughter, the quiet moments, the connection. It was all there, in the simple act of their kiss.

Their kiss deepened, a fiery hunger igniting between them that neither could deny. The heat of the moment consumed them as Spencer got up from the couch and walked backward, guiding them toward his bedroom without breaking contact. Their lips moved fervently, breaths mingling as they stumbled, almost losing their balance. Your hands were insistent, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and pushing it from his shoulders.

“Please,” you murmured against his lips, your voice soft but urgent. Your nimble fingers began undoing the buttons of his shirt, one by one, until the fabric parted to reveal his chest.

When the back of Spencer’s legs hit the bed, he sat down abruptly, his knees spreading to invite you to stand between them. You stepped closer, your arms draping over his shoulders, your touch warm and possessive. His shirt hung open, exposing a lean, lightly toned frame—exactly the way you liked. Your eyes roamed over him with unspoken appreciation. Spencer’s hands found your upper waist, his palms gliding down your sides to your hips, even as the fabric of your dress teased the skin beneath. Every curve, every line of your body seemed to captivate him.

“You can take it off,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. Your thumb brushed along his jawline, the small motion grounding them both in the intimacy of the moment. Spencer swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded. Slowly, almost torturously, his hands travelled lower, skimming the soft material of your dress until he reached the hem. He rose to his full height, towering over you, and you instinctively lifted your arms above your head, allowing him to lift the dress from your body.

The fabric slipped away, revealing your bare skin to the dim light of the room. Your beauty took his breath away. For a moment, he held the dress in his hands, his gaze locking with yours before he let it fall to the floor at their feet. Your cheeks flushed under his intense gaze, but you stood steady, letting him drink you in.

“You’re stunning,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. He reached out, his hands settling on your waist again as he pulled you closer. Gently, sitting back down he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your stomach in a kiss so tender it sent shivers up your spine.

Spencer’s lips began to wander, trailing kisses across your abdomen. Each one was deliberate, an unspoken promise of adoration. When his mouth brushed against your hip, you jolted slightly, a giggle escaping your lips before you could stop it.

“That tickles,” you admitted, your voice tinged with a mix of embarrassment and delight.

He pulled back just enough to look up at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Good to know,” he said, his voice laced with warmth. Then, with a soft chuckle, he pressed another kiss to the same spot, revelling in the way your body reacted to him.

Each kiss was a worshipful touch, his lips moving with a mixture of restraint and longing as if he wanted to memorise every inch of you. For the first time, you felt completely and utterly seen, cherished in a way that made your heart ache with the intensity of it.

“What do you want, baby?” Spencer murmured, his voice a husky whisper against your skin as he trailed a series of tender kisses along your collarbone, your shoulders, and down your arms. His lips were soft yet insistent, his touch a silent promise of his devotion. Every movement, every kiss, spoke volumes about how much he adored you—how much he cherished every moment they spent together.

“I want you,” you whispered back, your voice breathy but resolute, as your hands moved to the collar of his shirt. Your fingers trembled slightly, but you didn’t falter, eager to rid him of the barriers between them. The shirt slid off his shoulders with ease, exposing his lean, toned chest to your hungry gaze. You bit your lip softly, your teeth grazing the tender flesh, and Spencer’s eyes darkened at the sight.

He reached out, brushing his thumb gently over your bottom lip, his touch both possessive and reverent. “Don’t do that, sweetheart,” he said in a low voice, his thumb lingering for a moment before he cupped your face, his palm warm against your cheek.

“Please, Spence,” you murmured, your voice trembling with need. Your knees hit the floor as you lowered yourself in front of him, your eyes locking onto his with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. You were at eye level with his belt now, your fingers already reaching for the buckle, your gaze seeking his approval.

His breath hitched, his resolve wavering for the briefest moment, but he quickly regained control. Spencer nodded, his jaw tightening as he watched you deftly unfasten his belt, your fingers brushing against him as you worked. The sound of his zipper being undone filled the room, and his slacks pooled at his feet, springing free his stiff erection.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and expectant, your lips parted slightly. Your hands hovered over the waistband of his boxers, but before you could go further, his large hands gently wrapped around your wrists, stopping you.

“No, baby,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His gaze softened as he looked down at you, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Tonight is about you. I’m going to take care of you.”

Before you could protest, he leaned down, his hands sliding beneath your arms as he helped you to your feet. His lips found yours in a kiss that was both slow and all-consuming, a kiss that left you breathless as he guided you backward toward the bed.

Your back met the soft mattress, and he eased you down, his hands gentle yet commanding as he positioned you just how he wanted. You lay beneath him, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, your body clad in nothing but delicate lace that did little to conceal your curves.

Spencer stood above you for a moment, taking you in. The way your hair fanned out across the pillow, the way your skin seemed to glow in the soft light of the room, the way you looked at him as if he were the only thing you needed.

Spencer shifted beside you on the bed, his breath warm against your skin as he lowered himself to your knee. His lips pressed delicate, lingering kisses along the curve of your leg, trailing upward with unhurried devotion. Each touch sent a shiver cascading through your body, anticipation pooling in the pit of your stomach.

When he reached the edge of your bralette, his kisses faltered for a moment, and he glanced up, catching your gaze. Your back arched instinctively as if your body was urging you forward, your fingers fumbling behind you to unclip the fabric that kept your textured. The moment the tension snapped free, your bralette slid off your shoulders, leaving you exposed.

Spencer stilled. His wide, hazel eyes roamed over you, his breath catching as though the sight of you had stolen every coherent thought. You were radiant—utterly captivating—and for a brief moment, he felt foolish just laying there, staring, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice soft, barely above a whisper, but filled with reverence. His hands hovered hesitantly, his gaze locking onto yours with a pleading vulnerability that made your heart race. You could see him wrestling with himself, clinging desperately to the fraying edges of his self-control.

Your lips parted, and you nodded, the simple gesture granting him permission.

He exhaled slowly, his hands finding your skin with a gentleness that made your breath hitch. His fingers skimmed the swell of your breast before settling at your peak. He pinched softly, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, drawing out the most delicious tension before giving a subtle upward tug. When he finally released, the sensation left you trembling, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

The sound drove him mad, his restraint slipping with every second. Spencer leaned closer, brushing his lips against the column of your neck as his hands continued their exploration, worshipping every inch of you.

You were utterly undone, your head falling back against the pillow as his touch turned you into a mess of quiet gasps and whispered pleas, each sound echoing like a symphony in his ears.

“More. Please, Spence,” you whispered into his ear, your voice trembling with need. Your head rested on his shoulder, your breath warm against his skin. His fingers continued their slow, deliberate pinching at your nipples, drawing soft gasps from your lips.

With his free hand, Spencer moved down, hesitating at the waistband of your underwear. He paused, his fingers ghosting over the fabric as his eyes searched yours for the permission he craved more than anything.

Your response was a broken moan, a breathless, “Mm-hm,” followed by a shaky nod. It was all he needed. Carefully, he slipped his hand beneath the elastic, his fingertips brushing against the soft, slick heat of your folds. You gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily at the sensation.

“You’re so sensitive, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with adoration. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded eagerly, your body arching toward his touch, silently pleading for more.

Spencer’s movements were unhurried, deliberate, as though he wanted to savour every moment of this intimacy. Slowly, he ran his fingers along your slit, collecting your arousal before letting one finger dip inside you. The sensation made you gasp, your body tightening around him instantly. You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan, but it escaped anyway, soft and unrestrained.

He began to move his finger in and out of your at an achingly slow pace, his touch gentle yet deliberate. Your head fell back against his chest, your eyes fluttering shut as a quiet plea slipped from your lips. “More. Please.”

Obliging your, Spencer carefully added a second finger, easing your open with patience and care. You let out a breathless whimper, your hips rolling instinctively to meet his hand. It wasn’t greedy—it was perfect. He set a steady, measured rhythm, his fingers curling slightly to brush against your sweet spot with every stroke.

As he worked you, his palm pressed against your clit, adding a delicious friction that had your thighs trembling. You clenched around his fingers, your breathing growing shallow, your body teetering on the edge of control.

“Right there,” you gasped, your voice cracking with need. Your high was building rapidly, a fire igniting deep in your stomach, threatening to consume you whole.

Spencer’s eyes never left your face, his heart racing at the sight of you coming undone in his arms. He continued his rhythm, his touch unrelenting but tender, wanting nothing more than to give you everything you needed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice reverent, as if the words themselves were a prayer.

Your body tensed, your hips lifting off the bed as your climax overtook you, a shuddering cry falling from your lips. Spencer held you through it, his fingers coaxing you through the waves of your release, his free hand brushing soothingly along your side.

As you came down, your body relaxed against him, your head nestled into the crook of his neck. “I’ve got you,” he whispered softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Spencer shifted from behind you with tender care that made your chest tighten. His movements were deliberate, his gaze soft as he positioned himself above you in missionary. His hands gently brushed over your thighs, his voice low and soothing.

“Can I take these off, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone laced with both reverence and restraint.

Still basking in the haze of your orgasm, you nodded, your mind too clouded to form words. The intensity of what you had just felt lingered in your body, leaving you breathless and pliant beneath him. You didn’t understand why it had affected you so deeply—maybe it was because it was Spencer who had given it to you. Whatever the reason, it had felt better than anything you’d experienced before, though you weren’t about to tell him that. His ego didn’t need any more fuel tonight.

Spencer hooked his fingers beneath the elastic of your panties, pausing as his eyes flicked to yours. “I need you to lift your hips for me, darling,” he murmured.

Your body responded instinctively, your hips rising just enough for him to slide the fabric down your legs. The cool air brushed against your skin as the damp material was removed, and you felt an odd relief to be rid of it. You barely noticed Spencer had already used his boxers until your eyes flicked downward.

You froze for a moment, your breath hitching. You’d had a rough idea of his size when you unzipped his pants earlier, but seeing him now left you speechless. He was bigger than you’d expected—not that you were complaining.

Spencer must have caught the flicker of surprise in your eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved back up your body, his touch reverent as he gently parted your legs. His lips found your clit in a soft, feather-light kiss, and you couldn’t help the shiver that coursed through you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, a quiet gasp falling from your lips.

“Do you have a condom?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse as he positioned himself above your, their faces now inches apart. His gaze searched yours, filled with both desire and care.

“I’m on the pill,” you whispered, your cheeks flushing as a wave of shyness overtook you. You didn’t know why you suddenly felt so bashful when Spencer had grown so confident, but you found yourself enjoying the new dynamic.

His brow furrowed slightly, his fingers reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb brushed over your cheek before trailing down to your lips, his touch both calming and electric. “You’re sure, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost a whisper.

You could hear the sincerity in his question. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you—he just wanted to be absolutely certain you were comfortable with what they were about to share.

Looking into his eyes, you saw nothing but tenderness and a quiet devotion that made your heartache. Leaning up, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, your hand resting lightly against his cheek as you nodded.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the butterflies swirling in your stomach.

Spencer exhaled slowly, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. “Okay,” he murmured, his lips curving into a small, grateful smile before he kissed you again, his movements deliberate and full of unspoken promises.

“It might hurt a little as I’m going in, okay?” Spencer murmured, his voice soft and full of care. His body was pressed against yours, their chests flush, and his forehead rested lightly against your breast as he glanced down to line himself up. He moved with the kind of precision and gentleness that made your heartache, as if every movement was a testament to how much he cherished you.

You nodded, your breaths steadying as you braced yourself for the discomfort you expected. Your hands rested lightly on his shoulders, your fingers brushing against his skin in a silent reassurance. You trusted him completely.

When he finally began to press into you, it wasn’t as bad as you had anticipated. There was a pinch—a sharp but fleeting sting—but it faded quickly, leaving only a sensation of fullness that sent a shiver through your body. Spencer stopped the moment he was partially inside, his brow furrowing as he glanced up at you.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, surprised by how gentle it all felt. “That was it?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Spencer chuckled softly, his forehead lifting from your skin so his eyes could meet yours. The vulnerability in his gaze made your heart flutter. “Half-ish,” he replied with a playful smirk.

Your eyes widened at his words, and he couldn’t help but laugh again, the sound low and warm in his chest. “Only half?” you echoed, incredulous.

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he explained, his tone patient and soothing.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, giving him a look he knew all too well—a look that said, You should know better than to underestimate me. As if to prove your point, you spoke the exact words he expected. “I would tell you if I needed you to stop.”

He smiled, his hand brushing tenderly against your cheek. “I know,” he said softly, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Okay, sweetheart. Just let me know if it’s too much.”

With that, he slowly pushed the rest of the way in, his movements careful and measured. Your body tensed for a moment, adjusting to the stretch, and you bit your lip to stifle a gasp. Spencer paused again, giving you time to acclimate.

Your arms instinctively wrapped around him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body adjusted to the fullness. You hated to admit it, but he had been right—it was almost overwhelming. A soft, breathless moan escaped your lips, and you felt your nails drag against his skin as you gripped him tighter, the pressure grounding you.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, his voice thick with concern, his gaze searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

You nodded, your lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “You feel... really good.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips slow and deliberate against yours. The kiss deepened as he began to move, his hips rocking gently against yours, keeping his pace slow and steady.

Your breath hitched with every deliberate movement, the pleasure surging through you like a wave, steady and unrelenting. Each thrust was slow, measured, as if he were savouring every moment, every reaction he drew from you. It wasn’t rushed; it wasn’t frantic. It was deliberate, a dance that spoke of connection, trust, and a shared yearning.

Your body arched into his, your hands sliding over the taut muscles of his back. Your nails dug in lightly, not in pain but in a desperate attempt to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. Spencer leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice a low, reverent whisper. The words were soft, almost vulnerable, as though he were baring his soul in those few syllables. They wrapped around your heart, filling you with a warmth that was just as intense as the fire burning between them.

Your response was a breathless moan, your lips parting as your head tilted back against the pillow. His lips found the curve of your neck, brushing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. Each kiss was deliberate, lingering, as though he wanted to imprint himself on you.

The rhythm they created together was almost hypnotic, their bodies moving in perfect sync, a harmony that felt instinctual, and natural. His hips pressed against yours with each deliberate thrust, slow and deep, leaving you gasping for air. Your body responded to him as if it had been made for this, every nerve alive, every inch of your attuned to him.

“Spencer,” you breathed, your voice trembling with emotion, with need. Your hands slipped into his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel the warmth of his body pressed fully against yours. He responded with a kiss that was both tender and consuming, his lips capturing yours in a way that made the world fade away.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring your curves with a reverence that made you feel utterly adored. His fingers traced patterns along your sides, his touch firm yet gentle, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He held you as though you were precious, as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice steady and soothing, grounding you in the midst of the overwhelming pleasure building between them. The sincerity in his words brought a lump to your throat, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and desire that threatened to consume you.

The intensity between them grew with each slow, deliberate thrust, their movements a testament to the unspoken connection they shared. Your breathing quickened, your chest rising and falling as you clung to him, your body trembling beneath his. The pleasure was a slow burn, building gradually, each wave more intense than the last, until it felt like you were teetering on the edge of something vast and all-encompassing.

Spencer’s own breathing had grown heavier, his control slipping as he lost himself in you. His hands tightened on your hips, anchoring them together as he pressed deeper, his forehead resting against yours. Their eyes met, and in that moment, everything else ceased to exist.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. His lips brushed yours in a kiss that was almost unbearably tender, a stark contrast to the heat simmering between them.

