h0rnyr3id

[h0rnyr3id]

If that’s sick? Then call me severely ill.

reblog if you’re a sick fuck

[h0rnyr3id]

shout out to all the writers who write porn while they’re depressed. we’re all gotta be depressed and horny

[h0rnyr3id]

‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ Running into flames. Spencer Reid smut!

Spencer Reid x bau agent!reader

(First time ever writing smut! Please be patient.)

Summary: After an argument at the station and a reckless move that almost got you killed, you find yourself on your knees in Spencer’s motel room, begging him to use you the only way he knows how. Sometimes the fire isn’t in the house — it’s between you and him.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Explicit smut (oral m!receiving, rough sex, unprotected sex, throat fucking), rough language, established relationship but full of tension, reckless behavior, mild angst, possessive/protective!Spencer, power dynamics, crying, minor degradation/praise kink, slight impact play (hair pulling), raw emotions, angry sex that turns soft at the end, implied aftercare, general Criminal Minds themes (mentions of danger/fire/violence), 18+ only. MDNI

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

I wrapped three times on his motel door— old, slightly mouldy. I grimaced. No response— no sound beneath the door separating me and the man I wanted the most.

I wrapped again, louder. I heard him, his rough voice. Slightly gone from the argument we had a few hours earlier in the police station.

“I’m coming!” He barked out— most likely followed by a sigh he couldn’t help but do, something I knew all too well.

The door swung open. He looked different — no tie, no mask he hid behind like it was his second face. Just raw edges, eyes darker than usual, hair ruffled like hands had been ran through it nonstop.

“What are you doing here?” His tone dripped with irritation plaguing the question. But I couldn’t hear, everything went blank. Silent.

Then he repeated it, sharper. and I had no choice to answer.

“I want to apologise.” I pleaded, the words catching in my throat.

“No you don’t— you’re not sorry. You rushed into that house like it wasn’t blazing on fire.” He called out, walking deeper into the dingy motel room. he had completely changed, lost in his thoughts.

“Okay— maybe I’m not!” I admitted, following in his footsteps, slamming his door; the vase on the entryway table rattling gently.

He spun around so fast I flinched, his hands engulfing my two wrists with his own. eyes were glazed over with tears, threatening to spill.

“I could have lost you— DAMN IT!” He shouted into my face— and in that moment; I became paralysed. Shock clouding my mind. He was never like this; not with me.

“You didn’t.” I whispered, my own eyes growing glassy.

“What am I supposed to do if I can’t protect you?” Fingers digging deeper into my wrists. “I could have.. god. what the fuck am I supposed to do if I can’t do the one thing I need to most?!”

“You’re angry.” I acknowledged nodding, like doing that would calm him down. It didn’t. I stared up into his brown doe eyes, which looked to hold a thousand secrets. It made my skin grow cold.

“Yes— I fucking am.” The words snapped, not one fucking thing soft about him anymore.

“Use me— Spencer.” I breathed— not even registering the words leaving my mouth before they spilled out.

“What? No—“ his brows knitted in confusion.

“Please.” My voice cracked.

“No.” He scoffed— weaker. He was giving in.

“Please.” I dropped to my knees the carpet definitely giving my legs carpet burn through my jeans at how fast I did it— my fingers fumbling with his belt.

Blood rushed to my cheeks— I gazed up at him through eyelashes. He watched me — jaw tight, chest heaving. I broke him.

“Please, let me help you.”

His breath hitched, a sharp sound in his throat. Then he nodded, rough, once — like it hurt him to give in.

The tension snapped. All that anger melted into heat, hunger, desperation. He pushed his pants down just enough, and there he was — flushed, leaking, so hard it made my mouth water.

Fuck.

“You okay, baby?” His voice dipped softer— almost careful as his fingers threaded through my hair.

I nodded, swallowing hard. Then I opened my mouth for him — inch by inch, my lips stretched around him, tongue swirling over the tip. His taste hit my tongue, sharp, salty.

