specialagentsergio

[specialagentsergio]

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!

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings @spensreid @silversprings-mp3 @person-005 @kittyisick @siriuslyval03 @sleepysongbirdsings @brownbunnyb @thegoodwitchs-blog @yourvenusyour-love

[specialagentsergio]

my sister is joining me in rewatching the first season and thought Hotchner makes the same face as Mudkip

bonus Gideon

[specialagentsergio]

“Irritated fans produce fanfic like irritated oysters produce pearls.”

— Anne Jamison (via pen-in-hand)

[specialagentsergio]

#fuck or die

content warning: #major character death

[specialagentsergio]

happy pride month

[specialagentsergio]

i love how there's the genre of fix-it fic where the author goes into great granular detail of how our heroes manage to avoid or undo whatever character death or other unpopular choice occurred, in a way that abides by the laws of the fictional universe and definitely required a substantial plot outline, and then there are fix-it fics where the author just went "that's bullshit and didn't happen," and we as readers all go "agreed. carry on."

[specialagentsergio]

[specialagentsergio]

being an artist and revisiting media you liked when you were 11 is like. oh ok. this shaped my sense of humor and the way I write characters and the way I pace narratives and the tropes I'm drawn to. and I vastly underestimated how much of an impact it had on me because I literally have not thought about it for 15 years. but it was there inside me the whole time. ok. ok cool! c ool

[specialagentsergio]

you ever get a comment that makes you want to reread your fic ?? it’s like ‘dang u liked it that much?? lemme go look’

[specialagentsergio]

“how did you get into writing” girl nobody gets into writing. writing shows up one day at your door and gets into you

[specialagentsergio]

just gonna leave this here

[specialagentsergio]

It's a Craving, not a Crush

Summary: Ever since you laid eyes on Emily, you were craving to taste her

“I could eat that girl for lunch Yeah, she dances on my tongue Tastes like she might be the one And I could never get enough”

Lunch by Billie Eilish

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) heavy kissing, grinding, fingering, oral (Emily receiving)

Word count: 1.1k

Author’s Note: Lunch is the perfect lesbian hymn to write about Emily Prentiss. I may or may not have lost my mind while thinking about going down on Emily. I hope you guys enjoy! This is for the lovely anon who requested “more Emily Prentiss”. 

Masterlist

Emily must have known exactly what she was doing when she put on a tight red dress tonight. She looked good in anything but seeing her in that color almost drove you insane. You were drawn to her like a honeybee desperate to find the sweet nectar of the most beautiful flower on earth.

There was no time to be wasted when she followed you inside your apartment after your date. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmured before you captured her lips with yours. 

The kiss was timid at first, soft and sweet. That changed once Emily pushed her body against yours. Her tongue slipped in your mouth when you sighed and you were happy to reciprocate her action. Deepening this kiss only ignited the flame that was already burning so hot inside you. 

Your lips left her mouth to explore her neck instead and a shy moan slipped from her. Mesmerized by the sound, you gently bit down on her pulse point in hopes to hear it again. Another sigh and you were lost in the glory that was the woman in front of you. 

Curious hands began exploring each other's bodies, pawing at soft curves and stroking over smooth fabric. It was not enough, though. One more kiss on her lips before you fell to your knees, ready to worship her fully. With widened eyes she watched you drag her dress up her thighs until the lace of her underwear was revealed. 

“So eager,” she chuckled when you placed a soft kiss on her thigh and another one at the seam of her panties. 

“Need to taste you,” you confessed before you let your tongue wander over the soft lace.

Emily placed her hand on your forehead and gently pushed you away from her, having you whine in protest. 

“Why don’t we take this to your bedroom,” she suggested while pulling on your hand to help you get up. “That’s much more comfortable.” 

There was no reason to dissent, so you led her to your bed. Emily’s hands felt warm and determined when she began undressing you layer after layer until you stood bare in front of her. 

“You’re so pretty,” she breathed while letting her fingertips ghost over your skin. 

Then, she shed her dress and let you watch as her underwear dropped to the floor as well. You couldn’t decide where to look first so you let your sight wander over her wicked grin, the swell of her breasts, her porcelain skin and the soft curls at her center. 

Any restraint you still had broke when she closed the distance between the two of you. Her lips on yours were eager as she kissed you with a fervor that knocked the air out of your lungs. You guided her onto the bed without breaking the kiss, hovering over her while wetness began pooling at your core. 