The pleasure built to a crescendo, their bodies moving together in perfect unison, every touch, every kiss, every whispered word driving them closer to the edge. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your back arching as your body surrendered completely to him.

“Spencer,” you gasped, your voice trembling, your body taut with anticipation.

“I’m right here,” he reassured you, his voice steady despite the strain in it, his movements never faltering.

The tension between them snapped like a string pulled too tight, pleasure crashing over you in a wave so intense it left you trembling. A cry escaped your lips, your body shaking as you clung to him, your nails raking down his back as you were consumed by the sensation.

Spencer followed a heartbeat later, his movements faltering as he let go, a low groan escaping him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His arms tightened around you, holding you close as they rode out the waves together, their bodies trembling in the aftermath.

They collapsed against each other, breathless and sated, their hearts pounding in unison. Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his fingers brushing stray strands of hair from your face.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his voice soft, his lips curving into a small, contented smile.

You smiled back, your chest still heaving as you nestled closer to him, your head resting against his shoulder. In that moment, wrapped in his arms, you felt safe, cherished, and completely, undeniably his.

After a peaceful moment of rest, Spencer stirred, shifting carefully as he climbed out of bed. The warm sheets clung to him, but his attention wasn’t on himself—it was on you. He moved quietly, trying not to disturb you too much, but the shift in weight made you protest softly.

“Spence, no. What are you doing?” you murmured, your voice laced with sleep and the reluctance to lose his warmth.

He bent down beside you, his soft, intelligent eyes meeting yours as his hand cupped your cheek. His fingers gently brushed away a few stray strands of hair that had fallen across your face, revealing your delicate features. His voice was tender, a soothing balm in the quiet room. “You have to pee, or else you’ll get a UTI,” he said softly, his tone both practical and caring.

You groaned, turning your head away from him, your body heavy with exhaustion and unwillingness. “I don’t want to move,” you mumbled, burying your face into the pillow.

Spencer, ever patient, leaned closer, his lips brushing against your temple. “If you pee, I’ll carry you,” he offered with a knowing smile. It wasn’t the first time he’d used this bribe, and he knew it would work.

Your lips quirked up into a small smile despite yourself, your facial muscles betraying your resolve. He saw it and smirked in return, victorious before you even gave in.

Finally, you turned back to face him, raising your arms in surrender, signalling for him to carry you. “Fine,” you said, your voice playfully exasperated.

Bending down, he slid his arms under you, lifting you effortlessly in a bridal-style hold. Your head rested against his chest as he carried you to the bathroom, his steps careful and deliberate, ensuring you felt secure in his arms. When they reached the bathroom, he set you down gently on the cool surface of the toilet seat.

“I’m just going to grab you a shirt to sleep in, okay?” he murmured, brushing a kiss against your forehead before stepping out to give you some privacy.

You nodded softly, watching him leave with a small, sleepy smile. Left alone, you did your business, moving slowly and carefully, still basking in the warmth of his touch and the care in his voice.

Moments later, Spencer returned with a spare pair of boxers and one of his oversized shirts, the fabric worn and soft. “You alright, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and comforting as he approached you.

You nodded again, a droopy smile tugging at your lips. Your eyes followed him as he moved to the sink, filling it with warm water. He grabbed a clean washcloth, soaking it and wringing out the excess water with precision.

“I need you to stand up for me, okay?” he said gently, his hands extended toward you.

With his help, you stood slowly, leaning on him slightly as your body protested the movement. He supported you easily, one hand steadying your waist as he brought you closer. You looked down at him with a soft expression as he knelt before you, his every movement careful and deliberate.

Guiding your legs apart just slightly, he took the damp washcloth and brought it to your skin, his touch feather-light as he began to clean you. The warmth of the cloth combined with his gentleness sent a wave of comfort through you, even as you winced slightly at the tenderness.

You hissed softly, your body still sensitive. “I know,” he murmured, his voice filled with apology. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I promise I’m almost done.”

To emphasize his words, Spencer leaned forward, his lips brushing against your stomach in a soft, tender kiss. The gesture was full of care and regret, a silent apology that made your heart swell. You glanced down at him, your fingers instinctively moving to run through his hair as he lingered there for a moment.

“You’re too good to me,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

His lips curved into a small smile against your skin before he straightened, his hands moving with the same deliberate care as he finished cleaning you. When he was done, he leaned back slightly, his hands smoothing over your thighs as he looked up at you. “There,” he said softly, his voice warm and reassuring. “All done.”

He helped you into the boxers and shirt, his hands steady as he guided your arms through the sleeves and adjusted the hem. “You’re so good to me,” you repeated, your voice filled with affection as you looked at him.

He smiled, his expression tender as he cupped your face again. “You deserve nothing less,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before scooping your back into his arms.

Spencer carried you back to bed, settling you beneath the covers and tucking you in before sliding in beside you. You curled into him instinctively, your head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around you.

“Goodnight, Spence,” you murmured sleepily, your voice soft and content.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your hair as he held you close.

In his arms, you felt safe, loved, and cherished—a feeling you knew you could get used to.

thank you for reading!

please like & reblog if you enjoyed!

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taglist: @pleasantwitchgarden

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sweetestcowboy · 3 days ago

Text

can spencer give me bambi legs??

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there.

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that.

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for.

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips.

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more.

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it.

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling.

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching.

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air.

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact.

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out.

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for.

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon.

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion.

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it.

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm.

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him.

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline.

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits.

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles.

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time.

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest.

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment.

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble.

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling.

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind.

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him.

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway.

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact.

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair.

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs.

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long.

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind.

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving.

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved.

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed.

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles.

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly.

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff

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gf2bellamy · 3 days ago

Text

enough — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you don't think you're enough for spencer content warnings: mention of working on a case, feelings of insecurity / not feeling good enough, spencer and reader argue , alot of angst ( pretty much all of it) a/n: currently sick in bed :( hope you guys like this <3

part 2

You knew Spencer Reid had feelings for you. It wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret. In fact, everyone on the team seemed to know—how could they not?

The way his gaze lingered on you just a fraction longer than anyone else, the way his words stumbled over themselves when you caught him off guard, the subtle softness in his voice when he said your name.

Spencer was careful, meticulous in everything he did, but when it came to you, his emotions were a little too obvious.

There were the small, thoughtful gestures—the extra cup of coffee waiting on your desk when you’d been up late on a case, or the way he always seemed to know exactly when you needed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Then there were the bigger things, like how he always volunteered to partner with you in the field, or how he fiercely defended your theories in meetings, even when they weren't perfect.

But maybe the most telling sign of all was the way Spencer looked at you.

Like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.

It was like he was memorizing every detail of your face, committing you to the library of his mind. And every time he looked at you like that, a warmth bloomed in your chest—a warmth you weren’t quite ready to name, but one that you felt more often than you cared to admit.

Penelope had asked you multiple times about the situation, her curiosity impossible to suppress. “So, when are you and Boy Genius making it official?” she’d tease, wiggling her eyebrows and leaning across your desk.

Each time, you laughed it off or deflected with a joke. “What are you talking about, Pen? Spencer and I are just friends,” you’d insist, even though the words felt more and more like a lie with every passing day.

Pretending to be oblivious to Spencer’s feelings had once been easy. A flick of the wrist, a casual smile—it had been enough to convince everyone, including yourself, that you were completely unaware. But lately, it was getting harder.

Much harder.

Because now, every time you caught him staring at you, every time his fingers brushed yours while passing a file, every time he leaned in just a little too close when he explained something in that excited, rambling way of his, you felt it. That same warmth in your chest, that same ache you’d been trying so hard to ignore.

The truth was, you weren’t just aware of Spencer’s feelings for you.

You also felt the same way.

Your fingers tapped absently against your desk, a sound that seemed to echo in the quiet bullpen. Your eyes were unfocused, fixed on nothing in particular, as your thoughts wandered far from the case files scattered in front of you.

Across from your desk, Spencer was watching you. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in concern as he debated whether or not to say something.

“Are you okay?” His soft voice cut through the quiet, pulling you back to the present.

“Huh?” You jumped slightly, your hand pausing mid-tap as your head whipped around to face him. Your wide eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you added quickly, your words rushing out.

Spencer didn’t look convinced. He leaned forward just a little, resting his elbows on the edge of his desk as his gaze searched yours. “You seemed... distracted,” he said carefully.

You laughed nervously, waving a hand as if to brush off his concern. “Just zoning out. It’s been a long day.”

Spencer didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at you for a while, his hazel eyes soft but searching, like he could see through the thin veil of your words.

The weight of his gaze made your pulse quicken, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.

“I’ll be right back,” you blurted suddenly, pushing your chair back. Without waiting for a response, you rushed out of the bullpen, your footsteps echoing down the hallway until you reached the bathroom.

Inside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and stepped into the nearest stall, closing the door behind you. Sitting down on the closed toilet lid, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands.

It wasn’t the first time you’d run away like this. You weren’t proud of it, but sometimes it felt easier to escape than to face the thoughts that clawed their way to the surface when Spencer was near.

People might call you stupid.

Stupid for ignoring the feelings of someone so gentle and sweet.

Stupid for pretending not to notice how much he cared for you, how much he had done for you.

Stupid for not taking the first step when it was obvious to everyone, including you, that Spencer Reid had feelings for you.

But it wasn’t just Spencer’s feelings, was it? No, the truth was much harder to ignore now: you had feelings for him, too.

And yet, here you were, hiding in a bathroom stall, running away from everything.

The reason felt silly—childish, even—but it was there, and it was real.

You were scared.

Scared that if you took that step, if you let yourself fall into the warmth of what Spencer was offering, you’d ruin him.

Spencer, who was so sweet and intelligent, so thoughtful and patient. He was everything good in this world, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d taint him with your flaws, your insecurities.

You didn’t think you were enough for him.

The thought sat heavy in your chest, and no matter how much you tried to push it down, it always came back.

Spencer deserved someone extraordinary, someone brilliant and perfect—someone who wasn’t you.

Before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost didn’t hear the bathroom door creak open.

A familiar, soft voice called out your name.

You quickly straightened up, dabbing at your cheeks with trembling fingers, but it was no use. The tears had already left their mark.

You opened the stall door cautiously, revealing Penelope standing there in all her vibrant glory. Her floral skirt swirled around her knees, and her cardigan was adorned with her signature pins and patches.

Her warm, concerned eyes locked onto yours the moment the door swung open.

“There you are,” she said gently, a small smile playing on her lips as she tilted her head. “Spence sent me to check on you. He’s worried.”

Of course he did. The thought made your chest tighten.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the obvious evidence of tears. But Penelope wasn’t one to be fooled, especially not by you.

She raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Sweetheart, you’re standing in a bathroom stall looking like you just had a tearful heart-to-heart with yourself, so forgive me if I don’t take ‘I’m fine’ at face value.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out shaky and weak. “It’s just... been a long day.”

Penelope crossed her arms, giving you that patient, knowing look that only she could manage. “I know there’s more to it than that. Spence wasn’t just worried about you zoning out—he was worried about you. And judging by those red eyes, I’m guessing he’s not wrong for being worried.”

You sighed, leaning against the stall door for support. “It’s nothing, Pen. Really.”

Penelope softened, she placed a comforting hand on your arm. “If it’s nothing, why were you crying?”

For a moment, you considered brushing her off again, but something about her warmth, her openness, made you pause.

Maybe it was because she was Penelope, the team’s heart and soul, or maybe it was because a part of you was tired of holding it all in.

“It’s... about Spencer,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Penelope’s eyes lit up in understanding, and a soft smile crept across her face. “Oh, honey. Tell me everything.”

You let out a shaky breath, walking over to the sink and staring at your reflection. The person looking back at you seemed fragile, her emotions etched plainly on her face.

Penelope followed, standing beside you, her vibrant presence grounding you as she waited patiently for you to speak.

“I have feelings for Spencer,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the bathroom’s fluorescent lights.

Penelope didn’t gasp or exclaim. She simply tilted her head and nodded, her soft smile growing into something more knowing, like she’d been waiting for you to admit it.

“I figured as much,” she said gently, her tone free of judgment. “But what’s got you hiding out in here instead of doing something about it?”

You met her eyes in the mirror, hesitating for a moment before answering. “Because I’m scared, Penelope.” Your fingers gripped the edge of the sink tightly. “I mean, he’s Spencer. He’s brilliant and kind. He deserves someone amazing, someone who can keep up with him. I just—I don’t think I’m enough for him.”

Penelope frowned, her brows knitting together as she turned to face you fully. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. First of all, I am going to stop you right there, missy. You are more than enough for anyone, especially Spencer Reid. Don’t even try to argue with me on that.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but she held up a finger to silence you.

“Second,” she continued, her voice firm but still warm, “have you met Spencer? That man practically worships the ground you walk on. Do you know how rare that is? To have someone like Spencer look at you the way he does? Trust me, sweetie, he doesn’t see anyone else but you.”

You blinked, Penelope’s words hitting you harder than you expected. “But what if I mess it up? What if I ruin everything?”

“Sweetheart,” Penelope said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “life is messy. Love is messy. But if you keep letting that fear hold you back, you’re going to miss out on something incredible. Spencer wants you. Not someone perfect, not someone else. You.”

Her words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. For a moment, all you could do was stare at her, overwhelmed by her kindness and sincerity.

“Thank you, Penelope,” you whispered, your voice soft and earnest.

She gave you a bright, reassuring smile, squeezing your arm gently. “Don’t stay here too long, okay? Boy Genius is worried about you, and you know how he gets when he’s worried.”

You managed a small smile, nodding as she opened the bathroom door. “I’ll be out soon.”

“Good,” she said with a wink, stepping out into the hallway. The door swung shut behind her, leaving you alone once again.

You turned back to the mirror, your reflection staring back at you with the same doubts you’d walked in with. Penelope’s words were honest, comforting, and so full of truth that they made your chest ache. And yet... the doubts didn’t leave.

They stayed.

What if Penelope was wrong? What if you tried, and it all came crashing down, leaving your friendship in ruins?

You pressed your lips together, inhaling a shaky breath. There was a part of you—a small, fragile part—that wanted to believe Penelope.

But the larger, louder part of you couldn’t let go of the fear.

“Get it together,” you muttered to yourself, gripping the sink tightly.

You couldn’t stay in this bathroom forever, hiding from the man waiting for you outside.

The man who cared enough to send someone after you when you disappeared.

The man who had always been there, quietly offering you the kind of unconditional support you never thought you deserved.

And yet, your feet felt like they were cemented to the floor.

The days that followed felt heavier, even after Penelope’s heartfelt pep talk. Her words lingered in your mind like an echo, but they weren’t enough to silence the whirlwind of emotions.

Everything seemed harder now that you’d acknowledged your feelings—now that you couldn’t hide from the truth.

Sometimes, it felt like your heart was about to burst with how much love you held for Spencer.

You’d catch yourself staring at him across the bullpen, watching the way his lips moved as he explained something in that fast, excitable way of his, or the way his fingers traced invisible patterns on the edge of a file when he was deep in thought.

And then there were the moments when you were near him—too near. Your hands would tremble when they brushed his by accident, or your breath would hitch when his cologne lingered in the air between you.

But you didn’t do anything about it.