“Use you, huh?” He reminded me. I hummed— the sensation vibrating throughout his body.

He groaned — deep, raw — then pushed my head down, guiding me deeper until he hit the back of my throat. I swirled my tongue around the tip of his cock, my panties growing soaked. I took it all in—

He pulled back just enough to let me breathe, then thrust again — rougher this time. My hands gripped his thighs to steady myself as he fucked my mouth like he needed to erase every awful thing we’d screamed at each other hours ago.

“Fuck, sweetheart — you’re doing so good,” he panted, head tipping back, eyes half-shut. “Look at you. Look at me.”

I blinked up at him, cheeks streaked with tears, drool dripping down my chin. I felt used. Wanted. Exactly what I needed.

The pace was brutal and relentless, not wanting to waste a second. The fire in the house was easier than this— less chance of choking on smoke than his cock.

My cunt throbbed— clenching around nothing. Tonight? Was about him, pleasuring him.

I felt every twitch, every vein— every subtle thing about him. I savoured the moment wholeheartedly. Then I felt his hands quiver—

“Shit— baby, goona— fuck.. goona cum..”

I moaned around him, swallowing hard as his hips stuttered. Hot, salty release hit my throat, and I took it — every drop, eyes fluttering shut as his hand trembled at the back of my head.

“Just like that, good girl.” He praised me, bending down to wipe my tears. He hushed me gently, kissing my forehead.

“Your turn.” He murmured.

He hauled me up by my wrists, turning me so fast my back hit the motel’s rickety table. It rattled under my palms as he shoved my jeans the rest of the way off, tugged my panties down my thighs.

“Hands on the table,” he growled. “Spread your legs.”

I obeyed. The wood dug into my hips. My breath came in shallow pants as he stepped behind me — his palm gliding up my spine, pressing me down so my cheek almost hit the table.

“You wanna be reckless?” His voice scraped my ear, teeth grazing my neck. “Then be reckless.”

He lined himself up, not teasing — not tonight. One rough thrust and he was inside me, so deep I saw stars. My nails dug into the cheap veneer. I gasped his name — half plea, half curse.

“Fuck — Spencer — ”

He didn’t answer with words — just another brutal snap of his hips. He filled me so perfectly, the stretch almost too much, every vein, every twitch making my legs shake.

His hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back just enough to make my spine arch. “This what you wanted, huh? Want me to ruin you?”

“Yes — God — yes — ”

He laughed, low and broken. His hand slid between my thighs, fingers finding my clit, rubbing tight circles in time with every thrust that shoved me up the table.

“You think I don’t know you?” he rasped. “My reckless girl. Always running into flames — always crawling back to me to put you out.”

My moan turned into a sob, the pleasure twisting tight and sharp in my belly. The table scraped forward with every thrust. I felt him everywhere — the stretch, the rough drag, the heat building so fast I could barely breathe.

“Spencer — please — I’m close — ”

“Then come for me,” he growled. “Come and show me you’re mine.”

I shattered — knees giving out, cunt clenching tight around him as I cried out his name. He kept thrusting through it, chasing his own release until he buried himself deep one final time, hot and thick, filling me up until it spilled down my thighs.

He didn’t move for a moment — just stayed there, forehead pressed to my shoulder, breathing like he’d just run through fire for me.

Finally, he pulled out, turned me in his arms, kissed me hard — rough lips, soft tongue, desperation mixed with something we’d never say out loud.

“Next time you run into a burning house,” he murmured against my mouth, “I swear to God — ”

I cut him off with another kiss, tugging him closer until the motel door rattled behind his back.

[h0rnyr3id]

YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT ME.. BUT THAT MAKES ME WANT YOU. ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ - sombr

‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ - about the author!

Soph ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ She/her ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Bisexual ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ Spencer Reid x reader

Not so talented author.. ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Never wrote smut before so let’s see how this goes!