Emily caressed your breasts. Her touch was welcomed but not what you craved right then. You were certain you would combust if you didn’t get to finally taste her. With a clear goal in mind, you let your mouth wander down her neck. Several kisses were placed on her breasts before you licked over her hardened peaks. 

The way she arched her back was intoxicated and you were starting to feel light-headed. When you took her nipple in your mouth and gently sucked on it, the room filled with Emily’s moans. Already delirious, you descended further down her body. 

Without hesitation Emily opened her legs for you, revealing herself. It was as if you were witnessing a blossom go in full bloom, silken petals kissed by morning dew, layered perfectly. Her heady scent was enchanting and you had no choice but to lay down to appease your appetite for her. 

With precise motions you collected her honeyed wetness on your tongue, making her squirm underneath you. Taking your time, you explored her with your mouth to fully appreciate her uniqueness. Emily was getting impatient, though. 

“Don’t tease me,” she sighed while placing her hand in your hair. 

You couldn’t help but smile against her skin. One more kiss on her inner thigh and another one into her soft curls and then you began focusing your attention on her swollen bud. It took a few moments until you learned what exactly made her grind her hips against your face. WIth your arms hooked around her thighs you kept her steady.

When you closed your lips around her and gently sucked on her pearl, a fit of broken moans and sighs escaped Emily’s throat. Her arousal began coating your chin and you realized how your own wetness had begun dripping from your entrance. You couldn’t help but grind your hips against the mattress in a desperate attempt to find some friction. 

A moan against Emily’s velvety folds gave away how much you enjoyed going down on her. She found your eyes and smirked at you. 

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” She teased and you hummed in response. 

One of your hands moved from her thigh to her heat. You leaned back for a moment to let two of your fingers drag through her folds before gliding into her with ease. Her warmth enveloped you perfectly and there was no resistance from her body. You curled your fingers just enough to make her throw her head back into the pillows before you began thrusting into her. 

“You taste like heaven,” you breathed before your mouth found her sensitive nub once more, licking and kissing and sucking it until her walls began fluttering around your fingers. A wet spot had formed on the mattress between your own thighs. Rolling your hips against the sheets some more soothed the burning sensation in your core. You tensed your thighs to intensify the sensation. 

Emily fell apart with a loud cry, grinding her hips against your face almost erratically. When you felt her pulsing around your fingers, you couldn’t help but follow her into this sensation of pure bliss. With a tremble in your thighs you rocked your hips against the mattress until you came undone together with her. 

You let Emily ride out her high on your tongue before you sat up between her knees and brought your fingers to your mouth to indulge in the taste of her release. 

“Dirty girl,” she chuckled before reaching out her arms. “Come here.” 

She welcomed you inside your embrace and gave you a sweet kiss, certainly tasting herself on your tongue. Then, she shifted her position until she was hovering over you. With a teasing grin spread over her face, she moved down your body and cooed, “My turn.”

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

Taglist: @grumpyy-bearr @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @sapphicprentiss @lovelyy-moonlight @storiesofsvu @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @lover-of-books-and-tea @spensreid @person-005 @sleepysongbirdsings @brownbunnyb

[specialagentsergio]

almost me again

summary: While visiting Spencer at Millburn Correctional Facility, the prison goes into lockdown, temporarily leaving you alone together. You don’t let the opportunity go to waste.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

category: smut w/ a lil angst because it’s prison spencer, 18+ (minors DNI)

content warnings: swearing, dirty talk, praise, making out, fingering, hand job, semi-public sex

a/n: [arises from the grave carrying smut] i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins stuck together challenge! this return to posting writing after three years is brought to you by her, all my other awesome friends on her server for helping keep my interest in this show alive, and my successful carpal tunnel surgery last year. enjoy!

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

Visiting Spencer in prison is a mixed bag of emotions. First is the anger that he’s been framed and abandoned by the bureau, leading to him being in prison in the first place. Then relief when he walks in and you see him alive and… well, not well, but at least alive. It’s followed by stress and worry upon seeing how tense and sleepless he is.

Last but certainly not least, there’s the frustration that comes from sitting across from him and not being allowed to touch him. Years of casual touch, affection, and intimacy, all completely ground to a halt. It’s a special kind of torture.