You convinced yourself it was for the best, that keeping things the way they were was safer. You couldn’t risk crossing that line and ruining the friendship you’d come to treasure so much.

Still, there were cracks in your resolve.

You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up—pretending you didn’t feel what you felt, pretending you didn’t want to close the gap between you and let yourself fall.

One day, the tension came to a head while you and Spencer were working on the geographic profile to catch an unsub. The bullpen was unusually quiet, the rest of the team out gathering leads.

It was just the two of you, standing side by side in front of the board, the scent of coffee and marker ink filling the air.

You reached for the same photo pinned to the board—a shot of a potential target area—and your fingers brushed his.

It was barely a touch, but it sent a jolt up your arm, and you immediately pulled back as if burned.

“Sorry,” you mumbled quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. You avoided his gaze, letting him take the picture as you stepped back. Not just one step—several, putting unnecessary distance between the two of you.

Spencer hesitated, holding the picture in his hand as his eyes flicked to you. His brows furrowed slightly, concern shadowing his expression as he noticed how much space you’d suddenly created between you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and careful, like he was afraid of startling you.

Your throat tightened. “I’m fine,” you said, the words automatic and unconvincing.

Spencer wasn’t buying it. He tilted his head, his gaze searching yours in that way that always made you feel like he could see right through you.

“You’ve been... distant,” he said, his tone gentle. “Not just today, but for a while now.”

You froze, your heartbeat quickening. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, even though the words felt hollow in your mouth.

He stepped closer, closing some of the space you’d put between you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty. “If I did, I—I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be around me.”

Your chest tightened painfully at the vulnerability in his voice. The idea that he thought he had done something wrong, that he might blame himself for the distance you’d created, made your stomach twist with guilt.

“No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head. "It's just work has been getting to me.”

You turned away quickly, pretending to focus on the map pinned to the board. Your heart hammered in your chest as you felt Spencer’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he finally turned back to his own work.

He let it go—for now.

Later that evening, you were back in your hotel room, sprawled on the bed with the TV remote in hand. The case was successfully closed, the unsub in custody, but the team had decided to stay one more night before flying home.

You flipped aimlessly through the channels, barely registering the images flashing on the screen. Nothing held your attention for more than a few seconds, and the quiet hum of the TV did little to drown out your thoughts.

With a loud yawn, you tossed the remote aside, letting it land on the bed. You leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling.

Then came a knock at your door.

Slowly, you got up, smoothing down your clothes as you walked to the door.

When you opened it, your breath caught.

Spencer stood there, hands in his pockets, his expression a mix of nervousness and determination. He was still in his dress shirt and slacks, his tie loosened just enough to suggest he’d been pacing or thinking too much, as he often did.

His hazel eyes met yours, and you saw a flicker of hesitation before he finally spoke.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice gentle but steady.

“Spencer?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

“I—I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice laced with hesitation. He shifted his weight nervously, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “Can I come in?”

You stared at him, your heart racing as you tried to decipher the look in his eyes. Finally, you nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you took a couple of deep breaths, trying to prepare yourself for whatever he wanted to talk about.

Turning back around, you walked a few steps toward him, stopping just a short distance away. You were close enough to notice the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the tension in his posture as he stood there, clearly working through whatever thoughts were racing in his mind.

You found yourself fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, your fingers twisting and untwisting the fabric as you waited for him to speak.

Finally, Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes meeting yours. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “And I know I’ve been overthinking it, probably more than I should. But I—I couldn’t keep waiting.”

Your fingers stilled, your breath catching as his words hung in the air.

“I’ve noticed you pulling away,” he continued, his brows furrowing slightly. “And I’ve been trying to tell myself that maybe I was imagining it, but... I don’t think I am.” He paused, his gaze searching yours. “Are you sure I didn't do something wrong? Because if I did, I’ll fix it—I want to fix it.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, guilt and affection warring within you. “No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He looked relieved for a moment, but the tension didn’t fully leave his face. “Then what is it? Because I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

His honesty was disarming, his vulnerability leaving you with nowhere to hide. You opened your mouth, then closed it again, the words caught in your throat.

“It’s... complicated,” you finally managed, your voice barely audible.

Silence stretched out between you, thick and heavy. Spencer stood still, watching you intently, as if trying to piece together a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. His gaze flicked to your hands, noticing how they still fidgeted nervously with your clothes.

And then he spoke.

“I’m in love with you,” he said, the words falling from his lips so suddenly and so earnestly that they cut through the air like a blade.

Your hands stilled immediately, your breath hitching as you raised your head to meet his eyes. The room seemed to shrink around you, everything else fading into the background as his words echoed in your ears.

You hadn’t expected him to say it. Not like that. Not so bluntly, with no preamble or hesitation. And now, faced with the weight of his confession, you found yourself frozen, unsure of what to do or say.

Spencer’s eyes darted nervously, meeting yours and then flicking away before returning.

He was waiting—for your answer, your reaction, anything.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, your mind racing too fast to form a coherent response.

The silence stretched on, and you saw something shift in his expression. Disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice tight, the hurt evident as he took a small step back. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Stop,” you said, shaking your head, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Spencer froze, his eyes wide and uncertain as he looked at you.

“Don’t apologize,” you said softly, your voice trembling but resolute. You took a shaky breath.

You weren’t sure what to say to him, honestly. It was like your heart was trying to escape from your chest, but the words just wouldn’t come out.

You looked at Spencer, his hair falling into his face just the way it always did when he was anxious or lost in thought. You had this overwhelming urge to reach out, to gently push his hair back behind his ear, but you didn’t.

Instead, you just stood there, staring at him, feeling more unsure than ever.

"Spence, look, I—" you started, your voice faltering as you tried to gather your thoughts.

His eyes were fixed on yours, waiting. He was so patient, so willing, and it made your chest tighten even more. You tried again, your words tumbling out as you fought to explain.

“I didn’t want to mess things up with you. I’ve been scared that if I told you how I feel, it would ruin everything. Because... you deserve someone better than me, Spencer. You deserve someone who can give you the world, who can keep up with you... not someone like me.”

You caught yourself, blinking rapidly as the words tumbled out of you, not sure if you were even making sense anymore.

But it was like you couldn’t stop.

“I’ll ruin you, Spencer. I’ll drag you into my mess, and you’ll wake up one day and realize you could’ve had someone better. Someone who doesn’t second-guess every little thing or put up walls because they’re too scared to let anyone in.”

“That’s not how I see you,” Spencer said, his voice soft as he took a step closer to you. “You’re not a mess. You’re not some burden I’d have to carry. You’re—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, shaking your head as tears pricked at your eyes. “You don’t get it. You think I’m this... this version of me that you’ve built up in your head, but I’m not that person. I’m not perfect. I’m not enough.”

“Stop saying that!” His voice rose slightly, the frustration finally breaking through. You looked at him, startled, as he ran a hand through his hair. “You keep telling me what I should feel, what I deserve, like you get to decide that for me. But you don’t. I know what I want, and it’s you.”

“Spencer—”

“No, let me finish,” he said, stepping closer. “I don’t care about perfect, okay? I don’t care about whatever doubts you have about yourself, because none of that changes the fact that I love you. I love you for you, not some idealized version. And if you think for one second that I’m going to stand here and let you push me away because of some fear that you’re not ‘enough,’ then you don’t know me as well as I thought.”

His words hit you like a wave, but instead of feeling comforted, you felt overwhelmed. The emotions swirling between you both—the love, the fear, the frustration—felt like too much all at once.

“You’re not listening to me,” you said, your voice rising. “You think this is just me being insecure, but it’s not. This is me being realistic. You deserve someone who doesn’t bring you down, someone who doesn’t doubt themselves every time they look in the mirror.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You’re the one bringing yourself down, not me. You’re the one who thinks you’re not good enough, but that’s not the truth. It’s your fear talking, not reality.”

“And maybe my fear is right,” you shot back, your voice cracking. “Maybe it’s telling me what I already know—that you’re too good for me, and I can’t be what you need.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath. “You think you’re protecting me by pushing me away, but you’re not. You’re just hurting both of us,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like this—like I’m not alone. Like I’m more than just... me. And I’m not going to let you stand there and tell me you’re not enough.”

The room felt suffocating, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

But still, the doubt clung to you, thick and unrelenting. “Spencer, I just... I can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His shoulders slumped slightly, the frustration in his eyes giving way to something softer—something sad. “I don’t know how to convince you,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with defeat. “But I can’t force you to believe me.”

For a moment, he just stood there, silent and still, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“I don’t know what else to say,” he finally murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet hurt that made your chest ache.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. You felt paralyzed, the fear and doubt swirling inside you.

Spencer looked back up at you, his hazel eyes searching yours one last time, as if hoping to find something—anything—that might give him a reason to stay.

When he didn’t, a faint, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

And then he turned, walking toward the door with a heaviness in his steps that you’d never seen before.

Your heart twisted as you watched him reach for the handle, every fiber of your being screaming at you to stop him, to say something, to fix this.

But the words refused to come.

Spencer paused for a fraction of a second as he opened the door, his back to you. It felt like time stood still. Then he stepped out, quietly closing the door behind him.

The sound of the latch clicking into place was deafening.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring at the closed door, your chest tight and your head spinning. The room felt unbearably empty without him.

And yet, you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Instead, you sank onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears you’d been holding back finally broke free.

You didn’t know what hurt more—the fear that you’d pushed him away for good or the possibility that you’d been wrong about everything.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x you

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minswriting · 21 hours ago

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Different Kinds of Treats - Roommate Spencer Reid x Reader

About: Spencer bakes brownies and walks in on reader masturbating and ends up maturbating to the thought of her. Later on, they end up fucking.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, mentions of addiction but nothing in detail, season 4 Spencer, porn without plot, Spencer bakes to relieve stress, roommate Spencer, masturbation (f & m), walking in on someone masturbating, protected sex (reader on birth control), no condoms, p in v, desperate and needy sex, whiny reader and whiny spencer, creampies. not proofread because I am sick and have a cold. we are raw dogging life man

Word Count: 2.3k

Baking was one of Spencer’s favorite things to do. It began about a year and a half ago when Spencer had decided to get clean. Any time he felt a craving, he’d look up a recipe. Any time he felt the biggest urge, he’d bake something. And slowly, that baking turned into a genuine passion for him where it was his favorite way to decompress after a long case.

And he adored how you were always so excited whenever he baked something.

You moved in about a year ago. Amidst Spencer’s withdrawals, he also felt as though his apartment was too lonely, too cold and that he needed someone to fill the space. That way, whenever he came home from a hard and long case, he could at least not be completely alone. He had posted an ad in the local newspaper and you were the first to respond. You were both the same age, you had a lovely career here in DC, he had Penelope do an extensive background check on you and you were completely clean. It all worked out, honestly. It also helped that you were very pretty but Spencer never allowed himself to admit that out loud.

The apartment was filled with a nice chocolatey aroma as Spencer had just finished baking brownies. He had gotten back from a long case last night and needed to decompress as he finally had a day off. It was a Saturday so he knew you didn’t have to work. Spencer waited for the brownies to cool before cutting a piece for you. He grabbed one for himself as well and made his way to your bedroom. He figured you were napping as it was two in the afternoon and you were still in bed. So what greater way to be woken up than by having brownies in your face?

When Spencer made his way to your bedroom, he gently and carefully opened the door, making sure not to drop the brownies. He had expected to be met with your sleeping form, slow breathing with your lips parted. Instead, he was met with your legs spread open with your fingers buried inside of you. Though he did get one part right. Your lips were indeed parted. Both pairs actually.

Spencer’s eyes widened at the sight. He stood there in shock, holding the brownies. The sight of you fucking yourself with your fingers made all the blood from Spencer’s head rush to his groin. You hadn’t even realized Spencer opened your door, too caught up in your own pleasure.

Your eyes opened and as you saw Spencer, you gasped out his name, “Spencer,” while trying to cover yourself up. Spencer gasped and quickly turned around.

“I-I’m so sorry,” He choked out as he was about to walk away before realizing he needed to close your door. He grabbed the door knob, closing your door with a slam as he rushed to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him. He still had the brownies in his hand. He placed them on top of his dresser before letting out an embarrassed groan. He hadn’t meant to walk in on you masturbating. His IQ of 167 was slashed as his brain was full of just images of you.

All he could think about was how your pussy was glistening, your fingers covered in your juices. Your chest had been moving up and down from the pleasure. The way you let out the tiniest whimpers. God, Spencer was aching. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. But he just couldn’t help himself.

“Damn it,” Spencer said to himself in frustration. “Your head is turning into a damn potato,” he said all while looking down at his cock as it strained in his pants.

He quickly undid his pants, standing in front of his dresser. He tugged his pants and boxers down, revealing his hard cock. Precum was already on the tip, showing just how much the whole scene turned him on. He didn’t bother teasing himself, feeling far too desperate to prolong the experience. He gripped his cock with his left hand, stroking himself hard and fast.

“O-oh fuck,” He moaned, unable to help the noise from escaping his lips as he thought about you. It really shouldn’t have affected him this much. Masturbation was a normal part of the human body and therefore, you were more than allowed to give yourself release. And yet, Spencer couldn’t help but wish it were him that could make you feel so good.

He thought about how you would taste. How it would feel to bury his head between your thighs and feel you cum on his tongue. Or how your walls would feel clenching on his fingers. And don’t even get him started on how you would feel on his cock. He wanted to fuck you so badly, to make you cum from his cock would literally be a dream.

Spencer whimpered, thumbing the tip of his cock as he stroked himself. His other hand gripped the edge of his dresser, eyes pinched shut as he thought about how much he wanted you and all the ways he would have you. He wanted to make you feel so good. And with a choked moan of your name, Spencer came in his hand so hard. He was grateful that he was holding onto the dresser as he most definitely would’ve fallen from how intense his orgasm was.

When he came down from his high, Spencer took a deep breath, opening his eyes as he looked down at himself. His cum had landed on the dresser, himself, and his hand. He felt guilty at getting off at you. You were his roommate, one of his closest friends. And yet, he couldn’t deny how hot you were.

Later in the day, after Spencer had cleaned up and spent some time alone in his room, he went out to the living room to sit on the couch and read a book. At least he tried to read it. It was hard when his mind was still so consumed with you.

You had finally emerged from your room, dressed in a simple day dress as you walked into the living room. Spencer tried to keep his gaze on his book, turning the page as he did so, acting as though walking in on you hadn’t affected him as much as it did. That was until you stood in front of him, looking down at him. “Did it turn you on?” You asked suddenly, confronting the awkward moment from earlier.

“Did what?” Spencer replied, keeping his voice neutral as he tried to keep his gaze on his book.

“Walking in on me.” You said, grabbing the book out of Spencer’s hands and tossing it to the side. “Did it turn you on?”

Spencer frowned before looking at you and as he did, all he could think about was how beautiful you looked lying on your pillows with your fingers deep inside of you. He felt his cock hardening in his pants again. “I-“ Spencer interrupted himself to swallow, unsure of what to say.

“Because I heard you,” You exclaimed, tilting your head. You moved to take a seat on Spencer’s lap, straddling his legs. “Moaning as you got yourself off. Did you like watching me finger myself?”

Spencer didn’t know what to say or how to react. You were there, on his lap, asking him a question. His brain had completely turned into mush. He quite literally couldn’t think. Instead, he just leaned up and captured your lips with his. You responded immediately, kissing him with hunger and need.

