anelizreid

[anelizreid]

Angel eyes...| 2

sfw chapter.

words: 1.6k

tw: none.

p.s: the case is based on a bunch of episodes from cm, mostly the ones I have recently watched, if you see something that remembers you of it, that's why.

Spencer was looking at the board filled with clues and crime scenes photos, but he wasn't paying attention to it. Not at all, his mind was somewhere else. Or maybe someone. Two people to be exact. You, of course and…and that little girl in your lap.

She had the same eyes, the same hair, but her nose was yours and her lips too. It was the perfect mixture between you and him. And now Spencer was asking himself, how much he had lost after going back to Virginia after that week in Greece so many years ago.

“Reid?” Spencer felt a flick on his ear, making him flinch and turn around to find Derek looking at him. “I was calling you, kid. Have you noticed something different?” He was referring to the case, obviously, making Spencer turn around, gathering all the info quickly before he hummed.

“The unsub has been drowning the victims after torture and some of them where found in the coast of California. But here, he didn't have the time to do that with one of the bodies. And now he is definitely getting reckless or maybe desperate considering that this gave us a big clue.” He rambled, explaining and talking as he gestured around the board.

“All the victims are American, and considering we are in Greece now, it may be something related to the place where they were born. Penelope should search about this. Maybe the unsub is tagging Americans that he may consider a threat or just… an invasion to his hometown.” He finished, sitting against the edge of the table in the middle of the meeting room. He had a frown on his face, still thinking about the way he saw you. And the kid. He couldn't take the face of that little girl from his mind.

“Kid…is there something going on?” He looked up, finding Derek now in front of him. “You look hella distracted since we left the crime scene. And… I saw you talking to someone there. Who was it?”

“No one. Someone from the island asking for details.” His voice was quiet, the perfect lie. It would be, if Derek didn't know him for more of a decade and wasn't a good profiler.

“Right. If you don't want to tell me, don't. But just be sure you don't get lost around the case. Got it?” Derek tapped his shoulder, before he left Spencer alone with his thoughts.

He took his phone from his pocket, seeing your number on the screen. He should call you, he should get to know who that kid was. There was the chance of not being his. But he doubts. He really does.

The seconds feel thick as the call falls on voice mail, and he feels a little of his chest breaking thinking that you may be ignoring him.

“Hey…I just wanted to call you so you can have my number and-” He stops before he starts to ramble about the nuances of the concept of calling back and such. “In case you want, I'm free tonight, so maybe…I would like to see you. So we can talk? Catch up? I don't know, this is extreme-” The voice mail cut his voice making him wrinkled his nose, slightly distressed.

“Right. Yeah. This was…amazing, Spencer.” He told himself, looking at the dark screen of the phone.

•••••••••

You looked at the mirror, trying to get yourself to look less…something. You just couldn't understand but something was making you annoyed.

“Mommy, what is happening?” Amelie was sitting on the high chair in front of your dressing table. “You look pretty already!” She would always say that, especially when you were about to sing in the salon. She loved your singing since a baby.

You smiled to the mirror, looking at her through the reflex. “I know that, baby. Mommy is just…thinking about changing something.” You tried to downplay before you turned around to her. She wore one of her favourite dresses, and you were in a glitter costume.

Your job was to sing in the salon of the island, and most of the time you would impersonate and sing ABBA. It was your favourite since forever, because of your mom, she would make you hear those songs even before you were born.

“What song do you think mommy should sing today?” You bend down, fixing her always messy hair.

“Slipping through my fingers! It's my favourite!” She smiled, playing with her bracelet.

“Okay…this will be the first one then.” You kissed her forehead before you called for Iris, your friend and owner of the salon after her father died some time ago.

“Oh look at my diva girl!” She walked to Amelie, picking her up. The little girl squirmed in her godmother's arms, smiling and giggling with the kisses and compliments. Your heart was warm and in peace for the first time that day, and seeing your daughter there, smiling and safe, was the only reason for it.

Your mind was calm when you entered the stage, and when the words and the chords started to play, you felt your soul meeting that rhythm and it was like everything never changed. You never re encountered Spencer and you never ignored that call.

Angel eyes. The second song, it was supposed to be animated, a good song to dance, you used to sing those with your mother. But right now? Right now they would only make you remember those brown eyes, that looked at you like you were some divinity.

‘Looking into his angel eyes, one look and I was hypnotised.’

‘He took my heart and I must pay the pryce.’

‘Look into his angel eyes, I thought I was in paradise’

‘And one day, I found out he wore a disguise.’

‘I shouldn't have looked so deep into his angel eyes.’

‘Oh no, no, no, no…’

The slightest changings on the lyrics was hard to not notice, especially by the owner of the angel eyes himself. Spencer was there. Hidden in a corner because of the team deciding to go out and getting to know the island to cool down considering the thought case they were facing.

“Did she just change the lyrics?” Emily asked, with a small grin as she leaned over the table, looking at the figure in the small stage.

“She made it better.” Spencer muttered, looking at the swirling liquid in his glass. “She does that sometimes.”

“You know her?” Emily's question made him lift his gaze, noticing how he just had a slip of his tongue.

“No.” The answer was too quick, too eager.

“Right.” Emily looked at him with a small smile. “So…about the case…” Spencer sighed.

“Come on, Reid. We have to talk about the case.” Derek interrupted, sitting in front of him by Emily's side.

“The unsub is targeting foreigners—” He started.

“Americans. The unsub is targeting Americans.” Spencer interrupted, because this was indeed something that was deep in his head, since they got into the station that morning.

“Right, yeah. Americans. And he got rid of the bodies on the sea, that's how they ended up coming to the coast, and he probably killed in the sea too considering that they were found in a bunch of other places.” Derek finished explaining.

The details were simple because they didn't have many clues. The idea of the unsub getting rid of the bodies in the sea made it hard to guess when and from where they came. But the oldest ones were there, on Skopelos.

It started here, at least 5 years ago.

Spencer was looking at his hands playing with the napkin as he kept listening to Emily and Derek, mumbling some thoughts from time to time.

•••••••••

For you, the time in the stage passed in a blink of an eye, the salon was almost closing when you were leaving the building with a sleepy Amelie in your arms.

Everything would be easy if Spencer's presence wasn't impossible to notice when you got on the sidewalk, heading to your car. And he was there, waiting too.

“Hi.” His voice was low, surprised even, considering he didn't plan any type of speech. “I called you but you didn't answer.” It was the first thing he could think of.

“I was…busy.” you trailed off. Looking at him after putting Amelie in the backseat, on her baby seat.

“I had a bunch of work in the salon and I spent the day with Amelie so…” You looked at him but not really meeting his eyes.

“Oh… Amelie?” His voice was barely a whisper. Amelie. His heart ached with the sound of the name.

“It's her name.” You explained, like if it wasn't obvious. He nodded, glancing at the window with a hint of guilt in his eyes.

“I— I wanted to talk to you.” He stuttered, and Spencer didn't suffer from stuttering in front of people for a long time, but you weren't just a random person. You were you.

“I wanted to…maybe…grab a coffee tomorrow morning? I will have some free time before I have to head to the police station and I would love to—”

“Tea.” You interrupted him. He looked at you with a puzzle expression. “I don't drink coffee anymore. There is a tea shop close to the city center. It has a…green and yellow facade.” You explained gesturing a little. He was surprised. You accepted, you want to meet with him.

“I will take Amelie.” The words made him jump a little, blinking.

“Okay. I— Yes. Yes it's okay. I will be there by 8…?” He suggested and you nodded.

“Bye, Spence.” The sound of his name in your tongue made him short circuit, his brain stopping for a moment. Good god, get a grip Spencer.

[anelizreid]

Drip by Drip - S. Reid x Reader

In which the nine long days spent apart ends in a harmonious reunion of a needy shower spent together.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: plain smut. (18+ pls pls) I didn't even write 70k words of plot before like I usually do. tags: softdom!Spencer, shower sex, age gap (or could also not be...) pinv, a possessive vibe, fingering, handjob, making out, multiple things being very wet...playing with your tits, creampie, finger sucking, praise, & desperation! wc: 3.3k a/n: More of this. I had a lot of fun writing this even though I kind of felt really dirty to the point of religious guilt as a non-religious person so I hope you guys like it! <3

Your body finally relaxes after what feels like the longest day you’ve had all week once Spencer's shower stream washes over you.

Nine days. Nine brutally slow days of watching over Spencer’s apartment- or torturing yourself by being reminded of his belongings for over a week.

When he first left, you’d been naive. Spencer hasn’t been away for over a week since you’ve started dating. The first time he was gone for three days you felt like you were going to faint. You wish you still had those champagne problems as you’re washing yourself for the trillionth time alone in Spencer’s shower.

The past 24 hours have been especially hard. You were woken up at 5:00 am with Spencer calling you before he had to get ready in the hotel and go out to do whatever had taken up so  much of his time in Boise, Idaho. 

First, good news: He thinks there is a break in the case, and should be getting home later.

Second, great news: Spencer has conveniently woken up with a hard on that's throbbing helplessly against his stomach.

Which sounds like a heavenly wake-up call. But in the FBI he has to be adaptable to the quickest changes in plans.

Five minutes into purring into your side of the phone while touching yourself to Spencer’s groans, another charming individual begins to call Spencer as well. His boss.

So, tucking himself into the band of his underwear, Spencer leaves again. You could’ve finished yourself off, but self pity got the best of you as you drift off to sleep.

A painfully slow and hard day at work followed, rude people and small mishaps on your part that were blown out of proportion to make you feel worse. A crappy self made dinner that took longer to cook than to eat.

But in Spencer’s shower, you’re able to unwind, happy in knowing you can spend the end of a bad day in your lover's space. Regardless of if he’s here or not. Which is another problem, you haven’t heard from him since he was panting on the phone earlier– so it’s safe to say he probably will not be coming back today because of the rush in which he had to hang up earlier.

Over the water pattering against tiles, you do not hear the key jingle and door shut that signifies Spencer’s long-awaited return. Head down and eyes closed, most of your senses are just focused on trying to unwind.

Spencer, placing his bag down in the kitchen, can hear the shower going and immediately saunters over. Not having a plan, but just to show that he’s finally back. He can’t fathom being home right now without alerting you.

Slowly, as if not to scare you too badly, he probably will though, he slips in through the bathroom door, places his toiletry bag down on the sink.

You’re a bit unfocused, but not completely to the point of missing this. Out of your peripheral vision you see the slightest movement and your head whips to the side. Spencer. You could fucking melt.

Through the steam that has built up, you can make out his slouched figure and contrasting pleased smile. You can’t help yourself, with soft dripping skin you swing his shower door open to greet him.

“Spencer,” you whisper out in shock, trailing water onto his bathroom floor. “Oh my God.”

“Hi my baby-” He reaches out to swipe away some droplets on your face, but doesn’t finish. You’re pulling him into a tight, wet hug.

Arms slung fiercely around his neck, he barely buffers in returning your hug with his jacket-clad arms around your waist.

In the back of your mind you’re aware that the water on your breasts and stomach are soaking through his undershirt. That your clean hair is dropping water onto the shoulder of his jacket. You’re also aware how expensive a suit is. 

The harsh disparity from the cool air sticking to your wet skin from the hot (frankly, too hot) shower you were in previously is pebbling your nipples against his now soaked-through button up, your skin is covered in goosebumps that he’s swiping away with his thumb. 

A low hum into your ear as he’s trailing his thumb nail against the sensitive part of your inner waist, “Angel girl,” a deep sigh, “I missed you so much.”

Your arms tighten around him, forehead landing on his wet shoulder, you could cry. You could laugh maniacally. Either way, you feel cemented against his frame, the only warmth being produced near you since stepping out of the shower.

A small indent in your lower stomach is being formed from his belt digging into your pliable skin. You feel like a fresh heap of soft clay ready to be moved and constructed into anything Spencer’s hands can make of you. You feel utterly his.

You pull away slightly, uncomfortable from where his buckle was pressing against your belly. Pulling one hand away you trace it with a fingernail, Spencer and you both looking down at it between your bodies. Both noticing the drastically different attire. 

A chuckle slips from your lips without thinking, “you branded me, look.”

Spencer’s thumb stops rubbing circles into your side, a shiver rolls down your spine. Daring to look up at him, you’re met with his dark eyes resembling magic 8 balls. An underlying fortune there too: Outlook Good.

Warm hands are soon softly gripping your cheeks as you’re being pulled into a burning kiss. His lips against yours after all this time, you moan immediately. Dry and soft and pillowy he’s swallowing you and pulling you flush against him, buckle be damned.

Water from your hairline is rolling over your cheeks and soaking the cuffs of Spencer’s sleeves. You haven’t pulled away far enough, but you can bet that the white button up he’s wearing is see through.

You’re freezing, the air from the bathroom is torturous, your skin on high alert. It’s making you push yourself onto Spencer so hard he stumbles back. He grabs your ass to steady you both for a moment and you bite harshly onto his bottom lip.