You can tell he feels the same. His fingers twitch when they’re inches away from your hands on the table, itching to take them. His gaze will catch on your lips, and yours does the same to him. The line in between love and lust feels blurry. At least his lawyer had been able to pull some strings so you could visit in a private room instead of in general population, being heckled by the other inmates.

Today you’ve been visiting for around ten minutes, and having finished giving him the (depressingly small) update on the progress the team has made on his case, you’ve fallen into silence. Most of your visits end this way, staring at each other, words unspoken but understood.

And pretty much undressing each other with your eyes.

Spencer opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by the sound of a buzzer. You both jump.

“What is that?” you ask when it repeats.

“I’m not sure.” He gets up and knocks on the door for the guard. “What’s going on?” he asks when it opens.

“Lockdown. Stay put,” the guard answers, in a voice you think he wants to invite no questions or conversation, but that kind of thing never works on Spencer. Or you, for that matter.

“Lockdown?” you repeat. “Why?”

“Aren’t you supposed to take me back to my cell when the prison goes into lockdown?” Spencer adds.

“I said, stay put,” the guard says harshly. “We’ll move you later.”

“Well, how long from now is ‘later’?” you ask, standing from your chair.

The guard doesn’t entertain any more chatter, though. He only gives another instruction to stay where you are, then the door closes and makes its own little buzz, locking you both into the visitation room.

Spencer looks through the small window in the door. “He’s leaving,” he says, disbelief covering his face.

“Leaving?” you confirm. “A guard, leaving us alone in a federal prison. What could even cause that?”

“I’m not sure. A riot, maybe?” he guesses. “Maybe they need more guards to shut it down or something.”

You move to stand next to him. “How long do prison riots last?”

“Well, historically, some have lasted months, but don’t worry; I’m sure they won’t leave us in here for more than an hour.”

“I’m not worried.” You place a hand on his shoulder and watch a shudder run through his body, eyes closing at the first touch of someone he loves in weeks. “It’d be a shame if we didn’t seize this opportunity.”

He turns to face you and you place your hands on his cheeks. And you mean to wait for him to respond to your suggestion before doing anything further, but you can’t help yourself—you pull him into a hug.

He hugs back immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the crook of your neck. He breathes in deeply and you feel his body relax. The undercurrent of stress and tension he’s been carrying with him since Mexico shrinks. Not completely gone, but no longer overwhelming.

“Oh, I don’t care if they suddenly come back and I get in trouble for this,” he sighs. “It’s worth it.”

You open your eyes, looking out the window over his shoulder. “Well, there’s a guard at the end of the hallway, guarding the door to this wing, I guess, but he’s not looking this way. The other guy’s still gone. How long do you think we have?”

“I’ve no idea.” His hands wander lower, settling on your hips, fingers lightly gripping the fabric of your skirt.

“Well, then I guess the question is…” You pull back from the hug so you can watch his expressions and make sure you’re not crossing any lines he doesn’t want you to. “How long do you need?”

“Depends on what you’re referring to.” He tilts his head to kiss one of your cheeks, then the other. “If you mean how much time I need to be with you…” He kisses your forehead. “I’m not sure forever itself would be enough.”

It’s far from the first time he’s expressed such a sickeningly romantic sentiment, yet like every time before, it makes your cheeks prickle with warmth. You take one of his hands off your hips and lift it to your mouth, kissing the palm of it.

“However, I’m ninety-five percent sure you’re referring to how long it would take to get me off,” he continues. You see a little smile grace his lips before he dips his head to kiss your neck. “In which case, it’s probably ten minutes at the maximum.”

You put a hand in his hair, toy with it for a moment, then tug it lightly, just the way he likes. He inhales sharply. “Oh yeah?” you question.

“Maybe less,” he admits. “Probably less. It’s been over a month, and unlike you, I don’t have any privacy to take matters into my own hands, pun intended.”

You laugh. “Well, should we see what we can do about that?”

Spencer’s answer is a sweet, chaste kiss, almost as if he’s saying thank you. It’s immediately followed by a crushing, downright greedy one that makes you take a step backward to avoid falling. One of his hands cradles the back of your head while the other wanders. He can’t seem to decide where to put it, wanting to feel everything at once. Eventually he settles on untucking your shirt.