Neither of you were gentle or slow with it. The moment your lips met, clothes came off quickly after. You had unbuttoned Spencer’s shirt, throwing it somewhere in the living room while Spencer had lifted your dress, tossing it behind him. The inherent need to just feel one another was driving both of you. You only lifted yourself off of Spencer’s lap to take his pants and boxers off only to move back onto his lap.

Spencer put his hands onto your breasts, massaging the flesh as he leaned in to kiss your neck. The soft noise you made when his lips touched your skin was quite literally his reason to live in this moment. Your hands were in his hair, entangling your fingers with his curls. Spencer sucked on your pulse point, causing you to gasp.

“Need to feel you,” You breathed out, moving Spencer’s head with your hands as you leaned in to kiss him again. You could feel his cock pressing against your thigh, just waiting to slip inside of you. You didn’t care much for the foreplay at the moment as all you wanted was his cock.

“W-what about a condom?” Spencer murmured, pulling away from the kiss to look at you with his beautiful brown eyes. “A-and are you sure you’re ready?”

You licked your lips, nodding your head. “I’m on the pill. And I think earlier shows that I don’t need to prepare anymore.” You let out a small giggle, causing Spencer to let out a tiny giggle as well.

“If you’re sure,” Spencer said softly, moving a hand to caress your cheek. “I-I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” You reassured, giving Spencer a soft smile. The way he worried made your heart swell. Your hands were still in his hair. “I promise.”

Spencer kissed your lips once more, this time more softly. The reality of the situation was unspoken feelings that neither of you had ever been willing to admit. Not even right now, as you sit on his lap. But those feelings could be addressed another time.

You took one of your hands and moved in between the two of you, grabbing Spencer’s cock. You gave it an experimental tug, causing Spencer to gasp against your lips. He pulled away from the kiss to look up at you, moving his hands to your hips. You guided his cock to your entrance, slowly easing yourself onto his length. You both let out moans, basking in the pleasure. When you sat completely on his length, you stayed still for just a moment, adjusting to his size.

“You’re so wet,” Spencer breathed out, lips parted and eyes hooded with lust. His breathing was a bit heavier than before, showing just how much this was affecting him.

“You’re so big,” you replied, keeping yourself still. You relished in being filled. The fact that you had been dreaming about this for so long and now it was finally happening dawned on you. And after a few moments, you began to move.

To say it was heavenly was an understatement. Spencer had never felt this good before and the fact that it was with you was making things ten times better. He didn’t shy away from making noises, letting out whimpers as you slowly bounced on his cock. His fingers dug into your hips, holding onto you tightly. “Oh my god,” he moaned, throwing his head back in pleasure.

Your hands rested on Spencer’s shoulders, stabilizing yourself as you watched Spencer’s reaction. Your own moans filling your ears along with his. “You feel so good,” you moaned. The way his cock moved inside of you was so much better than you could’ve ever imagined. Your pace quickened, causing you both to whine in pleasure.

“Y-you’re so tight,” Spencer stuttered, licking his lips as he looked at you. His chocolatey eyes were blown out, his skin flushed from the heat of the situation, his hair was messy from your fingers. God, he looked so sinful. He moved one of his hands to your left tit, massaging the flesh with his palm.

“S-Spencer,” you whimpered, closing your eyes as you rode his cock.

Spencer let out his own whimper, hearing his name leave your lips as you got off on his cock was going to be ingrained in him forever. “Fuck,” he moaned.

The both of you were needy, grabbing onto one another and kissing each other while you moved your hips. Spencer started meeting your movements with his own thrusts, causing you both to moan louder. The way his cock started hitting your g-spot dead on made you grasp at Spencer to stabilize yourself. “Oh my-oh fuck,” you whined, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I’m so close,” he moaned, fucking into you. The pace was hard and quick, showing the desperation between the two of you.

“M-me too,” you stuttered as the two of you looked at one another.

It didn’t take long until you were cumming. Your thighs were shaking, you were whining Spencer’s name in a mantra. He fucked you through your orgasm before cumming inside of you with a shout of your name. He stopped moving as he came, holding you still as he filled you up with his cum. The two of you were breathing heavily, basking in the post-orgasmic air.

And when you both came down from it, Spencer pulled out of you, causing his cum to drip onto his lap and onto the cushion of the couch. But neither of you cared at that moment. Silence overcame the two of you as the room was filled with the sounds of your breathing.

After about a few minutes of silence, you spoke, “So,” you said breathily. “What about those brownies?”

Spencer was unable to help the laugh that escaped him as he caressed your cheek. “I guess we can have some brownies.”

Brownies were always delicious after having a mind blowing orgasm.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminals minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds reactions #spencer criminal minds

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siriuslylantsov · 2 days ago

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morning glory

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: following the events of drunken confessions. the next morning after spencer tells you he loves you, albeit drunk and half asleep, you don't know if he means it.

tags: fluff, gn!reader, hangover but i dont dwell on it, whiny!spencer (lol), so so soft, r is so unsure but she just needs reassurance.

a/n: omg my first pt 2 as per popular demand (3 people asked), happy reading!

wc: 1.6k

i love you.

three words that bounce from one end to the other in your head, like a pendulum, reverberating across the hard surface of your skull. it echoes through the small space of your ear canal, taking up entirely too much space. it repeats with the beat of your pulse, heart thudding in a steady rhythm.

suffice it to say, you barely slept. running the words over and over for some kind of clarity. instead you preoccupied yourself with watching spencer sleep, like you are now.

with the sunrise, came light. light that filtered through the curtains just enough that you could see his face. his lips are slightly parted, soft puffs of air that don’t quite reach you. they’re pulled down minutely, in a little frown, seemingly how his face falls when he's unconscious. it's sweet. his eyebrows twitch, creasing momentarily, you wonder if he’s dreaming, or if it's a nightmare.

your fingers itch to reach out and touch him, soothe the line. but he's so peaceful, you don't know if you want to wake him up. you never get to see him like this, without the weight of the world on his shoulders, unthinking. so you stall a bit, let the wave of serenity pass before it comes crashing down in the form of a violent hangover.

you probably stay like that for an hour, an hour spent admiring his features. it's easier than confronting what he said. he’d stayed in the same position all night, curled up on his side, facing you. you’re leaning on your elbow now, looking down at him from above. his face moves, nuzzling into the pillow beneath his head. it causes that same stubborn strand of hair to fall loose.

you give in and touch him this time, tucking the piece behind his ear. you trace a finger over his brow bone and then down the slope of his perfect nose. this causes him to stir, eyes fluttering open as he takes in his surroundings before they land on you. they instantly soften.

“morning,” you whisper, wary of your volume.

“hey,” he croaks, voice riddled in sleep. all his features pull up, twisted in a grimace as his head throbs. he rolls onto his back, bringing his fingers up to his temple, rubbing the pads of them in between his eyebrows.

“where's your aspirin?”

he hums in thought, or in pain, it's uncertain. “the um- drawer,” he points beside him aimlessly, eyes still closed. he's about to move to get it but you stop him, leaning over his body to reach the bedside table next to him. you reach over him, hovering awkwardly over his body. you shiver imperceptibly when his hand settles on your waist for support, an unconscious action, you suppose. when you find it, you give him a pill and he swallows, his hand falls back to his side.

“what time is it?” he grumbles.

“quarter to twelve,” you respond, barring a quick look at the analog clock that sat on his dresser.

he harrumphs, something of acknowledgement. you didn’t think he’d be this grumpy waking up but you don't mind, it's awfully cute.

“it’s so bright,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut further, if possible.

“your eyes are closed.”

“my retinas are burning,” he whines, throwing his arm over his eyes to shield him from the sunlight in a thespian flourish.

“so dramatic,” you huff as you get up to close the curtains, the smile in your voice irrefutably evident. you peek out the window first, your car is still parked outside, you stayed the night!

when you sit back down on the bed, his head seeks you out, laying gently on your lap. you card a hand through his hair, the action seemingly appropriate. he lets out a hum, satisfied.

“do you remember much from last night?” you ask, trying to come off casual, the question is loaded to say the least. plus, you don't know if alcohol affects an eidetic memory the same way. maybe he remembers everything, like always.

“no,” he says with a little shrug. “well, i remember going to the bar and morgan spilling a shot on his shirt but that's it.”

oh. so not that differently.

“well, i'm sure he’ll appreciate you remembering that,” you chuckle, ruffling his hair. with a long sigh, you decide to not bring it up. it’ll come back to him, surely. you’ll wait for him to come to you about it.

you lift his head off your lap and let him sink back into the pillows. “how about you freshen up and i’ll make you some toast?”

his eyes peek open, barely. “yes please,” he replies meekly, a small smile in tow.

you put slices of bread into the toaster on his counter, leaning against it as you wait. what happens if he doesn't remember? will you tell him? how do you even bring that up?

hey spencer! last night you told me you love me. do you?

the loud spring of the toaster startles you back to the moment. behind his bedroom door, you can hear the faint sound of his shower running and you remember you’re still in his clothes. god, you're gonna have to wear yesterday's clothes back home. you mindlessly take the hot toast out and set it on a plate, wincing when you hold them for too long. you put 2 more slices of bread in, for you of course.

you decide to make some eggs too, pulling the carton out of the fridge and getting a pan from beside his sink. you move with surprising ease through his kitchen, like you’d been there before. you haven't, but again, it's so easy with spencer, it apparently extends to his home too. you hum absentmindedly, cracking an egg into a bowl and beating it with a fork. you don’t know it yet but spencer's watching you, having finished his shower.

it all comes back to him slowly, as he puts on a new change of clothes, skin still a little damp.

asking penelope for a drink, drinking it, thinking, thinking about you, you showing up? maybe he was magic. you sitting with him, talking to him, taking him home. he remembers stumbling up the stairs, his arm thrown haphazardly over your shoulders and yours hooked around his waist.

“you're so nice, y’know?”

“yeah? you won't think so tomorrow morning.”

you tucked him in, stayed when he asked you to. you told him about your breakup and he told you, oh, he told you he loved you.

shit.

he has to make this right. he's quick to feed his arm into the last sleeve and walk out of his room. however, he stops when he sees you. swaying lightly, humming a tune he recognises from last night, standing there in his clothes. he thinks he might die. clearly, he wasn’t paying much at all when he woke up earlier. damn headache.

“i told you i loved you.”

your head snaps in his direction, unaware of his presence. you jump a little before calming. “yeah... you did,” you confirm, trying to keep your tone light. it wasn't a question but you still answer. he remembers.

“and you told me to tell you again when i wake up,” he recalls.

you chuckle quietly, “i didn't realise you heard that.”

“i did.”

you nod, slowly, expectantly, for him to say something else, anything else.

“i love you.” there it is.

“you mean that?” your voice comes out way smaller than you intended. he still hasn't moved.

“of course i do,” he says with a sigh, inching his way closer. you look like you're going to spook.

“okay,” you breathe, looking down at your fingers, you begin to ramble. “it's just, last night- you were drunk and sleepy and well, tired and i didnt know if you were being honest or just saying it on whim.”

he's suddenly in front of you and you can't look at him. he's fine with that, it makes it slightly easier.

“hey, i mean it. i love you. i’m sorry i said it how i did, it wasn't fair. and you don't have to say anything back, i just- want you to know.”

you look up at him now, eyes searching, and when you find sincerity in his eyes, you soften, muttering out a quiet “okay.” your lips twist to the side, trying not to smile, but glee fills out every nook and cranny of your body. he takes this as a good sign and lets out the breath he didn't realise he was holding, smiling back at you.

“so,” you start, seemingly casual. “how do you take your eggs?”

spencer laughs, amused by your change in topic. he nods toward the bowl of already beaten eggs, “scrambled.”

you nod, firmly. you pick up the bowl and move to the stovetop, but not before grabbing his fingers with your free hand and pulling him with you.

your thumb glides along the curve of his forefinger as you hold it between your bodies, waiting for the pan to heat up. you’re biting your lip so much, you think you might draw blood. you’re unbearably happy. and you think you’re doing a good job of hiding it but you’re not. spencer can see the way you giddily twitch by his side, opting on not saying anything about it as he smiles softly.

“you love me,” you tease, singsong, dragging out the ‘love’. your head leans against his shoulder.

“mhm,” he confirms. ”you’re never gonna let me live this down, huh?”

“nope,” you chirp, pressing a chaste kiss to his shirt.

reblogs and replies are appreciated | m.list

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #matthew gray gubler

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specialagent-spencer · 3 days ago

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You come to stop, groaning lowly as you feel your heel snap from your shoe, “godammit.” You huff, looking around, making your way over to a bench. Spencer walks off of the elevator, “Hey, y/n. Uh, oh. What happened?” You look up at him as you sit down, “I wore the wrong shoes today I guess.”

“Here.” Spencer stops you from bending down and kneels down in front of you. He gently lays his hand on your calf, taking your shoe from your foot, “Yeah, I’m going to definitely have to say that this shoe is no longer in service.”

“You have got to be kidding me. I’m already running late.” You let out a sigh and Spencer looks up, “Stay right here. Penelope is the same shoe size, I’ll run and see if she has an extra pair in her office.”

“You are the sweetest.” You give him a smile and sip your coffee as he quickly makes his way towards the office. A few minutes later, he comes back, holding two matching shoes, “She said if you like them, you can keep them.”

“Oh, perfect!” You reach out for the shoes but Spencer drops down, slipping off your other shoe and gets gently replaces them with the new ones.

“How’s that?” He looks up at you and you nod, “I mean, it’s not everyday a man is on his knees for me.”

You can visibly see his face set into panic and you touch his shoulder, “Relax, Spence. I’m only messing with you.” You stand up, grabbing your bag from the bench, “I like making you go all squirrelly.” Spencer stands up with you, “I mean, normally I would have said something about going to dinner first, your statement just caught me off guard, y/n.”

You laugh, nodding your head, “I’m sure it did.” You turn, walking towards the elevator. As you step on and turn around, Spencer walks up, “What did you mean by making me go all squirrelly?”

“How about we talk about it over dinner?” You tilt your head and he nods as the doors close.

Thank you for interacting ♡

#special agent spencer #Spencer Reid #Spencer Reid blurbs #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds blurbs #criminal minds x reader #special agent spencer reid

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floraisunwell · 1 day ago

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Cramps | s.r

who? spencer reid x fem!reader

category: fluffy fluff

summary: you stained spencer's bed sheets and clothes and think he's going to be mad but you couldn't be more chill about it

based on: MY PERIOD CRAMPS WERE KILLING ME BAHAHAHAHA

word count: 685

a/n: i stained my bedsheets during my afternoon nap the other day and i wished i had a spencer to take care of me because my cramps are BRUTAL (and i'm just a sucker for period fics overall lol) @angellic4l my beautiful proofreader, our baby is here.

t.w: mention of blood and very briefly a knife wound

The sound of the shower running awoke you and even in your sleepy state, you smiled because that was a sign that Spencer was already home.

