drspencerweed

[drspencerweed]

don’t mind me just Thinking about how in The Fisher King parts 1/2 it’s implied Spencer hasn’t visited his mother since he joined the FBI (aka in over 3 years) and the first time he sees her is only because of a case

[drspencerweed]

every time there’s a cm episode in my city I feel like that tiktok sound that says “do not come to my town”

[drspencerweed]

sorry Matthew gray gubler, I don’t care what your weird headcanon is, but Spencer Reid does not watch porn or at least not mainstream porn (he does not get Penelope’s reference to plumbers/college girls in s1e8)

[drspencerweed]

idk if ive asked this but i had no wifi so Idjkk if it went thru BUT PLEASE when u get the chance pleasee i need pervert spencer SOBAD like early seasons i guess maybe season 4

content warning: Pervert!Spencer, voyeurism-adjacent, dirty talk, unhinged tension, mutual pining gone wild, public risk, first time, canon-era, reader POV

a/n: how many times can vi use "the bullpen is empty" in her writings challenge go

word count ~ 1.1k

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

It starts with a look. And then another. Spencer Reid has been watching you for months. He thinks he's subtle about it, but he’s not. Not when his eyes flick up your skirt when you drop a pen. Not when he lingers just a little too long behind you in the coffee line. Not when his fingertips brush your palm during case files, and he swears it was "accidental" every time.

You're not stupid. You’ve seen the way his throat bobs when you cross your legs in meetings. Heard the way his voice catches on your name when you're bent over the conference table, red pen in hand.

But tonight?

Tonight he’s not pretending.

Everyone's gone. The bullpen is empty, ghostly quiet under the hum of fluorescent lights. You’re standing in front of the copier in a pencil skirt and heels, pretending to be productive, when you hear the door creak.

Then, his voice.

“You always stay late?” That voice—honey-laced, cracked around the edges from lack of sleep. You turn, eyes meeting his. Spencer Reid. Hair a little longer, curls messy, tie loosened, jacket gone.

You smile. “Only when I know someone’s going to watch me.”

He falters—just a second. Like his brain skips. Then his eyes darken. You see it. A shift.

“I wasn’t watching,” he lies. Badly.

You walk toward him, slow. Deliberate. “You’ve been watching me since October, Reid.”

He swallows.

“Watching you isn’t the word I’d use,” he says, voice low. "Studying, maybe."

Your brows rise. “Studying?”

He doesn’t blink. “I like data. Repetition. Pattern recognition.”

You’re in front of him now. Inches away. He’s taller. And tenser. You tilt your head up. “So what patterns have you noticed?”

Spencer exhales shakily. “You wear lipstick when we land in cities with bookstores. You cross your legs toward me in the jet. You touch your necklace when you’re wet.”

You blink. He stares back, unrepentant. And there it is—your heartbeat spikes. Your thighs press tight.

He keeps going.

“You always adjust your skirt when you’re talking to Hotch. You lean forward when I read out loud. And you moan in your sleep at hotels. Soft. Like you're dreaming about being fucked.”

Your breath catches.

He whispers now—leaning close. His lips nearly brush your ear.

“I touch myself thinking about it.”

Your whole body burns.

"Spencer."

He says your name like he’s tasting it. Hands still at his sides like he’s restraining himself.

But you’ve waited long enough.

You grab his tie and pull him down. Crush his mouth to yours.

He groans—low and guttural—and finally snaps.

He drags you backward into the nearest empty office—the one with the blinds shut. The second the door clicks, he has you against it, mouth devouring yours. Teeth, tongue, filthy kisses.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he hisses, rutting against your thigh. He’s hard. Rock hard. And needy.

“I think I do,” you pant. “You look at me like you want to crawl inside.”

He growls. Fucking growls. One hand hikes up your skirt while the other fumbles open his belt. There’s nothing graceful about it. You’re both frantic, breathless.

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you?” he pants against your neck. “Let me fuck you here? Up against this door? Anyone could walk in—Hotch could walk in—”

“Do it,” you whisper, dizzy. “Fuck me like you’ve been dreaming about.”

And that’s all it takes.

He doesn’t bother with your panties. Just pushes them aside, runs two fingers down your slit, curses under his breath.

“So wet,” he gasps. “Jesus—did I do this?”

“Yes,” you moan. “Every look. Every fucking nerdy fact out of your mouth.”

He hisses and lines up, presses in—and god, he’s thick. You claw at his shoulders as he inches inside, slow and deep.

“Oh my God, Spencer—”

“Say that again,” he groans. “Say my name like that.”

“Spencer,” you gasp again. “Harder.”

And he snaps.

He fucks you like he’s unraveling. Like every second of restraint he’s ever had is gone. One hand grips your throat, not tight—just there. Possessive. The other wraps around your waist, holding you steady as he pounds into you.

“Been thinking about this,” he rasps. “Every fucking night. What you’d sound like. What you’d feel like. What face you'd make when I split you open.”

You moan, loud, and his hand flies over your mouth.

“Shhh,” he pants, eyes wild. “They’ll hear you—”

“No one’s here,” you whimper against his palm.

“You don’t know that,” he growls, slamming into you. “You want someone to catch us? You want someone to know how desperate you are for me?”

You come undone.

