#derek (oc)

[mggslover]

Stuck

In which reader finds herself stuck in an elevator with her colleagues.

Pairing: Hotch x Reid x Morgan x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: fingering, oral (f and m receiving), face riding, p in v sex, overstimulation, masturbation, breast play Word count: 5,4k A/n: I'm ovulating, so you know what time it is 🤭 I'm really nervous to post this, so I hope you will enjoy!

“Oh, you guys are such babies!” You laugh as Spencer and Derek refuse to step into the elevator, explaining how they’ve been stuck in one before. 

“It’s not funny, Y/N,” Spencer chimes in. “There are six elevator deaths per year. Not to mention ten thousand injuries that require hospitalization.”   

You roll your eyes at his comment, just as Hotch walks toward the elevator. “See!” You exclaim. “Hotch is joining us, and he saved you last time. We’ll be fine.” You add cheerfully.

“You’re coming?” Hotch asks, holding the elevator door open. You nod, pulling Morgan and Reid with you by their arms. 

You chuckle at their nervous reflections in the mirror as the elevator starts moving. A sudden creak causes Derek to snap his head towards you. “It made the same sound the last time!” You were just about to shut Derek up as the elevator shakes and the lights start flickering. 

“Not again!” Spencer whimpers, his eyes squeezed shut like he’s about to fall to his death at any given moment.

Hotch inspects the tight space, his expression grim. “It seems like the electricity went out…” 

“Actually, there are a lot of reasons why an elevator might stop,” Spencer interjects. “It could be worn-out suspension ropes, and it actually happens quite regularly that the motor overheats the safety sensors of the-“ 

“Let’s just solve this problem, shall we?” You cut him off, nudging Morgan out of the way to hit the red button on the panel. 

“You think that’ll do something?” Morgan asks, brow lifted. 

“It will alert someone that we’re stuck. We have to wait until somebody comes and gets us out of here.” Hotch adds. 

“Well at least I’ll be missing my meeting with Strauss,” I sigh in relief. 

“It was at twelve, right?” Spencer asks. 

“Yeah,” you respond with a nod.

“Statistically the average wait time to be rescued from an elevator is less than an hour,” Spencer continues, checking his watch. “That means you could still make it in time.” 

“Now that’s just what I wanted to hear,” you say sarcastically, earning a grin from Morgan. 

“We can only hope we won’t be in here for that long,” Hotch mutters, his impatience visible as he leans uncomfortably against the elevator doors. 

“Okay… so now what? Want to go over a case to pass the time?” 

“No, no cases please,” Morgan groans. “We’ve had three in a row. I’m done.” 

“Morgan is right. We’ve done enough cases in the past few days.” Hotch agrees. 

You mutter an “alright” as you sit down with your back against the elevator wall, smoothing out the crinkles in your skirt. The others look at you with uncertainty. Eventually Reid decides to sit next to you, exchanging a soft smile. Morgan follows suit, sitting in front of you. Hotch remains standing. You leave him be and turn to Spencer. 

“So Reid, I’m sure you’ve got enough interesting facts to pass the time.” 

Spencer looks surprised by the request, not used to directly being asked to share his facts, but his eyes quickly brighten, eager to share. “Well, actually, there are a lot of interesting things to say about elevators. There are approximately 20 million elevators worldwide,” you chuckle at his obvious enthusiasm. “The first elevator was created in 236 B.C. by Archimedes, a Greek mathematician. He used a water wheel and tied animals together with rope to create a lift mechanism.” You hum in interest. “They used lifts in the Colosseum, right?” 

“Yes! Exactly!” he responds excitedly. “The system was powered by eight men who would turn this massive wooden shaft connected to ropes. It could hold more than 600 pounds!” 

“Oh come on,” Derek says, his hand falling to his knee. “You’re telling me you’re actually interested in the mechanics of ancient elevators?”. 

Hotch glances at Morgan, silently agreeing with Derek’s skepticism. 

“Derek Morgan…” you feign offense, placing a hand on your chest. “Don’t act like I’m not curious about knowledge. At least Spence’s got something interesting to say.” 

Spencer blushes faintly, appreciating your defense. 

“Hey, I know facts too,” Morgan says smugly. “How about there being 7000 languages in the world today.” 

“The overall number is actually closer to 8000,” Spencer corrects him. “You only counted verbal communication.” 

“You guys are going to have a facts competition now?” You ask, bewildered. “It’s way too hot in here. I need some light conversation.”

“I agree,” Hotch mutters. “It is getting a little warm.”

You glance up at the AC in the corner of the elevator, which is clearly not working. It probably shut down along with the power. There’s a brief silence before Reid speaks up again. 

“I never thought I’d be trapped in an elevator with my colleagues,” he muses. “It’s a little cliché.”

“Cliche, how?” Hotch asks, intrigued despite himself. 

“You know how, in movies, a group of people get stuck in an elevator and they have to learn to overcome their differences to escape?” 

You shake your head in confusion, “I think I only know the dirty movies where they get stuck in an elevator,” you laugh. 

Spencer blinks at you, clearly thrown off. Derek chuckles at the scene, and even Hotch manages a faint smile. 

“I should’ve known you’ve only watched the dirty ones,” Derek teases. 

“What about you, pretty boy?  Ever seen a dirty movie?” He asks Spencer, grinning. 

Reid looks flustered. “I grew up in Vegas… I’ve seen some things.” 

“Ah, Vegas,” you say, sighing dreamily. “The place where you can’t drive for a minute without seeing a giant porn billboard.”

Morgan grins, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “Sounds like my kind of place.” 

You laugh and kick his leg playfully. Morgan winks at you, enjoying the lighthearted banter. You glance up at Hotch, who is still the only one standing. 

“What about you, Hotch? What’s your favorite dirty movie?” You ask with a mischievous grin, but your expression quickly drops when you see his stern look. 

“Watch it, Y/L/N.” Hotch warns.

“Come on, Hotch,” Derek says. “Let loose a little!”

“See it as the universe’s sign.” I press on. 

“How is being stuck in here a sign of the universe?” Hotch asks, brows raised.

“Well, no way would you willingly take a break yourself. Now the universe got you stuck in here and is forcing you to relax,” you explain, with a playful gleam in your eyes. 

To everyone’s surprise, he slowly lowers himself to the floor, sitting down next to you. 

You exchange surprised looks with Derek and Spencer. All amazed at how you managed to get Hotch to sit down.

The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence, scared to say something that will make Hotch change his mind. You’re glad he joined you, but it’s hard to ignore the rising temperature now that another person is sitting in close proximity to you. 

“How long has it been?” you ask, fanning yourself with your blazer. “I’m starting to sweat.”

“Thirty-five minutes so far,” Derek replies, following your lead and fanning himself. 

Hotch looks mildly uncomfortable, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Spencer, however, looks the most miserable using the collar of his sweater vest to wipe his face. 

“You guys should take your jackets off,” you suggest, eyeing Morgan and Hotch. 

You don’t need to tell Derek twice, as he removes his jacket, revealing a black short sleeved shirt that looks a lot more comfortable. Hotch looks reluctant to do the same, but eventually gives in, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt collar. You take a peak as he reveals his broad, muscled shoulders for a moment, before readjusting his shirt. Hotch notices your glance and his eyes shoot up to yours, catching you in the moment as your cheeks flush. You quickly look away. 

“Oh, she’s enjoying the view, alright,” Derek smirks and you give him a warning glance.

“Shut up. I was just surprised Hotch would give in.” 

Morgan grins and nudges Hotch with his elbow, “Look at that, Hotch. You’re surprising us all today. First you smile and now you’re taking your jacket off. What’s next, dancing a jig?” You and Spencer snort at his comment. Hotch rolls his eyes at Morgan’s teasing but can’t help a small smile from appearing on his lips. 

Spencer struggles with his vest and you give him a hand. “Here, let me help you”, you say as you scoot closer, pulling the vest over his head. The fabric feels soft, but incredibly warm in your hands. You don’t know how he managed to keep it on for this long. Reid is taken aback for a moment, but mutters a soft thanks. Morgan and Hotch watch the exchange with interest, clearly amused at the sight of you being so forward with Reid.

“Now it’s your turn, you’re the one who insisted,” Morgan states, and you can’t help but agree as you take your blazer off, giving a satisfied hum at the immediate relief.

“I’ll open up some buttons too, if you don’t mind,” you announce as your fingers start working on your blouse. You don’t give them a chance to respond, since it seems only fair. Their eyes widen at your gesture, all of them staring at the sight of your blouse slightly opening up. Morgan lets out a low whistle, “Now that’s a nice view.”

“You’re insufferable,” you scoff as you stop unbuttoning, showing just a hint of your lacy bra. Morgan’s eyes linger on the sight, clearly enjoying the view. Hotch and Reid look like they’re struggling to keep their cool. Reid is the most flustered of all, turning bright red as he focuses on his hands. Morgan glances around at the others, seeing them struggle to keep themselves composed. 