You sat up and that’s when you saw the bags of groceries that were plopped beside the bedroom door, one was from your favorite take-out place, and the other from the corner store down the street, you knew for sure that it contained all the treats you love and your smile widened when you realized that Spencer knew everything you needed just from reading the text you sent a few hours ago

-these cramps are killing me. going for a nap, don’t wake me up when you get home-

You were already opening the package of Sour Patch Kids when you noticed the brownish-red stain in the spot where you had woken up. You instinctively looked down at your sweatpants, Spencer’s sweatpants, and surely, a stain in the same shade of red could also be found there.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit��” you grunted

“Is everything okay angel?” your boyfriend inquires getting out of the bathroom with wide eyes

“No, oh my god your bed sheets, oh god”

“My, my bed sheets? What’s wrong with them?” he asks but his eyes have already landed on the stain and a relived ‘oh’ escapes his lips

“Baby I thought something had happened; you scared me for a moment,” he said with a slight smile.

“No, something did happen, did you not see your sheets? And also, your sweats,” you say pointing down “Oh god they look disgusting” you spit out.

“Oh no, don’t say that angel,” he says reaching for your hand but you take a step away and start talking again

“I destroyed them, Spence. It looks horrible. They looked expensive too,” you say, pointing at both the bed and the pants. That stain is so huge, too. It probably reached your mattress,” you say, your face contorting into an emotion Spencer can’t describe.

“What no, you didn’t destroy them, they will be perfectly fine after a wash or two”

“Spence that blood literally came from inside me,” you say with an overly serious tone

“Well, it would be concerning if it had come from anywhere else angel” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips

“Haha, what a perfect time to curate your humour doctor,” you say trying to hide a chuckle because this is one of the occasions where Spencer was funny.

“But seriously it’s not a problem angel I don’t care about the sheets, or the pants, at all. I can literally think of more than 30 ways to clean off those stains.” He says pulling you into a hug.

“Are you sure you’re not completely and utterly disgusted by my bodily fluids?” you ask smiling.

“Not at all, I see too much blood daily to be disgusted by that” he replies looking down at you

“But I mean, that’s period blood, it’s different from blood from like a knife wound or something like that,” you say still looking up at him

“And? Seeing period blood is actually better angel” he says while resting his chin atop your head.

“Are you sure?” you ask with a slightly unbelieving tone

“I am completely sure,” He said leaving a kiss on your forehead “So, how are your cramps? I got you ibuprofen”

“Oh, I left some last time I was here and I have some in my bag too, but thank you, Spence”

“No problem angel,” he stated as he got away from the hug “Now go take the bath I prepared for you, while I take care of these stains, you’re so worried about”

“And then we can cuddle?” you ask with the same wide grin you had when you woke up.

“And then we can cuddle however long you want.” He replies with a smile as wide as yours mirrored in his face.

And as you took your shower and smiled stupidly at the wall you couldn’t stop questioning yourself about how this man kept making you fall in love with him over and over again

#mwah #period fics my beloved #i want a spencer reid #actually i need one #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff

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little-jana · 3 days ago

Text

“Perfectly Thought Out”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Words: 1.15k

Summary: Finding the perfect gift for Spencer was not easy, but you did it.

It had taken you weeks to figure out the perfect gift for Spencer Reid. Weeks of mental back and forth, second-guessing, and doubt. Because really, what do you give someone like Spencer? A man with an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and an endless well of knowledge? Someone who could rattle off obscure facts about obscure things before you’d even finished your coffee?

You’d been desperate to give him something thoughtful, something that wouldn’t just end up collecting dust on a shelf in his apartment. And you think you’d finally nailed it. Or at least, you hoped you had.

Now, standing in the BAU’s break room with a carefully wrapped box tucked under your arm, you felt your nerves kick in. This was the first chance you’d gotten to give him his present, and the anticipation was eating you alive.

“Hey,” his voice broke through your thoughts, soft but warm.

You turned to see him standing in the doorway, a slight smile tugging at his lips. His messenger bag was slung over one shoulder, and his scarf hung loosely around his neck, a hint of the autumn chill still clinging to him from outside.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “I, uh, have something for you.”

“For me?” His eyebrows lifted in surprise, his curiosity immediately piqued.

You nodded, holding out the box with both hands. “It’s… kind of a late birthday gift. I thought you might like it.”

Spencer set his bag down on the counter and took the box from you with the kind of care you’d use to handle something fragile. His long fingers brushed against yours briefly, and you tried not to think too much about the way it made your heart flutter.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said softly, his gaze flickering up to meet yours.

“I wanted to,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. “Just… open it.”

He hesitated for a moment, then carefully peeled back the wrapping paper, his movements methodical and deliberate. When he lifted the lid of the box, his breath hitched.

Inside was a leather-bound journal, hand-stitched and worn just enough to give it character. But it wasn’t just the journal itself that made it special. On the first page, you’d written a small note explaining that you’d already filled some of the pages with questions and prompts—things you thought he’d enjoy pondering or writing about. Things that would challenge him or make him smile.

And tucked into the back pocket of the journal was a collection of vintage fountain pens you’d spent weeks hunting down online, knowing how much he loved handwriting notes and letters.

He stared at the journal in stunned silence, his fingers gently tracing the cover. When he finally looked up at you, his eyes were wide and glistening.

“This is…” he trailed off, clearly struggling to find the words. “This is incredible.”

“Do you like it?” you asked nervously, biting your bottom lip.

“Like it?” he repeated, his voice filled with disbelief. “I love it. This is… I don’t even know what to say.”

You laughed softly, relief flooding through you. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I wanted you to have something that felt like you. Something thoughtful.”

He opened the journal to the first page, his eyes scanning over the note you’d written. You watched as a small, almost shy smile spread across his face, and your chest tightened at how beautiful he looked in that moment.

“This is one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone has ever given me,” he said, his voice quiet but full of emotion.

You felt your cheeks flush under his gaze. “I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you. You’re always so thoughtful with everyone else, Spencer. I figured it was time someone returned the favor.”

He set the journal down on the counter and stepped closer to you, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Really. This means so much to me.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied, your voice just as soft.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you felt charged, heavy with something unspoken. And then, just when you thought you might drown in the tension, he reached out and pulled you into a hug.

It wasn’t just any hug, though. It was the kind of hug that made you feel safe, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest.

“Thank you,” he murmured again, his voice muffled against your hair.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to savor the moment. “You’re welcome, Spencer.”

When he finally pulled back, there was a softness in his expression that you’d never seen before. It made your heart ache in the best way.

“Would you…” he hesitated, looking almost nervous. “Would you want to come over tonight? I’d love to show you how I use the journal. Maybe we could talk about some of the prompts together.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the invitation. But the hopeful look in his eyes made it impossible to say no.

“I’d like that,” you said, smiling softly.

The grin that spread across his face was worth every second of doubt you’d had while planning his gift. And as you left the break room, your heart felt a little lighter, knowing that you’d made Spencer Reid feel as special as he deserved to feel.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer #spencer reid x you #spencer reid one shot

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luveline · 3 days ago

Note

shy!reader and spencer who are in the early days of their relationship and are getting more comfortable with initiating physical affection with each other (especially reader lol) and spencer gets her to open up by playing with her hair / hands, tickling her, cuddling, the like <3

The first time Spencer let his head rest against yours, you were sure you’d die right there and then, half-asleep on the subway, then suddenly away as he’d started talking under his breath, his conversation for you and you alone. You'd flushed full body and forced yourself to stay still, until Spencer had confused your shyness for not wanting his weight against you and pulled away.

This time you’re ready. This time, he’s working his arm over the top of your shoulders. Not a timid first move on the first date, he’d suffered through that already. Spencer lets his arm slip between your back and the couch as he tugs you toward him, resting his cheek against your temple, two points of skin turning hot as a burner.

“Okay?” he asks quietly.

You let yourself relax into it. “I’m fine.”

“Did you want me to run that bath for you?”

It’s imperative he doesn’t move. “No, I can do it. I’ll do it later, if that’s okay.”

It’s Spencer’s bath, but he let you take one the last time you stayed the night, so you’ll work it out. You knew he wasn’t gonna peep on you, knew you were totally safe in his bathroom, but your heart hammered fast as a hummingbird’s whenever the floors creaked —just the idea of being near him when you were unclothed set you aflame. Your skin warms with the memory, a nervousness in your chest and hands that grows uncomfortably warm.

You don’t move, though. You’re sending him all the wrong messages when you reject him out of timidity, you’re more than aware of it, but the longer he sits there gently holding you, the more the temptation to squirm builds.

Spencer makes a soft, soft sound as his hand trails up your back, curling around your arm, and meandering a path to your elbow.

“I got…” —Spencer begins, without any inclination to rush— “…more of that bath soak you liked, the camomile… and honey…”

You love the smell. Sometimes you swear you can smell it in his hair when he presses near you.

“And a loufa, ‘cos you didn’t have one last time,” he adds.

“Thank you.”

“…You’re welcome.” He kisses the side of your head. Then, in a betrayal of his character, he laughs breathlessly, saying, “Sorry, I forgot what I was saying. The loufa– It’s purple. I put it on the towel rack, and I got you a new face towel, too, mine’s too rough for you.”

“Did you get yourself a new one too?”

“Yeah.” He taps your cheek, the hand you’d forgotten about drawing a short line to your jaw. “You’re pretty.”

You drop your chin.

“You are,” he says.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Spencer’s hand slides down your neck, a caress that turns to a kind hold. “Can I…” He snorts softly. “You’re solid,” he says, squeezing your neck with enough pressure to wind you, which isn’t much. “You don’t have to get all tense.”

“I’m trying really hard not to get tense,” you admit.

“I know. I’m trying to help, but I’m just making it worse.”

Spencer isn’t making it worse. Or, he wasn’t. “I thought you were gonna kiss me, is the thing.”

“I was. Then you tensed up and I didn’t think I should.” His easy smile goes funny. “Could I have?”

“Of course you could’ve,” you mumble, pressing your face into his shoulder before he can decimate the last of your self respect. He laughs —giggles, really, in a burst of sound— and tugs you in. “Not funny.”

He can hear the lie. “No, it’s not funny,” he agrees anyways, laying back and then moving forward, swaying you enough to turn the giggle into a full blown laugh.

He murmurs something. You mumble back. His fingertips slip over the dip in your back and he’s saying something nice, if a little shy. It’s been nice getting closer to him, seeing the real Spencer, someone who’s hesitant but gentle beyond words. There’s no reason for him to be touching you like this, to talk sweet nothings behind your ear as he lugs you onto his chest, and maybe there’s no reason for you to melt. Butter in the sun, drifting bonelessly into his lap.

“You smell like tea,” you say quietly. “I love it.”

“You love it?” he asks, something oddly awed about him as he shifts your head back to look you in the eyes.

“Mm. It’s nice. And your eyes are so brown… they’re my favourite thing about you.”

Spencer teases the stripe of skin exposed by your rising t-shirt until you’re shivering again. “Thank you,” he says, letting one close in a wink as he taps your nose with his. “Am I allowed to say what I like about you, or–” You shake your head so violently he immediately stops. “Fine. But only because I want to sit like this for the rest of the night with you.”

“I still need a shower.”

“Later,” he says, his lips resting on your chin. “Way, way later, please.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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alsofoundinpeas · 3 days ago

Text

Beyond the Window

Summary: With her package plan a success, the only thing standing between Y/N and Spencer now was his job. But as soon as he returned home, nothing would hold them back from finally acting on their feelings—this time, with no windows in the way.

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Some might consider this dubcon (talk of Spencer watching reader through her window but reader had wanted him to) so please be aware of that! Fingering (f!receiving), oral (both m and f receiving), unprotected P in V sex (birth control mentioned), overstimulation/multiple orgasms (both m and f receiving), dry humping (if you squint), creampie (fuck I hate typing that), minor corruption kink, heavy praise, Virgin!Spencer, Sub!Spencer (he is pathetic and LOUD in this FYI), Soft Dom!reader, Perv!Spencer and Perv!Reader (they're back at it again LMFAO). Both fluffy and smutty. They match each other’s freak your honor!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: Anddd done! This was, to date, the filthiest thing I've written so I'm nervous but I also loved writing it LMAO. I hope you guys enjoy part two as much as I enjoyed writing it :') I'll be putting out more sub!Spence in the future, but for now I hope you guys like this!! As always, please let me know what you guys think and if you do enjoy it then please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Spencer was certain the universe was playing a cruel, twisted prank on him.

It was the only explanation for being called into work early on a Sunday morning when he was supposed to be off. The night before, he’d gone to bed without replying to Y/N, hoping to come up with the perfect witty, flirty response the next day—when his brain wasn't a pile of mush. As he hurried to pack a go-bag and get dressed, Spencer cursed under his breath for waiting. Now, he’d have to send a hasty, jumbled apology and hope that Y/N would still want him to come over when he got back.

While Spencer drove—a task he loathed but had no choice in, given the lack of time for the metro—Penelope briefed him on the case details. The team was being sent to Wyoming to assist with a rapidly escalating unsub, which explained the need to get there quickly. Spencer couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as Penelope spoke. Even with the case's urgency, his mind kept returning to Y/N.

“Reid?” Penelope sighed, then tried again. “Hello? Earth to Reid?!”

Spencer snapped back to reality, his face flushing as he cleared his throat. “Sorry, I got distracted. What was the last part again?”

Penelope's laughter echoed through the phone. “What’s keeping your mind so busy? Besides all your usual genius stuff, that is."

Spencer groaned, knowing that the blonde wouldn’t stop pressing until she got an answer. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly began to explain.

"There’s this girl who lives across from me, and I’ve had a crush on her for a while… We’d run into each other a few times at the library and the coffee shop near my place, but recently, a package of hers ended up at my door. I took it to her yesterday morning, and we ended up hanging out—" He paused, swallowing hard as his mind drifted to what had happened that night, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. "Anyway, she texted me to come over again, but then I got called in for the case. So, yeah, she’s just been on my mind."

Spencer winced as a loud squeal erupted from the phone, quickly followed by the sound of enthusiastic clapping.

“Spencer! That’s adorable! What’s her name?”

“Nope. Not a chance. I know you’ll look her up and start stalking her!” Spencer protested as he pulled into the parking garage. “Look, I just got here, so I’ll see you when we get back. Please keep this between us for now, alright? I don’t need everyone hounding me about it while we have a case to focus on.”

Penelope groaned dramatically but gave in, sighing in playful annoyance. “Ugh, fine, lover boy. You just ruined all my fun,” she grumbled. “Be safe, my sweet angel, and tell Derek to call me when you guys land!”

Spencer finished the call and hung up, swiftly typing out a message to send to Y/N before he had to go in. His thumbs clumsily pressed the buttons as he hurried, letting out an annoyed sigh as he fumbled with his flip-phone. He’d never been a fan of modern technology, but if getting a new phone meant it would be easier to talk to her, he’d consider it.

Good morning! I hope you slept well. Apologies for the late response. I’d love to come over, but unfortunately, I’ve been called in for a case. Would you still like me to come by once I get back?

Spencer gave a nod to himself, hit send, then gathered his things and stepped out of the car.

Y/N paused when she heard her phone ding, toothbrush still in her mouth. She quickly finished brushing, swishing mouthwash as she walked to her room to grab her phone. Returning to the bathroom, she spat out the mouthwash before finally glancing at the waiting text.

A small giggle fell from her lips as she read Spencer’s message, leaning back against the sink as she responded.

Of course, Spencer. Only if you want to :) xoxo

He texted like an old man (which wasn't surprising, considering his wardrobe). She thought it was charming. She placed her phone on the bathroom counter and stepped toward the shower to start the water, a smile still playing on her lips from his message.

A content sigh fell from her lips once she stepped into the hot stream of water, letting the water relax her tight muscles.