Your whole body spasms around him. You shake, bite down on his hand, and cry out as heat floods through your veins.

Spencer loses it. He shudders, curses, and spills inside you with a broken, filthy moan. His forehead drops to your shoulder. He’s shaking.

You both are.

When he finally pulls back, he watches his cum drip down your thigh with a possessive, almost worshipful stare.

Then—he kneels.

“Spencer—” you start, but he silences you with a look.

His tongue licks up the mess, slow, purposeful—like he’s cleaning what’s his.

You gasp, shaking.

He stands and kisses you. Lets you taste it.

“You’re mine now,” he whispers, dark and reverent. “And I’m never pretending I don’t want you again.”

[drspencerweed]

At the end of the day Spencer Reid is just a silly goose trapped in an FBI agents body forced to face The Horrors

[drspencerweed]

Hot take that I don’t even fully agree with but lowkey I think they should’ve killed Spencer in the finale of the show. Killed by his mind, after recreating his mentor’s greatest shame, and becoming the person who brought him into this mess but not being able to get out himself. It would’ve been a horribly tragic but poetic ending to his character and loop the whole show together in a way that long shows like that rarely accomplish.

[drspencerweed]

Black Lace

Summary: You suspect that Spencer stole your panties and decide to confront him

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) Pervert!Spencer, stealing underwear, embarrassment, slight dub!con, male masturbation

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

After working with your new favorite coworker for just a few months, you became aware of a very interesting fact about him. 

Spencer Reid was a little pervert. 

His seemingly innocent and coy demeanor couldn’t fool you anymore after it became obvious that he had stolen a pair of your panties. It happened on your last case when you accidentally grabbed his go-bag on your way to the hotel and vice versa. The pink color blooming over his cheeks when you knocked on his hotel room door to get your bag back already gave away that something was up. 

However, you were only certain about it when you were back home doing your laundry, noticing that your favorite black lacy panties were missing. You were sure you had packed them but still double checked your underwear drawer but couldn’t find them. 

It had been four days since Spencer was in possession of your underwear and just as long since he could barely look you in the eyes anymore. You were aware that whatever he was doing with them was far from decent. 

Unbeknownst to him, the thought of this sweet boy doing something sinful with your panties excited you. Only wondering what exactly was happening when he was alone wasn’t enough for you anymore. You had to know. 

So when everyone else was already gone and it was only you and him left at the office finishing up some paperwork, you decided to confront him. 

“Hey Spencer, can I ask you something?” 

He looked at you with raised eyebrows and cheeks already tinted pink. “Hm?” 

Walking over to his desk, a smirk spread over your face. 

“I was doing my laundry last night and noticed that a piece of clothing was missing from my bag,” you said, your voice laced with a certain playfulness. 

You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed and he quickly averted his eyes from you. “Okay?” He muttered. 

“So I was wondering if it may have… fallen out of my bag the other day. You know, when it was in your hotel room.” 

“Uh… no… I haven’t seen it,” he mumbled. 

“Are you sure? You’d easily recognize it among your clothes. I doubt you own anything so flimsy and lacy,” you murmured as you leaned closer, noticing the heat radiating from his body. 

“No, sorry! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He lied as he quickly began shoving his things into his satchel. “I have to go, gotta catch my train.” 

That was the last thing he said before practically bolting to the elevators. Apparently Spencer Reid wasn’t just a pervert, he was a terrible liar, too. There was no way you’d let him get away with this so easily. 

Two hours later you knocked on Spencer’s door. You heard some shuffling on the other side before he reluctantly opened the door. Before he could say anything, you began talking. 

“Could you please take a look in your bag again to see if you accidentally packed it?” 

He took a deep breath and managed to lie a little better than before, “I already told you, I don’t have your panties.” 

His words made you smile. “How do you know it’s panties I’m looking for?” 

His eyes widened when he realized you caught him lying. “Uh, context,” he mumbled. “You talked about lace, so I assumed.” 

“Right,” you huffed as you pushed against his shoulder so he’d step aside. You walked into his apartment to take a look around. 

“What are you doing? I didn’t invite you in,” he sounded a little upset as he watched you step into his living room. 

“And I never consented to you stealing my panties,” you retorted. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Almost on instinct, you walked into his bedroom and Spencer promptly followed you. It was more neat than you had expected, the bed was made nicely and only a few books were sitting on his nightstand. 

“This is highly inappropriate, you can’t just march in here,” he scolded you. 

As if to challenge him, you said, “So what are you gonna do about it?” 

Before he could come up with an answer, you quickly scanned the room to figure out where he was most likely to hide your underwear. You opened the drawer of his nightstand. 

“Hey, you can’t look in there!” He squeaked as he reached for your arm but hesitated to actually touch you. 

No panties were to be seen, just tissues, condoms, lube and a pack of melatonin pills were inside the drawer. You weren’t sure why it surprised you so much that Spencer had condoms at home, but it did. You wondered if he had anyone in his life to use them with. 

Turning your head, your sight fell to the pillows on his bed. Quickly you grabbed them and shoved them aside until you saw black lace peeking out under one of them. You pulled out your panties and held them in the air, almost yelling, “A-ha!” 

When your sight landed on Spencer’s face, he looked absolutely mortified. A crimson shade spread over his cheeks, ears and neck. It seemed as if he had frozen in place, unable to speak. 