“God, my girl,” Spencer shivers against you when he feels your cold hands seek warmth under his shirt, “My perfect girl, I can’t believe how much I missed you.” He places a kiss onto the top of your head.

Speaking into his shoulder, “I missed you too, I feel crazy. Such a bad day.”

Both of his hands slowly trail up your waist till they meet the side of your boobs, you pull your lips in to conceal a whiny moan.

“I’m sorry I left you hanging earlier, did you finish?”

“N-no, went back to bed.”

He groans against your head. Placing his hands firmly on your hips to push you away slightly, taking a long good look at your naked frame. You feel exposed, embarrassed, and hot. Looking back at him, his perfect suit, deliciously tainted by your wet body print, chest visible through the wetness.

One of his thumbs wanders from your hip, back to the small indent of his buckle, rubbing it back and forth. This time you can’t help but whine.

The tension is tangible and painful. Your hands feel stuck to your sides before you snap out of it, pulling him close by the tie before you try to remove it with slippery hands.

Tight and hard to undo because of the wet nature of his garments frustrates you as you try to untangle Spencer from his tie. Him being clothed feels utterly unbearable. Through half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile, he watches you struggle with the tie.

“Here- honey, let me.” Spencer's removal of the tie, his fingers taking it off rather steadily compared to your shaking ones. Though the excitement zipping through him equals yours.

You latch onto him again, completely devoted to his presence, there’s no way in hell you’re letting that much distance and that much time separate you again. Tugging one side of the collar of his jacket you slip it off of him, he grabs your wrist.

“I’m here, I’m here,” A wet kiss to your begging mouth, “Get warm in that shower, you’re trembling. I’ll be there in 30 seconds. Can you wait that long for me?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Knew it. Good girl.”

With that, your stomach plummets and you spin on your heels back to the shower. It’s almost orgasmic in itself to find yourself under the hot water pressure again. 

The door is almost completely steamed up now, you can hardly make Spencer out through it. You can only see movement and more of his tanned skin being exposed through a murky lens.

You can’t help it, greedy fingers come down to rub a few circles onto your clit as he finishes undressing and approaches you. The weight and stress of the nine days going straight to your clit to be absolved.

The door swings open, mercy.

You don’t feel polite enough to stop the rubbing, Spencer doesn’t seem to mind, mumbling “Jesus.” under his breath before meeting you with a kiss under the shower head.

His tongue rolls slowly against yours, making your toes curl in on themselves where you stand. Fingers picking up against yourself you moan into his open mouth, he pulls his face back to watch you. 

A kiss against your throat makes you whimper and pull your head to the side for another one to be placed. 

With Spencer’s rock hard dick against his stomach in your line of vision you wince while removing your hand from yourself, your hips instinctively kicking up to chase where your hand is now grabbing the base of Spencer.

He hums low, a bead of precum leaking out to be washed away by the stream. You glide your hand quickly, a desperate attempt to hear more of his moans vibrate against your skin. 

“Slowly, baby-” He gasps as you circle his head.

You can’t let up, you barely feel in control of your body. Your head is spinning, you just can’t believe he’s with you.

Finally, a louder moan is cut from Spencer’s lungs as his hips slowly fuck against the fast pace of your fist. The tip of his dick barely ever encases in your hand as he does so, only able to feel the sensation of bottoming out when he’s inside you.

While you’re distracted, moaning brokenly into the suffocating air and pumping your hand against Spencer’s throbbing length, Spencer trails down to pet your clit again for you.

“Fuck, I missed you. I miss touching you like this, the way I can feel your heartbeat in it, baby-” He draws out the last word in disbelief. You felt the thrumming against your own fingertips earlier, so by now you’re sure it’s fluttering against his hand in an obscene way. 

His middle finger circles your entrance. Your heart is in your throat. 

“Please-” You sob out, being teased right now would end you forever.

“Mhm. I am.”

Taking his time feeling against your spongy walls where his thumb continues its circles against your bundle of nerves, your hand against his cock grows sloppy.

You squeeze your eyes shut, the muggy air making you deliciously light headed against his ministrations. 

The second finger brings a delightful stretch, your head falls back against the wall as you whine. It’s been a while. You harness some sort of defiance that refuses to fuck yourself when he’s gone. The week of nothing stretching you out causing for a tight suction around his two fingers as he fucks into you.

“Tight, baby. It’s been too long. I left you too long, my poor thing.”

Though your hand slowed against his cock, you’re still trying to keep up simulation for him, not wanting to be a cruel tease when he’s working against you so perfectly. Spencer pulls that hand away eventually though. Without explanation, you know he was about to cum. His stomach always flexes and twitches when he’s using all his willpower to hold back.

“Need it. Need you-” You gasp against his lips. Totally overzealous. Spencer knows the way you’re tight around him, you’re going to need a third finger to take him without your common whiny complaints.

Teeth knocking together, he continues to tongue kiss you. He wants to expedite this process of feeling you around his cock just as much as you do, he just has more willpower than you. You can mumble and beg and plead till tears well up in your eyes. His stomach swirls with a burning passion because of it, but he has no capability to hurt you. 

So you get another long finger inside you.

You let out a high pitched whimper- proving yourself wrong immediately. You needed to be stretched out this way. Damn his perceptiveness.

Your eyes roll back and your hips roll against the fingers rubbing against that sweet spot in you that shakes your thighs.

“You gotta keep yourself open for me when I’m gone, love.” He whispers brokenly into the thick air around you.

“Can’t. Only you.” You grumble back.

Spencer can’t get into the health benefits of taking care of yourself this way, especially in the long periods when he’s away. He can tell you’re bordering speechlessness and he’s dizzy enough to follow your technique of just letting out pretty moans.

A tiny trail of white essence pools around his fingers and he nearly keels over. You’re definitely ready to take him now. Seeing the ways he makes you feel good in the mess you make always drives him to the brink of insanity.

“Taking them out now. Gonna give you what you want. Feel ok?” He whispers into your ear before nibbling the lobe softly before parting to analyze your face.

“Feel reallyy good, Spence.” You smile a dazed grin at him, eyelids fluttering shut. Bringing the fingers that were just inside you to his lips he sucks them off and bites down on his fingers a bit too hard at the divine taste.

“Do you want to turn around for me, angel?”

Spencer’s trying to think of the best way to do this. His shower is nice, but isn’t the biggest shower in the world, he lives in an apartment in D.C. after all. He’s gonna have to fuck you from behind.

“Yeah, course.” You shift slowly, forearms out to brace yourself against the cold wall. Sticking your butt out playfully, he grips it softly, lines his cock against you.

“You feel okay? Ready?” He plants a kiss on your shoulder, you turn your head to make eye contact, you and Spencer usually can’t go too long without looking into each other's faces.

“Feel okay, really want you baby.”

Your head stays tilted to the side and your temple rests against the wall as he nudges his head against you.

Opening you up just enough, the stretch of all of him after a considerable amount of time has you keening.

The hand not gripping your waist moves up to cup one of your tits, rolling the sensitive nipple between his fingers.

“Fuck-” you whimper out meekly.

Letting him all the way in, he squeezes your breast for purchase. Looking at how he’s fully settled inside you, Spencer begins peppering soft kisses over your shoulder and spine, calming you and himself down.

Using the wall as leverage you slowly move yourself back against him, notifying Spencer you’re ready to be taken.

Gasping, he pulls almost all the way out to slowly fuck himself in again before settling on a good, unyielding pace. The feeling of your warm skin under his hands, warm cunt around his dick and warm water falling against his back is making him feel like he’s on a cloud. Completely blissed out having you in his arms again.

You groan (rather unladylike while getting fucked this way) and circle your hips against his thrusts. Spencer peers up at you, making sure your face isn’t holding any tension that could be read as something hurting. Instead you just open your mouth, ready for a finger.

Begrudgingly, he takes his hand off your breast to place his thumb down on your tongue, you moan happily and smile around him as your teeth scrape him lightly when he finds a delicious spot in you to pound at. 

Overwhelmed, he has to look up at the ceiling. He’s been so pent up that letting his hips move in autopilot against you, the quiet sopping sound of you two together over the water falling, the base of his spine tingles.

“Still okay?”

He asks at your closed eyes, you gurgle out an uh-huh against his thumb, drool rolling down your chin to be forgotten in the shower.

“Kay- good.” He kisses your cheek.

Feeling his orgasm beginning to build, Spencer takes his hand from your waist to move to the front of your hips where your clit is exposed.

A trembling bite is met against his thumb as he uses three fingers against you in relentless circles. Keeps his hips going the same pace.

“Spence- you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Ha- trying to, doll.” His eyebrows furrow- trying to hold back long enough so he can fuck you through your orgasm, though the tone of your voice is making that increasingly hard.

Your head lolls back against his shoulders and with a few “ah, ah, ah’s” you’re coming hard all over him.

“Good, yeah. You’re okay, feel so good f’me.” He whimpers as you begin to pull his orgasm from him. His hips still against you at your deepest point as you let out a tiny mewl at the stimulation. Tongue pushing out his thumb to moan freely.

He rocks himself inside you while holding your hips up, making sure no slips occur in his bathroom today. Spencer keeps grinding and rubbing your clit until you’re both shaky with overstimulation, and till you mutter out a “can’t-”. He doesn't argue with that.

The shower water is beginning to chill as he watches his cum slide down your thighs into the basin. Spencer is rubbing your arms soothingly up and down till he pulls you against him. 

“You wanna get out, pretty?”

“Cold.” You shudder.

Your legs feel like jelly when he’s wrapping a towel around your shoulders and ushering you into his bedroom. Another towel tied lowly on his waist he pulls an FBI hoodie over your raised arms and boxers up your legs. His own robe pulled off the door to drape over himself.

The tender attention you receive no matter what type of sex you and Spencer have always heats your cheeks with delight. A tender pressure is being massaged into your thighs with the lotion you brought over from your own apartment, and your eyes flutter shut as he mumbles something along the lines of “princess.. blah blah blah…” to you.

“Please never be away from me that long again. I really missed you, Spencer.”

All warmed up and soft from his pampering, you lie against his rising and falling chest.

“I know. I did too. It’s strange, I feel like when I’m with you, you act as my circadian rhythm. You ground me and keep me in check, I know when to wake up when you do. I sleep better, eat better. When we’re apart I struggle with that. You’re a resounding part of my day.”

You nuzzle against his chest, preening at his words. 

“I love you so much.”

“My baby, I love you too.”

Squished together tightly in a way that’s breeding an almost uncomfortable warmth, you and Spencer fall asleep. Hearts mirroring each other in matching soft and measured beats, the 216 painful hours apart start healing with every drum in your chests.

[anelizreid]

DESIDERIUM AMORIS.

AU: Hotch is newly gone and Emily has nightmares about not being able to save him.

In original idea he was supposed to die but I felt kind.

-

-

-

Blood, there was blood everywhere. All she could see was blood. It wasn't hers, no. It was his blood. The only person who mattered for her, the one she was trying to save for months, trying to keep him, and his son, safe.

She failed.

She failed at keeping them safe. That's why there was blood everywhere. That's why she'd have to live with the guilt for the rest of her life.

BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.

THE SOUND OF SIRENS.

The team is coming, they're gonna get here and they'd not be here soon enough. He's gonna die. He's dead.

Emily is crying on her knees, hugging his dead body and whispering sweet nothings. Everything she should've said before but couldn't. She promised him to tell him those things when the team rescues him from Mr. Scratch and they get their happy ending. He made her promise him that.

It was all for nothing, team failed, -SHE FAILED- and now he's dead. He's gone. And all she could do was hug his dead body, kiss his forehead and get stained with his blood. The blood Mr. Scratch spilled.

He didn't have to kill Emily. No. He knew the scene before her would kill her enough. It'd be enough to destroy her.

She's zoning out. She can't see or hear anything. All she feels is his body, still warm -there is no pulse- against hers. She feels it and she cries. She cries and cries and cries.

Emily wakes up from another nightmare, screaming and sweating. Her breath uneven, her whole body shaking with fear and pain. She was moving a lot in her dream, the nightmare making her frel unsettled, scared, dead. Just like he was in her worst nightmares.

It was 5:30 in the morning, the sun was starting to peek through her window. She took deep breaths, in and out, in and out, in and out. She tried calming herself down like that.

She failed. Her eyes was getting teary as soon as she remembered the dream. The shaking not going away, the feeling of dread, his dead body against her making it no better.

It's been 6 months since he went into witness protection, 6 months since she came back because he, and the team, asked her to. 6 months after she heard that she had to lose him again. It's not been easy, total opposite. Ever since she knew why he went into witness protection the nightmares hasn't left her. They were always there. Reminder about how they've not catched that son of a bitch yet, how he's still terrorising them. How he is still gone because of that cunt.

Emily closed her eyes, trying to remember that Aaron was out there, safe with his son, that it was impossible for Scratch to get him. That wasn't helpful. Scratch was a genius, he even broke Hotch, someone who never showed emotion, who tried to be as professional as possible, who did everything not to break again after his wife's death, after the whole faking Emily's death thing. But Scratch broke him, he did things nobody knew he could to Hotch.