As her soapy hands began to wander her body, her mind wandered back to Spencer and just how deliciously pathetic he’d looked stroking himself to the sight of her. Honestly, Y/N had worried she’d scared the poor guy with her message after he’d watched her the night before, so seeing his text was a relief. Now, she just had to wait for him to return from his case—and then he’d finally be all hers.

The week crawled by, each day stretching on painfully, leaving both of them restless and longing for each other's company.

Each night when Y/N came home, she’d glance out of her curtains, hoping to see that Spencer had returned, only to let out a quiet sigh when she found he hadn’t. She couldn’t remember ever being this excited to see someone before. Something about Spencer had her completely hooked—not just his looks, but the man behind them. After spending time with him, she was eager to uncover more about the sweet, brilliant person who lived across from her.

Another four days went by before the text she’d been waiting for finally came through.

Hey pretty girl, we just landed so I’ll be home in about an hour. Are you up for some company?

Y/N arched a brow as she read the message, re-reading it a few times to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. That didn’t sound like Spencer at all… but she was too eager for him to come over to worry about it now. She’d figure out who actually sent it when he arrived.

With a small grin, Y/N typed her reply, then set her phone down to get ready and tidy up her apartment.

“Morgan! Come on! Are you serious?” Spencer griped, swatting at the man in an attempt to grab his phone back. “What did you say to her?”

Penelope had (accidentally) let it slip to Morgan that Spencer was, in her words, "dating but not dating this super cute girl who lives across from him." Naturally, she’d ignored his requests for privacy, tracked down the tenant list for Y/N’s building, and found her online after figuring out she was the one. So, when Morgan glanced over Spencer's shoulder and saw the carefully composed message he’d written, he snatched the phone and sent something entirely different.

“Relax, kid! I’m just helping you out. You’re going to scare her off if you keep talking to her like a geezer,” Morgan chuckled, tossing him back his phone before standing from his seat and stretching. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Spencer sighed, shaking his head in frustration before unlocking his phone to check the message. He cringed at what Morgan had sent, but then his heart skipped a beat as he read Y/N’s reply.

Come over whenever you’re ready, pretty boy. I can’t wait to see you. :)

Spencer’s face flushed as he brushed off the curious looks from the team, eager to get off the jet and head home to drop his stuff off—then straight to Y/N’s. A mix of nervousness and excitement churned inside him, his hands trembling as he started the drive home. It felt surreal to him, knowing not only that she was excited to see him, but that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

A firm knock at the door pulled Y/N’s attention from the couch, a bright smile spreading across her face as she jumped up to answer it. "Coming!" she called, quickly unlocking the door. When she opened it, Spencer stood there, looking a bit nervous and holding a bag of takeout from her favorite diner.

"Oh, Spencer," she murmured, her gaze softening as she noticed the bag. "You’re so sweet! You didn’t have to get dinner—I was planning to order something when you got here." She stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him and taking the bag from his hand so he could slip off his coat.

Spencer waved it off with a sheepish grin as he followed her into the kitchen. "I wanted to," he said. "I noticed you ordered from them a lot and thought it would be a nice surprise." His eyes widened in panic. "Not that I’ve been, like, stalking you or anything! And, um, I'm sorry if I didn’t pick the right thing. I can run back and grab something else—"

“Spencer.”

Y/N sat down the plates she'd gotten out for them and silenced his nervous rambling by gently cupping his cheeks. Spencer froze mid-sentence, his mouth slightly open as he looked down at her. She smiled up at him, softly stroking her thumb along his cheekbone.

“You did perfect, sweetheart,” she reassured him, her gaze flicking to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “It was so thoughtful of you to pick up dinner. I'm sure I'll enjoy whatever you ordered. Thank you.”

Spencer swallowed, his heart pounding at the feel of her hands on his face. He drew in a deep breath, steadying himself before he whispered, “Of course.”

Y/N smiled, brushing her hand over his cheek one last time before turning back to plate the food, which looked and smelled delicious. Once she finished, she headed to the fridge, glancing back at Spencer. "Wine, water, or soda?"

"Water, please. Thank you."

Nodding, Y/N poured herself a glass of wine and then filled one with water for him. They walked into the living room, both of them buzzing with anticipation for what was to come later. They sat side by side, enjoying the warmth that came from being pressed together as they began to eat.

"So," Y/N started, laughing softly before continuing. "Who texted me from your phone earlier today? Unless the grandfather ghost inhabiting your body decided to take a rain check."

Spencer groaned in embarrassment, chuckling awkwardly as he glanced at her. "Sorry about that… that was my co-worker, Derek. And best friend too. He accused me of 'talking to you like a geezer' and decided to try and do better himself."

Y/N laughed even harder, putting her fork down to take a sip of her wine before replying. "I knew it wasn’t you!" she said with a triumphant grin, then paused, a new realization dawning on her. "You talk about me to your team?"

Spencer hesitated, finishing his bite slowly before taking a drink and nodding. "Sort of… I told Penelope about you, and then she mentioned it to Derek. I’m sorry—i-is that okay?" His fingers pushed his glasses up, a nervous habit of his.

It was more than okay. A giddy feeling rushed through her at the idea of him talking about her to his co-workers, recalling how he'd mentioned during their first hangout how much he valued them. She nodded, nudging him with her shoulder gently.

“You apologize too much, Spence. It’s totally fine. If anything, I’m flattered,” she admitted with a grin.

It didn’t take long for them to finish eating. Once the plates were cleared and placed in the sink, Y/N turned to Spencer, a small smirk playing on her lips. Spencer swallowed, leaning back against the counter, his eyes locked on her with a mix of curiosity as she began to speak.

"Do you watch every girl you're interested in through their window? Or am I just special?"

Her tone was playful, not angry or accusatory, but Spencer still tensed, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself.

"I swear I didn’t mean to come off as creepy or anything," Spencer stammered. "It’s just… from the moment I met you in the library, you were so captivating. And when I found out you lived across from me, I couldn’t help myself—"

Y/N's gaze softened as she realized just how nervous he actually was, and she took a step forward, shushing him with a finger to his lips.

"Spence, hey. Look at me, sweetheart,” she murmured, her arms loosely wrapping around his neck. She waited until their eyes met, then continued, her fingers gently twisting the hair at the nape of his neck. “I was just teasing. I wanted you to watch. That’s why I left my curtains open.”

Spencer’s eyes widened at her admission, a shaky sigh escaping his lips as he recalled every time she’d left her curtains open. All this time, she had wanted him to watch. The realization sent a strange warmth through him, and he carefully placed his hands on her waist.

“So, was the package at my door part of your plan too?” he breathed, his expression a blend of lust and adoration as he looked down at her.

Y/N's answer came in the form of a nod and a smug grin. Spencer chuckled, his nerves easing the longer he held her in his arms.

"I didn’t think you’d ever make a move, so I decided to take matters into my own hands," she said softly, still grinning as she met his gaze, mirroring the admiration in his eyes.

Spencer wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer. “Is it wrong to say I’m glad you did?” he murmured, his hands gently caressing her lower back through her shirt. “You’re just… perfect. I was afraid you wouldn’t even give me the time of day if I’d tried to.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open in surprise, her brows furrowing as she tilted her head. “Are you serious?” she asked incredulously, letting her hands slide to rest on his shoulders as she leaned back in his embrace. “Spencer, I adore you. You could’ve asked me out in the library, right then, after just thirty seconds of knowing each other, and I would’ve said yes without a second thought. You really don’t give yourself enough credit.”

She tilted her head up, brushing her nose against his, continuing before he could speak. "Let me show you just how incredible I think you are. Please?"

Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, his heart racing at her words. It was exactly what he wanted, more than anything. But he hesitated, his mouth working as he fought to find the right words.

"I'm a virgin!" he not-so-eloquently blurted out instead.

Y/N's head jerked back, blinking hard as she processed his words. Had she heard him right?

"Wait... what did you just say?"

Spencer blushed hard, averting his gaze to the ground as he repeated himself.

"I'm a virgin."

It was Y/N’s turn to suck in a sharp breath, the admission arousing her more than she’d care to admit. She rubbed his shoulders gently before using one of her hands to guide his face back to hers, her gaze earnest as she looked at him.

“Honey, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We don’t have to do anything at all—“

Spencer shook his head vigorously at that, a low whine emitting from his throat as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I want to do everything with you. I want to more than anything, I swear! I-I just… I don’t want it to be bad for you,” he whispered, unnecessary shame lacing his words.

“Spencer… sweetheart, it would never be bad for me as long as I’m with you,” Y/N whispered, her voice warm and steady. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, babe. Honestly, we could just curl up on the couch, watch a movie, or talk. I love talking with you, about anything.”

Spencer’s heart swelled at her words. No one had ever told him they truly enjoyed his company before, nor had anyone ever shown such genuine affection or concern for his emotions. It was a feeling he hadn’t known he was missing.

“I’m more than sure, Y/N. Please?” he mumbled, his grip on her hips tightening slightly. “I-I want to make you feel good.”

She paused, her eyes closing as she carefully considered her next move. After a long breath, Y/N gave a small nod, then pulled away from him completely.

“Follow me, then.”

Spencer hurried after her, nearly stumbling over his own feet in his eagerness to keep up. Once they reached her bedroom, Y/N shut the door and turned to face him, leaving him standing in the middle of her dimly lit room. He glanced around, almost in disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was really here—standing in her room and not caught in some dream.

“Bet it feels different being in here rather than just looking in,” Y/N teased, stepping closer to him.

“Very. I’m still waiting for the cameraman to jump out and tell me it’s all a prank.”

A soft laugh escaped her, and she shook her head with a smirk. “Sorry to disappoint, but that’s not happening. No prank, sweetheart,” she hummed, her eyes catching the way his gaze swept over her, full of unspoken desire.

Y/N smirked as she took another step forward, urging Spencer backward until the backs of his knees hit her mattress. She reached up, pushing down gently on his shoulders until he gingerly sat on the bed, looking up at her with wide eyes as she moved to straddle his lap. Her fingers carded through his hair, tugging gently and eliciting a whimper from him as she cocked her head.

“Quit looking at me like that,” she murmured, scratching her nails gently against his scalp.

A shiver ran down Spencer’s spine, his brows furrowing at her words. He shifted underneath her, resting his shaking hands on her hips. His tongue poked out to wet his lips, and he didn’t miss the way her eyes darkened at the sight.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to ruin you.”

Y/N’s words lingered in the air, their breaths the only sound breaking the stillness. The tension between them was electric, each waiting for the other to break first. Finally, Spencer did, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke.

“That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

The slight tremble in his voice and the doe-eyed look he sported were all it took for Y/N’s resolve to crumble completely.

With a low groan, her lips crashed onto his. Their mouths melded together, the small whine bubbling in Spencer’s throat encouraging her to kiss him even harder. His hands reached up to cradle her face, matching her intensity as their lips moved together.

It wasn’t what she’d expected at all.

Spencer didn’t kiss her like the shy, hesitant man from earlier. Instead, his kiss was fiery, almost desperate, as though he wanted to drown in her and never resurface. And she found herself wanting exactly the same.

Y/N’s hands wandered from his hair down his chest, letting her fingertips dip beneath the hem of his shirt as their tongues brushed together. Her nails gently dragged along the soft skin there, and she felt his erection twitch from where it was firmly pressed to her core. Spencer whimpered, breaking their kiss with a soft gasp as he looked up at her pleadingly.

“Please,” he panted, his hands reaching for her hips to pull her down into him. Y/N rolled her hips against his, moaning lowly at the friction. She repeated the action once before stopping her movements, climbing off of him despite his protests with one simple command.

"Take off your clothes, Spence."

He complied immediately, scrambling to stand and strip out of his clothes. His fingers fumbled as he worked at his tie, his focus stuck on her as she undressed before him. A frustrated groan left his lips as he finally yanked the tie off, his hands moving too slowly for his own liking.

Y/N arched a brow, chuckling at his irritated noise as she stepped out of her pants. She reached up to stop his hands, beginning to unbutton his shirt herself. "What's got you so worked up, hm? It's not like it's anything you haven't seen before," she purred, sliding her hands under the fabric and slipping it off of him.

The shirt hit the ground with a muted thump, and her eyes roamed over his newly exposed skin hungrily. Spencer whined at her teasing, letting his hands roam up and down her sides as she worked on getting his pants off.

"I could see you like this an infinite amount of times, and it would still take my breath away every time," he murmured, his hands gently squeezing her hips.

A faint pink spread across her cheeks at his words, and she lifted her face to place a soft kiss on his lips, a silent thank you. No one had ever made her feel as treasured as Spencer did. He gazed at her with a devotion that felt almost reverent, as though she were someone to be worshipped—and he longed to be the one to worship her.

Which was highly ironic, considering she was the one sinking to her knees the second his pants pooled around his ankles.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Spencer's voice raised pitch as she steadied herself with her hands on his thighs, looking down at her with wide eyes, pushing his glasses back up his nose as they threatened to slip down from the angle.

"What does it look like I'm doing, sweetheart?" Y/N murmured, leaning forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to his hip. "I want your pretty cock down my throat. You okay with that?"

The sound Spencer made was almost pained, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to figure out what to do with his hands. His mouth parted, a stutter escaping him before he finally gave in, nodding instead. His cock twitched in his boxers, aching to feel her touch.

"Words, baby. Use your words."

Y/N's lips skimmed across his navel, peppering kisses along the smattering of hair there as she waited for his response.

"God—yes! I'm okay with that," Spencer whined, his hips bucking forward instinctively from her touch. "Please... please touch me—"

Y/N couldn't deny such sweet begging. It would be downright cruel if she did.

Her fingers found the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down slowly. She kept her eyes locked on his, carefully assessing his every reaction to ensure there was no trace of doubt before proceeding. When she saw none, she swiftly yanked them down the rest of the way, letting them pool around his ankles with his pants.

Spencer gasped as the chill of her bedroom air met his warm skin, goosebumps spreading across his arms as he fought the urge to shy away from her gaze. He never thought that highly of himself in the physical aspect— all lean muscles, lanky limbs, and pale skin spattered with freckles and a few random scars. But his insecurities faded the moment he heard her breath catch, her eyes filled with admiration as they lingered on him.

"You're so beautiful, Spencer," Y/N breathed, bringing a hand up to grip him gently. "So, so beautiful."

Her mouth was on him before he could respond.

A keening sound filled the room as he watched in pure awe as she dragged her tongue up and down the length of him slowly before her lips wrapped around the flushed head of his cock, a spark of pleasure shooting up his spine as his hands flexed by his side. She sucked gently, swirling her tongue around the tip before pulling off of him to speak.

"Don't be afraid to hold onto me, sweetheart. Go ahead."

Spencer's hands immediately came up to cradle the back of her head, finding purchase as she returned to what she was doing. The sight of her on her knees and taking the length of him into her mouth had his knees almost buckling. It was something he'd dreamed about for nights on end, but now that it was actually happening, he didn't know what to do with himself.

"F-fuck—" He whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut to prevent himself from cumming right then and there.

All he'd ever experienced before was his own hand (and occasionally some desperate humping against his mattress), so the feeling of her mouth around him was otherworldly. Just when he thought it was safe to open his eyes again, Y/N smirked around her mouthful and pushed her head down to take him in completely.