“I knew you had them!” You exclaimed, pouring more salt into the wound of the poor man in front of you. “What do you have to say in your defense?” 

Silence. 

“Spencer? I’m talking to you.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he began stuttering as he sat down on the mattress, his eyes fixated on the floor. “I uh… I opened your bag and saw the lace and couldn’t help myself but pull them out and look at them,” he finally confessed. “And then you knocked on the door and I panicked and shoved them in my pockets and gave you your bag back without them.” 

You listened to him with raised eyebrows and a smirk blooming on your face. “So you just decided to keep them?” 

Spencer just shrugged. 

Then, you asked the question he obviously dreaded. “What did you do with them?”  

Spencer’s entire body flinched at your words. “N…nothing,” he lied again. 

“Spencer!” You scolded him. “No more lies.” 

Finally, he managed to look at you with the biggest puppy eyes you’d ever seen. “Please don’t make me say it.” 

“Alright,” you agreed. “You can show me instead.” 

“What?!” 

“Go on,” you challenged him as you handed him your panties. “I wanna see.” 

Spencer didn’t move, instead he just sat there and stared at you with his mouth hanging open. 

“Don’t be shy now,” you snickered. “I already know you’re a little perv.” 

Instead of saying anything, he covered his face with his hands. You began to pity the poor boy and decided to play it a little nicer. You sat down beside him and touched his arm. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not angry at you,” you cooed. “Look at me, Spencer.” 

And he did. There was a glimmer in his eyes that let your heart jump. 

“What you did was questionable, but I promise I’m not mad. If anything, I’m curious. Maybe even a little excited,” you revealed.

“Excited?” Spencer repeated. 

You nodded and giggled, “I think it’s cute that you want me so much you stole my panties.” 

A timid smile appeared on his face. 

“I just really want to know what you did with them. It’s all I could think of the past few days.” 

Spencer took a deep breath and you thought he might finally start talking, but he didn’t. 

“Did you wear them?” You asked him. 

Almost offended, he said, “No, it’s not like that.” After a moment, he finally confessed. “I uhm… touched myself with one hand while holding your panties in the other.” 

You looked at the lacy fabric in your hands, still looking clean as you wondered, “Did you come inside them?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t want to taint them.” 

Your curiosity still wasn’t satisfied, so you asked, “Did you smell them?” 

It seemed impossible, but the red shade on his cheeks turned even darker when he nodded. 

“I hadn’t worn them yet. They probably just smelled like my laundry detergent,” you whispered. 

To your surprise, he said, “I imagined they’d smell like you.”  

His words let heat rush right to your center. It aroused you to learn how much Spencer longed for you. You couldn’t help but glance at his lap and notice the bulge straining against his pants. 

“You’re turned on,” you stated. 

Spencer shifted in his seat in a poor attempt to hide his erection while whispering, “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you softly spoke as you touched his knee. “And don’t hide, please. I wanna see the effect I have on you.” 

Spencer found your eyes and you noticed how the gold of his irises was almost completely swallowed by his pupils. “You’re so beautiful and… kinda intimidating,” he stuttered.

His words made you smile even brighter.  

“I would really love to see you touch yourself,” you cooed. “Please show me.” 

For a moment, he thought about it but then he nodded. Hesitantly, he moved up the bed to lay down on his back on the mattress. You sat down beside him and handed him the panties you were still holding. Spencer let his fingers run through the lace, taking his time to inspect the garment before bringing it to his face and inhaling deeply. 

It was a sight so sinful it almost drove you insane. 

One of his hands moved to his pants and undid them before taking out his hard cock. When you saw him exposed like that, you couldn’t help but gasp and press your thighs together. 

“You’re so pretty,” you purred and noticed how Spencer smiled. 

Slowly he let his fingertips run over his shaft before he wrapped them around it and gave himself a firm squeeze. Two droplets of precum spilled from the swollen tip which were quickly collected by his thumb and smeared along his velvety skin. 

You couldn’t decide whether you wanted to look at his face or his cock so you switched between them. His eyes were closed as he held your panties against his face with one hand while his other hand caressed his erection. A moan fell from his lips when the grip of his fist tightened and he accelerated his pace. 

A sight so mesmerizing, it almost felt unreal. Your own arousal began dampening your underwear but you held back from touching yourself to fully focus on your magnificent view. 

Spencer was panting into the lace he held against his face as his whole body began trembling. 

“Are you getting close?” You purred. 

Spencer’s eyes shot open and found yours and it almost felt like he had forgotten that you were there. Before he could answer you, he whimpered. Then he moaned, “Yes.” 

“I want you to come inside the panties,” you instructed. 

His eyes widened and his mouth hung open at your words. He never stopped stroking himself and was already too far gone to question your demand. Quickly he moved his hand gripping the lace from his face down to his cock, holding it above the swollen head. 

“Oh, fuck!” Spencer sighed as he reached his breaking point. 

You watched intently as his hardness throbbed and his essence was caught by your underwear while broken whines escaped Spencer’s throat. Within seconds the lace was soaked. Spencer’s chest was heaving when he came down from his high. He dared to look down to inspect the mess he had created before quickly tucking his softening dick back into his pants. 

He sat up on the bed, still holding the stained panties in his fist. That’s when you noticed how sad he looked, almost pathetic. 