He chuckles and shakes his head, enjoying the effect you’re having on them. “You know, you’re driving all of us a little crazy here, sweetheart.” 

You let out a small huff, “Give me a break. You’re wearing shortsleeves, I’m the one wearing a blouse.” 

Hotch speaks up, his gaze lingering on your blouse. “That blouse does seem a bit warm.” 

“Thank you!” You say, glad someone is on your side. 

Hotch eyes stay focused on you though, or specifically the bit of exposed collarbone and the lace that’s hugged around the swell of your breast. Your breathing heaves when you find Spencer taking occasional peaks as well, watching with a mixture of awe and embarrassment, finding difficulty in looking away. 

“Let’s just all take our shirts off, I want it to be fair”, you quickly exclaim, done with the heavy tension that’s driving you crazy. Hotch and Morgan exchange amused glances as Spencer eyes turn big, taking in your proposal. 

“All our shirts, are you sure about that?” Derek asks, a hint of surprise in his voice. 

“Then at least you won’t eye me like that.” 

“Oh, I think I’ll eye you only more.” Derek teases, licking his lips. 

“Just take your damn shirt off.” 

Derek chuckles and raises his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright. No need to get feisty.” He says as he lifts his shirt off in a smooth motion. It’s a known fact that Derek is jacked, but seeing him in a setting like this, abs glistening with sweat and pupils still dilated from looking at you, is on a whole ‘nother level. 

You’re glad the attention is taken away from your peering eyes as Hotch follows suit, unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a clearly defined muscular chest with just a hint of hair. You start doubting your suggestion as it feels like the room is only growing hotter. You look over at Spencer, seeing whether he’ll be the next. Spencer hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting between the other’s bare chests and your unbuttoned blouse. His chest heaving with his breath, suggesting that he’s more affected than he’s letting on. 

“Come on, pretty boy. Join the party.” Derek says.

“I’ll go first,” you assure Spencer, not wanting him to suffer under peer pressure. Your hands start working on the buttons. Spencer’s eyes widened at the scene in front of him.

“See, it’s not that hard,” you reassure Spencer, folding your blouse and placing it next to you. 

“I don’t know about that. You’re making things pretty hard, baby girl.” Morgan comments, making you laugh. 

“You’re way too dirty for your own good.” 

Morgan grins. “Can you blame me? I mean, look at you. You’re looking mighty tempting right now.”

You softly smile at the compliment and focus back on Spencer. “You’ll feel a lot cooler, I promise,” you encourage. 

“I don’t know. I’m not as… toned as the others.” It hurts you to hear how he’s comparing himself to his colleagues. 

“Do you truly think I care about that?” You ask him. “It’s not a competition. I just want you to feel comfortable,” you speak genuinely. Spencer looks up at you, his eyes searching yours for any signs of mockery or deception. When he finds none, his face softens and he nods. He lifts his shirt over his head, revealing a body no less impressive than the others. 

“Not too bad, pretty boy. You’re looking pretty good without that vest on.” Derek compliments. 

“You do,” You agree, as you fold his shirt and place it on top of my blouse. Spencer gives you a sheepish smile, grateful for your help. Glad he decided to take his shirt off as he felt the cool air hit his chest, “Yeah, that does feel better.” 

You look around the room, the scene for sure one to be put down in the history books of the BAU. “I think it’s safe to say we’ve entered a new step in our colleague bonding,” you awkwardly chuckle, trying to lighten the mood but the air feels charged with an unspoken tension that’s impossible to ignore. You can feel their eyes on you, the way they linger, the weight of their gazes following your every movement. You try to ignore it, to stay professional, but your body betrays you. You shift slightly, adjusting your skirt, and that’s when you feel it - the subtle brush of Hotch’s fingers caressing your arm.

You swallow hard as you look away. The air around you is suddenly too tight. You want to curse your body as your nipples harden under his steady gaze, there being no way to blame it on the cold. Derek notices the exchange and leans in, the heat between you two palpable. 

His voice is low and husky, “You're all worked up, sweetheart. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.” 

Your pulse quickens, the sound of your heartbeat almost drowning out his words. “I’m not the only one,” you counter, voice quieter, but the challenge in it is unmistakable. You feel Spencer shift next to you, his body tense as he feels like he’s been caught staring at your chest. “Don’t be shy, genius,” Derek teases. “We’re all thinking the same thing right now.” You can’t help but smile at Spencer’s flustered look. “It’s… It’s hard not to, when you-” He cuts himself off, his voice faltering as his eyes dart away from your breasts. 

Hotch is still standing by the door, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches the dynamic play out. “We’ve been stuck in here long enough. I think it’s safe to say we all want and feel the same thing.” The air thickens with desire as he dares to say the thought that’s been occupying everyone’s mind. You glance at the others, seeing how Spencer is adjusting himself in his pants and the way Derek is watching you, his gaze so intense it almost feels like he’s touching you. 

“Guess it’s only fair if we all just… give in to it,” you murmur, your eyes flicking between them. The suggestion is there, unspoken but understood. 

From there on everything feels like a blur. You hear Hotch growl behind you as he wraps his bicep around your neck, pulling you in as his lips crash against yours. You whimper against his mouth, which gives him the opportunity to let his tongue slide in. You welcome his tongue with yours as your hand moves to squeeze the arm around your neck, making full use of the circumstances to feel up on his muscles. 

“You’re always driving me crazy when wearing this skirt,” Hotch groans in your ear as his teeth pull on your earlobe. You can find no other way to respond than let out a high pitched sound of enjoyment as his free hand kneads your ass through your pencil skirt. Spencer watches the scene unfold in front of him. How his boss roughly grabs and kisses you, manhandling you. 

 “I- I don’t know about this…” Spencer stammers. 

Morgan turns to him, breaking the intense gaze he had on you and Hotch. “Don’t worry Reid, she’s enjoying it.” 

“Are you sure?” Spencer asks, uncertainty in his voice as Hotch is pulling on your hair, giving him access to plant kisses and bites on your neck. 

Morgan grins, “Let me show you how sure I am,” he says as he steps towards you and Hotch. He rolls your skirt up to your stomach and lets his fingers slide over your panties, cursing when it easily slips between your folds, creating a wet sound. You moan at the friction, not in the state to feel embarrassed by how wet you are. 

“See Reid, she loves it,” Derek points out, licking his lips as he pulls your damp panties to the side. Spencer lets out a groan as Derek reveals your glistening pussy, his hand subconsciously squeezing the bulge in his pants for any form of release.

“Let me see,” Hotch insists, removing his lips from your neck. Derek slides a finger through your folds and proudly displays the stickiness to Hotch. 

“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you?,” Hotch whispers, his nose pressed against the side of your face. “Just been begging to get in a situation like this so we could all fuck you the way you deserve.” You whimper at his dirty words and hot breath on your skin. Your legs feel like jelly as he grinds himself against your ass. Derek continues to apply pressure with his hand as he lets his fingers rub up and down your lips and clit. 

Spencer’s eyes are burning holes in your chest. He just can’t understand how no one has touched your lovely tits, while they’ve been teasing him the entire time. 

“You can come here Spence,” you purr, hypnotizing him to walk towards you. He swallows as he’s close enough to touch you, close enough to hear all the little sounds you’re making as you’re being touched all over. 

“Can I-?” You don’t let Spencer finish his question as you quickly nod, throwing your head back as his finger grazes over your nipple, sending a direct spark of pleasure to your clit. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers mostly to himself in awe as he cups your breast, the shape fitting perfectly in his large hand. 

“Thank you,” you whisper back. It’s ironic how his sweet compliment is the thing that's making you shy.

Derek slips a finger inside of you with ease, and you bite your lip to hold back your mewls. “Don’t do that. I like the way you sound.” Spencer encourages, resulting in another moan from you, loving the effect his words have on you. 

Hotch unclasps your bra from behind and Spencer helps him by pulling your straps down, letting your breasts fall free. Hotch grabs your left breast, kneading it with his strong, calloused hands as he rolls your nipple in between his fingers. Spencer uses the momentary distraction to bend down and experimentally licks your nipple, humming at the sensation. He gives a couple more licks to your breast as he pulls your nipple in between his lips, sucking on it as he flicks his tongue against the sensitive bud. 

You feel overwhelmed by the way all of your erogenous zones are stimulated at once; Hotch licking and biting on your neck and ear, while massaging your breast and grinding his hardness against your ass. Spencer’s swollen lips and wet tongue tracing over your nipple as Derek caresses your thighs as he adds a second finger into your pussy. You realize that this is what pleasure is supposed to be like. The zones on your body are all connected and you haven’t experienced true bliss until those spots get triggered at the same time. 