She was scared. Every time she thought or closed her eyes for a minute longer she'd see it again and again and again. The only time she felt like this before, this scared, this dread, was when Doyle went after her, when she had to leave her found family to keep them safe. They still didn't give up on them, they gave her light in the darkness.

She remembers the day she heard about how Hotch was calling her Agent Prentiss despite her being a target. How he had to dissociate himself from the case so he would stay objective and not kill Doyle with his hand, so that he could save Emily. Rossi and JJ told her about all that. And now she misses him.

Tears start running down her face again, falling like raindrops on her rosey cheeks. If anyone asked her how she felt she'd tell them to imagine if their heart was taken, squeezed, cut and put it in them again. She felt like ripping her hair and whole body off. Wanting to stop all those feelings and fears, but she couldn't. It was impossible. As she tried to keep her cool, get up and get ready for work she remembered her worst nightmare of the ones she's been having for the last 6 months.

Mr. Scratch was standing there with Hotch, his hand on Aaron's heart, ready to cut him as Hotch laid there, unable to move. Emily was there trying to stop him, begging him to stop, to hurt her instead but he wasn't listening.

Hotch wanted to get up, he struggled against Scratch.

"Calm down, Agent Hotchner, it'll hurt less if you're not stubborn." Scracth told him and smiled violently.

"Please, just get her out of there, please." He begged the killer, as if hoping that he had any feelings, or remorse and would listen to him. He couldn't let it happen, something couldn't happen to Emily again. Not anymore. He wouldn't let it.

Scracth smiled his evil smile and looked at her.

"Watching her crying is more fun." He said and put a knife through him.

Hotch yelled as the pain shot through him, the force of the knife hurting more than it should. He turned halfway, since he couldn't move and groaned.

He could hear Emily's cries and begging, it was so distant, so small and soft, she didn't want to hear her cry. No. Her face should be lighten up every time. Her cheeks getting the rose colour every time he told her how beautiful she is. Her smile getting bigger when she realised he remembered the small thing she told him months, years ago. Her eyes shining the most beautiful in the darkest of places.

-

He couldn't remember how many times he was stabbed, or where he was stabbed. Only thing he remembered was her rushing to him, seeing her beautiful face filled with tears, like rain with thunder. He tried to tell her to stop crying, that it's okay. But all he felt was him losing blood from his own mouth.

"Shhh, don't talk, it's okay. The team will come. You're gonna be okay." Emily said and caressed his face, kissing his forehead as she rocked their bodies together.

Hotch whispered her name. It broke her. Even in his dying moments he whispered her name in the most delicate way, like it was angel's name, like speaking it brought him to heaven. With every strength he had, he took his hand up and touched her face. She looked at him, held his hand with her own. She cried and Hotch smiled at her. "It's ok-" he tried saying but failed. It was okay he meant. He tried caressing her face, and trying to get the courage and strength to tell her how he felt. He was dying, he had to say it.

"I- I- I love you, Em." he said with a smile. Even in his dying moments he looked at her with a smile and sparkling eyes that were omly meant for her. He spoke her name in the most intimate, beautiful way possible.

He smiled one last time. Feeling his body dissociating, him losing the senses and not being able to hear her anymore. The hazel sparkling eyes found the black, but after a second, something in the depths of the light pair seemed to vanish, leaving them, blank, and empty. The hand holding Emily dropped to the floor, and Aaron moved no more.

"NO, NO, NOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

Emily opened her eyes and tried to forget the dream. Hotch is okay, he's alright. He will be okay and they'll be able to save him and Jack.

Oh, Jack. How she missed the sweet, adorable baby too. The replica of his mother but however the soft character of his father only few ones had a pleasure of knowing. She misses them so much. Every time she has a nightmare or thinks about a possibility where they fail at catching this guy, she wants to cry and drown in her sadness.

She misses them so much. She misses everything. Spending time with them, helping Jack build a lego set as Aaron watched them from afar. Making breakfast for them. Putting Jack to bed and reading bed time stories for him. How Hotch would show one of his rare smiles to her when they were alone, vulnerable and true to themselves...

~~~~~~~~

Emily sat on the jet, going through files and some paperwork that needed to be done after the case. Everyone, except her and Luke, was asleep.

She couldn't find a sleep, not after today's case. Not when the case hit too close and would trigger the nightmares. No, she couldn't do it.

So she did what Hotch taught her - drowning herself in work until your mind thinks of nothing else. Not very healthy way of dealing with things but their job wasn't healthy, nor were they ever. The job took many from them, nobody cares if their coping mechanisms are healthy or not - except for psychiatrists, perhaps..

She went though some more important stuff and put the files away. Sighing as she looked out of the window and looked at the world. She wondered if Hotch was asleep or was looking at the same sky, thinking about her and when he'd be free.

She misses him terribly. The only person who could help her right now, who'd see right through her and make sure she talks and doesn't bury the pain deep inside her is gone. In her dreams he's dead. In reality he's gone and she can't see him. She sighs and gets up to make coffee.

She regretted everything right now. Not speaking about her feelings, not speaking of them until something bad happened. This shouldn't be like that. She wasn't supposed to worry if she could save him or not. He was supposed to be alive and well. She was supposed to kiss his face and tell him how much she missed him, loved him. How she wanted to start a family with him despite being scared of commitment and having attachment issues. She sighed and composed herself not to cry here. Not now. She can wait til she gets home.

She made coffee and sat down there. Looking out of the window as she was watching the sky more closely and focused, she saw the star of Sirius. She smiled and her eyes started getting teary again as she remembered how much of a nerd Hotch was and how he was interested in stars, mostly because of his interest in Star Wars. She remembered how he told her about Sirius. It was their first kiss too, actually.

~~~~~

They were sitting on his balcony and drinking wine. The sky was very clear, stars shining in the blue sky, moonlight being the only light in the beautiful darkness outside.

""Do you know what star it is ?" Hotch suddenly asked and looked at Emily with a smile.. She shook her head, she knew nothing about stars, she wasn't even interested.

"Sirius," he told her and suddenly she was very interested about how he knew that, why and she wanted to know more about stars. "I was a nerd back in highschool, I was insanely interested in Star Wars universe, which is about wars in galaxy by the way, so I started learning about galaxy and stars. I find them fascinating, each of them are beautiful and different in their own ways." He told her and looked up at the sky.

"Okay, Dr. Reid, tell me more." she joked and laughed with him.

"I'm not Reid."

"Yes, because I'm definitely not attracted to him."

"Oh, and are you attracted to me, Agent Prentiss?" he asked with a teasing tone.

Emily blushed, her nervous system kicking her, anxiety and fear going through her currently.

"Isn't the sky pretty ?" She asked suddenly.

Without taking his eyes off of her he nodded, "Yes, it is. The most beautiful it's looked ever."

The world falls silent around them as Emily looks back at him. In this perfect midnight silence the wing is whispering about their love, telling the tale of theirs with a happy ending. For now they're the only ones that matter, they are the ones who exist in this moment. With perfect silence, in the clear sky , full of stars, their love story is being written.