“Now they are ruined,” he mumbled as he inspected the fabric in his hands. “I’m sorry.” 

“That’s okay, cutie,” you said as you got up from the bed. “You can wash them and give them back to me tomorrow. And in the meantime I have something even better for you.” 

Spencer watched your every move, obviously having trouble comprehending what was happening. You stood at his bedside, your hands sliding along your skirt before lifting the fabric up, revealing the purple lacy undergarments you had put on for him before you got here. In a swift motion you hooked your fingers into the waistband and pulled them down.

His eyes were never wider as he watched you fold the purple panties and gently place them on the nightstand. It was as if he was frozen in place, unable to form another coherent sentence.

“I thought you might like them since they are your favorite color,” you purred as you walked towards the door to leave, already planning on returning tomorrow. “I hope you have fun with them!”

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

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[drspencerweed]

Hi, I love your writing, please could you do Spencer x best friend roommate reader, lots of tension, one bed trope 🙏🏼, maybe some somno? Perv!spence pls

Thankyouuuuu 🫶

content warning: Perv!Spencer, somno-inspired sex (consensual), one bed trope, masturbation (f. and m.), mutual pining, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, praise kink, tension, dom-ish Spencer.

a/n: this took a couple days but was soooooooo worth it, its so cute and disgusting ugh enjoy sluts

word count ~ 1.5k

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

The storm knocks the power out just after midnight.

You’re already curled on the couch in one of Spencer’s old FBI sweatshirts, legs bare, popcorn forgotten on your lap, when the TV screen flickers to black. The hum of the heater dies, leaving only the sound of pouring rain and the occasional crack of thunder outside the windows.

“Shit,” you mutter, and your roommate rounds the corner into the living room, book in hand, hair disheveled, eyes wide.

“You okay?” he asks. “The whole block went dark.”

You nod, shrugging. “Guess it’s one of those nights.”

He leans in the doorway, barefoot in sleep pants and a thin grey t-shirt that hugs the outline of his chest. You’ve seen Spencer Reid in every possible state — post-case, post-shower, half-asleep and half-catatonic — but something about him now, blinking into the lowlight with messy hair and no glasses, makes your stomach tighten.

Then the wind howls outside, and you both flinch.

“…You can sleep in my room,” he offers after a beat. “The couch isn’t gonna be warm long, and it’s freezing in here without the heat.”

You eye him. “Spence. There’s one bed.”

“So?” His ears flush. “We’ve shared a bed before.”

Yeah. Like three years ago. On a work trip. In a hotel room. When you were definitely not in love with your best friend-slash-roommate who now looks at you like he’s trying not to.

You huff and grab the blanket off the couch. “Fine. But if you get handsy in your sleep again—”

“I didn’t mean to that one time!” he protests, voice pitching.

You laugh. But something tells you he remembers that night as vividly as you do — his hand accidentally between your thighs under the blanket, the sharp intake of your breath, the way he jolted back like he’d been burned.

You’d both pretended to forget it. But you hadn’t.

And now you’re walking toward his room, heart thumping, knowing damn well the bed is small and your legs tend to tangle.

The room is cold. Spencer pulls the covers up around your shoulders, careful not to let his hand linger too long. You roll onto your side, back to him.

He doesn’t move for a long time.

And then—he does.

Tiny shifts. One inch closer. Then another. You’re not asleep yet, but your breath is slow. Quiet.

You wonder if he knows you're awake. If he’s listening to the sound of your breathing and using it to justify the way his palm brushes your hip, feather-light under the blanket. Just enough to test.

You don’t stop him.

His hand lingers. Rests. Then glides down, fingertips brushing the hem of your sweatshirt — his sweatshirt — until he’s ghosting along bare skin.

You shift — just a little — and he freezes.

“Spence?” Your voice is soft. Sleepy. But laced with something else.

He doesn’t answer.

Your eyes flutter open. You keep your breathing slow. He thinks you’re asleep. And he’s touching you.

A low, throaty sound leaves him — almost a sigh — and then you feel it. His cock, hard against your ass.

And still…you don’t stop him.

His hand slides up your thigh. You’re bare underneath, no panties. You hadn’t thought you’d need them tonight.

You hear his breath hitch when he realizes.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

Your heart is pounding now, soaked through with heat.

You arch into him — just a little. Just enough that his hips press flush against you.

And that’s when he really moves.

Spencer leans in, nuzzles your hair, groaning into it. “You’re gonna kill me,” he whispers.

You’re practically dripping.

His fingers slide between your legs and find you wet. Soaked. He curses again, quietly, and strokes up through your folds.

“Fucking knew it,” he breathes. “Knew you’d be like this in your sleep. Thought about it too many times.”

Your eyes stay closed, but your mouth parts on a breathless gasp as he teases your clit in lazy circles.

“Dreamed about touching you like this,” he murmurs. “Waking up with my fingers inside you. You’d be so warm… so wet…”

One finger dips into you, and your body responds — needy, clenching around the slow, deliberate push.

He groans when he feels it. “God, baby.”

You can’t take it anymore.

You reach back and grab his wrist. His whole body jolts.

“Y-you’re awake?”

You turn your head to look at him — his face flushed, hair wild, pupils blown.

“Keep going,” you whisper.