“Morgan, is she ready?” Hotch asks, breathing heavily. 

“More than ready, sir,” Derek grins as he takes a step back. He lets his fingers slide out of you, making you whimper at the loss of contact, but then Hotch turns you around so that your chest is pressed up against the elevator doors where he was standing. 

“I need you for myself,” he groans. Derek tosses a condom from his jeans and Hotch catches it, ripping the package with his teeth while pulling his trousers down to his knees, not wanting to let a single moment go to waste. Your hands are pressed against the wall as he slowly enters you. 

“Oh my god… I feel so full,” you whine and you swear you could feel him grin as you register that he’s not even fully inside of you. You let out a long breath as you feel his balls make contact with your ass. 

“You’re doing okay there, princess?” Derek chuckles and you nod. Hotch slowly moves his length out of you as he slams his hips back in with a groan. You gasp as you wrap your hand around the back of his head, keeping yourself steady as he continues thrusting into you. His growls feel hot against your neck. His sweaty chest pressed up against your back, leaving you completely in his grasp.

“You feel that angel? How your pussy swallows my cock?” You let out a cry as you nod your head in agreement. 

“I don’t understand Y/N. You’re a big girl, use your words.” 

“Oh god…’’ Your head spins as he pounds into you. “I’m not going to tell you again Y/N, use your words.” He orders. 

“Yes!’’ you cry out. ‘’God yes Aaron, it feels so good. I can feel you so deep inside of me.” 

“Say my name again.” He moans as his hand trails down your stomach until it reaches your swollen bud. “Aaron, please… I’m so, so close.” He gives some quick taps to your clit, making you squirm in pleasure as your knees give out. His strong hands grip you by the waist and he hoists you back up on his dick. “I’m almost there honey, you can keep it up, be good for me.” 

You let out a string of whines as he uses the palm of his hand to swiftly move against your folds, indirectly bringing pleasure to your clit. You can’t take it any more, pressing your nails into his arms as you crouch down in front of him, shaking as your release hits you. Hotch groans loudly as his dick slips out of your pussy. His dick twitches as he takes off the condom, painting your back with hot spurts of cum.

You have your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath as you’re still riding down your orgasm. You hum as you feel the soft material of Spencer’s sweater vest against your back, cleaning you up. 

“You okay?” Spencer asks, kneeled in front of you. You nod your head and softly smile at his tenderness. 

“Yeah. I feel really, really good.” You answer, making Spencer return your smile. With him in front of you, you notice the visible outline of his bulge pressed against his thigh and reach out to touch it. Your fingers lightly brush over his length, causing him to shudder. 

“Do you want me to take care of you?” You ask sensually, looking in his eyes. 

“Not really,” he responds, taking you by surprise. He sees your expression and quickly corrects himself. “It’s not like I don’t want you to! I’d- I’d love you to do…”, he’s not actually sure what you planned on doing to him. “Whatever you would do. I just-,” his voice softens, meeting your gaze. “I really need to know what you taste like.” 

Your cheeks warm, feeling your arousal grow. “Okay,” you exhale. Spencer extends his hand, helping you up. You find your blazer and bundle it up for Spencer to lay his head on. You’re amazed at how willing he is to get down on the floor, ready to eat you out in a very nontraditional and arguable unsanitized way. You hover over his face as you get down on your knees, letting out a hum as his breath tingles your pussy. Spencer kneads your calves and runs his hands up the back of your thighs. He tilts his head up, placing a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

“Feels good,” you mumble. Spencer responds with a hum against your skin, the vibration causing you to moan. He grabs your thighs, slowly pulling them further apart. “I can’t wait to taste you,” he admits, sticking out his tongue and licking a stripe up your folds. You moan, arching your back. Through hooded eyes you spot the figure of Hotch. He’s sitting against the wall in front of you, lazily stroking his half hard length as he stares at you. 

Just when you were about to question where Morgan was, you catch him in your periphery. He holds your gaze as he approaches, coming to a stop right in front of you. His belt buckle hangs open, but it doesn’t look like he’s touched himself. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d really like to take up on that offer genius here denied.” You grin at him, hands reaching out to his belt. Spencer is keeping himself busy, licking and sucking up your juices. You pull Derek’s pants down, gasping as his dick springs free, slapping against his happy trail. You groan in delight as you wrap your hand around his shaft. He tilts his head back at the contact. “Fuck baby, your hands feel so warm and soft.” You lean forward and let some of your spit dribble down on his dick, making him hiss. You move your thumb in circles over his tip, mixing your saliva with his precum. When it feels like it’s wet enough, you move your hand up and down his length in a steady motion.

His tip grows red and you cannot resist licking your lips before putting your mouth on him. He feels heavy in your mouth as you take him in deeper, stimulating him with your tongue as you suck. His hands tangle in your hair, holding you as he moves in sync with your movements. 

Spencer moves a hand up the curve of your ass while he uses the other to unbuckle his belt. He slides his hand in his pants, rubbing himself over his boxers as he relishes in your taste. His lips nibble on your labia as his nose tickles against your clit. 

“Don’t get distracted, baby girl,” Derek states, softly pushing your head back down. You swallow around him and try to up your pace. Derek takes your breast in his hand, massaging it. As your nipples harden he takes one in between his fingers, pulling on it. You gasp at the sensation, making his dick slide deeper down your throat. 

“Fuck! Right there baby, that feels so good,” he pants. You blink away tears, continuing the steady movement of your head and swirls of your tongue. 

Spencer’s dick starts feeling too hot in his boxers and he pulls it out, so that it lays against his stomach. Your pussy is absolutely dripping because of the swipes of Spencer’s tongue and the taste of Derek in your mouth. Spencer can’t keep up with licking you clean, your wetness dripping down his chin. He reaches out to grab his length, the skin to skin contact overstimulating him. 

You notice Spencer getting restless underneath you. Derek’s dick pops out of your mouth. “Are you okay, Spence?” You ask. He hums against your clit in response, you let out a high pitched moan and instinctively bend your knees. “Sorry,” you apologize as you want to tilt your hips back up, but Spencer pulls you back down by your thighs, making you sit on his face.

“Oh god…” You moan as he starts devouring you. He keeps a hand firm on your ass as he starts jerking himself off to the beautiful sounds that you’re making. You lazily tug on Derek’s cock, too distracted by Spencer’s tongue. 

“Oh Spencer, I’m going to cum,” you whimper, mouth open and brows furrowed in pleasure. You start grinding yourself on his tongue, seeking your release. You find the perfect spot and Spencer presses the tip of his tongue against your clit, as you fall undone. Spencer laps up your juices and squeezes the load out of his dick as it splatters on his belly. You lift your hips to give Spencer some space. He moves away, joining you on his knees as he sits behind you, pressing featherlight kisses to your back. 

“I’m not gonna last that much longer,” Derek announces, who’s been stroking himself to your orgasm. “Come here, then,” you invite as you take him back in your mouth. Placing a hand on his thigh for support, you use all of the energy that is left in you to suck him off. Your free hand reaches out to play with his balls, which seems to be the trigger for him.

“Fuck, Y/N, baby, I’m going to cum!” He groans deeply as he fills your mouth. You quickly swallow his load, eyes watering as he pulls you in by your head, needing your lips on him as he rides out the aftershocks. 

“Fuck… You’re amazing, sweetheart.” He sighs, letting go of your hair so that you can catch your breath. 

-

“Who the hell is in there?” 

The voice outside is sharp and gruff. Everyone’s heads whip around, startled. Hotch swiftly buckles his belt as he strides towards the elevator doors.

“This is SSA Aaron Hotchner of the BAU. I’m stuck here with three of my agents.” 

The voice responds quickly, dripping with disbelief. "Why didn’t you morons use the emergency button?"

Your colleagues look at each other, then shift their gaze to you, all with accusing looks plastered on their faces.

"Hey, don’t look at me! I’m the first one that pressed the red button!" You say in defense. 

The voice outside huffs in frustration. "Red? It's a black button."

You blink in surprise, your gaze snapping to the panel. You crawl up to get a better look, and sure enough, there's a black button, boldly labeled ‘EMERGENCY.’

"What in the world?" you mutter under your breath. "Then what the hell is the red button for?!"

The voice outside laughs sarcastically. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I’ve been working here for six months. Don’t blame me because you can’t read." He pauses, clearly shaking his head. "FBI agents, my ass."

You blink in disbelief. You share an incredulous glance with Derek, then burst out laughing, your frustration giving way to amusement. "Seriously?" you mutter, shaking your head. 

Derek notices how Spencer’s been unusually quiet. “Speak up, kid,” he urged. 

“I’ve known what the buttons do the entire time,” he says, voice casual.

You and Hotch both turn to look at him, eyes wide. “What?!” You both exclaim at the same time. 