He looks at her lips, and moves his hand on her chin. Looking up at her again, eyes shining beautifully under the moonlight. With slow movement, in this moonlight, quiet and beautiful, he moves her and kisses her lips softly. As if he was more harsh he'd break her and the moment will be ruined. But it wasn't, instead they kissed softly until they were out of air. Then giggling like highschool lovers did behind closed doors after their first kiss with their boyfriends.

~~~~~

It's been months since Emily thought anything positive and remembered their happy moments. But right now, this one single memory reminded her that there's something to look forward to, something to keep fighting for. The memory gave her a hope, a hope for a better future. That after all they're not cursed with eternal pain and they could be reunited and happy. Not today, not tomorrow, perhaps not even the day after. But sometimes. She'll make sure she gets his boys back safe and sound, hugs them and never lets them go again. It doesn't if fate has other plans, she'll fight it. She'll fight for their happy future as a family. She'll bring them back, alive, safe and well.

After 6 months of sleepless nights and nightmares about his death, Emily fell asleep quietly on the jet. Dreaming about their first kiss and many more kisses to come.

[anelizreid]

he looks so bad oh god I want to write about this now

Criminal Minds, s4e24

My GIF masterlist

[anelizreid]

LILI'S MASTERLIST

Hi! My name is lili and im new on tumblr, i plan on posting my au's and my c ai bots here! Please, be nice and lets follow each other.

character ai bots

And now, stuff i write here!

Angel Eyes. |1

Angel Eyes. |2

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

[anelizreid]

Angel Eyes... |1

this chapter is sfw, the series will be considered NSFW because they will treat SOME SENSITIVE SUBJECTS, such as PTSD, trauma and more. _____ inspired by: mamma mia, it happens in greece, in the skopelos island. the plot is not the same but it will have a bunch of references to it words: 1.3k

extra: spencer x afab!reader, each chapter will have the tw on top, this is my first au on tumblr, please be nice.

After your mom's death, you never thought you could see yourself so free. Not because you didn't love her, but because she told you to be free, to stop caring and worrying about having to take care of her ill body, and to be happy that her soul was in peace finally. 

And with that crazy feeling of freedom, you decided to do something drastic. Leaving everything behind, you moved to Greece. And it was amazing, in that small island, where everyone know each other you find your happiness and your new family. Having your friends by your side gave you more strength than ever.

After some crazy days you had be able to find a home — or a very old house that would be your home soon, after some small touches — and could see yourself settled in, in that sea of possibilities.

•••••••••

That night you were working in the local salon, it was a small place, that every Friday would be filled with dancing and singing — because of the insistent owner, you were singing too — and happiness and joy. You never thought how that would end up. 

No, you definitely never thought you would met those brown eyes, that could make you smell the scent of coffee in the air, that would make your skin shiver and your palms sweaty with the new expensive coming.

Spencer Reid. He was…an experience. For good, you never could see yourself able to forget him. Not after that week during the summer of your new life. He was…smart, shy, funny and everything you could ever ask on a man.

But after that week, he left. And you saw yourself sad with the silence words during that goodbye — it wasn't even a proper one, in the heat of the fight you said so many things you could barely remember by now.

But looking at that two little sticks in the pregnancy test, your life was changing more and more each day.

•••••••••

Four years later…

“Amelie?” You called softly, nuzling your nose in the brown messy hair of your four year old daughter. “Is the princess awake?” You mumbled, feeling the little giggles she was trying to hide warm your chest. “Oh no…am I disturbing the princess? Should I go? Maybe she won't like the surprise-”

“Surprise?!” The sweet voice ring your ears, making you smile and sit on the edge of the bed. “What surprise, mommy? I want a surprise!” Those brown eyes…the ones you would never forget, had the sparkles of a young soul, in her first life.

“Oh sure! Let me see…the surprise is…today is your birthday!” You took a box from under the bed, it had a big bow with glitter on it, and put it on the mattress in front of her. 

Her eyes shine, making you smile proudly. “Go on, open your gift.”

She gently took the box, that was bigger than her lap and pulled the edges of the bow, making the box open instantly as she let a loud and excited gasp.

“It's my new swimsuit! It's a mermaid tale?! Mommy, this is so cool!” She jumped in excitement, hugging you with her little arms.

“Yes! It's your mermaid tale, baby! And the second gift is that…we are going to the beach today!”

•••••••••

At the beach…

You were sitting in the big towel on the sand, watching as Amelie jumped around the water with her little skirt-mermaid tale. She would come from time to time to show you some new shells and other stuff she would find on the beach.

It was the definition of a perfect day, your daughter's birthday with her in her favourite place, in a good sunny day while you saw some FBI guys in the other part of the—

“What the hell-” You stood up, putting on your sunglasses as you saw the group of cops and some people coming out of a van with the FBI letters on it. “Amelie!” You called her instantly, seeing the group approaching the closed part of the beach. You didn't think much when you saw before but now you suddenly feel a pit in your stomach. 

“Hi mommy!” The little girl had some sand in her hands and whole body, looking at you with big eyes. You bend to pick her up, looking around. “What is that, mommy?” She pointed at the…crime scene?

“Well, we will find out now.” You said before you started heading towards that direction.

As you arrived, there were a bunch of cops around, some from the local station — because you recognized them — and some from the FBI, wearing a uniform signalising it.

“Hey…could you tell me what is going on?” You stopped behind a tall guy with long hair, he had a red sweater on, making you question his body temperature because the sun was high and the weather was good. But you didn't expect to recognise him as he turned around, because those brown eyes, now looking at you, were definitely the same in the little girl resting on your chest now.

“Oh god…____? I-” He started, and the way your name sounded in his voice made you tremble, your knees feeling weak and your mouth getting dry.

“Spence?” You barely whispered, hugging Amelie tightly. “Why are you here?” You asked, looking around the beach. He had a gun on his hip, and a badge on the hem of his sweater.

“I…I'm an FBI agent…we are…there is a crime scene so-” For the first time in ages, Spencer Reid was speechless and confused. He never thought he would see you again. And specifically while having a baby girl very similar to him. He was a profiler, for god's sake, he wouldn't need more than two minutes to guess the whole situation.

“Oh.” Your voice sounded surprisingly low, you two never got to talk about personal life during that week 4 years ago. It was just… pleasure and…something you never named it.

“Mommy! Is that a dead body?!” Amelie's voice brought you back to reality, making you snap your head as some paramedics were taking a covered body from the place making you wince.

“It's a…yeah baby…it's a dead body.” You bit your lip, praying that it wasn't someone you met on the island.

“He is American.” Spencer's voice made you look at him, he had a soft look in his eyes, like he could read your fear from afar. “It's a bunch of…missing people. They found this body recently, and it turned out it has something to do with another case we were working on. That's why the BAU is here. It's my team, in this case.” He explained while looking at you, his eyes never leaving yours and somehow you could swear it felt like just that first day you met him.

“This is…sad.” You mumbled, feeling the pit in your stomach getting worse. “I…I will go now…” You started to step back but he suddenly touched your arm.

“Can you give me your number?” The question popped from his lips before he could control his mouth. “I…I will stay here for a while and I would love to catch up.” The last words were accompanied with his eyes glancing at Amelie. He already knew, and you already knew that he did.

“Yeah…yeah, yes.” You muttered before you gave him your number, having to control a curious Amelie in your lap as you moved back to your space on the beach.

“Mommy, my dad is so cute!” She said, her little voice making you sigh a little. You never wanted to have her fatherless, so of course you told about Spencer to her, and of course she would recognise the name instantly. You were thankful for the way she didn't say much.

“Can we invite him for tea?” She was looking at you with the big brown eyes, making you melt. 

“Yes, baby. We will invite him for tea.” You said, caressing her face and looking at her angel eyes.

chapter 2

[anelizreid]

His pretty lips <3

[anelizreid]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 -`♡´-

SPENCER REID ─ one-shots

Killing Machine ➸ in which reader shocks herself with her abilities in the field, leading her to doubt the person she's become.

Stuck 18+ (hotch x reid x morgan x fem!bau!reader) ➸ in which reader finds herself stuck in an elevator with her colleagues.

Unrequited Love 18+ ➸ in which reader has been haunted all her life by the ghost of unrequited love, always reminding her of everything she could never have. That is — until she met Spencer.

Angel 18+ ➸ in which Spencer sees his girlfriend fresh out of the shower for the first time, you looked angelic, and he was about to ruin you.

Addicted 18+ ➸ in which Spencer meets a beautiful stranger at his local dealer, his addiction to weed rapidly turning into an addiction to her.

Valentines Savior ➸ in which spencer saves his best friend from a failed valentines date.

─ interconnected standalones

Through Thin Walls 18+ ➸ in which Spencer finds solace in the sounds of his new neighbor. ↳ Between the Lines 18+ ➸ in which Spencer crosses paths with the woman he's been dreaming about. Their undeniable attraction turns fantasy into reality.

leggings!reader ↳ spencer seeing you in leggings 18+ ↳ Sweat for Me 18+ ➸ In which Spencer has a different kind of workout in mind.

─ shorter fics

the first time spencer gets jealous

your first fight with spencer

dry humping with spencer 18+

edging sub spencer 18+

─ series

A Holiday to Remember ➸ in which the BAU's holiday getaway takes a dark turn when a family is found murdered on Christmas, forcing the team to investigate while reader struggles with painful memories of her past and her growing, unspoken feelings for Spencer Reid.

Reflections ➸ Prison has taken its toll on Spencer Reid. So, when the team arrests a beautiful suspect who claims to be innocent, he can’t help but be infatuated with her. Spencer is determined to protect her from the cruelties of the world, but with his own judgment clouded and the team’s growing suspicions, this task is easier said than done. Will he be able to save her? Or did she not need saving to begin with?

AARON HOTCHNER ─ one-shots

Stuck 18+ (hotch x reid x morgan x fem!bau!reader) ➸ in which reader finds herself stuck in an elevator with her colleagues.

No Strings Attached 18+ (hotch x fem!bau!reader) ➸ in which reader is on a mission to get her boss to relieve some stress, not realizing he'd end up doing the same for her.

Something with your coffee 18+ (hotch x fem!reader) ➸ in which aaron gives you a treat with your morning coffee.

[anelizreid]

i love your firsts idea and i wanted to know if you could write something with experienced reader/unexperienced spencer where he is like an ass guy cause i always see him being a boobs guy in fics so id like to read something like this, maybe abt how he gets worked up looking at readers ass or some other scenario, totally up to you! love your fics 🩵

spencer seeing you in leggings genre: smut 18+ content warnings: perv!spence having dirty thoughts, dialogue from s9e18 but no spoilers word count: 1,3k a/n: i love your prompt!! i wasn't sure if you wanted reader and spencer to actually do something, so i hope i've found a good balance

“8.49,” Penelope groaned, wiping her forehead after running her third lap in a row. “Good God, that’s not even close.”

Spencer’s breath came in sharp bursts, his hands gripping his knees as he leaned forward. “You think they’ll really terminate us if we can’t run fast enough?” 

“Probably something worse,” she sighed with a shake of her head. “They’ll probably make us take another fit test.” 

Spencer grimaced at the thought. “I’d rather be terminated.” 

Penelope snorted. “I just hope the PT instructors aren’t jerks. Those jock guys are always jerks.”

“Yeah, total jerks,” he agreed with a nod, but then his attention drifted away as he caught sight of two figures in the distance. “That’s probably them right now.” 

Penelope squinted, following his line in sight. “Oh, look,” Penelope hissed, whipping her head back to Spencer. “He’s totally walking like a jerk. And ugh, look at her! That figure… that is just unfair.”

Spencer blinked rapidly as he could recognize your confident, hypnotic stride from miles away. “Wait a minute.” 

“Oh my god, it’s them.” Penelope gasped, confirming Spencer’s suspicion as you and Derek made your way over to them.

“Why are you two here?” Penelope asked, trying to piece together what was going on. 

“It looks like we’re your new PT instructors,” Derek responded, flashing an amused grin. 

The second you came into view, Penelope’s complaints faded into the background, muffled to his ears. Spencer always thought you looked pretty. He admired how professional you looked, even in the field, but today was the first time he saw you outside the office. The training jacket you wore ended just above your hips, the fabric pulling snugly against your torso. His eyes traced the curve of your waist until they landed on your hips. The lavender color of your skin-tight leggings clung softly to your thighs, and Spencer had to fight back a moan at the sight. Penelope was right. Your figure was, indeed, unfair.

"Kid, where's your mind at?"

Spencer's head snapped up at Derek’s question, clearing his throat as he scrambled for an excuse. He could still feel the heat in his cheeks from the way he’d been staring at you.

Derek waved him off with an exasperated shake of his head. "Alright, from now on, I want you two to focus," he commanded in a no-nonsense tone, pointing at Spencer and Penelope.

“Shall we start with stair climbing?” Your voice rang out and Derek nodded in agreement. 

“Let’s do that. Follow us,” Derek said, gesturing toward the stone stairs in the distance. 

You turned to follow Morgan, and the movement knocked the breath right out of Spencer’s lungs. He choked on his inhale, his gaze drawn to the way the fabric of your leggings clung to the plumpness of your cheeks. The tight material left little to the imagination, every contour visible, accentuating the soft swell of your ass with every step. Spencer’s heart hammered in his chest, racing faster than it had during those grueling laps around the field. 