He stares, chest heaving. “You’re not mad?”

You press your hips back into his hand. “Spence. I’ve wanted this.”

That’s all it takes.

He rolls you onto your back, hovering over you, mouth crashing to yours. His kiss is frantic, desperate — years of want poured into each motion. He’s panting into your mouth as he fucks you with his fingers, thumb circling your clit, pressing until you’re gasping under him.

“Fuck,” you whine. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

He grins, breathless. “To you? Every night.”

You moan, heat flooding your face.

“You touch yourself thinking about me?”

He nods. “All the time. Can’t help it.”

You spread your legs wider. “Then show me.”

He drops between your thighs instantly, lips wrapping around your clit, tongue flicking in soft, firm licks while his fingers stroke inside you.

You’re already so close — the tension has been building for months — and his mouth is too good.

You cum with a strangled cry, thighs trembling, back arching off the mattress.

Spencer groans into your pussy, like he needs to taste all of it.

When you come down, you find him stroking his cock, flushed and leaking.

“Please,” he says. “Let me fuck you.”

You pull him up to you and kiss him again. “Condom?”

He shakes his head. “Didn’t think I’d get this far.”

You wrap your legs around his waist. “Then be careful.”

He pushes in slow — inch by inch — both of you moaning at the stretch.

He feels huge, every inch thick and pulsing. You’re still soaked, but the drag makes you squirm.

“Oh my god, Spence,” you whimper. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

He buries his face in your neck, fucking into you deep and slow.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he groans. “You’d walk around in nothing. Touch yourself in the shower. Moan my name in your sleep…”

Your breath hitches. “You heard that?”

“I waited for it,” he confesses. “Jerked off to it. Every time.”

You tighten around him. He curses, thrusts harder.

His rhythm grows desperate, hips slapping yours, your name falling from his lips over and over.

You cum again with him deep inside you, pulsing hard, gasping his name like a prayer.

And he follows — groaning into your mouth, cock twitching as he spills inside you.

After, he’s still holding you.

“…So,” you say after a while. “You have been perving on me.”

He groans. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.” You grin. “But if you’re gonna jerk off with the bathroom door open, maybe next time…invite me.”

He flushes, eyes wide.

Then: “Oh. I will.”

[drspencerweed]

Spencer is so stupid for a genius

“The unsub is live streaming a murder”

“which social network is this?”

dr Reid my love how would this be a conventional social networking site r u joking me rn

[drspencerweed]

Spencer being ready to die until they threaten Penelope is so….

[drspencerweed]

Criminal Minds 2.08

[drspencerweed]

Scent from Heaven

Summary: Spencer cannot stop fantasizing about you

Request: A fic where Spencer’s crush on BAU!Reader is so intense and he’s having all these sex dreams about her and his main dream for him is to go down on her. He wants nothing more than to go down on her and taste her and worship her.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) Spencer is a bit of a pervert, sex fantasies and dreams, there was only one bed, male masturbation, description of oral (fem receiving) and fingering, coming untouched

Word count: 1.9k

Masterlist

It had to be your scent. 

Floral, sweet and absolutely mesmerizing.

For weeks Spencer had been trying to figure out what it was about you that slowly drove him mad. He even looked at the latest research about physical attraction, only to come to the conclusion that the two of you apparently were a perfect match. 

Only you didn’t know that yet. 

So Spencer had no choice but to indulge in his fantasies about you to soothe his yearning for your nearness. 

It all began a few weeks ago, just a couple of days after you had started working at the BAU. Spencer stood behind you at your desk, leaning over your shoulder to read over the case report you had just finished. 

He had every intention of giving you constructive feedback but his mind went completely blank once he noticed your scent. It wasn’t some perfume, Spencer was sure about that. It was like your neck emanated some sorcerous haze that rendered him completely speechless. 

Lucky for him, you hadn’t noticed how dumbfounded he suddenly felt around you. 

Later that night, when Spencer was fast asleep in his bed, you visited him in his dream. He noticed your sweet smell before he saw you, waiting for him completely bare, ready to be devoured. There was no hesitation, no holding back before Spencer fell to his knees to worship every part of you. 

He woke up painfully hard the next morning, a desperate sigh escaping his lips when he realized it was only a dream. Spencer felt bad to taint you like that but he couldn’t help but touch himself to the thought of you. 

With closed eyes he let his mind flood with your images. The way your chest vibrated when you laughed, the way you looked at him with wide eyes when he explained something to you. 

A determined hand pulled down the waistband of his pajama pants to free his aching cock. Wrapping his fingers around it, he began moving slowly. A different memory of you appeared inside his head with every stroke.  

He thought about when he watched you stretch your arms over your head at your desk and a small patch of skin became visible just beneath the hem of your blouse. Then, the memory of your scent hit him like a train. 

Desperately, Spencer let his thumb swipe over the leaking tip of his hardness before speeding up his strokes. Biting down on his lips, he held back his desperate whines. 

He imagined how your skin would smell when he’d kiss down your body. How it would intensify the closer he got to your core. He thought about you spreading your legs for him and how your honeyed wetness would taste on his tongue. 

That was what threw him over the edge. With a pathetic whimper he came, spilling his essence over his hand and stomach. The cool shower that followed was not enough to wash away the guilt he felt for doing something so sinful while thinking about the purest thing he’d ever seen - you. 