His hand grazes the skin underneath for just a moment. Before he can get any further, you grab the front of his prison-issued jacket and turn him, then push him against the wall. He makes a surprised noise.

“One of us needs to watch the door,” you explain. “And it’s easier for you to see over my shoulder than the opposite.”

“Right,” he says. “Got it. Watching the door. Can I feel you up now?”

You make a half-snort, half-giggle sound. “Yes, you may.”

He doesn’t possess an iota of hesitation as he slides his hand back under your shirt and up to your chest. He makes a grumbling noise, as if he’d forgotten there would be a bra in the way, but manages to get his hand beneath it all the same. “Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he mutters between kisses.

You press closer to him, your hands doing their own wandering. “I can tell,” you say. “I’ve never seen—or felt, rather—you get completely hard so quickly.”

Spencer huffs out a laugh. “I told you, it’s been a while. Paired with the way you were looking at me earlier…”

He tugs down the collar of your shirt to bite and suck a hickey into the skin under your collarbone, making you gasp. “Spencer.”

“Mm.”

“Not that I don’t enjoy foreplay, but...” you start, and he finishes the sentence like you figured he would.

“We need to be quick. I know.” He sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to the mark he’s just made on your skin.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask as you unbutton his pants. “Mouth, hands?”

“I’d never make you kneel on a concrete floor like this,” he replies. “And I want as much of your body touching mine as possible.”

You feign being put upon, as if you hadn’t been worried about the concrete floor as well. “Oh, if you insist.”

He doesn’t pay your tease much mind, instead adjusting one of your legs to hook around the back of his calf to keep your legs parted just enough for him to get his hands on you the way he wants, but without making what you’re doing immediately obvious to anyone who’d walk by or glance in.

You unzip his pants and push his underwear down just enough to free his cock, the tip already damp with pre-cum. You give it a few light strokes, coaxing more of the clear liquid out of it to spread down his length so you’re not jerking him off dry.

He sighs in a way that sounds like relief, and for a few moments, his hands still and he tips his head backward against the wall, letting the pleasure wash over him. You allow him his moment of calm, before gently reminding him, “Watch the door.”

He straightens back out and his eyes immediately fix on the small window in the door. “We’re still good,” he confirms. Despite your reminder on where to keep his eyes, they flicker back down to you, but you can’t really blame him. You’d find it hard to watch the door, too.

Spencer goes back to kissing you, sliding his hands fully up under your skirt to grip your ass and pull you even closer to him. He encourages the way you naturally rock against him, but when he moves a hand to rub between your legs, you feel a frown on his lips.

“Why did you have to wear tights?” he downright whines.

“What?” you ask with a surprised laugh.

“You wear this skirt—that I know you know I love, by the way—and that’s great, because skirts are easier to get into than pants, but then you paired it with tights, so it’s like you’ve canceled out the benefits,” he protests. “Why?”

The little pout he’s giving you, even as you continue to stroke his dick, is adorable. “Because it gets cold in this place,” you answer, which is the truth. “I can slide them down a little—“

“No need.” And before you can fully process what’s happening, he’s moved both of his hands to the junction of your tights and tugs on it until it rips.

“Spencer Reid!” you hiss.

“Tights aren’t that expensive,” he says dismissively, pushing on the inside of your thigh to open your legs to him further. “You have my wallet at home. Just take my card and get a new pair.”

“I’m less concerned about the cost of a new pair of tights and more so about the fact that I planned to wear these all day,” you say. It’s the truth, but you also can’t deny that what he’s done was unbelievably hot.

Spencer doesn’t address these worries, but rather gets right on with what he ripped the tights to do. He runs his hand once across the fabric of your underwear, and you can tell when he feels the slight damp spot because he lets out a little growl in your ear that makes you shiver.

“Sweetheart, if you wouldn’t mind…” he murmurs as he pushes your panties to the side. He gives a little rock of his hips.

“Oh!” You realize that you’d stopped stroking him when he tore your tights, and start up again, pushing his own underwear a bit farther down to be able to run your hand across his full length.

“Thank you, my love,” he replies in a soft and gentle voice that contradicts the greedy way he’s sliding his fingers into your folds and coating them with your wetness. He doesn’t waste any time in pushing one finger inside you, quickly followed by a second when the first glides in so easily.

You sigh in the same way he did earlier, a sound that’s tinged with relief.