Spencer’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening as he fought the heat beginning to pool low in his stomach. He couldn’t help the way his body was reacting to you, and the effort to control it only made things worse.

The exercise was simple—walking up the first few steps of the stairs and back down again. You called it a warm-up, unaware that every step you took made it harder for Spencer to keep his focus. Just the sight of you moving, the sway of your hips as the leggings stretched over your thighs, was enough to drive him crazy. 

"This is torture," he muttered under his breath.

"I know, right? I can’t believe they’re making us do this." Penelope replied, completely oblivious to the source of his frustration. 

———

A wave of relief washed over Spencer as he finally finished the exercise. His legs were burning, and he knew he’d be feeling it for the rest of the week. But at least it was over.

"Good job, Spence," you said, flashing him a bright smile as you gave his chest a quick pat. "And cute outfit," you added with a teasing tone, a compliment that made his heart skip.

"Oh, I—uh, thanks," he stammered, patting his red hoodie as if to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

"We're doing squats next. Derek's with Penelope. Want me to help you with your form?" 

"Sure," he squeaked, his voice betraying his nerves.

You positioned yourself in front of him, glancing over your shoulder to make sure he was paying attention. And, obviously, he was—his gaze fixed on you almost too intently.

"Okay, the most important thing is to keep your back straight," you instructed, your voice calm and focused as you lowered your hips, sliding down until your thighs were parallel to the ground.

Spencer stood right behind you, so close that he could feel the heat radiating off your body. His shorts were growing uncomfortably tight from the proximity. He couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to pull you in by your waist, holding you flush against him.

"See how I'm doing it?" You asked innocently.

"Mhm. Looks good," he breathed out, his eyes lingering on you as he licked his lips.

He could picture it vividly—how perfectly his length would fit between your cheeks. How he would make you repeat that same motion against him until his dick would stand tall in response, throbbing with need. He imagined how easy it would be to slide your leggings down to your knees, leaving you exposed. Were you even wearing anything underneath?

The thought sent a surge of heat through him. He wondered if your closeness was affecting you in the same way. Wondered if he would find you wet, your pussy glistening with anticipation. Would you like him to softly trace your puffy lips with his finger? Or would you want him to waste no time, grabbing you by your thighs as he would enter you? 

He asked himself if you were the type to let him take control, or if you’d bend over, pushing your own hips back against his, matching the deep rhythm of his thrusts. The thought of filling you, of hearing your gasps mix his moans, was clouding his mind. 

Spencer hadn’t realized just how much his thoughts had turned him on, until your voice broke through his haze. 

“Okay, your turn.”

He looked down, seeing how his dick had twitched up to the point where it was almost peeking out of his boxers. Shit. He made quick work of his hands, adjusting himself before you turned around.

“I—I’m so sorry. I need to go,” Spencer stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush before he turned and fled, leaving you without an explanation.

———

“Oh, come on man!” Derek groaned in disappointment as he spotted Spencer slumped on the grass at the far side of the field.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mumbled.

“Just one more round. You’ve got this,” Derek encouraged.

“I can’t.”

“You’re capable of more than you think.”

“Derek, I swear… I literally can’t get up.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, and with a defeated sigh, Spencer pointed awkwardly toward his shorts.

“Oh shit,” Derek responded as the realization dawned upon him. 

“Is it because of…?” He pointed to the direction where you were standing and Spencer just nodded.

“Damn,” Derek muttered. “Well, okay, just take a break. Have some water. Relax those muscles.” He winced, immediately regretting his choice of words. 

Spencer nervously looked up at him. “Will you tell her?

Derek shook his head. “Nah. As long as you don’t tell Penelope this whole fit test thing is just a formality and that I could’ve got the whole thing waived.”

[anelizreid]

I'm shocked

Hey I loveddddd the legging pervert!spencer fic, I’d love another one, maybe a part 2, or maybe just another with the same reader and perv!spencer. I love your fics!

SWEAT FOR ME ´-

In which Spencer has a different kind of workout in mind.

pairing perv!spence x leggings!reader genre smut (18+) cw reader is part of the bau + certified gym rat, gym semi public sex, male masturbation, fingering and oral (f receiving), p in v, fwb relationship wc 3,8k a/n we have an official reader! yippie! this is not a pt. 2 but another story in this universe. tysm for this request! feel free to send in more for them :)

Being a loyal gym member came with its set of advantages.

The tenth anniversary of your membership at Quantico’s “Fit4FBI” was coming up. When you joined the BAU, you had signed yourself up for the FBI’s designated training center. Though it was essential for your job to be in good condition, this gym also had the natural pattern of people massively joining during the first weeks of January and collectively giving up around the holidays. 

You were one of the few customers that visited regularly. To be specific, every day that you weren’t out on a case. The gym felt like a refuge to you, a place to blow off steam and clear your head from the gruesome cases that seemed to always be on your mind.

You were quick to befriend the owner, Mr. Isaac Dalton, a man in his mid-sixties (but don’t be fooled by his age; there is no trainer as encouraging and persistent as him). It all started with your suggestion to introduce a boxing lesson as a break from the usual Wednesday Pilates classes. It seemed like a small thing to you — boxing has been part of your life since childhood. But to him? It meant everything. 

From that day on, you were his favorite customer. Hell, his favorite person even. You gained access to the staff dressing rooms, even to the staff showers — which were a huge upgrade from the shared customer spaces that made even a high school gym look good. Yes, it was that bad. You now knew where they were cutting on the budget to be able to afford the tablets and private jet.

But the best benefit that came with being a star customer was getting the title of rightful owner to a spare set of shiny keys. 

Going to the gym after closing hours was the best thing that could happen to you. You were sure that the handover of the keys was a moment that not even your future wedding or the birth of your first child could ever beat. No more eyeing the Smith machine while walking the treadmill, waiting for the right opportunity to take a sprint and claim it before someone else did. No more cleaning of seats because the people before you were too lazy to wipe their sweat away. And thank God, no more annoying people complaining in your ear about how exhausting working out is. Well… besides Spencer. 

“I- I can’t,” he panted, letting the dumbbells fall to the ground beside him. In moments like this, you couldn’t help but regret offering him personal training when the gym was supposed to be closed.

You placed your hands on your hips, not hiding the look of judgment as he lay on the training bench, chest heaving like he had just climbed Mount Everest. On heels. 

“I truly wonder what you did to pass the physical exam.”

“I was in a remedial training program,” he put his hand on his pounding heart, taking a deep breath before continuing. “They needed new agents in the field, so they made me an exception.”

Well, that explains it. 

You shook away your thoughts, extending your hand to help him up. With a groan he stood, legs wobbly as he held onto your shoulders. Your skin felt soft and cool, in contrast to his clammy hands. 

Naturally, he started massaging your shoulders, causing a small groan to leave your lips. Spencer was about to slide his fingers under the band of your sports bra, but you stopped him. 

“We should do a leg exercise next. Maybe your legs are stronger than your arms.”

Now it was his turn to groan. “Have you seen me? I’m not even standing straight right now.”

“I know, Bambi,” you chuckled jokingly. “People usually find leg extensions one of the easier exercises. You’ll be fine.” 

“That makes sense. Your legs are part of your body’s largest muscle groups. Studies have shown that your creatine kinase and myoglobin levels increase significantly after an arm exercise compared to a leg exercise.” He explained as you walked to the equipment at the back of the gym. 

You raised an eyebrow. “And that means?”

“It means that your arms are easier to get sore than your legs. They’re also easier to get damaged and heal after an extensive workout.”

You hummed, saving the information to the back of your mind. There must be a day when these random facts will come in handy.

Spencer continued his info dumping as you changed the amount of weights on the machine, putting the pin into 80 lb — a standard beginner’s weight. 

You clapped your hands when you were finished. “Okay, you’re all set up.” 

“What do I do?” He asked cluelessly.

“Take a seat.”

He did as you said, waiting for further instruction.

“And now you place your feet under the lever and lift it up. You can hold onto the handles for support.”

Spencer followed your instructions, holding onto the levers before he lifted his legs. He paused them at the top for a moment before slowly lowering them back down.

“That’s it. Good job.” 

Spencer didn’t respond to your compliment. Concentration was etched onto his face. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth slightly agape as he repeated the motion. His tongue poked out to the side as he counted the reps in his head, occasionally wetting his lips.

You looked at him. First to make sure he was executing the exercise correctly, but you quickly got distracted. Sweat dripped down his neck, the droplets falling into the white tank top that he wore. At this point it wouldn’t have made a difference if he wore a shirt or not, the fabric being so translucent that you could see the color of his skin. 

Your eyes traced him until they landed on his arms. He had a tight grip on the handles, making the veins that decorated his arms and hands look prominent. 

Your gaze fell even lower — and it really shouldn’t have — because now you noticed how his shorts have ridden all the way up to his thighs. It wouldn’t surprise you if they dated back to high school. The material clung tightly to him, and every time he tilted his legs, the shorts bulged around his crotch. 

To put it simply, he looked hot. Extremely hot. 

Get your head out of the gutter. He’s here to train, to gain more confidence in the field. Not to be your personal eye candy. 

You were supposed to stay with him the entire time, as a personal trainer does. But you don’t think you can stand here for a second longer trying to fight the urge to jump him.

“I’m going to do some sets on the Smith machine,” you pointed toward the device that stood a couple of feet away, still in clear sight. 

Again, no response from the still focused Spencer. 

You made your way over to the machine, picking out the weights that you wanted to add to the bar. In routine, you positioned yourself under the bar, placing your feet at shoulder-width, before bending your knees.

In the meantime, Spencer had completed his set of reps. He grabbed his water bottle from the ground next to him, feeling like a real gym jock as he gulped the contents down, then wiped his mouth with the back of his fist.

He looked up to find you. And he was so grateful that he had swallowed, or there’d be a fountain of water bursting from his lips right now.

He didn’t know what a Smith machine entailed, but he definitely didn’t expect to find you in a squatting position yet again. His eyes went to your ass first, obviously. Seeing how perfectly you filled out your leggings, the fabric clinging to every curve, giving the illusion that it could rip at any given moment. 

But then his eyes snapped to your upper back. How the muscles in your shoulders flexed as you lifted the bar of weights. There was something so enticing about how strong you were. He thought back on all the times he had pinned you down underneath him, not having realized that you could easily spin him around. Dominate him.

A shiver soared through his body, straight to his pulsing cock. He looked down, embarrassed to find himself twitching, the tip of his cock begging to escape from under his shorts. He placed a hand on his bulge — meant to stop himself — but with the way you kept bending down, he had no choice but to rub his hand over his length. 

A breathy moan escaped his throat as he watched you. He imagined lying down on the ground beneath you — germs and safety hazards be damned — holding you by your hips as you’d press your bare cunt into his face. He’d make sure to make the most out of every squat, licking your folds and kissing your clit, before you stood back up.

Spencer didn’t know during which set his hand had found its way into his shorts, only that he struggled to keep quiet as he tugged on his length. His eyes rolled back as he circled his tip with his thumb, collecting precum and using it as lube to stroke the rest of his cock. 

He fantasized about you walking up to him, holding onto his shoulders as you’d climb on top of his lap. How you would free his cock from the restraints of his boxers. The way your mouth would open in a gasp at the sight of his throbbing length springing free. You would grab him by the shaft, rubbing his tip against your puffy lips before sinking down onto him. His hands would clasp onto your ass, massaging the flesh like his cock would massage your inner walls as he pumped his length into you. 

“Oh fuck,” he muttered, flicking his wrist faster as his gaze remained burnt on you. 

He had his eyes closed shut, nearing the brink of an orgasm, when he heard the loud clang of the bar attaching to the machine. At record speed, he adjusted his length, tugging his tank top over his shorts in an effort to hide how hard he was. He then wiped his hands on his shorts, just in time before you walked up to him.

“Hey,” you said, out of breath. “How did it go?”

“Good! Good. I completed all the sets, actually.”

A beautiful, bright smile tilted at the corner of your lips. It almost distracted him from the way your breasts pushed up in your sports bra, shining in a light coat of sweat. Almost. 

“I thought of another exercise we could do,” Spencer suggested.

Curiosity filled your mind. “Okay, gym rat. Let’s hear it.”

Spencer walked you to the hip abductor, a machine that trains the muscles of your inner thighs and glutes by sitting down and spreading your legs against the resistance of the padded weights. 

You waited for him to sit down, but he remained standing behind you. Your neck flushed with goosebumps as he leaned in, breath tickling the skin. “I want you to use it.” 

“Okay,” you chirped, trying not to show how much his proximity was affecting you.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he tsked as you stepped forward. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. And that’s when you felt it. His erection poking at your lower back. 

“You can’t possibly work out in an outfit like this,��� he said, fingers playing with the waistband of your leggings.