Spencer shrugs, a playful glint in his eyes. “I told you about those movies where people overcome their differences to try to escape. I wanted to see how we would solve it.”

Derek’s mouth drops open. “You’ve been sitting here the whole time knowing exactly what to do and didn’t say anything?!” 

Spencer smiles, looking almost proud of himself. “It’s a team-building exercise,” he says matter-of-factly. “Don’t tell me that you didn’t enjoy it.”

You shake your head, laughing in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable, Reid.”

As if on cue, the elevator jolts, and the soft ding of the doors opening fills the space.

[dotssu3]

what's her problem?

[bklynsboys]

Rest On Me (And I'll Lean On You)

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: what surprised the unit chief was that your head, as if drawn by an invisible string, had laid rest on spencer's shoulder—a stray strand of hair tickling his cheek. and not only that, spencer didn't seem to mind, not one bit. or, you fall asleep on spencer's shoulder and the rest of the team sees.

genre: fluff

word count: 1.3k

author's notes: back with another spencer fluff! i miss seeing my baby on my screen. i had to rewatch old episodes right after seeing the new ones because i miss him so bad. anyhow, enjoy reading this one.

RAIN LASHED AGAINST THE WINDSHIELD, BLURRING THE NEON GLOW OF THE CITY LIGHTS INTO A SMEAR. Inside the car, the air was filled with the silence of exhaustion. The BAU just narrowly captured another unsub—fortunately, just in time to save the most recent victim. Hotch, who was driving, glued his eyes to the rearview mirror. He had caught a glimpse of the scene unfolding behind him.

Spencer, usually busy poring through whatever piece of literature on his legs, was nestled into the corner, his head resting against the cool glass of the window. While, you, the newest member of the team, sat beside the male, curled up in the backseat, and brow furrowed in light sleep. Hotch recalled earlier how you were fighting back a yawn and wasn't surprised that he had found you passed out cold.

What surprised the unit chief was that your head, as if drawn by an invisible string, had laid rest on Spencer's shoulder—a stray strand of hair tickling his cheek. And not only that, Spencer didn't seem to mind, not one bit. In fact, a faint blush had dusted his cheeks, and his own eyes, momentarily fluttering open, held a hint of something akin to fondness.

Hotch watched, a small smile tugging at his lips. You and Spencer had been partnered for a particularly grueling case—a string of arsons with a unique signature. The long hours and emotional toll had clearly taken their toll.

Yet, even in exhaustion, an intimacy has bloomed between the both of you. Spencer, ever the gentleman, hadn't moved a muscle, seemingly content to act as a human pillow. On your part, like magnets, you had unconsciously gravitated towards his warmth, your breathing slowing into a peaceful rhythm.

Beside Hotch, a knowing grin spread across Morgan's face in the passenger seat. He glanced back at you and Spencer through the rearview mirror, catching the tender scene. He stifled a chuckle, it was endearing to see the boy genius to be intimate with someone, knowing that he wasn't known to be keen on physical affection.

With a playful nudge to Hotch's arm, Morgan kept his voice low. "Looks like someone found a comfy pillow, Hotch."

Hotch chuckled softly, his gaze never leaving the rearview mirror. "Seems so, Derek. Seems so."

But Morgan, ever the tease, couldn't resist adding another jab. "Just don't drool on him, kid," he called back in a mock-serious tone, knowing full well you were fast asleep.

Hotch shot him a withering look, but a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. He knew Morgan wouldn't disturb the peaceful tableau unfolding in the back. They all needed a moment of rest, a stolen fraction of comfort in the storm.

The silence stretched, punctuated only by the rhythmic drumming of the rain. It was then, with a slight bump in the road, that the car dipped, causing Spencer to jostle ever so slightly. His head, as if following the car's movement, dipped as well, and his hair brushed against yours in a soft, unexpected touch.

You stirred in your sleep, a frown momentarily creasing your brow before smoothing out again. Spencer, wide awake now with a jolt of surprised awareness, froze. His hand instinctively reached up to brush the stray strand of hair back from his own face, but his fingers lingered in the air, hovering just above your head.

Heat flooded his cheeks as he realized the intimate position you had found yourselves in. He wanted to apologize, to gently move away, but a strange sense of peace settled over him. You looked so peaceful, nestled against the cool leather, and your brow finally relaxed. The exhaustion of the case seemed etched on your face, a shared burden they both carried.

With a silent sigh, Spencer decided against disturbing your slumber. He leaned his head back against the window, his gaze fixed on the blurry cityscape outside.

The car continued its journey through the city, the gentle sway a lullaby against the harsh symphony of the storm. You drifted deeper into sleep, the weight of Spencer's head on yours a grounding anchor.

As dawn painted the horizon with streaks of pink and orange, the rain finally subsided. Hotch, ever vigilant, announced they were nearing the precinct. Morgan, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, nudged Hotch again. "Think they'll wake up before we get there?" he whispered.

Hotch chuckled. "Knowing them, they'll probably jolt awake the second we stop. But for now, let them sleep."

The car pulled into the familiar parking lot of the BAU headquarters. Hotch gently nudged the brakes, careful not to disturb the peaceful scene in the back.

A trace of sunlight peeked through the clouds, illuminating the interior of the car. It danced across your face, warming your cheek and causing your eyelids to flutter open. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before the events of the previous night flooded back.

A blush crept up your neck as you realized your head was resting on Spencer's shoulder. You were about to mumble an apology when you noticed his head turned towards the window, a thoughtful expression etched on his face.

Gathering your courage, you cleared your throat softly. "Spencer?"

He turned his head slightly, a surprised look flickering across his features before a gentle smile softened his expression. "Good morning."

You felt a tug in your chest, a mixture of awkwardness and something else, something warmer and more exhilarating. The sound of the car door opening startled both of you. Spencer's eyes flew open, a look of surprise mirroring yours.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You felt a renewed warmth bloom in your cheeks. "I… I think so," you stammered, suddenly self-conscious. "How about you?"

Before you got the chance to hear what Spencer had to say, Morgan's voice boomed from behind you. "Well, well, well. Looks like someone slept well."

You scrambled to sit up straight, your face burning. Spencer mirrored your movement, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Uh, good morning, Morgan," you stammered.

"Morning, kids," Morgan chuckled. "Hotch is grabbing coffee. You two coming in, or are you planning on catching some more shut-eye in the parking lot?"

You stole a glance at Spencer, who was gathering his things with a focus that seemed almost deliberate. The memory of his hair brushing against yours sent a shiver down your spine. You weren't sure if it was the exhaustion of the case or something else entirely, but the shared touch felt undeniably intimate.

"We're coming, Morgan," you called out, your voice a little shaky.

As you were about to exit the car, Spencer held the door for you with a shy smile. "Thanks for letting me, uh, borrow your shoulder," he mumbled, his cheeks dusted with a faint pink.

"No worries, Spencer," you replied, forcing a casual tone. "We both needed the rest. And thank you, as well. I used your shoulder first, so I guess it's only fair I let you borrow mine."

Spencer chuckled at this which caused your cheeks to pinken.

"About earlier," Spencer started. "When you asked me how I'm doing? Much better than I expected, considering the circumstances," he admitted with a hint of a chuckle.

The air crackled with unspoken words, a tension that felt both electric and strangely comfortable. You stole a glance at his profile, the way the soft morning light highlighted the planes of his face.

"That's good," you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. "We should probably get going."

Spencer seemed to hesitate for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Right. We have forms to fill up."

Before you could unbuckle your seatbelt, Spencer beat you to it—his hand brushed against yours for a fleeting moment. It sent a jolt through you, a silent echo of the intimacy from the night before.

Stepping out of the car, you took a deep breath of crisp morning air. The city stretched out before you bathed in the golden hues of sunrise.

"Ready to face another day?" Morgan uttered loudly ahead of you, his voice laced with amusement.

You turned to face him, sighing at his teasing. You weren't oblivious to the fact that Morgan liked seeing you and Spencer together. "As ready as I'll ever be, Morgan."

[alana-reid-2005]

they really told us to trust the process

[just-boxx]

I come back from the dead.. with something else.

I FOUND THIS GAME A COUPLE WEEKS AGO AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH IM GONNA EXPLODE.. ahhgghjgjfh

anyways..

[elodieunderglass]

OC ask meme: drawing studies

Tag the post with the names of your Original Characters when you reblog it, so that people can request a specific one, if they want to.

🖐️ - draw your OC’s hand or hands. What’s distinctive about them?

🥾- draw your OC’s boots. Not shoes - boots. In what circumstances do they wear them?

💃 - character in their dance, party or wedding outfit.

🐝 - character with their daemon (or animal familiar.)

🌈 - represent the colour palettes used in your OC’s clothing.