"Oh—!" Spencer cried out as he hit the back of her throat, jolting and stumbling backward and falling out of her mouth with a slick 'pop'. His chest heaved as he reached down to grip himself tightly, staving off his orgasm. He didn't want to cum yet. Not this quickly.

"I-I'm sorry, it just felt too... too good—"

Y/N gently stroked his trembling thighs, pressing a kiss beneath his belly button before rising to her feet. She shushed his stammered apologies with a kiss on his forehead, caressing his face as he caught his breath. His face was flushed, both from embarrassment and arousal, and the sight was more endearing than it should have been.

"You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. Absolutely nothing," she whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before turning to crawl onto her bed. “Get up here, baby,” she crooned as she laid back against her pillows, patting the spot beside her.

Spencer almost tripped over his pants in his haste to follow after her, kicking the fabric away before he kneeled onto the mattress, smiling meekly at Y/N as she watched in amusement. "I w-want—" Spencer paused as he watched her lean forward so she could unclasp her bra, completely enraptured. "I want to taste you. Please?"

Desire coursed through her at his words, searing through her veins as she met his gaze. She loved how pretty the word please sounded falling from his kiss-swollen lips. She slipped free from her bra, tossing it to the ground before answering his pleading.

"Go ahead, baby. Take whatever you want—I want you to have it all."

Spencer swallowed hard at that, a small grin playing on his lips as he moved forward to settle between her spread legs. He kneeled between them, taking off his glasses and setting them on her nightstand before lowering himself to hover over her. He bumped his nose against hers, his grin widening as he moved to tentatively kiss along the side of her neck.

Y/N moaned at the feeling, tangling her fingers into his tousled strands. He continued, trailing his kisses down the slope of her shoulder before pausing to suck a small mark into her skin, relishing in the soft noises falling from her lips. Once he was satisfied with his mark, he brought his lips down to mouth along her breast, laving his tongue over the taut bud of her nipple.

"Spence—" she whimpered as he closed his lips around the hardened peak, suckling with a low groan that rumbled against her skin. She tugged at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. "Feels so good, sweetheart."

Spencer hummed, pulling off her breast after a moment and switching to the other to give it the same treatment. Y/N whined, arching into his touch as he began to move down her body. What he may have lacked in physical experience, he more than compensated for with knowledge.

Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't a prude. He'd read plenty of erotic novels, as well as countless books all centered around the female anatomy and how to inflict the most pleasure so that he could at least pretend to feel prepared for his first time. It seemed to be paying off, though, if the noises she made were any indication of how he was doing.

Spencer's hands came up to rest on her hips as he settled on his stomach between her thighs, hissing softly when his erection pressed into the mattress. His eyes met hers, and the clouded look in her eyes was all the encouragement he needed.

"God, you're soaked," he whispered in astonishment as his finger traced the damp spot in the front of her panties, causing a breathy chuckle to slip from her lips.

"How could I not be?"

Spencer blushed, leaning down to kiss her inner thigh before pulling the fabric down her legs. His breath hitched at the sight of her glistening pussy, fully on display for him without the barrier of their windows in his way. Any coherent thought that was swirling around in his head vanished, replaced with an urgent need to taste her. He moved without thinking as he latched his mouth onto her eagerly, groaning against her slick skin as he began to lap at her hungrily.

"Fuck! Spencer—" Y/N cried out, her grip on his hair tightening at the unexpected pleasure. Her head tipped back against her pillows as her hips writhed under his ministrations, rolling against his mouth as he devoured her.

There was little to no technique— just pure, unbridled enthusiasm. But it felt so good that she didn't care. He alternated between sucking at her clit and thrusting his tongue into her, needy moans slipping from his lips the entire time he did.

"Fingers, baby—" she gasped, biting her lower lip harshly to stifle a loud moan. "Use your fingers, too."

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. He pulled away from her, licking the taste of her from his lips as he brought two fingers up to her entrance. He focused his gaze on her face as he pushed them inside of her, his mouth hanging open and soft breaths panting against her skin as he began to thrust them.

"Like this?"

His tone wasn't cocky or arrogant. It was curious, like he was genuinely invested in finding out what felt the best for her. She nodded, a choked moan slipping from her lips as he grazed against that rough patch of nerves inside of her that had her hips thrashing.

Spencer watched in fascination for a moment before bringing his head back down, his eyes fluttering shut as he began to trace her clit with his tongue. His hips rocked instinctively against the bed, grinding against it in a desperate attempt to find some relief for his aching cock as he brought her closer and closer to her climax.

"Spence—" Y/N whimpered, her hands falling from his hair to grip the sheets as she clenched around his fingers. "I-I'm cumming—"

Spencer groaned against her, doubling his efforts so he could watch her fall apart on his fingers. With a soft cry, Y/N came hard, her eyes squeezing shut as she trembled underneath him. He continued his movements, pumping his fingers into her gently until she was whining and wriggling away from his touch.

Spencer watched her in awe, kneading her thighs and hips to help her come down from her high.

"C'mere," she panted after a few minutes, finally opening her eyes to look up at him as he moved to hover above her.

A proud grin made its way to Spencer's face as he obeyed, resting on his forearms as he looked down at her. The hazy look in her eyes made his heart race, knowing that he was the cause of it doing more for his ego than he cared to admit. She returned his grin, leaning up to kiss him softly and tasting herself on his tongue.

"You did so good, sweetheart. Such a good boy for me," she mumbled against his lips.

She broke the kiss to press on his shoulders, rolling them over so she straddled him once more. A lazy smirk adorned her lips as he looked up at her, his pupils so dilated that the soft brown of his eyes was indiscernible. She began to rock her hips against his aching cock, a sigh slipping from her lips as her folds dragged over him.

Spencer moaned lowly at the friction, bringing his hands up to palm at her ass as she continued her movements. His fingers dug into her flesh as she spoke, but he didn't hear a single word she said as he kept his gaze locked on where her pussy was gliding along his length.

"Hey," Y/N cooed, patting his cheek gently to guide his eyes back to hers. "Eyes on me, sweetheart."

Spencer whined, his hips bucking underneath hers in an attempt to bring back the delicious friction that had been taken away when she lifted her hips. "I-I'm sorry. I wasn't listening," Spencer mumbled sheepishly, his face flushed as he held her gaze.

Y/N chuckled, tutting in mock disappointment as she gripped his chin. "I know you weren't," she muttered with an arched brow before continuing. "I was asking if you wanted to use a condom or not. I'm clean and—"

"No condom!"

Y/N jumped, startled. The urgency in his voice sent a wave of warmth through her as she eyed him in amusement, enjoying the bashful look that immediately appeared on his face after his exclamation. Spencer cleared his throat, attempting to regain some of his dignity.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to borderline shout that," Spencer said softly, his voice cracking slightly. "I just— I want to feel you, please. Without a condom in the way, preferably."

The grin that spread across her face could only be described as salacious as she nodded, cradling his face before leaning in for a tender kiss.

"No condom it is, then."

Y/N shifted up onto her knees, reaching between them to align him with her entrance before pausing when he spoke up.

"I— um... C-can I be on top of you instead?" he whispered, looking up at her with nervous eyes.

Her gaze softened at the sight, and she nodded immediately. "Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want, remember?" She murmured with a fond smile, rolling off of him to lay back against the pillows.

Spencer thanked her quietly, moving to hover above her once more. His body trembled as he propped up on one arm, reaching down to line himself up with her once more. She cradled his face, stroking her thumb along his cheekbone reassuringly. He took a deep breath to steady himself before pushing forward, sinking into her.

The feeling of her tight walls wrapping around him had him keening while she moaned just as loudly in return, dropping his head into the crook of her neck as he sucked in desperate, shaky breaths. He'd never experienced pleasure so overwhelming before. He was honestly convinced he'd died right there in her arms, pressing sloppy kisses to her skin just to prove to himself that he was, in fact, still alive.

"God— feels so good," he began to babble, moaning softly as he pulled his hips back slightly before thrusting forward again. "So tight... so wet— fuck!"

Y/N dug her nails into his shoulders, whimpering as he thrusted into her again, this time a little harder. "That's it, Spence," she panted, encouraging him to begin really moving. "You feel so good, baby. So fucking deep."

Spencer's hips jerked at that, his head dropping back into the crook of her neck as he began to drive into her in short, jagged thrusts. Moans slipped freely from his lips, mingling with hers as their bodies moved in tandem.

It didn't take long before the familiar tightening in his stomach came back, but he was too lost in the pleasure to stop. The feeling of Y/N around him was addictive. He seeked solace in her walls, rutting into her like a man possessed now as he sang her his praises against her skin. His hips stuttered as he lifted his head up, crashing his lips onto hers in a messy kiss as his hips pounded against hers even harder.

"Gonna— cum, fuck, I'm cumming—"

Spencer cried out against her lips, burying himself as deep inside of her as he could before filling her with rope after rope of his release. A pitiful noise fell from his lips as he broke the kiss, his eyes wide as he gawked down at her. His hips stopped moving, but before he could speak, Y/N was looping her arms around his neck and pulling him down.

“Did I say you could stop fucking me, Spencer?” Y/N’s voice was taunting in his ear, her nails digging into his shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep him in place.

Spencer’s brows pinched together as confusion washed over him, and his arms trembled as he struggled to remain hovering above her. His cock twitched inside of her as she canted her hips up, causing him to hiss softly from the overstimulation. His lower lip wobbled as he stared at her with a half-dazed, half-pleading look.

"W-what?"

“You greedy boy,” Y/N purred as she rolled her hips again. She smirked at the whimper he let out before tilting her head to skim her lips across his. “Don’t you want to feel me cum on your cock? Hm?”

Spencer shuddered at her words, chasing helplessly after her lips. He whined petulantly when she tilted her head, keeping him from succeeding in getting his kiss.

“I do,” Spencer whimpered, nodding fervently. “I wanna feel it so bad,” he groaned, his words beginning to slur from the pleasure coursing through him from head to toe.

“Then keep fucking me, sweetheart.”

A determined look crossed over his face, his brows knitting together as he shifted up onto his knees and pulled her hips up before thrusting forward. The change in angles had her crying out as he brushed against her sweet spot, and he grunted as he began to rock into her slowly, pushing past the sweet sting of overstimulation. He tightened his grip on her hip with one hand while his other moved to where they were connected, rubbing small, sloppy circles against her clit as he began moving with a purpose.

“Mm—“ Y/N groaned out, her eyes threatening to close as she struggled to keep them focused on his face. “Just like that, Spence. Ah—!“

The sound of his hips snapping against hers paired with the slick, crude sound of him fucking his cum back into her had his head lolling back, a guttural moan rumbling in his throat.

His hips were relentless, chasing her pleasure more so than his own now. It was messy and borderline feral—their mixed arousal coated his pelvis and her thighs and one of the corners of the sheets had come up from Y/N yanking at them. But neither of them could find it in themselves to care.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Spencer begged, shifting her legs up onto his shoulders and clinging to her thighs as he drove into her. “Please—wanna feel you cum on my cock… I need it—“

The sound of his pleading hurled her over the edge. Y/N’s nails nearly tore through the sheets as her eyes squeezed shut, cry after cry of his name falling from her open mouth as she came around him. Her body trembled from the force of her orgasm, her walls clenching so tightly around him that it triggered his second climax unexpectedly.

“Oh my God— oh— fuck!” Spencer wailed, devolving into a series of whimpers as he spilled everything he had into her.

After a moment of ragged breathing, he turned to press a kiss to her ankle before easing her limp legs off of his shoulders and to the bed. Y/N stroked his hair with shaky hands as he crumpled over on top of her, their bodies warm and damp with sweat. Their chests were heaving as they struggled to catch their breath, with Y/N whispering into his hair how good he did and how perfect he’d made her feel.

They stayed curled up for a while, but eventually, the stickiness became too much to ignore. They both stumbled into her bathroom—both for a quick shower and for Y/N to pee to avoid a UTI. After changing the sheets, they returned to her bed, and Y/N turned away to switch off the lamp, leaving them wrapped in the peaceful darkness.

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” Spencer asked, a shy grin on his face as she turned back to him, snuggling into his embrace as he pulled her closer.

Y/N huffed out a soft, sleepy laugh, nodding against him. “If you want me to be, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice heavy with exhaustion as her eyelids fluttered shut.

“Of course I want you to,” Spencer replied, his words followed by a small yawn as sleep started to take hold of him too.

“Looks like it’s official then. I’m your girlfriend, you’re my boyfriend. Now, get some rest, my sweet boy.”

It wasn’t until the following evening, after a full day spent with Y/N on their first official date—a trip to the museum and lunch at his favorite restaurant—that he noticed something tucked into his pocket. A giddy grin spread across Spencer’s face as he unfolded the lacy pink panties, a small note tucked inside that read: For you to take on your next case. ;) xoxo - Y/N.

Spencer glanced down at the fabric in his hands, a soft chuckle escaping him as he silently thanked whatever force had made her the one to fill the vacant apartment across from his.

Continued A/N’s and tag list!! <3: Big big thank you to everyone that enjoyed part one and came back to read part two :’) And thank you to everyone that wanted to be tagged!! If you guys would like for me to start doing an official tag list, please let me know :’) <3 @halfbloodwriter , @opheliahotchner , @mothgrrrl666 , @silver138, @elliet1ou

REMINDER: I do not give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please just ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

#Spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fanfic #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x y/n #spencer Reid x fem!reader #spencer Reid x self insert #criminal minds smut #perv!spencer #sub!spencer

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reidswrld · 2 days ago

Text

me & you together song.

❛ i’ve been in love with her for ages, and i can’t seem to get it right. ❜

spencer reid x reader.

summary: you’ve always assumed spencer reid’s love language was acts of service. flowers left at your desk. notes written only to you. every tuesday, he gave you your favorite bagel from downtown. you knew he was like this with the rest of the team, too. you didn’t sweat it. you were focused on your job, and your job only. but when multiple instances occur over the course of a case, it’s hard to ignore both of your feelings for each other.

tags: grumpy fem!character x sunshine!spencer reid, friends to lovers, everyone knows but them, the bau literally bets when they’ll get together, no use of y/n, afab character, found family if you squint hard enough, spencer’s obsessed with her but won’t admit it to the public (the public is morgan), based on me & you together song by the 1975 btw, i wrote this while eating a doritos loco taco

word count: 2k

notes: i asked my best friends to give me a character and a trope. happy first post!

When you first landed the job as an agent at the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, you first told yourself not to get too attached. This was a job, after all. A career. A high risk one, that could end in fatalities and wounds that might never heal, cuts that will always bleed for the rest of eternity. Once you made it clear to yourself that you were to be civil with your coworkers —close enough to be friendly, but not enough to go out for drinks on Saturday nights— and most important of all, do your job, and do it damn well, you poured yourself a glass of wine and watched the rest of the season of the sitcom you’ve been meaning to finish.

However, with all of the ups and downs your job gave you, it could not have allowed for you to expect the boisterous chaos that were your coworkers. They welcomed you in not only with open arms, but open minds. They respected your boundaries, your ideas, everything about you. Your attempt at remaining just civil became useless after months, but looking back, how could you have tried any longer? Penelope gave you a big kiss on the cheek every week, exclaiming that she loved your outfits and needed to go shopping with you right that minute. Morgan ruffled your hair whenever he brought you coffee (despite your incessant dismay that now you needed to brush it again). Hotch, though not a fan of public displays, would murmur a reassuring, you’re doing well every time he returned a file back to you. And then there was Reid.