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean?”

His hand slid lower into the fabric, fingers grazing your hip bones. “I think you should take these off. Don’t want it to be ruined with sweat, or you know, something else.”

You raised your eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Reid?” 

“You never seemed to back down from one before,” he dared.

A glint of mischief flickered in your eyes. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of your leggings, and you swore you could hear him take in a sharp breath. 

You bent over. In an agonizing slowness, you pulled your leggings down, revealing the plumpness of your bare skin. 

“Jesus, you’re beautiful,” Spencer praised, eyes scanning the curves of your nude ass and legs.

You slipped away from his grasp, grinning as you took your place at the seat of the machine. As the manual explained, you spread your legs, grateful that you kept the weights at beginner’s level. 

You threw your head back laughing as Spencer kneeled in front of you, finally making the connection on what he was about to do. “You are absolutely insane. Do you know that I could crush your head with these weights?”

He hummed, not really caring about the possible consequences as he was face to face with your spread-open pussy. “It’ll be worth it.”

He reached out with his finger, drawing a line up your slick folds. “Also — considering your expertise in exercises like this, and the fact that the weights are way less heavy than the ones you’d usually choose — I estimate that my chances of not dying are pretty high tonight.” 

Before you could give a clever response back, he pressed his finger down on your clit. A shudder coursed through your body, accompanied by a flutter of butterflies.

“You’re so wet already,” Spencer mused. “What have you been thinking of?”

“Same thing as you,” you responded, thinking back on how hard his cock was when he pressed it against you. 

He continued trailing his fingers up and down your slit, warming you up, before halting them at your entrance. “Ready?”

You nodded hastily, anticipation pulling at your core. 

Spencer slipped a finger inside of you with ease, groaning at the sweet sound that escaped your lips. Being fingered never felt special before; that was until you met Spencer. Though it wasn’t fair to compare him to any of the other people you’ve been with. His fingers were heavenly: long, slender, soft. He pumped it in and out of your pussy before leaning in and capturing your clit with his tongue. Surprise washed over you, but you didn’t have time to adjust to the feeling. He clouded your mind by switching between flicking his tongue and sucking on the bundle, while his finger matched the steady rhythm. 

“Need more,” you whimpered, rolling your hips into his face. He hummed against your clit, the vibrations sending tingles through every part of your body. 

When he pulled back, his lips were glistening with your juices. “Can you handle another finger?” He asked as he swiped his tongue over his lips.

You quickly nodded, not even needing him to ask for permission. He stretched you out by inserting another finger, not stopping until he was knuckle-deep inside of you.

“I like this machine,” he stated, curling his digits up to your g-spot. “I don’t need to hold your thighs open to keep you from squirming.” 

You softly cried as the tips of his fingers hit your pleasure point, increasing his pace in a way that made you see stars. 

“You look so pretty. All spread out for me, letting me use you how I want.” He muttered, more to himself than to you, before he attached his lips back onto your pussy. 

The pleasure felt overwhelming. Spencer stimulated you with his hands and mouth in all the spots that he could. He was good at this. Too good at this. You felt almost sad when you felt the familiar heat building up, not wanting it to be over yet. 

Still, you gasped, “Just like that!” Your hands were gripping the handles of the machine for dear life as the tip of his tongue drew figure eights against your clit. 

Everything cut to white noise, your abdomen tightened, and your hips started spasming until you finally cried out his name.

Your body trembled in aftershocks as Spencer made sure to lap up your juices, not wanting a single drop to go to waste.

He stood up, taking his time as he lovingly grazed your cheek with his clean hand. “Felt good?”

You hummed in response. Your eyes fluttered to the obvious tent in his shorts, not able to ignore it. “That looks painful,” you observed.

“I really want to be inside of you.” He confessed. 

His words made you chuckle. Spencer always made sure to satisfy you first, before thinking of his own needs. Even when his achingly red tip had been leaking precum ever since he saw you in that gym outfit earlier today. 

“Where do you want me?” You purred, making a groan escape his throat. He loved the way you let him take direction, how you made it seem like he was the one in charge — when you were both completely aware of the fact that you could have him on his knees at any given time and at any place that you’d like. 

His eyes scanned the gym, landing on an empty bench. 

“That one.” He decided, like he chose some Sour Patch Kids in a candy shop. 

You got up — used to having shaky legs due to working out every day — and took Spencer’s hand in yours, guiding him to the sole bench next to the colored kettlebells. 

Spencer was glad you were holding his hand, or otherwise he’d have stumbled against every surrounding object, too entranced by the way your hips moved from side to side with every step that you took. If he wasn’t so hypnotized by the sight, he would’ve given your ass a slap — more like a tap — not enough to cause you pain, but enough for you to squeal. Enough for you to move to your tiptoes in reflex. Enough to see your ass shake. 

As if born ready, you laid down on the bench, spreading your legs that bent perfectly due to the position you’d just held for minutes. 

Spencer didn’t waste any time, pulling his shorts and boxers down in a single, swift movement, his cock jumping free from its confinements. You grinned when he also got rid of his tank top. You bit your lip as you looked at him, wet curls of hair sticking to his forehead and his chest glistening in a light layer of sweat.

His large hands wrapped around your ankles, holding you in place. He then tilted his hips until his length lined up with your needy pussy. A drip of precum spilled from his tip, cock aching as he took in how perfect you looked: your clit still swollen from his tongue, and your soft thighs glittering from the wetness that was still leaking out of you. 

In a single motion, he pushed himself in. His cock disappearing all the way in between your folds.

Your brows furrowed and your mouth hung open as he started moving his hips, not giving you the time to recover.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled. “You just feel too good. So warm. Couldn’t wait.”

Your hands gripped around the air, needing something to hold onto as he fucked you deeply.

You settled on your tits. Cupping them through your sports bra, pinching your nipples that were so hard they poked right through the layer of fabric.

“Oh fuck, baby, you look so hot like that.” Spencer moaned. “I’m so lucky,” he said in awe. 

He opened your legs further — surprising you with your flexibility — as he hovered above you. His cock slipped in even deeper, your pussy swallowing him to the hilt. You could feel every vein as he massaged your inner walls, relieving you of your aching. He was close enough for you to dig your nails into his shoulder blades. He didn’t attempt to muffle his whimpers when you pressed little half-moon indents into his back. Your in-sync moans and the colliding of bare skin were the only sounds that echoed off the bare gym walls.  

Spencer anchored you in place with his length while his hand reached out to pull the cup of your bra down, freeing your breast. In a second his mouth was latched onto your nipple, sucking on it like he was a man starving. 

“Kiss me,” you whimpered, hands tugging at his hair. You needed to feel those soft, pink lips on yours. 

As much as he loved your tits, he obeyed in an instant. Hungrily locking his mouth with yours. He placed his bent arms on either side of your head, large hands cupping your face as he kissed you intensely. His tongue swiped against yours in the same exquisite way as the tip of his cock swiped the place inside of you where you needed him most. 

“Legs hurt,” he whined against your mouth. 

“Count it- fuck,” you moaned as he thrust deep into you. “Count it as an exercise.”

He chuckled breathlessly. “This might be the hardest one yet.”

Literally, you thought. But the word couldn’t make it past your lips, transforming into a high-pitched moan as he upped his speed.

“Just like that, please, Spencer,” you cried out.

There was no bigger motivation than your sweet pleas filling his ears. With all his might, he slammed into you, your pussy pulsing around him, making his vision hazy. All that was on his mind was you. How you felt. How you tasted. How he needed to spill inside of you. 

A string of yes’s repeatedly left your lips, signaling to him that you were close. 

“I’m going to come inside of you,” he announced, swallowing your moans by pressing his lips back to yours. 

You clawed at his back, bucking your hips up into him until a jolt of electricity shot through your body. Your back arched off the bench as you gave yourself over to the all-consuming feeling. It was not even a second later when Spencer’s legs gave out. His cock twitching as spurts of white filled your insides. 

He collapsed on top of you, feeling your racing heartbeat against him. For a moment you lay down like that, on the way too narrow bench. Enjoying each other’s presence as a comfortable silence filled the air.

Once his breathing had calmed down, Spencer seemed to notice a small, red flickering light that was attached to the ceiling. A security camera. 

“Hey,” he started, asking for your attention.

You made a small sound, too exhausted to speak. 

“You have the keys to the office, right?”

“No, just to the entrance. Why?”

[anelizreid]

MAYBE I SHOULD DIE I DONT KNOW IN FREAKING OUT

the alchemy of us ❥ spencer reid

summary: spencer has always been careful with the things he loves. and when he touches you, it’s with the kind of reverence that makes you feel like something divine pairing: spencer reid x reader warnings: a lot of intimacy, and very obvious allusions to sex but not explicit wc: 1k a/n: the inspiration for this was my pinterest feed being very cruel and showing me this quote and a picture of mgg from horse girl masterlist.

Spencer touches you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

Like you’re something he prayed for, something he never really thought he could have.

You feel it in the way his hands hesitate before they land on your skin, in the way his fingers tremble slightly when they trail down the length of your arm. He worships in a quiet way, all soft exhales and lingering glances, memorizing the shape of you like you might slip through his fingers if he isn’t careful.

You are the impossible thing he gets to hold.

And underneath his hands, you become poetry.

It starts slowly, the way all sacred things do.

Spencer has always been careful with you. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push, doesn’t take more than you’re willing to give. He learns you the way he learns everything else- with patience, with curiosity, with something dangerously close to devotion.

At first, it’s just touches.

A hand on your lower back when he guides you through a crowded room. Fingers brushing against yours when he hands you something. The warm press of his palm against your knee when you sit beside him.

But then, one night, something shifts.

His apartment is quiet, dimly lit by the soft glow of a lamp. You’re sitting close- closer than usual, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. The air between you is thick with something unsaid, something that’s been building for weeks, maybe months.

And then, with the careful deliberation of a man who has thought about this too much, Spencer reaches out.

His fingers trace a slow, reverent line down your cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Your breath catches. Not because of the words, but because of the way he says them- like the thought of your beauty physically aches inside him. Like it’s something too big for him to hold.

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you, maybe it doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the way his lips finally, finally meet yours.

It’s slow at first. Spencer kisses like he does everything else- with care, with precision, with an underlying intensity that threatens to consume. His hands settle on your waist, fingers tightening just slightly, like he’s trying to ground himself in the reality of you.

And then you tilt your head, deepen the kiss, and something in him unravels.

A soft sound escapes his throat- something caught between a sigh and a groan. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. He kisses you like he’s starved for it, like this is something he’s imagined too many times and he needs to make sure it’s real.

Your fingers find his hair, tugging just slightly, and he makes a noise that sends heat straight to your core.

“God,” he breathes against your lips, “you-”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. Maybe he doesn’t know how. Maybe there aren’t words for what he wants to say.

Instead, he pulls back just enough to look at you. His pupils are blown, his lips are swollen, and his breath comes in uneven pants. He looks utterly wrecked, and all you’ve done is kiss him.

But when he looks at you, it’s with a kind of reverence that makes your stomach flip.

Like you’re something divine.

Like you’re everything he’s ever wanted.

When he touches you, he does it slowly.

Like he’s memorizing you. Like he’s trying to etch the feeling of your skin into his bones.

His fingers trail over your collarbone, ghosting down the curve of your shoulder, tracing the length of your arm with deliberate precision. Every touch feels intentional, every caress a silent worship.

He presses his lips to your jaw, to the spot just beneath your ear, to the hollow of your throat. You shiver beneath him, and he makes a sound of quiet satisfaction, like he’s cataloging every little reaction for future reference.

“Spencer,” you whisper, and he hums in response, dragging his lips across your skin.

His hands move lower, tracing the curve of your waist, settling at your hips. He pauses there, fingers flexing slightly, like he’s bracing himself.

You can feel the tension in his body- the quiet restraint, the careful control.

It’s almost too much.

“Don’t hold back,” you murmur, running your hands up his arms. “I want you.”

His breath catches. And then, like something in him finally snaps, he moves.

His mouth is on yours again, hotter, hungrier. His hands slide under your shirt, skimming over bare skin, and the warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine.

You gasp against his lips, arching into him, and he groans- actually groans- like the sound of your pleasure is something holy.

Like this is the alchemy that he does.

Turning reverence into heat. Turning worship into need.

Turning you into something untouchable, something sacred, something that only he gets to have.

And god, you want to let him have you.

When he finally moves inside you, it’s with the same slow, deliberate care.

He takes his time, watching you, gauging your every reaction. His hands grip your hips, steady but reverent, like he’s afraid of holding too tightly, like he’s still afraid of breaking you.