🎨 - represent the colours you use to draw your OC - hey, this might be a useful reference…

👶 - OC in their youth; or, if they didn’t have one, at the beginning of their journey; this may be shown as background.

👵 - character shown older, or if they do not age, at the end of their journey; this may be shown as background.

🗝️ - character depicted with something revealing of their personality, secrets or motivations.

👜 - Personal items carried by or associated with your OC, in an arrangement, labelled.

🦺 - character’s work uniform or work outfit. If they don’t work, reinterpret or take 🎭

🎭 - character study (happy) and character study (sad), presented together.

🪞- draw character with a mask or mirror used to represent an aspect of themselves.

🤟 - drawing representing the culture, native language, national origin, or other formative influence of the character.

🏇 - drawing based on most recent emoji + your character.

[ellemfaoh]

Comm for @binnabunny ! I love BunRek!!!

[uhhhj13iguess]

in his flannel

stiles stilinski x fem!reader (no (y/n) use)

summary: you show up for a study session in a particular choice of clothing

wc: ~900

a best friends to lovers trope is at no moment NOT running through my head. i'm also entirely thinking of buzzcut!stiles in this

masterlist and taglist!

when stiles opened the door, his mouth was dry on impact. there you stood, innocent and ready to study for your upcoming test -- in his flannel. he didn’t remember when it came into your possession, but he didn’t care.

he didnt even know he wanted so badly to see you in his clothing, until now, where he just can't seem to take his eyes off of you.

you.

in his shirt.

"stiles? can i come in, or..."

you spoke suddenly, breaking stiles from his trance. he shook his head dramatically, cringing at his first impression at the door.

"yeah jesus sorry, come in."

he stepped out of the way, making small talk as you made your way to his room, unloading your textbooks and notes across his bed. you sprawled out, laying on your stomach as you began to flip through the pages. stiles' eyes once again fell to the way his flannel fell against the curves of your body, his own feeling too hot suddenly.

he hadn't really thought of you this way before. okay, that was a lie, but he never took it seriously. he’d known you forever, and anytime he felt you unconsciously slip into his thoughts, he felt embarrassed to be thinking of his best friend like that and pushed it away. but now, seeing a shirt he had worn a few days earlier now draped over what he can only presume as your bare torso, he was torn between feelings of cuteness aggression and wanting to rip the shirt off of you.

you could sense the gaze, looking towards his frame slumped at his desk, smiling as he turned away as though he'd been caught.

he cleared his throat. "so. where do you want to start?"

you weighed your response carefully.

stiles had left his flannel in your car the other night after dropping him off, and you hadn't taken it off since. originally, you'd put it in your backpack to bring to him the next day, however after being sleepless long enough, you grabbed it, hoping the extra warmth would send you dreaming.

you were awake the rest of the night.

you couldn't get over the smell. when his scent first hit your nose, you found it calming, sure it would bring you a sense of comfort and immediately put you to sleep. as it turns out, it was taunting.

with the smell of espresso and fresh linen overwhelming you, the only thing on your mind was stiles. everything about him, every memory of you two, every accidental touch -- suddenly, it was all you could think about.

in the back of your mind, you always knew there was something special about him. something deeper within him that drew the two of you together. stiles made you feel every single thing with so much more passion, so much more intention. but you'd brushed it off, convincing yourself you were crazy.

that he didn't feel that way.

but he was flustered, and you hoped you were right about why.

"so, where do you want to start?"

you let out a hum, toying with the topmost button on his flannel, blushing as you noticed his eyes honed in on your actions. you sat up slowly, trying to build any ounce of courage you had.

"i want to start with why you're being so weird today."

stiles cleared his thoat, scratching the back of his head and turning back towards his desk. he shuffled his papers. "I, uh I mean, I don't know what you're talking about, I'm being completely normal."

you sat up facing him, tugging at his sleeves. "sti-"

"why are you wearing my shirt?"

your eyes shot up and you frowned immediately. suddenly uncomfortable, you wrapped your arms around your waist and looked down.

"oh, im sorry, you left it in my car and I didn't think it would be--"

"no no it's okay i just-"

"-- an issue, i have a sweatshirt in my bag I can--"

"-- i like it"

you looked up at him, completely silent. your brain fought hard to process what he said and how you could be reading it incorrectly.

"you..."

"i'm sorry, i, that sounded weird, jesus. i just mean its fine that you, you know you're wearing it, and--"

"stiles."

he shut up. he knew he was rambling and he just hoped he wasn’t reading the situation incorrectly. he locked eyes with you, anxious and listless.

"i wore it so you would notice."

stiles felt hot again.

he took a shaky breath, trying to think past the growing tension in the room. he wheeled his chair closer where you were sitting.

"oh"

you swung your feet over the edge of the bed.

"yeah"

both of you would swear that time stopped. the air got thick, and the moment was a blur. you don't know who made the first move, but suddenly you were both standing, your lips against each other in a relieving kiss. neither of you had allowed yourselves to imagine this moment seriously, yet here it was, and you had no idea how you’d lived without it before this.

his lips moved sweetly across yours, nervous but needy. it felt like forever before you pulled away, your body impatiently reminding you of its need to breathe.

both of you blushed, foreheads touching as you relished in the moment.

"i think i'm going to start forgetting my clothes around you more often."

[vigilante-3073]

Obsessive Compulsivity

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Y/N has OCD and often struggles with her disorder in the workplace. Spencer looks out for her and ensures that no one is able to mess with her.

TW: Mentions of OCD/compulsions/feelings/panic attacks, disrespectful behavior, pranks, Spencer being a sweetheart.

Y/N had been diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder when she was only fifteen years old. Y/N had struggled with her compulsions for years before she was able to get on medication. Y/N lived with a persistent feeling of intense anxiety and distress, the medication helped but the side effects seemed to outweigh the good ones.

Y/N had been in psychotherapy since her diagnosis and was able to cope with her condition, but it still effected her day to day life.

Y/N had a few particular compulsions that Spencer kept an eye on. He noticed that she gave into her compulsions more when she was stressed or upset. In their line of work it was important to look out for one another and he tried to be there for her as much as he could.

Y/N needed everything to be in threes.

She checked her door three times to make sure it was locked, washed her hands three times, clicked her pen three times in a row and a few other things. Her apartment was spotless, all the cans were facing out in her pantry, hangers were equally spaced in her closet and book spines were all aligned on her shelves.

Y/N cleaned her apartment every day, unable to rest until everything was in it's proper place. Her desk in the bullpen was spotless, everything aligned properly in perfect symmetry. It really bothered her when other people touched her things, but she tried to be kind about it.

Morgan tended to take advantage of that.

He stood in front of Y/N's desk in the bullpen, shifting around the items on her desktop while she was in the office with Hotch.

"What are you doing?" Emily asked, Spencer looked up from his paperwork.

"Wind her up and watch her go," Morgan smirked.

"You're an ass," Emily said, shaking her head.

"I'll bet you twenty bucks that she doesn't make it a minute without putting everything back like it was," Morgan said.

"I'm not betting," Emily replied.

"Why not?" Morgan questioned.

"Because it's mean and juvenile," Spencer stated.

"It may be juvenile, but it's not mean, it's- Oh, here she comes," Morgan said, quickly returning to his seat as the door to Hotch's office opened.

Y/N walked down the stairs and made her way over to her desk, she froze in place as she stared at everything. Morgan watched her out of the corner of his eye, glancing over to Emily.

Y/N's eyes flickeed from item to item as she reached out and adjusted things. She returned the items to their proper place, tapping them three times as she moved them.

"Stop touching my things, Morgan," Y/N said, pulling out her chair and sitting down.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, sweetheart," He replied.

Y/N huffed, setting her files down and looking around at her things. Spencer watched her spend the next hour adjusting her items minutely, unable to focus on anything else until it was fixed.

Y/N was far too nice to do anything to get back at Morgan, but Spencer was always willing to help out a friend.

..

Later that day Spencer loosened the screws on the back of Morgan's chair, waiting patiently for him to return to his desk. Spencer almost felt giddy when he saw Morgan make his way over to his seat.

He sat down in the chair and leaned back, the backrest popped off and Morgan flailed his arms in the air as he fell onto the ground.

Morgan landed on his back, legs caught up on the seat of his desk chair as he looked around with a confused look on his face.

Emily laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as JJ sprang up from the edge of Emily's desk. Y/N turned around in her chair quickly and Spencer allowed a satisfied smile to settle on his face.

"Are you okay?" JJ asked.

Morgan stood up, "Somebody messed with my chair," He stated.

"He's fine," Emily smiled, shaking her head and returning to her paperwork.

"Who screwed with my chair?" Morgan asked.

JJ bent down and picked up the backrest of his chair from the floor, "The whole back fell off," She said.

JJ looked down at the floor, noticing the set of black screws on the carpeted ground, "Even the screws came out," JJ stated.