“Your own fingers and toys just aren’t the same, are they?” he coos, beginning to thrust his fingers in and out at a steady pace.

You twist your hand as you run it down his cock, then thumb the tip, drawing a barely suppressed moan out of him. “No, they aren’t,” you reply simply. “You know there’s only one thing that I like inside of me more than your fingers.”

He hums. “I do. And as much as I’d love to provide that, we’re already pushing it with what we’re doing now.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “We keep slowing down; we need to pick up the pace here.”

He nods, glancing up at the door again to check for any changes. “Then let’s get to it.”

Spencer leans in to kiss you. As your lips meet, you change your hold on his dick from soft and casual to firm and purposeful. At the same time, he adjusts his hand so his thumb can rub your clit.

Both of you are well versed in how to get each other off. You know what each other likes the best, and how exactly to do it. You just don’t normally do it this fast and aggressively.

It’s working, though. It’s not long before you’re both panting into each other’s mouths more than you’re kissing. It helps that neither of you have been satisfied for over a month. He may think you’ve done just fine getting yourself off over that time, but in truth, laying alone in your shared bed always makes you too sad to get in the mood.

He doesn’t need to know that, though. Doesn’t need anything else to worry about, to feel guilty about.

You tip your head forward onto his shoulder as you feel the tension that’s been steadily coiling in your core start to close in on the breaking point. “Spencer,” you sigh out in the way you know he likes best.

His answer is a groan and a buck of his hips into your hand. “Don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last here,” he says, voice strained.

“I know I’m not making it another minute,” you say bluntly. The hand you’re not using to get him off has been gripping his arm hard enough to leave little crescent shapes through his clothing, but you move it now to push up your sleeve so it won’t get dirty when he cums.

He’s been remarkably quiet this whole time—his inclination to ramble carries over into the bedroom—and you imagine it’s been no small effort on his part. But when he feels one of the involuntary clenches of your walls that signals that you’re close, his resolve breaks.

“Honey, look at me, please, I wanna watch you cum,” he says, speaking as fast as he can while keeping the words clear enough to be distinguished.

You lift your head as he asks, similarly looking forward to watching him. The expressions he makes always enchant you, and unlike him, you don’t have an eidetic memory to draw on when you want to see it.

“Thank you, thank you. You’re so beautiful,” he praises. “Brightening up these dreary walls.”

You adjust your hands, wrapping one of them around the base of his cock and keeping it there so you can focus more on the head with the other. You watch him bite his lip to hold back what would usually be an unabashed moan.

“Best days are when you visit,” he continues on. “I just wish we could do more together. I wish I could touch you every time. Mm, so close.”

“You or me?” you ask, despite knowing the answer.

“Both.”

He crooks his fingers inside of you, hitting just the right spot, and you can’t help but gasp and momentarily throw your head back. Your body has its eyes on the finish line, and it’s racing towards it. You clench down on his fingers hard.

“That’s it, just like that,” he breathes out, and you can tell from the way his own muscles are tensing that he’s trying to hold back his release to see yours first. “Can you come for me, sweetheart?”

You nod. “Mm-hmm.”

As always, your body responds to his words with enthusiasm. Seconds after his request, you reach your peak, moaning out his name as quietly as you can. He shudders as he climaxes right after you. His release coats your hand and inner arm, warm and wet, as your walls clench rhythmically around his fingers.

“Oh, my god,” he sighs out, an expression of the pleasure and relief he’s feeling. You both rather clumsily work each other through your orgasms, unable to keep up the same steady pace while you’re distracted by the flood of feel-good hormones washing over you.

You stand catching your respective breaths for a few moments, then with the casual, practiced synchrony of lovers, he slips his fingers out of you, you let go of his cock, and you both wrap your arms around each other, mindful of which hands are sticky and wet.

When his lips find yours again, they’re gentle, almost reverent. “Thank you,” he breathes.

“My pleasure. Literally.” After hearing his quiet huff of laughter, you turn your head to rest your cheek against his shoulder. You can’t settle into each other’s arms in your regular way, but make do the best you can. In the quiet, familiar post-climax calm, things almost feel normal.

Almost.

You both look up at the ceiling as the buzzer that had quickly faded into the background of your mutual haze of lust suddenly stops.

“Think that’s our cue,” Spencer says softly, voice tinged with sadness.