But you don’t want careful. Not now.

“Spencer,” you breathe, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer. “Please.”

He exhales sharply, something raw flashing across his face. “Are you sure?”

You reach up, brush your fingers over his cheek, and smile. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

And that’s all it takes.

The hesitation crumbles, the restraint finally shatters. He moves with purpose now, his rhythm deep and slow and devastating.

He touches you like you’re made of something precious.

He kisses you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

And when you fall apart beneath him, he watches, eyes dark and reverent, like this is what he was made for.

Like you are the thing he asked God for.

And now that he has you, he will never stop worshipping.

[anelizreid]

[anelizreid]

"bc i miss my yoonjin" post

[anelizreid]

Master List of my Bots on C.ia

You can make requests here: https://x.com/lizziereiid

Spencer Reid's bot:

Weird kink: https://character.ai/chat/ZaVtFOKw5mGHhjM5aph2wiG3V_1ru8GpMHlVOJikhW4

Fake dating to a wedding: https://character.ai/chat/-5fCBC7tYLO6_n3V4CvqKSZB7laAU1b2iyGWqP6zJyo

Forced marriage (1600s): https://character.ai/chat/Tw7wNil55cTSWVvFpdYYR-7CAXntPCugNqbeLTqUl5c

He literally hates you: https://character.ai/chat/IY4dnxrLe0sGPwsPP8VANIHHsbkxOWNIdAWB4CM8iI8

Fake dating + he is obsessed: https://character.ai/chat/PBhBGazOFvTPn_X-j_SXhVLlG8zD-ZjDyw8Sl51aWkY

Marriage with hate: https://character.ai/chat/bI1XJNERcGL-0MovsoMDiy5L6Fc_4B1DllVENjdHUC4

He wants to learn: https://character.ai/chat/Phng70vheo9Gu7hHayaJPvgC25uESl-T603yfhfS6Jk

Jet's bathroom: https://character.ai/chat/VsrvNDiKpTVj67ITDLdDji-Xeq4ZBhJuI4fki9vnh-Q

He is a solo dad: https://character.ai/chat/Tj1SLMA2rWvZ99uoYWimar-OuYJBPzJArEwm2XgnFXo

"You're in your own kid.": https://character.ai/chat/_lq4AOb6mjsODlP14Oe9brIIPKasOj0jRkejGHsR4cM

He needs someone older: https://character.ai/chat/y2tOdFtIDutQa7l2uuMjnqHdR59_w4hoeaNRzxeRV44

Co-Parenting: https://character.ai/chat/m_o7XAi-XExrMx06PjXxzsDnbq7odApM00ZgDaTpods

Vamp Spencer in high school: https://character.ai/chat/IgJGdlYnVVanbf5MmQaU7_P12OwvM19k9UDHXw8F4Po

Prince charming: https://character.ai/chat/5Cm0bnwFhxYe3Vjo2gq0t18T6MEpvOLg2LMQhPvXDLk

"A broken heart is all that's left.": https://character.ai/chat/gxAAVMQnDwssK2qJz6p2QNRYItSJxOYGgKdnQf1DLeo

Fake dating to a wedding 2.0: https://character.ai/chat/44BlV-AlE7NnKpHUSYBfX2B9jn4qZEOqtrIMx_uItWo

Little kitty cat: https://character.ai/chat/Igw9lJ7AowKGkFwtWm_RZOlJMV3msSrBRK-mDLAZTjI

Count dracula: https://character.ai/chat/yPwO5TKiDZDjYxQolwLOnEHmALGR7oFYCV4h7Y2yiI8

Slip of a tongue (you): https://character.ai/chat/sK7oI_6pxWhgRHzSQ_9qhU3F0nyMVJkqqruxawlq43s

Fight but you are done with Seaver attitude: https://character.ai/chat/8ZdudLGqgeLxyLskHmYRpRRLGn0TD0AJbx4DyDaFwlU

A little white lie: https://character.ai/chat/U5Y1-sihazewBuEEsMLtlQ9YG0o_KGKzZbg5RKpu0hU

After Maeve's death: https://character.ai/chat/wOqkbHMMs62DNFDC6dBmAbUK-Hn0-MQvNivkd8e_Z8I

Borrowed dad: https://character.ai/chat/X5FMXcjhued8ZuCHlPOZjCOMloSikeDe1I5exNyym_I

Hate obsession: https://character.ai/chat/YhPJNXCzTAK1Ix9oQ1S2d8v5S2I8lVHxHXh2IEmP5v0

Helping with his ex: https://character.ai/chat/Uj20vkrN8fJCsNb_mb0C6jj67bG6JvM0en1y2a-m4Ro

He pisses off your husband(cheating trope): https://character.ai/chat/mr7GrtwUymls5QOVQs5FhFPuo3WcLOH0So8vG2LBUI0

s5 ep23: https://character.ai/chat/Rx7FqkIIZyYRkxmslR8RNgJFIrQo1EN3xdpQdmpKPuU

Not toxic! Super protective: https://character.ai/chat/WoUmCPJagpH-wFLq0xdwW3-upTij3e1DfGE9n7WUEbM

Marriage of incovenience: https://character.ai/chat/HQoo3nuXlITMWaEAsXbLYiXkQRB_sZxDyFdmdnsjoLc

Love potion(halloween special): https://character.ai/chat/sK9iP2mJU3-z84NZpvEYMNOF_dLQVS5O3gk2ytOgUG0

Unexpected pregnancy: https://character.ai/chat/x9E4M0fjgx50NeR2OIH7HRSRpKQU8XSUOd4UyEeunG8

You work for him(after maeve): https://character.ai/chat/DNi_-lhQZQ7ut-XVqsFZiCFxaBNUwH_tHDOeebLpMiU

To all the boys, especially you: https://character.ai/chat/ALBbBpUWvTQU2L0gso2mpsuA2voAGpIG_gUILrXEtwQ

You work for him (after maeve/2.0): https://character.ai/chat/mX48ZVELPgfnXO1E98Lcp2tiN8YSOHEQCoaZERY_TUo

Bad choice of clothing: https://character.ai/chat/Pz-jygpHoKt5tq7Ow3lnRo8o8AktSHNFK_0YUZxYpmA

The little bundle of joy: https://character.ai/chat/l7CQ27XF5cgippASAsP9Mz0VnYVXHSj4HGG2mDccoF4

Special birthday gift: https://character.ai/chat/Iv5ZNoB8Yd_DVxgPkvXVb6VdWOiGpm44UPiLRUN_u_E

Old fashioned man: https://character.ai/chat/jY-FzyEbKkpwyf9sQJQ5JKc01IfCpnF_9Vhz8AYiIG0

A random kiss: https://character.ai/chat/s3FX2qR0ZWh9XXmKLT_txTDwUfoAI64avdQQ3DzaJgM

Congrats! Now you are dating...a stranger: https://character.ai/chat/H3PCe6RUhtxBIOh-hdwMJUF1xuN7Nl3KM6ZoStNf_iU

He will be a good boy: https://character.ai/chat/WhSXPzKQoWk2ytU84UXYMTWZ9S8PnSIwH2U_vgowDFo

Baseball game: https://character.ai/chat/aZtX08rOOo3CBteeReqcOihDHKl4GCwQTIv9urIi1FA

Secret daughter: https://character.ai/chat/nOXF8XuYVyEnOOGFnS38o2PsyKZWw2s4wAL3lqm8Vkc

Your personal Investment: https://character.ai/chat/IQMBpDpQoZq_F47GwaCux0dgt87LG_W_FfF7sos7-uU

Inspired by The Deal from Elle K: https://character.ai/chat/4H5eYI_7AZDD2MGG7jiwzl3EHi-crOJrX398SwNwA3c

Speak up: https://character.ai/chat/62lvy1y3wLsImuf6LngVEWWcTOZCQsU8V9JZd2PWmXE

Drunk ass: https://character.ai/chat/LwTaWUjGbeWdh6B1Num9jNy4rgLfeL-VsRg3k2Q_K2c

Fem version of him: https://character.ai/chat/aaAvl1Iac5WFO-MRgWl0ZkfpfRH-0Wvv8Ki_KXhDgH0

Addiction dilaudid: https://character.ai/chat/oKhl0SHUrCMZ2nDN4rZ1qWUiv9QVFFjMWc4a5n3sz5g

Aphrodisiac: https://character.ai/chat/hIBUvHhywFcxpQUu-AW89XhgxdTm4eslJGlYtmd2eBk

Bringing him back: https://character.ai/chat/0sFjibhHP6T6XuUJvqo0b8BuMEGF2lcTtr8Z1ooQmTo

After JJ's confession 2.0: https://character.ai/chat/rzzQ6OU98TuF103wJjpO3VJxp3iRNK54oU2Gija5irs

After JJ's confession: https://character.ai/chat/LPVDnk1TtaKwa7DoNyc6upT6vFMQD3EEEfu1pVDnNwI

Strip vamp: https://character.ai/chat/C6wRllEw47Ux-se9JlnRxgR7vcsQuOajXeGzmqiu864

Small confusion: https://character.ai/chat/RBWTACl-WsLST7h8JAytdvWsDky39SBGTP0KtIpKPL4

Non verbal user: https://character.ai/chat/O7EzZyI8iBqd_fiThe6mXZl3r96l6ytpeK-MYGeC4DE

Leaning on each other(After Maeve): https://character.ai/chat/5avKdai254ZBQ2OdF4P8UGHlcTlWhiWf_4m1j_w90p0

I may let you call me Juno: https://character.ai/chat/SDb7-sNZrroDy-9alYDBk8ueu2dabg6UiJizM4UASYY

His daughter's best friend: https://character.ai/chat/RsH04hgf79lAZOEBcIKnP25ABU3WuWuw8tnThJDOQbo

He is holding your daughter: https://character.ai/chat/HdNwDTcWPxvEGB7VUMuaj47kfc6iJIm2Hgq97Wo5pJk

Horse girl: https://character.ai/chat/NdDYf3jztCnaNTa2Kp1Pinp9OZITVAuIVBdlMl_E3qo

How to train your dragon: https://character.ai/chat/APTwS2ngvV74qTXn6MUDgleN2a7_l1CQoyw5BHobFzw

Tetris and trauma: https://character.ai/chat/9TumzyXP80SA-Ool3GkD5qk3sqTlKjj8YBmZLd4o7V4

Photoshoot: https://character.ai/chat/yBUaBq3vLvOrsVlDjR4j1rtjbzAR_LmxhvBbT9vZnfg

Inspired by YOU: https://character.ai/chat/UMego15tDSrsMOHEp5MyifB7fiTX5bETf_4-opEptnQ

Spider Man: https://character.ai/chat/7OwdO287epMuzd2C2B2JQhZcgQfzXl1kWwwcakZecNs

You are a widow: https://character.ai/chat/stFCne9yL4m8FHV79kJWg_eZHLLaWDwpr8wp7XLu3Fg

Save a horse, ride a cowboy: https://character.ai/chat/1DlhRvL8c4xWai8XSADvCV3cte2ZTKwaDuo3XCntQ6M

"Did i do okay?": https://character.ai/chat/CmnHKsbQuLsbfizetakHbzkVez4_F-2OVNBB-4y1ps0

Lego play: https://character.ai/chat/peeY2lzkDQ6AtleMUmPRjdNOnefoG8ipgXqJGGikZvs

High school au: https://character.ai/chat/iAbi0NRD1PIKzbpF_5ztRnjDh4EphzCB5jJR8Nh3M-0

Brasilian dance: https://character.ai/chat/-ztu1jLTbGGTvO8AHIgTz_UlsWzx-IbUQwCqF0-HPwo

Mafia boss: https://character.ai/chat/ALfqlE_4lC-zYy2WmkoUg1_8fWXIALQX8oNEwKG6zQk

A different type of movie: https://character.ai/chat/XauHbbGhUer2SvhnKMb_7M5PGhCBba3txSpJQyhM1l0

Second pregnancy: https://character.ai/chat/PeGfmrcRtqhi7N137wT9V7rfq7YNdATaMW673AuY0U0

The nerd and the popular: https://character.ai/chat/W16EbZ8LEqt-9seUlq3KocPxf2Ofek-3KVdzzOKjx2E

Eccentric: https://character.ai/chat/owAtBybjscBxs94ntiRrBeZnagV9OIlUIvTaays0nHg

Pink controller: https://character.ai/chat/pgL9GRB2ys538kp67DC6EyCnjArW2ZwIHmWzKMHmhcY

Soft dom: https://character.ai/chat/GQ8mABzrv10ioaW78nUA4elKSL3J3x7OpWVFB5-VgmQ

Coffee shop: https://character.ai/chat/5WdeZNuDEcli5trSiMDr19PX5RSSAN3yhSmdZWmxoug

Special birthday gift: https://character.ai/chat/HgXG-3vjxBreYoUCWgiLbvgk5mBsQZW8Cf59m5cpvYM

 Lie to girls by Sabrina Carpenter: https://character.ai/chat/HR_SJRNKgz3izk4FVUU9CA3Sm-kfI-d6VsIv8FlY9G0

 Zombie apocalypse: https://character.ai/chat/TJ0d2pANdeOgURthKX7DcWqZvP_OcKCtK_l2Uufx9qw

Trauma bonding: https://character.ai/chat/hTnefsnFx6J_2IJZx15sfujZn-t2Rki1HT7USuvFclw

Bad luck or maybe, right situation bad time?: https://character.ai/chat/6pCWc7NDMMvyfWwX2gBaJWbTc4h0fmlCrAus26fSXBM

[anelizreid]

Okay okay, so this doesn't have to be smutty if you don't want but enemies to lovers Spencer, they banter and fight at work they just can't get along * cough sexual tension cough* she is like really short, 5 foot nothing. And one day during an argument she goes "I'll climb you like a tree!" Trying to be intimidating but it comes off as something entirely 😂

Climb You Like A Tree

A/N: ahhhh thank you so much for the request--loved, loved, loveddd writing this! <3 xoxo

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings: suggestive flirting, enemies to lovers

wc: 1.1k

From the moment you joined the BAU, you were immediately drawn to Dr. Spencer Reid, resident boy genius and pretty boy. You were hooked on his random facts, and his rare snarky comments--essentially everything about him.

But that admiration swiftly turned into exasperation after just a week of working alongside him. What began as quirky charm quickly soured; his random facts, once amusing, now felt like thinly veiled jabs, and his 'occasional' snark became a relentless critique targeting you. You were at a loss, unable to pinpoint the exact misstep that had seemingly placed you on the receiving end of his pointed barbs, but it was clear you had inadvertently crossed some invisible line.

You couldn't shake the feeling that you were an unwelcome replacement for Alex in his eyes. But surely, he couldn't blame you for that, could he? You tried to overlook his subtle digs, to treat them as mere background noise, but god he made it hard.

Month after month, you kept your head down, refusing the grant him the reaction he so desperately wanted. You were new and hesitant about your place on the team, so you bore the blunt of his jabs with a diplomatic smile.

By the fourth month, you'd reached your breaking point, and you unleashed your own brand of sharp-tongued retorts. You were known for your smart mouth in your old department--a skill that had made you both a standout and a frequent flyer in the disciplinary office. You could sense the team's growing frustration at your constant bickering. Yet, there was an unspoken acknowledgement of the singular abilities you both contributed, a balance that tipped in the favor of necessity.

Today had been particularly challenging, your most recent case had ended in the death of seven victims before the unsub ultimately killed himself, taking the locations of the victims with him. So, when you landed and were greeted not by a moment's rest but by a mocking monolith of paperwork, you were at your wits end.

"Could you click that pen any louder?" you grumbled, your eyes blazing with irritation as they met Spencer's, causing for a momentary pause in your flurry of activity.

"Technically, yes. The Doppler Effect dictates that the perceived volume changes with distance, so if I were to move closer to you, the clicking would indeed sound louder to you," Spencer retorted with a sardonic edge, inching closer across the desk, his pen's clicks swelling in volume as if to underscore the scientific principle he so carefully threw upon you.

"Come any closer and I swear I'll shove that pen where the sun doesn't shine."

"Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you?"

You bit back the words that sat on the tip of your tongue, acutely aware of Hotch's scrutinizing stare. If was reprimand was on the horizon, you were determined not to be the recipient, despite Spencer's knack for bushing your buttons. The worst part of it all was how undeniably attractive you found Spencer to be--you liked his nerdy comments, the way you had to break your neck to look at him, and even that stupid smirk of his.

It was like a twisted game of fuck, marry, kill--except Spencer was your choice for all three, a secret you'd never admit to anyone. God knows that his ego was already overinflated.

"You know, while acai berries themselves are rich in antioxidants, the bowls are often misleadingly marketed as superfoods. In reality, the excessive amounts of granola, sweetened fruits, and added sugars make it the equivalent of dressing up a dessert as a fruit salad."

Your spoon paused mid-air suspended in the stillness of the break room, as your gaze drifted upwards to lock with Spencer's. A smirk unfurled across your lips, and with deliberate slowness, you savored a slow, exaggerated mouthful, the spoon exiting your mouth with a prolonged, tantalizing pull. A contented moan escaped you. "Mmm, nothing beats a bowl of disguised indulgence. Thanks for the insight, but this 'fruit salad' just became a tad sweeter."

You observed him as he stood, mouth slightly open, eyes glued to your lips with an intensity that bordered on reverence. Anticipating his usual quick-witted comeback, you were met with silence. "Aww, what's the matter, wonder boy? Cat got your tongue?"

"Not at all, but it wouldn't hurt for the cat to catch yours for a change," he replied, stepping forward, his stare cutting through the space between you. 

"Look who's talking. When you finally decide to censor your own commentary, that's when I'll consider silence," you pronounced, your acai bowl abandoned on the counter as a wave of irritation surged within you, propelling you forward.

"Censor my commentary? Trust me, If I didn't, we'd be having a very different conversation right now," he murmured, his frame inching so close you could feel the warmth of his breath.

"You must love the sound of my voice to be this close. Remind me again about the Doppler Effect?" you snapped, attempting to sound unaffected, but your body betrayed you--a rush of warmth blooming over your face. "Or is it just my personal bubble that's too tempting?"

"Are you always this flustered when someone invades your space, or am I the exception?" he teased, stepping in even closer, nearly pressing against you. Your gazes locked in a silent challenge as you tilted you head up defiantly, your heart doing somersaults in your chest.

"Flustered? Hardly. I'm just sizing up the tree before I climb," you declare, your gaze sharpening to fine points. "And you're not as tall as you think."

A sudden burst of laughter spilled from Spencer, a rich sound that echoed through the minimal space between you. He didn't step back, your chests touching. The sound jolted you, and as the weight of your own words hit you, a fierce blush flared across your cheeks, your embarrassment impossible to hide.

"Wait, that's not--ugh!" you stammer, but Spencer is already retreating towards the bullpen, his laughter trailing behind him, taunting you. Your voice echoes down the hallway as you hurry after his figure. "Spencer!"

At the bullpen's entrance, Spencer halts, turning to address the team with a grin. "Guess who just said she's planning to climb me like a tree?" he announces, your words now on display for the entire team. Heat creeps into your cheeks as you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