"You must have really pissed someone off," Emily said, not looking up from her desk.

Y/N looked over at Spencer, "Did you do that?" She asked quietly.

Spencer shrugged, "Just seems like karmic justice to me," He replied, sending her a wink.

Y/N felt her cheeks flush as she turned her attention back to the case files on her desk.

Over the next few months, Spencer became Y/N's avenging angel whenever Morgan decided to mess with her. Morgan tended to push the envelope with Y/N and Spencer absolutely hated it.

Y/N was a bit of a pushover and had always allowed people to walk all over her without a peep. Y/N deserved to have someone stand up for her and Spencer was happy to be that person.

Spencer expected Morgan to back off after a few innocent pranks, but he just wouldn't back down and Spencer chose not to either. He had changed out the sugar for salt in Morgan's coffee, added itching powder to his clothes in the locker room and had even superglued his pens to the top of his desk.

Spencer was honestly starting to get tired of thinking up new ways to mess with him. Y/N knew that Spencer was continuing to look out for her, she asked him to let it go, but he couldn't stand the idea of Morgan using her condition for his own amusement.

...

Morgan did not understand her condition until he saw how it truly effected her while they were out on a case.

The team had been on a case that required them to locate an unpredictable and dangerous unsub. Theories were thrown around and a long list of suspects gradually became smaller as more information was uncovered. The team finally reached the most likely suspect and a few searches from Garcia proved that they had their man.

The members of the BAU found themselves surrounding the man, snipers set up in the building across the street. Y/N had been trained in hostage negotiation and de-escalation, the unsub suffered from delusions and the team thought that Y/N may be able to get through to him.

Y/N was a profiler and did not carry a gun, she worked in the office and only went out into the field when the team deemed it necessary. Hotch ordered her to stay close to Morgan, putting her in a bulletproof FBI vest to ensure her safety.

The conversation had been going well and Y/N was beginning to establish a rapport. Suddenly a loud noise from nearby made the unsub jumpy and he became aware of how many officers surrounded him. He drew a weapon and everyone yelled at him to drop it, the man ignored them and charged towards law enforcement.

The sniper took aim and fired a shot, sending the unsub's blood splattering onto Y/N. She froze, eyes glossing over with tears as a nauseous feeling settled in her stomach.

Morgan stepped in front of her, looking her over for injuries, "Are you okay?" He asked.

"It got on me," Y/N stated softly, her hands were trembling as her breathing began to speed up.

"Are you hurt? Are you injured?" Morgan repeated, hand cupping her cheek and pulling her gaze away from the body.

"There's blood on me," Y/N mumbled shakily, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You need to breathe, Y/N. C'mon, baby, you're fine, it's just blood," Morgan said, attempting to comfort her.

"Here, I've got her," Spencer said, tucking his gun away and moving over to them.

"Spencer," Y/N mumbled.

"You're okay, you're safe," He assured, one hand holding onto her wrist while his other settled on her waist.

"It's on me," Y/N said, staring down at the speckles of blood on her skin.

Spencer nodded, "We'll clean it off, okay? I'll help you, but first I need you to slow your breathing down," He said, Y/N nodded stiffly.

She was hyperventilating, breath coming out in panicked puffs as she looked around wildly. Spencer took off his vest quickly, taking her hand and settling it on his chest.

"Focus on me, alright? I need you to copy my breathing," He said, holding her hand against his chest over his heart.

"I can't," She hiccuped, shaking her head.

"You have to. Just close your eyes and stay with me," Spencer instructed.

Y/N sobbed, "Just close your eyes and focus on me," Spencer repeated, his other hand settling on her waist again and pulling her closer to himself.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, "Copy my breathing, okay? Nice and slow," He said.

Spencer took a deep breath in before releasing it as a slow exhale. Y/N struggled for a moment before slowly settling into his calm breathing pattern after a few breaths.

Her eyes fluttered open, glossy eyes meeting with his, "Let's get you cleaned up," He said, she nodded.

"She okay?" Morgan asked.

Spencer nodded, "I need to take her home so she can get cleaned up," He said.

"I'll let Hotch know," Morgan nodded.

"Thanks, Morgan," Spencer replied, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Spencer wrapped his arm around her and led her over to the SUV, he settled her in the passenger seat before he drove her home.

Spencer walked her up to her apartment, sittin on the couch while she got herself cleaned up. Y/N scrubbed at her skin roughly under the scalding hot water, desperately trying to remove all traces of the blood.

Y/N felt like she couldn't get clean, sobbing as she continued to scrub her skin raw. It took almost an hour before she had finally calmed down enough to shut off the water and step out of the shower. She dried herself off and got dressed, but her entire body still felt dirty.

Spencer stood from his seat on the couch as the bathroom door opened, "You didn't have to stay," Y/N mumbled with a soft sniffle.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Spencer said.

Y/N nodded, eyes glossing over with tears again, "I can still feel his blood on my skin," She admitted shakily.

The skin of her arms, neck and chest were red and irritated from where she scrubbed the skin raw.

Spencer made his way over to her, "Can I touch you?" He asked, she nodded.

His fingers wrapped around her wrist gently, lifting her arm up to inspect her reddened skin. Spencer brushed his thumb over her pulse, "How can I help?" He questioned.

"I don't know," She replied.

"Can I give you a hug?" Spencer asked.

Her lip trembled and she nodded, Spencer let go of her arm and stepped closer to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her body against his chest gently. 

The smell of his cologne and the soft beating of his heart was calming. Y/N felt something break within her as she sobbed, tears rolling down her cheeks and soaking into Spencer's shirt as she slid her arms around him.

Y/N pressed herself closer to his chest, crying until her lungs ached and her eyes burned. She gripped onto the material of Spencer's shirt, he rubbed her back gently while murmuring words of encouragement into her hair.

It felt like an eternity before her sobs changed to shaky breaths, her tears drying on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Y/N mumbled against his chest.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Spencer assured.

Y/N reluctantly pulled away, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear gently.

"Thank you," Y/N mumbled, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Spencer asked.

She shook her head, "You've done more than enough already, Spencer," Y/N stated.

"I can stay if you don't want to be alone," He offered.

"You'd do that?" Y/N asked.

"Of course, I'd do anything for you," He answered easily.

[d0llfaac3]

Dating Spencer Reid Hcs

Pairing: Spencer Reid x FBI!F!Reader

Warnings: these are NSFW and SWF head canons so minors do NOT interact, mentions of neurodiversity which is probably badly written because I’m autistic myself and I can’t write for it very well!!

SFW

When Spencer is overstimulated, he attaches himself to your hip..like he gets clingy. (I’m projecting)

Having a weekly routine, Tuesday night was Star Trek night and Friday night was pizza and movie night.

Spencer’s REALLY good with kids if you ever babysit.

Going on cute little bookstore dates.

He’s memorised your food orders and coffee orders in case you get too scared to order.

On lunch breaks you two sit on the FBI offices’ stairs, just talking.

Spencer really appreciates that you listen to him rambling and he’s able to unmask around you.

When Spencer gets anxious, he plays with your hair tie that’s on his wrist.

NSFW

Hickeys..Spencer REALLY likes hickeys.

Certified bottom™️

He loves you being on top because he can grab your boobs.

Spencer is a tits guy, obviously he loves all of you but your boobs really got him going..

(Post prison) Spencer is usually on top, he gets angry more often but not at you and he needs a release..

When you and Spencer start going out, the first time you two had sex was almost mind blowing for Spencer, he had only had sex once or twice but you made it so much better.

Spencer’s sex drive is crazily high when it comes to you.

In the middle of a case one time you where in the filing room of the BAU and Spencer starting kissing your neck, he even put his boner against your ass.

You really see Spencer out of his shell with you.

Hope you enjoyed!! Request anything else :)

[dotssu3]

get ready with derek

[meinkatzchen]

Small gifts for friends ♡

(The second is an AU with Derek with pagan vibes)

[bingiz22]

[alana-reid-2005]

i need some air-

[nino-rox]

Stiles Stilinski x Male Reader | S

Warnings: NSFW Gay Sex, Explicit content, Teen Wolf AU, Teen Wolf x Male reader, Top Stiles Stilinski x Bottom Male Reader, degradation, raw (please use protection !)

Disclaimer : This is a Fan-fiction story written for entertainment purposes only, no part of the story implies or affirms anything regarding real world events or individuals. Please be of the appropriate age ( i.e, Adult as per your country’s stipulations and regulations) before interacting with this post

NOT PROOF READ !

—

{A/N: Not proof-read! Have fun Pookies <3}

The thundering bass of the rave wrapped around Stiles like a living thing, vibrating through his chest, shaking the ground beneath his feet. Strobe lights flashed like lightning across the crowd—a blur of sweaty bodies, neon accents, and wild energy that surged with every beat. The air was thick with sweat, alcohol, and smoke, and it felt like chaos incarnate.