However, it was nothing compared to how mortified he was when he actually saw you that day. His cheeks were blooming bright pink and he could barely stutter ‘good morning’ once he laid eyes on you. Only focussing back on his job allowed him to take his mind off you for a couple of hours. 

Over the following weeks, Spencer felt like he was going insane anytime he stood too close to you. 

It was the same every time. He sensed your wonderful smell and he was a goner for the rest of the day, already knowing what would happen once he fell asleep that night. The dreams of you became more vivid each time, so much so that Spencer had trouble telling fantasy apart from reality whenever he woke up the next morning. 

When he woke up today, he could have sworn he could still taste you. Lively was the memory of the way your silken folds felt under his tongue and how enchanting your heady aroma was. Only it was not a memory, it was just his mind playing tricks on him. 

Over the past few weeks Spencer had learned to act normal around you despite the peccable thoughts he had whenever he was alone. That was until the two of you were told to share a room on the current case. 

When you noticed that there was only one bed in the room, you let out a breathy laugh, “Of course.” 

Spencer avoided your eyes when you turned to him and you noticed how his cheeks turned pink. “I uh…,” he stuttered. “Uhm I could ask someone to switch rooms?” 

“I’m okay with this if you are,” you told him. “There’s enough room for the both of us.” 

Spencer, however, was not okay with it but had no intention of letting you know that. Not because he didn’t crave your nearness but because he was certain it would be his downfall. After clearing his throat, he tried as best as he could to get his composure back and nod. 

It was already late and both of you were exhausted after working on a very tiring case all day. Spencer was the first one to take a shower and settle down on one side of the bed, a book in his hands, pretending to read until you’d find your home under the covers, too. 

When you stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but flimsy pajama shorts and a white tank top, Spencer’s brain almost short-circuited. It was so bad, he couldn’t even hide his staring. The natural curve of your breasts was visible under the fabric of your shirt, a view Spencer had only imagined so far. 

When he felt too much blood rushing down to his center, he quickly averted his eyes back to the book in his hands, hoping you hadn’t noticed his staring. 

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” 

Your words brought Spencer back to reality. He found your eyes and raised his eyebrows.

“Seeing each other like that, I mean,” you clarified. “It’s very different from our usual work attire.” 

Spencer looked down at his washed-out Caltech shirt. “Yeah, that’s true.” 

He tried not to look at you when you slid beneath the covers right beside him but he couldn’t help but watch the way your body moved from the corners of his eyes. You turned off the nightlight on your side of the bed before laying down. 

“You can keep reading if you want, I don’t mind,” you whispered as you closed your eyes.

“No, I’m really tired,” Spencer said as he turned off the lights on his side and put the book down. “Good night.” 

Once he had laid down, he felt wide awake though. As he listened to your steady breathing, your scent filled the room and began clouding Spencer’s brain. Minutes passed as he just laid there, contemplating how inappropriate it would be for him to make a move. He thought about rolling to his side, wrapping you into his arms and kissing your neck. To keep his indecent thoughts at bay, he forced himself not to take this fantasy any further. 

Finally, his body started feeling heavy and sleep began dulling his senses, relieving him from the torture that was reality. That was until he felt your fingertips gently brushing over his arm, a sensation that almost shocked him. 

“Are you still awake?” He heard your hushed voice. 

“Yes.” 

You turned and slid closer to him until your face was mere inches away from his. There was little light in the room but it was enough for Spencer to notice the smirk on your face. 

“I can’t sleep,” you said. “I can’t turn my mind off.” 

Spencer cleared his throat. “Because of the case? Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, it’s not the case,” you purred. “I just can’t stop thinking about how much I want to kiss you.” 

Before he could ask any more questions, he felt your mouth against his. It was as if a dam broke when he felt your nearness, there was no more holding back. Spencer pulled you closer, his hands on your back pressing you into him, not allowing any distance between the two of you. 

His lips were greedy and demanding, kissing you like he was starving. In a way, he was. When a whimper escaped your throat, he saw it as an invitation to deepen the kiss. His tongue met yours, tasting you for the first time as you two melted into each other. 

It wasn’t enough, though. 

Spencer turned you on your back and hovered over you as he began kissing and nipping down your neck, taking in your sweet smell. 

“You’re mesmerizing,” he breathed against your pulse point before licking along your neck. “I can’t get enough.” 

Hurriedly his hands grabbed the hem of your shirt and you moved with him as he pulled it over your head. His palms were on your breasts before your back could touch the mattress again. His mouth followed his fingers, caressing your chest and hardened peaks until the sounds of your pleasure filled the room. 

“Please, Spencer,” you moaned. “I need you.” 

There was no need to explain any further what you needed, he understood. Slowly, Spencer kissed down your stomach before licking along the seam of your shorts. Then, he sat up and slid the fabric down your thighs before you spread them for him. 

He wished there was more light so he could see all the glory your body had to offer but he had to rely on his other senses to explore you. Spencer lay down between your legs and began kissing your inner thighs while breathing in your infatuating scent. 

The mewls falling from your lips once he licked over your slit with a flattened tongue were driving him insane. But it was nothing compared to finally tasting your heady dew on his tongue. With the utmost care he kissed and licked over your folds, tasting every bit of you while imprinting your uniqueness into his brain. 