Spencer Reid.

Well, what was there to say about him?

Over time, you’ve assumed that his love language must be acts of service. He brought you a bagel every week, sometimes more, from your favorite bagel shop downtown. Every Tuesday, a poppy seed bagel with extra plain cream cheese, extra toasted, cut in half so you could eat the middle dollop of cream cheese first. He made you mugs of tea whenever it grew past five pm because you told him that you had trouble falling asleep once months ago. Sometimes, small bouquets of wild grown flowers were left on your desk. At first, you thought it was Penelope being extra kind to you, or even Morgan playing a small joke on you. Both denied, but still giggled as you walked away. Whatever that meant. Behind your back, they secretly slipped each other five dollar bills.

You were sure he did the same for the rest of his coworkers, too. You’ve seen him refill coffee pots whenever Emily mentioned starting a new brew, and work extra hard on his reports in his free time to make sure Hotch or JJ didn’t stay too late. You were on the same page, anyway. Friends. Civil. It didn’t matter.

You huffed as you walked into the BAU, which was deemed more of a half jog, half marathon sprint. You hadn’t bothered to check the weather before leaving, and on the walk from the subway station to the office, it had started downpouring. The sudden drops of cold from the sky had caused you to drop your half empty cup of coffee, and you had forgotten to grab the breakfast you made yourself the night before in the fridge. Not even Harry Styles’ album blaring in your ears could have stopped you from turning the morning around. You grumbled simple good morning’s to everyone as you shook off your coat. Expecting to see your desk surrounded with papers that you were too tired to file in their intended drawers yesterday, you instead found a clean one; the papers were stashed in their designated places (in alphabetical order), the pens were compiled in the pouch you bought at Daiso years ago and cherished, even the trash under your desk was taken out. The only thing left to be seen on the wooden desk was a small brown bag that smelled of heaven and happiness and a folded piece of paper. You reached inside to find your usual poppy seed bagel the same as it always was. To make your Tuesday better. For you, always, the note read. You didn’t need to decipher whose scribbles those belonged to. You forgot it was Tuesday.

“Where’s my bagel, lover boy?” Morgan’s voice boomed as the man sat on top of your desk, snatching the bag with a grin. Spencer only swiftly passed by the desk with ease, choosing to make eye contact with the carpet.

“Good morning, Dr. Reid. Happy Tuesday.” Spencer’s eyes divert to yours quickly. He only nods, responding with the same greeting. Happy Tuesday, honey.

Morgan’s laugh carried throughout the room, swinging his legs as he spoke. “You two make me sick, that’s for sure. Can I have some of your bagel?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You furrowed your brow in annoyance, which only made Morgan smile widely.

“Do you need to get your glasses checked again? You know, there’s an optometrist across the street—”

As you started to speak, Hotch walked from his office, announcing a new case and to meet in the room immediately. You got up swiftly, grabbing your bagel from Morgan’s hands with a muttered asshole falling from your lips. It only made Morgan cackle loudly. You remind yourself to write a psych evaluation on Morgan after the case is over with.

On the first day of the case, you realized it was going to be a more difficult one than usual. You didn’t panic. You never do. The second day, you worked harder than ever only to see little to no result. You continued not to sleep. It was like clockwork. Work, coffee, repeat. After three days, the case was far from settled. In fact, it seemed to only be getting worse with no ending in sight. Everyone was continuing to work in hopes that they would be home for the weekend. The fourth day, though, seemed to be the worst. The killer was getting more spontaneous with their kills, and the team seemed to keep showing up minutes after the kill had occurred. You were running on little to no sleep and were getting more frustrated with each move the killer made in silence. Near the end of the day, as you stared aimlessly at the wall in front of you, hoping it would make some sort of answer appear in front of your eyes, Hotch put a hand on your shoulder, You jumped slightly, trance be gone, when he told you to get back to the hotel immediately.

Immediately, you persisted. “I’m fine. I’ve almost got something. I’m sure of something.”

“I’m not asking you.”

“Hotch—”

“I’m ordering you, not only as your boss, but mostly as your friend. Your dark circles are getting concerning.” You tried to budge once more, but as Hotch gave one of his stern glares, you knew you were done with work for the day. “I’ll get someone to drive you back. Wait here.”

Within seconds, Spencer appeared, replacing the previous figure of Hotch. Gently tapping your shoulder, he signaled for you to get up. With a flick of a wrist and a soft grin, he spun around a set of keys around his fingers. “Hotch is letting me drive.”

You smiled. “Don’t want Morgan to ‘vibe it?’”

“His definition of ‘vibing it’ is just turning on the sirens when he doesn’t want to stop at a red light.” You walked side by side to the car. Your shoulders brushed ever so slightly due to Spencer’s hands in his pockets, but you didn’t mind. You welcomed the warmth.

“Your definition is turning the volume up to 13 and calling it loud.”

“I would like to be able to hear when I’m old, thank you very much. Any decibel over eighty and poof. Hearing. Out the window.”

“I really don’t think playing Queen at any volume above 13 will kill you, Spence.”

“You never know, honey.” Spencer opened the door for you, ushering you in before closing the door and getting in on the driver’s side. He pulled a cassette tape from his bag and pushed it in the radio; it started to softly play Queen while Spencer messed with the volume, setting it at 13 before driving away. It made a soft smile appear on your lips as your head leaned against the cool glass. Between the constant, soothing movement of the car or the way Spencer’s lips mouthed the lyrics of Good Old Fashioned Boy, it was hard to tell when the lines blurred and sleep drifted you away. The only thing you recognized before falling asleep were the unmistakable words that left Spencer’s mouth.

“Good night, honey. Love you.”

You woke up with a start the next morning. You had no idea how you got back into your hotel room, or how you were wearing your favorite sports shirt that you find comfort in sleeping in all of these years, though your mind directed each question back to the same person, of course. Your mind wandered to the night before; it was the most relaxed you had been all week, even if it was just the simple act of driving with Spencer. You had done it before in past cases —even driven him back to his hotel at times— but this time felt different. Maybe it was the words that left his mouth.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” Spencer suddenly walked in, holding bags in his arms. He set them down on the table, pulling out various assortments of breakfast foods and handing them to you. “No bagel shops around here, but I did find some good pancakes if you want to eat now.”

“Spence.” You suddenly sat up straight, as if a revelation hit you.

“What? No pancakes? It came with hashbrowns, too.”

“Spencer.” You emphasized, getting him to look at you.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you do all of this for me?”

“What?” His head cocked to the side, not understanding.

“Why do you… I mean… you go out of your way to do things for me. Unnecessary things. I need to know why.”

“Unnecessary…?”

“You… you leave me flowers that are like, hand picked from a garden or the forest, or something not from the city. You clean my desk for me when I’ve left it too messy. You make me my favorite tea when I’m at the office too late. You write me notes that are alluding but you won’t say what. I mean, Spence, you get me my favorite bagel every Tuesday. Why?”

His face suddenly turned serious as he sat next to you on the bed. “You want to know why?” He repeated.

“I know you do these things for the rest of our team, but I just, I just don’t get it.”

“Because I’m in love with you.” Spencer stared at you. “I’ve been in love with you. I think I’ll always be at least a little in love with you, if I’m being honest. I thought you’d catch on by now.”

“…What?”

“Yeah, honey. I thought I was pretty obvious.”

“So you meant what you said last night, then?” You said softly.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Really. I would’ve said it better if I had known you were awake.”

“But I did.” Your face grew closer to his. “And I’m not upset about it. Because I’m in love with you, too.”

Just as your lips began to brush, Spencer began to smile. “You know what day it is, honey? It’s our day.”

You smiled, too. “Happy Tuesday.”

You both tried to be subtle about it for the rest of the case. Weeks had passed by without the team knowing, but one slip up of a kiss on the cheek from Spencer on a Tuesday morning had led to an entire office full of chaos (and a meeting on workplace romance and consent from Hotch). You two didn’t mind, though. It was bound to happen. Until Penelope turned to Morgan and yelled at him to cough up the fifty dollars he owed her, of course.

Happy Tuesday.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #lots of fluff #x reader #fanfiction #found family #grumpy sunshine

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esote-rika · 10 hours ago

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the memory of your lips | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: Flangst. Summary: At the end of a great date, you have to deal with the realities of dating a BAU agent. Content: Mentions of alcohol, reader is tipsy and flirty and LOVESICK, Spencer is a gentleman, kisses, no use of y/n, reader is called angel. I had s3 or 4 Spencer in mind when I was writing, but it works for any season. Word count: 1.4k A/N: Here’s the fic for the Lovesick by Laufey (listen to it right here, PLEASE I BEG!!!) poll I did a while back. I know I originally planned for it to have smut, but I opted out because it didn’t feel right with the tone??? Anyways, this was just really fun to write, and I hope you enjoy!

Three dates are an embarrassingly short amount of time to have fallen in love with someone, but in your defense, you have not encountered anyone quite like Spencer Reid in all your years of dating.

Never have you met a man so intensely focused and attentive, so intelligent without any hint of pretense. His arrogance is founded, but he never used his genius to make you feel less; instead, he’s committed everything you’ve told him to memory, from your favorite book to the throwaway comment you made about liking a specific shade of lipstick. Two dates and he’s already memorized you like a poem. It’s exhilarating.

This third date had been the one to seal the deal.

Sure, the anxiety is still there, and it might have caused you to have one too many glasses of wine over dinner, but still. Everything had gone so beautifully. A stroll around the art gallery where Spencer had eagerly shared the history behind the paintings. When you’d paused at a particular hallway, he stood right by a window and was hit just so by the golden afternoon sun that his eyes turned to the color of moss, you could have sworn you’ve forgotten the ability to breathe. You’re convinced you were the walking equivalent to the heart eyes emoji at that point, staring up at him with a starry gaze, all throughout the following dinner at an intimate restaurant, where you allowed yourself to indulge in some wine.

Not that you needed it. At that point, you felt so relaxed and at ease with him that you were afraid you might float away. The alcohol only served to heighten the giddiness, casting the world in soft hues of sparkling gold. Like Spencer’s eyes. Which reminds you—

“You’ve the prettiest eyes,” You’re giggling as he walks you to your door, a lean arm firmly wrapped around your waist to steady you. Head angled up, all of your attention is on him while you walk up the stairs, which isn’t helping your stumbling gait in the slightest.

Despite his attempts to fight it, a small smile pulls at his lips. He’s obviously trying to seem stern, but his eyes look upon you with fondness. “I should have cut you off sooner.”

“Mhm, no, I wouldn’t have let you.”

“You’re gonna feel this tomorrow,” he warns as he stops at your doorstep, “Keys.”

You fumble through your purse, quickly locating them and pressing the keys into his palm. He slots it easily into the lock, and turns.

He hesitates. Your hands shake as you wait.

“Can I trust you to make it to your bed in one piece?” he murmurs, fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“Probably not. You might need to help me out,” you whisper, even though you’re not really that drunk. It’s a (very thinly veiled) attempt to get him inside your apartment, in your bed. You’re not sure where you got the confidence.

But it’s Spencer, the sweet man who frequents the same bookshop in which you also spend a lot of time. The same man who’d been so shy about making a move that he decided to buy you a book and slip his number into the pages.

So there’s no pressure, he had scrawled in messy, rushed letters. Embarrassingly, the note is in your wallet, kept as a memento.

It’s him, and the entire date has been a series of signs that simply validated the small (massive) crush you’ve had on him. You don’t want it to end yet. Or ever, really. If he’d let you keep him forever.

Ever the gentleman, he nods and guides you inside. You stumble onto your couch with a low groan, an arm flung over your eyes as the harsh overhead light flickers open. Quick, shuffling footsteps, and then the couch dips beside you.

“Here, have some water.”

You accept the glass with a lopsided smile. The way his eyes linger on you would be enough to make you melt when you’re sober, but right now, with alcohol coursing through your veins, it’s downright cruel. “Your eyes are so pretty.”

“You’ve mentioned that already,” he says, urging you to drink, “Thank you. You have very beautiful eyes too.”

Once the glass is empty, he sets it on your coffee table and kneels down. With gentle hands, he eases the heels off of your feet, fingers pressing into the ankles carefully.

“Come on,” he helps you to your feet, and you all but become deadweight in his arms as he walks with you to your bedroom.

Spurned mainly by alcohol, you lift yourself to your tiptoes for a kiss. His surprise makes him pause, but he kisses you back gently, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. It makes you sigh, this tender way he likes to kiss, cradling your face as though it’s the most important thing he’s ever held. When your tongue sweeps across his lower lip, he pulls back.

“What—”

“You’re drunk,” his lips move to your forehead, “You need to sleep.”

“But Spence…” it’s childish to whine when he denies you, but it’s the only thing your dejected, alcohol-addled brain is capable of doing.

He chuckles, slowly walking you backwards onto your bed. “No, angel, it wouldn’t sit right with me.”

“I’m giving you all my consent right now.” you pout as he hands you a disposable towel from your bedside table. With a huff, you set on wiping away your makeup as he rummages through your drawers for pajamas. He finds some shorts and an old tshirt, and helps you out of your dress, shaking his head as you try (and fail) to seduce him into sleeping with you.

“Shouldn’t have had that last glass if this was how you wanted the night to end.” he says, a teasing smile on his lips.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

He kisses your temple as a response, and gently pushes you to lay down. Chuckling, he sits on the edge of your bed, a hand on your knee. “I just don’t want you to be inebriated if we’re going to be physically intimate. Especially not the first time.”

You pout, “Boo, you’re too sweet for your own good.” It earns you a laugh from him, and it’s enough to wipe the pout off your lips, “Will you at least sleep over?”

He seems to consider it, running his hand up and down your thigh. However, it is as though the universe is conspiring against you, and his phone rings. You watch as his brows furrowed in concern as he checks whatever message he’s received. “I have to go in, we have a case.”

Your heart drops. The pout returns, “It’s Friday night.”

“I know, angel.” he leans forward and kisses your forehead again, almost in apology, “I’m sorry, I did tell you I don’t work traditional hours.”

Your hands close around his shirt and you pull him down. He surrenders to your eagerness this time, kissing you deeply, hands tangled in your hair, before he stops, breathing ragged. “I’ll make it up to you when I return, I promise.” he kisses you again, languidly, savoring the last few moments before he has to leave.

You don’t have his eidetic memory, but you memorize the feeling of his lips all the same. “Stay safe,” you whisper when he finally pulls back, feeling oddly sobered up now that the reality of him leaving you is more present, “Text me when you can.”

“I will, angel.” he gives you one last kiss on your forehead before he stands up, “Drink lots of water tomorrow, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

You nod, and stare at his retreating back with a sad smile, blinking away the tears when you hear your apartment door click into place, signaling his departure. You try to tell yourself you’re being silly. It’s been three dates and you’re already acting so clingy. You chalk it up to the alcohol, twisting your feelings. Earlier, it had made the world seem effervescent, but now that he’s left, it only exacerbates your loneliness.

Is this how it’s going to be when you date him? He’d laid it out quite clearly during your conversations, that sometimes they get pressing cases that require them to drop everything else. You aren’t sure you’re prepared to have dates be interrupted with one phone call. Morning afters without him beside you. With a sigh, you sink into bed, eyes closed, and only the memory of his lips to tide you through the night.

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