But none of that mattered to Stiles.

Because Y/N was here.

And holy crap, he looked good.

“Scott!” Stiles hissed, his voice barely cutting through the music. He grabbed his friend’s arm, nearly dislocating it in his urgency. “Scott! Look.”

Scott stumbled slightly, squinting in the direction Stiles was pointing. “Is that… Y/N?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s Y/N,” Stiles confirmed, his voice cracking slightly. “I knew he was lying. He said he was too busy, right? Those were his exact words. Too busy. But now he’s here, and—oh my God.”

Scott glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “Maybe he just didn’t want to come with us, man.”

“Okay, first of all, rude. Second, do you see him?” Stiles stammered, gesturing wildly toward the figure leaning casually against the bar. “Look at him! He’s a whole—he’s like—Scott, he’s a walking thirst trap.”

“Dude,” Scott sighed, already tired of this, but Stiles wasn’t listening anymore.

Y/N was there, drink in hand, the pulsing neon lights painting his skin in shades of purple and red. His dark button-down was halfway unbuttoned, hanging loose around his torso, and Stiles’ eyes zeroed in on the exposed lines of his collarbone, sharp enough to draw blood. His sleeves were rolled up, the veins on his forearms faintly visible in the light. But it was the shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of his abs—a sheen of sweat glistening faintly—that made Stiles’ throat go completely dry.

And then, the jeans.

They were impossibly, unfairly tight, hugging Y/N’s thighs in a way that made Stiles’ brain glitch like an old computer. When Y/N shifted his weight, Stiles’ eyes darted, unbidden, to the curve of his bubble butt, and a very inappropriate thought hit him like a truck: That’s not fair. No one’s butt should look that good in jeans. I could probably grab—

“Stop staring at his ass, Stiles,” Scott muttered, elbowing him hard.

“I’m not—okay, fine, maybe I was,” Stiles said defensively, snapping his head up to find Y/N’s face instead.

Only to find that Y/N was looking right at him, a sly, knowing smile curving his lips. Stiles’ heart stuttered violently, and Y/N gave the faintest tilt of his head before turning back to his drink.

“I’m dead,” Stiles whispered, running a hand down his face.

“You’re embarrassing,” Scott corrected with a smirk. “Let’s just say hi before you combust.”

As they pushed closer, the details of Y/N became sharper. Stiles could see the faint flush to his cheeks, the way his hair looked messily perfect, as though he hadn’t even tried. His posture was lazy, his body loose and relaxed in a way that screamed confidence. Stiles wanted to touch him—trace a finger down the bare column of his throat, drag his teeth against that stupidly perfect collarbone. Mark him, his brain supplied unhelpfully.

Stiles was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Y/N had turned toward them until it was too late.

“Hey, guys!” Y/N called, his grin wide and inviting. The music muffled his words, but they still hit Stiles like a punch to the chest. He had that lazy slur to his voice, the kind that said he’d already been drinking, and his smile was slightly crooked, his eyes bright with mischief.

“Hey!” Stiles blurted, far too enthusiastically. “You—uh—you’re here! You said you weren’t coming!”

Y/N shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink before leaning forward slightly, voice dropping to a teasing lilt. “Plans change.”

And then—he winked.

Stiles froze, his face turning a dangerous shade of red. Scott, mercifully, stepped in to save him. “We were just gonna look for Allison,” Scott said, his tone amused but casual. “You and Stiles have fun.”

Scott gave Stiles a quick thumbs-up before disappearing into the crowd. Stiles didn’t even have time to glare at him because Y/N stepped closer, his body brushing against Stiles’ arm.

“Come drink with me,” Y/N said, reaching out to grab Stiles’ wrist.

The contact burned in the best way possible—Y/N’s palm was warm, his fingers rough and strong. Stiles’ heart nearly leapt out of his chest as Y/N tugged him toward the bar, weaving through the crowd with a casual ease that made Stiles’ brain sputter.

They ended up with shots in their hands, Y/N grinning like he’d won something. “Cheers,” he said, raising his glass, his fingers brushing Stiles’ again in a lingering, deliberate way.

Stiles swallowed, his eyes locking onto Y/N’s. “Cheers.”

They downed their drinks, and Stiles coughed, the burn of alcohol scorching his throat. Y/N laughed, leaning into him as they both stumbled slightly. The motion brought their faces close, their foreheads nearly touching.

“Careful there, lightweight,” Y/N teased, voice low and warm.

“Careful yourself,” Stiles shot back, trying to sound confident even though his brain was short-circuiting.

The music shifted, deepening into something heavier, darker. Y/N turned toward him, his grin softening as he tilted his head. “Dance with me.”

Stiles barely had time to process before Y/N’s hands were sliding around his neck, their bodies aligning as though they were made to fit. Stiles’ own hands found Y/N’s bare waist, his fingers brushing over the smooth skin. He swore he could feel the heat radiating off Y/N.

They moved slowly at first, the beat thudding like a heartbeat beneath their feet. Stiles’ gaze dropped again—Y/N’s shirt was long gone, tossed somewhere near the bar, and all that was left was miles of skin and muscle, flushed pink from the heat and alcohol.

Teeth marks, Stiles thought helplessly. I want to leave teeth marks right there.

Y/N’s fingers curled into the nape of his neck, drawing him closer until their foreheads nearly touched. Stiles could feel Y/N’s breath on his lips, warm and faintly sweet.

“You’re staring,” Y/N murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Stiles didn’t even pretend to deny it. “Can you blame me?”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound barely audible over the music. “No,” he whispered. “Not really.”

Their movements slowed, more swaying than dancing now, the space between them nonexistent. Stiles tightened his grip on Y/N’s waist, his thumbs brushing slow, deliberate circles against the bare skin. Y/N shivered slightly under his touch, and Stiles grinned, leaning in just enough that his lips brushed the corner of Y/N’s jaw.

Y/N sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on Stiles’ neck tightening.

“I should’ve dragged you here sooner,” Y/N murmured, his voice soft but charged.

Stiles smirked, letting his hands slide a little lower, teasing the edge of Y/N’s waistband. “Better late than never.”

Y/N didn’t respond—not with words, anyway. Instead, he leaned in, their lips hovering dangerously close, the tension between them so thick it felt like it might snap.

And Stiles was perfectly fine with that.

He closed the distance between them, pressing his lips firmly against Y/N, his grip on the other boy’s waist tightening and pulling him closer - till they could completely feel each other. It was electric, the way they fit together, their bodies moving instinctively.

As Y/N’s hands held Stiles face, their tongues intertwining in a dance of its own, a feeling of euphoria rushed through him, like nothing else existed. Just the two of them, their breaths mingling and hearts pounding together in sync.

It was perfect.

When they finally pulled away, both boys were flushed, breathing heavily and staring into each other's eyes. The intensity between them was palpable, and as they slowly began to regain their composure, they couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"That was... unexpected," Stiles remarked, chuckling slightly.

"You're telling me," Y/N replied, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks.

Stiles bit his lip, glancing up at him. "So, are we doing this?"

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

Stiles smiled, leaning in and gently pressing his lips against the other boy's, before whispering, "Let's get out of here."

They left the club, their fingers intertwined and their hearts beating rapidly in anticipation. The air was cool and crisp, and as they basically ran down the street to Stiles’ jeep. The tension between them was growing with every passing moment, and it wasn't long before they wouldn’t be making it do bed.

Pushed against the jeep, Stiles Stilinski and Y/N, kissing hungrily. Y/N was pinned against the car door, their tongues fighting for dominance. They were both moaning loudly, and it was obvious that the sexual tension between them had grown too much.

"We're not going to make it to the bed, are we?" Y/N murmured against Stiles's lips, his voice breathy and heavy with lust.

"Hell no," Stiles growled, pulling y/n off the car, hurriedly slamming the jeep’s back door open. They fell into the backseat, their limbs tangling, and the next thing they knew, they were kissing again.

It was passionate and messy, the air between them filled with nothing but heat and desire. They were both panting and moaning, their hands roaming each other's bodies, exploring every inch. Stiles took a moment to pause and just admire Y/N … in his car … he was so ready to ravage that body.

“You’re drooling sexy,” Y/N said as he winked, sending Stiles a smirk.

Stiles wasted no time in dragging his lips down the other boy's neck, pushing the other on his back. His skin was warm and soft, and as he reached the collarbone, he bit down, drawing a loud moan from y/n, whose hands snaked their way grabbing & tugging at Stiles’ hair.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathed into y/n’s neck, running his hands over y/n's bare chest and torso.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his chest, and Y/N squirmed beneath him as the other’s tongue flicked across his nipple. He then moved to the other, sucking and nibbling. Y/N arched his back, letting out a string of whimpers.