“Yeah,” you agree just as quietly. You both straighten out, reluctantly letting space between your bodies. With your clean hand, you reach into your pocket and pull out a travel-sized pack of tissues

He pauses in tucking himself back into his pants. “You just have those with you?”

“Yeah. I, um…” You take a moment to think on how to respond as you use a tissue to wipe his spend off your hand and inner forearm. You decide on the partial truth. “I cry in the car after visiting you sometimes, so…”

More like every time.

You have to look away from him, then, or else the little heartbroken look on his face will make you start crying now. You take the few tissues he’s used from his hand and look around for some sort of bin or trash can, but there isn’t one, so you stuff the soiled tissues into your empty pocket. Apparently you’ll be doing laundry when you get home.

Spencer puts his hands on your cheeks, a silent ask for you to look back at him. “I’m so sorry I’m putting you through this,” he whispers when you meet his eyes.

“It’s not your fault you’re being framed, love,” you reply.

He shakes his head. “I should’ve—“

“Shh.” You press a finger to his lips. “We could talk all day about shoulds, woulds, and coulds. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. We do the best we can with the information we have at the time. That’s all we can do.”

He’s still cradling your face, and you lift your hands to loop around his wrists. You kiss him softly. He keeps his eyes shut when you pull back. “Try not to worry too much about me. Just focus on yourself and getting through this.”

The sigh he lets out is shaky, and a single tear falls down his cheek. “I’ll try.”

You wipe away the tear with your thumb and you’re about to try and comfort him further when the moment is cut short by the sound of a door opening down the hallway. “The guard’s back and heading down here,” Spencer confirms when he looks out the window.

You look over each other—you fix his collar, he straightens out your off-center skirt—then quickly move to your chairs.

“You know, I can hardly believe we got away with that,” you remark, lightening the mood and reaching across the table to hold his hand until the last possible second.

“Me either,” he chuckles, looking at your fondly.

The buzzing of the door signals you to pull your hands back and you fold them in front of you, trying to project a perfect image of innocence. You have to stifle a laugh when the two of you make eye contact out of the corners of your eyes.

The door swings open, and the guard doesn’t look much different than before, just red-faced and slightly sweaty from whatever he had left to do. “Visit’s over. All inmates are to go back to their cells,” he says, and you notice another guard is hovering behind him. He’s not as out of breath as the first, but definitely winded. You hope Spencer can get the scoop on what went down, because you really want to know.

“Okay,” you say simply, and stand. “I love you, Spence.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he replies, staying seated for the moment.

When you get to the door, the guard steps aside to let you through, but not before studying you with narrowed eyes. You assume he was anticipating one or both of you to protest the abrupt ending of your visit.

You turn to look at Spencer one last time before letting the second guard escort you out. You put on the adoring smile you know is one of his favorites, then press your fingertips to your lips and blow him a kiss.

Smiling back just as sweetly—god, you’ve missed that smile—he pretends to catch it and touches his own lips. For just one moment, with eyes only for each other, he seems completely relaxed.

“Come on,” the second guard says, grabbing your upper arm and tugging you away. You hate being manhandled by the guards, and normally you’d give them a piece of your mind, but today you don’t care. It’s worth it. Because for the first time in months, Spencer looks like himself.

—————

tell me what you thought here!

[specialagentsergio]

almost me again

summary: While visiting Spencer at Millburn Correctional Facility, the prison goes into lockdown, temporarily leaving you alone together. You don’t let the opportunity go to waste.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

category: smut w/ a lil angst because it’s prison spencer, 18+ (minors DNI)

content warnings: swearing, dirty talk, praise, making out, fingering, hand job, semi-public sex

a/n: [arises from the grave carrying smut]

i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins stuck together challenge! this return to posting writing after three years is brought to you by her, all my other awesome friends on her server for helping keep my interest in this show alive, and my successful carpal tunnel surgery last year. enjoy!

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

Visiting Spencer in prison is a mixed bag of emotions. First is the anger that he’s been framed and abandoned by the bureau, leading to him being in prison in the first place. Then relief when he walks in and you see him alive and… well, not well, but at least alive. It’s followed by stress and worry upon seeing how tense and sleepless he is.

Last but certainly not least, there’s the frustration that comes from sitting across from him and not being allowed to touch him. Years of casual touch, affection, and intimacy, all completely ground to a halt. It’s a special kind of torture.