"Called it!" Penelope's voice rang up, her hands waving like she was directing a parade. "Profiler? Please, I didn't need a badge to see this coming. Doubters, eat your hearts out. Get it, girl!"

"I said 'like a tree' in a metaphorical sense, guys. You know, like overcoming obstacles...not literally climbing Spencer!" you mumble, your face hidden behind your hands, the embarrassment radiating from your cheeks.

With a lean that closed the gap between you, Spencer's voice was low and teasing, "Keep telling yourself that."

[anelizreid]

HI i have an idea and its making me really giddy

ok so reader is a translator for the bau and they’re always reading and translating texts or calls or anything like that. and the reader to spencer is basically like penelope to derek. they flirt all the time and all of those lovely things.. and it’s kinda just where they’re flirting on the phone and morgan teases reid about it and reid gets all flustered

IDK IF IT CAN WORK I JUST LOVE FLUSTERED SPENCER :(

anyway i’ll probably be in your inbox a bunch uhhh so call me h or something

-h

Warm Under the Collar - S.R

summary: spencer insists he is not flirting. morgan insists that spencer absolutely is. one of them is lying. pairings: spencer reid x translator!reader warnings: heavy flirting, pre-relationship mutual pining, verbal sparring as foreplay, workplace hr violations, use of angel wc: 0.6k

“Are you thinking about me, Dr. Reid? Because I’ve been thinking about you.”

Spencer exhales, tugging at the collar of his dress shirt as if loosening it might alleviate the sudden stranglehold of your words. He wasn’t sure if it was always this constricting or if it was conspiring against him at the mere sound of your voice.

He rolls his eyes, performative, really, because you can’t see him, and it’s easier to feign exasperation than admit the effect you have on him. His mouth, however, twitches in betrayal, flirting with a smile before he crushes it. 

The crime board he was supposed to be focusing on, filled with monochrome photos and reports, was now blurring into meaningless scribbles as his thoughts veer off-course, plummeting headfirst into you.

“I’m always thinking about you.”

The words come easily because they require no effort to be true. Always isn’t hyperbole, it’s a mathematical constant, an irrefutable fact.

He was thinking about you before he even called you, felt the shape of you in his mind like an afterimage burned onto his retinas. 

Thought about what color you were wearing, whether your hair was up or down. He wondered if you’d eaten, if you were drinking enough water, if you’d remembered to bring a jacket to the office because the temperature had dropped unexpectedly. 

“Always? Spencer, if you wanted me that bad, all you had to do was say so.”

He isn’t sure why he hesitates — why his brain takes a detour through all the ways he has said so, if not in words, then in the way his thoughts orbit you like a law of nature. 

“I feel like I did say so. Quite literally. But if you’d like me to be more explicit about it, I’m happy to oblige.”

Another pause. He wonders if you’re smiling.

“Mmm, well, I’m certainly not going to stop you.” You sigh, a little dramatic. “Go ahead, be explicit.”

Spencer physically winces at how hot his face gets. The very concept of explicit sits indecently in the pit of his stomach.

“Tempting.” He exhales, rubs a hand down his face, forcibly redirects. “But I do actually have a job to do. And, lucky for me, it just so happens to require your specific set of skills.” 

He leans against the crime board, half-smirking despite himself, because if nothing else, this is fun — the sharp back-and-forth, the way you press all the right buttons just to see what happens.

“I have a recording that needs translating. Think you can focus for long enough to help me, or do I need to, I don’t know, compliment your intelligence first to get you in a professional mindset?”

“Complimenting my intelligence to get what you want? Interesting. Manipulative, even.”

He groans, tilting his head toward the ceiling, appealing to some higher power for patience. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t say I was going to —”

“Too late, you put the idea in my head, and now I expect it. Preferably in an eloquent, well-structured speech. Bonus points if you make it poetic.”

“Or,” he counters, “you could translate the recording first, and I’ll… circle back to stroking your ego at a later, more convenient time.”

A small pause. The kind that feels intentional, like you’re weighing your options.

“I guess that works,” you say. “Send it over, pretty boy.”

Spencer shakes his head, fingers moving on autopilot as he sends the file, because if he thinks too hard about the way you lilted that last pretty boy, he might die. “Alright, thanks. Be good, angel.”

He hangs up, still grinning like an idiot, still entirely too warm under the collar. He exhales, staring at the phone in his hand like it might have the decency to cool him off, maybe undo the physiological mess you’ve left him in.

“If I have to listen to one more of your phone calls with her, I’m sending y’all an invoice.”

Spencer freezes when he sees Morgan standing behind him.

He clears his throat, ignoring the flush he knew was climbing up his neck. “Flirting is an unsubstantiated claim.”

Morgan just stares at him. Stares. “You don’t even believe that.”

Spencer mutters something about professionalism because he’s nothing if not a walking contradiction.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[anelizreid]

sweeter

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: in which, you and spencer try out foodplay, through use of whipped cream.

tags: MDNI smut!, established relationship, fem!reader, foodplay (whipped cream), oral (f receiving, munch!spencer i love you), nipple play, kinda temperature play, one use of pussy pronouns (gasp).

a/n: fun fun fun, my first time getting experimental with smut! happy reading!!

wc: 1.7k

you instantly regret it when the foam hits you. it's that unpleasant cold sensation. similar to a too-frigid shower early in the morning when the water doesn't heat up fast enough, spreading a shiver down your spine as you recoil inward.

spencer's fingers rub soothingly into your hip as he hovers the nozzle of the can over your other nipple. your stomach clenches, your bodily response telling you to get away. you were warm; spencer made you feel warm. 

but no. you had to bring this up; you had to insist despite his protests and concerns for you.

“it'll be fun, spence,” you had goaded. “and it'll taste good.”

“you already taste good,” he responded, dipping down to lick your pulse point as if to prove his point.

“can we at least try?” you whined, tone overly sweet. 

he conceded with a huff, but you weren't blind to the excited little glint in his eyes.

so now you're perched on your kitchen counter, clad only in your underwear, on top of an old t-shirt that spencer had so courteously laid out for you, ensuring the marble wouldn't be ice to your thighs. the kitchen, apparently, was the most ideal location for this. easy and convenient to clean up, and food is meant to be here, after all. 

he's eyeing you with amusement, eyebrows raised. “are you sure about this, honey?” he struggles to suppress a laugh, barely managing it. you’d imagine he’d be more sympathetic, but all he's sporting is a smug little smile as he sprays more whipped cream on you, chuckling when you flinch.

“you’re a sadist,” you grumble before turning firm, your resolve clear. “i’m sure.”

you inadvertently puff out your chest, a show of strength, but it doesn't appear that way to spencer. his eyes dart down, something hungry blooming in the dark pits of his pupils. 

maybe this will be fun. 

your tits only just covered by clouds of white foam, the sight is ghastly, and it makes him swallow hard. he stands there, a little confounded, as you reach for a bottle of sprinkles beside you, lightly dusting some over you. he hates you for being so normal about this and he hates you for the teasing grin that plays at the corner of your mouth when you look at him again. the counter has offered you some leverage, putting you at eye level with him.

but, oh. he loves you for the way your head tilts so endearingly. the way your lip gets pulled sheepishly between your teeth as you note the intensity with which he regards you. you lean forward, pressing a fluttering kiss to his cheek. you pause by his ear, “go ahead.”

he hooks an arm behind you, pulling you forward as well as offering you something to lean on. he starts with a kiss on your shoulder, lingering in what you assume is an effort to prolong it, to tease you. you feel the curve of his smile against your skin, the way his teeth peek out as he does so. his lips brush over your collarbone, up to your neck. they attach themselves just under your jaw, sucking lightly.

you don't realise that he has brought that can back to your body until you feel foam pool at the hollow of your throat. you hiss at the sudden cold contact but he quickly soothes that with the warmth of his tongue, scooping it up.

“fuck,” you curse lowly when he runs his tongue up your neck, nipping at your pulse point. 

“you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, bringing his lips back up to yours. he kisses you multiple times in quick succession, trying to make you laugh. he succeeds when you bite his bottom lip in mock reprimand. “i’m so lucky.”

it's dizzying the way he dips down so quickly, pressing a kiss to your sternum. you almost don’t realise when his mouth inches dangerously close to your whipped cream covered nipple, wrapping his lips around it and licking up the melting remnants off along with the sprinkles. the sensation makes you keen, high pitched and a little needy. he laps at the peaked bud, pinching and rolling it between his teeth. 

his arm is firm against your back, holding you to him with unmitigated strength as he sprays more cream onto your nipple and flattens his tongue on top of it. he spends a while there before moving to your opposite one and repeating with carefully paid attention. he hums appreciatively, pulling off with a pop. his pleased smile is accompanied by a contented lick of his lips.

“you want more?” he asks eagerly, relishing the way you look at him with a mildly shocked expression. 

you agree with a dazed nod. reaching for his neck, you pull him in for a kiss, breath hitching when you taste the whipped cream on his lips. “what the fuck?” you stifle a laugh in disbelief.

he just shrugs like it's nothing. like what he just did didn’t get you embarrassingly wet. you squeeze your thighs together, a way to conceal the growing damp patch on your underwear. spencer, ever the observer, notices this. he nudges your knees apart, stepping between your legs. his fingers skim over your skin as he takes you in, smiling somewhat deviously. 

“lift your hips?” he tugs at the waistband of your panties, pulling them down when you rise off the counter. 

he sneaks his hand down and presses his thumb between your folds. he rubs in small, slow circles, drawing out little moans and gasps from you. he trails down to your entrance, to the pool of wetness there and drags it back up to your clit. 

“holy shit, you really liked that,” he breathes, gaping at the way the pad of his thumb glistens. “or you just like my tongue on you. either way.”

“spence,” you whisper, his name caught between a whine and a plea. 

“what do you want, angel girl?”

“make me come,” you murmur, gaze darting helplessly between his eyes and his mouth. it's clearly not all you want.

he knows this. 

“i’m trying,” he says earnestly, applying a bit more pressure to your clit as he does so. he doesn’t hide the shit-eating grin that blooms across his face.

you make a noise, something dragged out and petulant, not willing to encourage further teasing, which makes him laugh.

“you want my mouth?” he asks, to which you nod meekly. he presses a chaste to your chin, chuckling fondly. he drops to his knees and you don't notice when he snags the can of whipped cream down with him.

he pulls you from behind the knees to scoot closer to his face, leaving you almost hanging off the counter. with a hand on your inner thigh and his shoulders between your legs, he holds you open. 

now, you shouldn't be surprised. spencer has always been partial to eating you out; some might even argue it's his favourite thing to do. so when the opportunity to enhance that experience came along, you shouldn’t have been surprised that he took it. 

still, you can't help the shocked squeal that you let out when he sprays whipped cream over your clit, stupidly rotating his wrist so it settles in a swirl like he's icing a cupcake. he drinks in the sight, the white peak beckoning him. wildly excited, he dips down and licks. it's obscene��you can’t even look at him, the way his tongue sticks out. 

“oh god,” you gasp, moaning when he sprays a line up your vulva, his mouth following close behind, greedily lapping up the mess.

“gotta clean her up,” he mumbles, amusement tugging at him when he sees your expression–thoroughly heated. “can’t have you getting a uti,” he continues, licking a casual but firm stripe between your folds. he definitely means it.

his lips close around your clit, dropping the can with a resounding thump as he circles his arms around both thighs, seemingly done with the cream. he sucks profusely; cheeks hollowed as he pulls your bud into his mouth, tongue flicking over it relentlessly. your soft pants reverberate around the room, blending with the wet sounds coming from between your legs. he moans when your thighs try to close around his head, a broken sound escaping him as his grip tightens. 

“sweet,” he mumbles. “you taste so amazing, angel. so so good.”

his words are muffled against you. he gets like this, you’ve noticed, pussy drunk–as you so affectionately put it. he babbles mindlessly, his tongue working deliberately without pause. it's not like you're doing any better, the unyielding press of his mouth on you rendering you a mess. your hand rakes through his hair desperately, tugging when the coil in your stomach begins to tighten.

“oh fuck. spence, i'm gonna-”

his eyes snap up to yours, softening. the warmth in his gaze is at odds with the desperation in the way he holds you, the way he mouths at you like he’s starved. he hums, the sound vibrating through you, coaxing, pleading as he urges you to let go. 

the wave crashes over you, pulling you under. his mouth follows the spasming motions of your hips, dutiful as he helps you ride out the high. he selfishly licks at you a few more times before pulling back. the lower half of his face is a wreck when he stands up, slick covering his chin. he greets you with a coy but giddy expression. 

“you’re insane,” you giggle, reaching for a kitchen towel that you know is somewhere behind you. you use it to wipe his face, rubbing his lips dry with your thumb, rosy and swollen from overexertion. you cradle his face gently and he leans in, planting a kiss on your palm as he does so. 

“good?” he asks nervously.

“really good, baby.” you smile, inclining forward to press a kiss to his cheek. 

you hop off the counter, a spring in your step as you thrust the can of whipped cream into his hands. you slip your fingers into his belt loops, biting your lip as you walk backwards, pulling him toward the living room–to the couch. 

“trust that i won't make a mess,” you placate his confusion with a playful grin. “but we are not finished here.”

spencer was in for a night. 

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