"God, Stiles..."

Y/N bucked his hips up, desperate for some friction, but Stiles held him down, pressing him further into the car seat. His mouth continued its trail downwards, stopping to nibble at y/n's hip bones, biting, bruising and - marking.

Y/N’s already had a fucked out expression, one that Stiles was coming to love.

Y/N’s hands sneaked under Stiles’ t-shirt, roughly yanking it off.

“You’re sure getting needy,” Stiles said smirking as he dragged his tongue across Y/N’s v-line again, placing gentle kisses on the burning bruises, licking occasionally - making y/n arch his back his pleasure and pain.

"You're so good with your mouth," Y/N moaned, his eyes shut tight as his fingers tangled in Stiles' hair.

"Oh, trust me. You haven't seen anything yet," Stiles muttered, his voice low and husky.

Y/N let out another moan as he felt Stiles' fingers hook on the hem of his boxers, sliding them down painfully slow. Once they were discarded on the floor, he immediately turned the other around, gently smacking his ass.

Y/N gasped, a moan escaping his lips as the pain slowly turned into pleasure, making him rock his hips back, his cock rubbing against the leather seat.

"Fuck your ass is so juicy,” Stiles growled as his hands squeezed Y/N’s ass, spreading them apart. He leaned down, blowing gently against his hole.

"Please," Y/N breathed, his body shivering. "Stiles, please."

Stiles smirked and licked a wet stripe along the crack, tasting Y/N, hearing him moan loudly.

"Oh my God," Y/N panted, his fingers gripping the car seat. "Please, Stiles."

"Begging already, huh?" Stiles whispered, his voice dripping with lust. "You're so fucking sexy."

Stiles leaned forward again, this time letting his tongue slip inside. Y/N's legs shook, and he let out a long moan, his cock leaking onto the seat.

He continued to fuck the other with his tongue, his finger slowly creeping up the crack, teasing his hole, as his other hand grabbed y/n’s dripping cock.

"You taste amazing," he groaned, stroking the other.

"Fuck, Stiles, I'm gonna cum," Y/N whimpered, his legs shaking.

Stiles pulled away, his lips red and swollen.

"I don't think so, sweetheart," he said, his eyes glinting.

He flipped y/n around, pressing his lips against the other cock deep-throating it hungrily. Y/N's body arched, his eyes rolling back.

“Fuck STILES Oh MY GOD!” Y/N squealed arching his back as Stiles continued furiously bobbing his head, his finger gently massaging Y/N’s hole.

"Shit, fuck, I'm gonna cum!" Y/N screamed, but Stiles had other ideas.

He quickly pulled his mouth away from the other, leaving him a whimpering, horny mess, as he pushed a finger into his hole.

"Please, please, I need to cum," he begged, his eyes pleading.

"You'll get to," Stiles promised, leaning down and sucking on his nipple.

Y/N was practically sobbing, his body convulsing. "Please, fuck me, please," he begged, tears streaming down his face.

"You're so fucking hot," Stiles muttered, pushing another finger inside.

Y/N cried out, his whole body shuddering as he came hard, his cum spraying all over his stomach.

"Fuck, that was hot, and I haven’t even gotten started yet," Stiles breathed, his cock twitching.

"Stiles," Y/N gasped, his chest heaving. "I need you to fuck me."

Stiles smirked, his hand running along the other's length.

"You're such a dirty slut, aren't you?" he teased, pressing his fingers into the other's entrance.

"Please," Y/N begged, his face flushed, with the most fucked out expression every, the kind that made Stiles’ hard on HURT even more.

Stiles pulled his fingers out, and pushed them in repeatedly, thrusting, and curving his fingers. Y/N was writhing and panting, his cock already hard again, his prostate sending waves of arousal through him.

"Fuck, I can't wait any longer," Stiles growled, unbuckling his pants as he licked his lips.

Y/N got up, grabbing stiles arm pushing him down. Straddling him and rubbing his ass on his raging hard on.

"Fuck me, How are you so huge,” y/n said panting as the other positioned himself.

"You're the one who's going to take all of this," he growled, grabbing y/n by the hips.

Stiles bucked his hips, his tip prodding but not entering the other's hole.

"Fuck, stop teasing," Y/N said, his voice trembling.

"Beg for it," he whispered, his fingers digging into the other's flesh.

"Please, please, I need it, I want it, fuck, please, Please let me ride you! I want you I want you so bad," Y/N whimpered, his legs shaking.

Stiles gave him a wicked smile and slowly bucking his hips, entering the other with his tip, and slowly letting himself fill the other.

"Ah, fuck, you're so tight," Stiles moaned, his hands gripping the other's waist.

"Ah, ah, ah," Y/N whimpered as he felt the other fill him up, stretching his walls, his body tensing.

"Oh my god, fuck, you're so big," Y/N groaned, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

"God, you feel so fucking good," Stiles grunted, his fingers digging into the other's hips, spanking his ass as hard as he could.

Y/N moaned, his eyes rolling back, his body shivering.

"Please, please, harder, fuck me harder, oh my god," he whimpered, his voice a low whine.

"I'll give you harder," Stiles grunted, spanking the other, as he began thrusting into the other with full force.

"Fuck, you're such a slut, aren't you?" he groaned, his nails raking across the other's back, unconsciously drawing blood.

"Oh, fuck, please, yes, fuck me harder, harder," Y/N begged, his body tensing, his cock throbbing.

"That's right, beg for it," he growled, spanking the other again.

Stiles’ hands moved all over y/n’s body, as if he was making a mental map of every inch of him - and now it all belonged to him. His fingers gently played with Y/N’s nipple, causing him to squirm.

"Fuck, you're so hot, so beautiful," Stiles murmured, his thrusts growing more erratic, y/n struggling to keep riding at such a pace.

"I'm gonna cum," Y/N panted, his body trembling, his toes curling.

"Not yet, not yet, I'm not finished with you yet," Stiles grunted, his grip tightening. As he pushed y/n onto his back.

"Wait, what, are you gonna-"

Before he could finish, Stiles was pushing the other's legs apart, his tip brushing against his hole.

"Oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes," Y/N moaned, his body arching.

"Such a good little slut," Stiles said, grinning down at the other, his cock throbbing, as he entered the other's hole.

"Yes, yes, oh my god," y/n panted, his hands gripping the leather seat.

Stiles thrust deep and hard, his tip brushing against the other's prostate, causing him to scream, his whole body spasming.

"You like that, don't you?" he grunted, thrusting deeper, harder.

"Yes, oh god, yes, please, please, fuck, don't stop, don't stop," y/n begged, his body shuddering, his legs trembling.

"So tight, you're so tight, fuck," Stiles moaned, his hips slamming against the other, his balls slapping the other's ass, his grip on the other's hips almost painful.

"Harder, harder, fuck, fuck, please, fuck, oh my god," Y/N cried, his face twisted in pleasure, his cock dripping, as Stiles slammed his prostate with his thick 10 inches.

"Such a slut," Stiles grunted, his nails digging into the other's thighs.

"Yes, fuck, I'm your slut, fuck, I'm your dirty whore, please, I'm your fucking slut, fuck me, use me, oh my god, please, fuck, oh god," Y/N whimpered, his words incoherent, his mind spinning, his whole body shaking.

"I'm gonna cum," Stiles growled, gripping the other's hair, as he bit down hard sinking his teeth into y/n’s neck again -

| his thrusts growing erratic.

"Cum in me, cum in me, please, fuck, I want it, I want it," y/n begged, his legs wrapping around the other, pulling him closer, his hands clutching the leather seat.

"Take it," Stiles growled, thrusting his full length deep into the other's tight, hot hole, as he shot his load inside.

"Fuck, fuck, yes, yes, oh god, fuck," Y/N panted, his eyes rolling back, his legs quivering, as the other filled him, his whole body shuddering with orgasm.

They stayed like that for a few moments, both of them panting, sweaty, and breathless, their bodies glistening in the dim light and sweat.

"Holy shit," Stiles finally managed to say, still not pulling out of the other, his cock still twitching, his breathing ragged.

"Yeah," Y/N panted, his eyes still unfocused, his face flushed.

"That was..."

"Fucking amazing," Y/N finished for him, grinning, his hair matted, his body drenched.

"Yeah," Stiles said, his chest still heaving.

"Yeah," Y/N agreed, his breathing beginning to steady.

"So, what do we do now?"

"Well, we could always go again," Stiles said, smirking.

"I like the way you think," Y/N said, laughing softly.

(Author’s Note: RINSE AND REPEAT BITCHES ! Thank you for reading ! This was originally written for my Stiles x male oc reader Story: ANOMALY. So please don't be shocked if I reformat and edit to put this smut into ANOMALY! THANK YOU FOR READING )

CHECK OUT ANOMALY ! From my master list in bio!

[lanaxizz]