Spencer barely noticed how painfully hard he was as he rocked his hips against the mattress ever so slightly. Tasting you and feeling you writhe beneath him was the best sensation he had ever experienced. 

When he let two of his fingers gently glide into you, Spencer was sure he just entered heaven. The way you enveloped his fingers while releasing even more of your honeyed wetness was absolutely magnificent. 

When you began pulsing around his fingers while crying out his name, Spencer couldn’t help but indulge in this sensation with you. He released himself into his pajama pants while grinding against the mattress.

Spencer's eyes shot open while a sigh left his lips. The morning sun was already coming through the curtains of the hotel room window. You were asleep, your back turned to Spencer. He looked at you, wondering how he had just laid between your legs, and now you were lying fully clothed an arm's length away from him. 

He thought back to moments ago. What he first thought was a memory began to blur and fade away. Slowly he realized that none of it had been real. 

It was yet another dream. 

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

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[drspencerweed]

I LOVE virgin Spencer x virgin Reader! More pleaaase I beg I beg I beg

content warning: virgin!Spencer, virgin!Reader, fingering (f!receiving), soft dom/sub vibes, praise kink, gentle teaching, emotional intimacy, slow burn to smut

a/n: this is so sweet im gonna throw up

word count ~ 1k

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

You’d never felt safer than when you were lying in Spencer’s arms. His hold wasn’t possessive or rough—it was reverent, like he was scared of breaking you. As if your skin was spun from silk, and he didn’t trust his own calloused hands not to snag it.

Your heart beat faster, more from nerves than lust. The soft rise and fall of Spencer’s chest beneath your cheek gave you something to focus on as you tried to find the words.

"Spence?" you whispered, fingers nervously playing with the hem of his shirt.

He hummed, voice gentle. “Hmm?”

You looked up, meeting those honeyed brown eyes. “Have you ever… done anything like this before?”

His breath hitched just slightly. "No," he admitted, cheeks coloring. “I—I mean, I’ve read about it. Extensively. But... not with someone I care about. Not with anyone, really.”

You smiled, brushing your knuckles along his jaw. “Me neither.”

He blinked, lips parting. “You haven’t?”

“Nope,” you whispered, pressing a shy kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And I was kind of hoping... maybe we could figure it out together?”

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat. His hands, which had been resting innocently on your waist, tightened ever so slightly. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I trust you.”

That did him in. He leaned in slowly, like he didn’t want to scare you, and kissed you deep and slow. His lips were soft, inexperienced but eager to learn, and you melted beneath him, letting your thighs fall open just a little.

You pulled back enough to murmur against his lips, “Do you want to touch me?”

His eyes widened, pupils dilating so fast it made you feel high. “Yes,” he breathed. “God, yes. But I—I don’t want to mess anything up.”

“You won’t,” you promised, taking his hand and guiding it down, just past the waistband of your sleep shorts. He followed your lead like it was instinct, like his body was hardwired to please you, even if he had no idea how. “I’ll teach you, okay? I want to show you what I like.”

His fingers were trembling as you pressed them to the damp heat of your panties.

“Oh,” he whispered, reverent.

You guided him, showing him how to cup you through the fabric, letting him feel how wet you were just from kissing him. “That’s all for you, Spence,” you said softly. “You’re doing so good already.”

He exhaled shakily. “You feel... you’re so warm.”

You nodded, helping him dip under the waistband, his fingertips brushing your bare skin now. The first touch made you gasp—it was tentative, barely there—but it made your thighs twitch all the same.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, like he was cataloging it in his brain. “Like silk.”

“Start slow,” you whispered. “Just rub me gently, in little circles—yeah, like that.” You whimpered as he obeyed, his long fingers moving with more purpose now. He was a quick study, and when you gasped, he did it again, chasing every sound you made like it was gospel.

"Does that feel good?" he asked, completely breathless.

“So good, Spencer,” you moaned, hips starting to rock gently against his hand. “You’re a natural. Just a little more pressure... ah—yes, there...”

He groaned softly, watching your face intently. “You’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” he whispered. “I—I want to know what makes you fall apart.”

Your fingers curled into his hair. “Do you want to try going inside?”

He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you whispered. “Just one finger. I want to feel you.”

He swallowed thickly, then slowly, carefully, slid one long, slender finger inside. The stretch burned in the most delicious way, and you gasped, clenching around him.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked instantly, terrified.

“No, Spence,” you gasped. “It’s okay. I just have to get used to it. You feel so good inside me.”

That made him shudder.

“Curl your finger a little,” you whispered. “Just like—yes, just like that—ahhh, God...”

Spencer’s jaw dropped slightly as he felt you flutter around him. “You’re squeezing me,” he whispered, almost dazed.

“Means I like it,” you said, voice high and shaky. “You’re making me feel so good, Spence.”

His free hand held yours, squeezing tight. “I want to remember everything. Every sound you make. Every time you gasp like that... I need it.”

You rocked against his hand gently, letting your body guide him now. “Add another finger,” you breathed. “Please. I want more.”

Spencer looked like he might combust from how wet and tight you felt as he eased a second finger in. You gasped, arching, thighs trembling.

"You're perfect," he whispered. "So warm—tight—God, I never imagined…"

You cried out softly when he crooked his fingers just right, brushing your G-spot. “There, Spence—oh, fuck, right there!”

“I found it,” he whispered in awe.

You clenched around him as he thrust gently, that spot over and over again. You were soaking, dripping down his palm, and he was completely captivated.

You whimpered, “I’m close—don’t stop—Spencer, please—”

“I’ve got you,” he said softly, fingers working faster, deeper. “Come for me, baby. Let go. I’ve got you.”

Your orgasm hit like a wave—slow, building, then crashing over you in shudders and gasps. Your hips bucked, your hands fisting the sheets, and Spencer didn’t stop until you were twitching, whimpering from oversensitivity.

He eased his fingers out gently, his hand now glistening with your slick. He looked at them with wide eyes, then back at you like you were made of stardust.

“You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded, pulling him into a shaky kiss. “More than okay.”

He blushed furiously, hiding his face in your neck. “I don’t think I’ll ever recover from that.”

You smiled, stroking his hair. “Don’t worry... I’ll let you practice.”

[drspencerweed]

every time there’s a cm episode in my city I feel like that tiktok sound that says “do not come to my town”

[drspencerweed]

Just some more random snippets of interviews with Matthew Gray Gubler that make me feel something in the abyss of quarantine

[drspencerweed]

sometimes when I’m watching cm I involuntarily bite the air bc of how much I want to bite Spencer’s neck

[drspencerweed]

spencer reid x bsf!fem!reader

tw .' suggestive themes , nsfw ( mdi 18+ )

imagine spencer reid getting a boner after looking down your shirt at work

it would start with you sitting next to him on the jet during a normal briefing, tablet in hand. his brain would short circuit for a whole minute ( longer if he'd gotten a glimpse at the lacy blue bra you'd had on ) scratch that, of course he noticed and due to his eidetic memory, he would never forget it

you, however, you had gone and done it on purpose. you would lie and say that you just wanted to show him something in a crime scene photo but you had specifically been wearing his favorite color lingerie and a strategically chosen a white button up with the first two buttons undone in the hopes that he would notice

his whole face would probably turn redder than a tomato and he would have to physically tear his eyes away from your cleavage. it wouldn't even cross his mind that you had wanted him to see it, so he would spiral in to guilt for looking. he would label himself a creep and flush red for a whole other reason

the other reason being that he could feel the his slacks tightening in the area of his groin. his body had betrayed him in a monumental way. and what was even worse is that you were still sitting next to him. your thigh touching his ( dare you say innocently )

he'd apologize to you in his head seventeen different ways. each starting with 'im so sorry, its biological' and ending with 'please, don't stop being my friend'. not that he'd ever have the courage to even begin to broach this subject with you and even if he could, he'd couldn't lie to you

yes, his body was having an uncontrollable reaction to you but he couldn't lie to your face and that that was the only reason

he'd start trying to think of anything else, anything but the color of your bra and what it might look like on the floor of his bedroom. or what you might look like sans the white shirt and deep blue bralette—

no! reid, get yourself together. this is your best friend you are thinking about and she definitely doesn't deserve your perverse thoughts. think about schrödinger’s cat, the fibonacci sequence—

he couldn't even look at you right now. would he ever be able to look at you again? he couldn't last more than two minute without thinking about your face, how would he survive never seeing it again once you decided he was a pervert for looking down your shirt?

his slack were beginning to feel uncomfortable and it was still growing. he reached for his water bottle, bringing it to his lip. when did he get to thirsty? oh my god—

string theory, think of the periodic table, anything other than the curve of her—

'spence, are you ok?' you had interrupted his spiral when you placed your hand on his upper thigh, suspiciously close to his raging boner. the mere touch alone made him grow even more in size. it had also made him choke on his water

he coughed violently and you moved your hand to his back as he leaned forward. but the action, while in attempt to help him, only made him cough harder

'i’m—fine—i just… water went down the wrong pipe.'

you smirked and then returned your hand to his thigh. only this time you placed your hand higher, your thumb rubbed the inseam of his pants. and spencer reid never wanted to die and live at the same time

he stood abruptly. your hand fell from his leg and he fumbled his way around you, desperately trying not to touch you as he tried to get to the aisle. in hindsight he probably should have faced away from you while shimming past as you got a full view of his bulge he tried to so hard to hide

'restroom!' he squeaked and gave you no time to protest

he'd stare at himself in the mirror, bead of sweat beginning to form in his hair line, his glasses slightly fogging

this is fine, just gotta wait it out, spence. five to seven minutes. blood redistribution. standard physiological response. this is science, not—

buzzzzz

he froze and slowly but robotically ( praying it wasn't morgan texting him to say he'd seen spence's little huge problem ) after seeing who it was from, he took back his praying

he'd wished it was morgan, or hotch telling him he was fired for borderline sexual harassment. but he would never be so lucky. no, the text was from you. with bated breath he opened the message

lmk if you need any help with you little problem, spencey

what?!

he swore his heart stopped right then and there. not only had you known about . . . but you were offering to help. his first instinct was to hurl the phone, as if it burned him. the second was to drop dead and hope that if there was some kind of afterlife that it would be kind to him. neither sounded very productive to him.

he leaned against the door and mumbled, 'i'm gonna die in this bathroom.'

THE END | masterlist