You can tell he feels the same. His fingers twitch when they’re inches away from your hands on the table, itching to take them. His gaze will catch on your lips, and yours does the same to him. The line in between love and lust feels blurry. At least his lawyer had been able to pull some strings so you could visit in a private room instead of in general population, being heckled by the other inmates.

Today you’ve been visiting for around ten minutes, and having finished giving him the (depressingly small) update on the progress the team has made on his case, you’ve fallen into silence. Most of your visits end this way, staring at each other, words unspoken but understood.

And pretty much undressing each other with your eyes.

Spencer opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by the sound of a buzzer. You both jump.

“What is that?” you ask when it repeats.

“I’m not sure.” He gets up and knocks on the door for the guard. “What’s going on?” he asks when it opens.

“Lockdown. Stay put,” the guard answers, in a voice you think he wants to invite no questions or conversation, but that kind of thing never works on Spencer. Or you, for that matter.

“Lockdown?” you repeat. “Why?”

“Aren’t you supposed to take me back to my cell when the prison goes into lockdown?” Spencer adds.

“I said, stay put,” the guard says harshly. “We’ll move you later.”

“Well, how long from now is ‘later’?” you ask, standing from your chair.

The guard doesn’t entertain any more chatter, though. He only gives another instruction to stay where you are, then the door closes and makes its own little buzz, locking you both into the visitation room.

Spencer looks through the small window in the door. “He’s leaving,” he says, disbelief covering his face.

“Leaving?” you confirm. “A guard, leaving us alone in a federal prison. What could even cause that?”

“I’m not sure. A riot, maybe?” he guesses. “Maybe they need more guards to shut it down or something.”

You move to stand next to him. “How long do prison riots last?”

“Well, historically, some have lasted months, but don’t worry; I’m sure they won’t leave us in here for more than an hour.”

“I’m not worried.” You place a hand on his shoulder and watch a shudder run through his body, eyes closing at the first touch of someone he loves in weeks. “It’d be a shame if we didn’t seize this opportunity.”

He turns to face you and you place your hands on his cheeks. And you mean to wait for him to respond to your suggestion before doing anything further, but you can’t help yourself—you pull him into a hug.

He hugs back immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the crook of your neck. He breathes in deeply and you feel his body relax. The undercurrent of stress and tension he’s been carrying with him since Mexico shrinks. Not completely gone, but no longer overwhelming.

“Oh, I don’t care if they suddenly come back and I get in trouble for this,” he sighs. “It’s worth it.”

You open your eyes, looking out the window over his shoulder. “Well, there’s a guard at the end of the hallway, guarding the door to this wing, I guess, but he’s not looking this way. The other guy’s still gone. How long do you think we have?”

“I’ve no idea.” His hands wander lower, settling on your hips, fingers lightly gripping the fabric of your skirt.

“Well, then I guess the question is…” You pull back from the hug so you can watch his expressions and make sure you’re not crossing any lines he doesn’t want you to. “How long do you need?”

“Depends on what you’re referring to.” He tilts his head to kiss one of your cheeks, then the other. “If you mean how much time I need to be with you…” He kisses your forehead. “I’m not sure forever itself would be enough.”

It’s far from the first time he’s expressed such a sickeningly romantic sentiment, yet like every time before, it makes your cheeks prickle with warmth. You take one of his hands off your hips and lift it to your mouth, kissing the palm of it.

“However, I’m ninety-five percent sure you’re referring to how long it would take to get me off,” he continues. You see a little smile grace his lips before he dips his head to kiss your neck. “In which case, it’s probably ten minutes at the maximum.”

You put a hand in his hair, toy with it for a moment, then tug it lightly, just the way he likes. He inhales sharply. “Oh yeah?” you question.

“Maybe less,” he admits. “Probably less. It’s been over a month, and unlike you, I don’t have any privacy to take matters into my own hands, pun intended.”

You laugh. “Well, should we see what we can do about that?”

Spencer’s answer is a sweet, chaste kiss, almost as if he’s saying thank you. It’s immediately followed by a crushing, downright greedy one that makes you take a step backward to avoid falling. One of his hands cradles the back of your head while the other wanders. He can’t seem to decide where to put it, wanting to feel everything at once. Eventually he settles on untucking your shirt.

His hand grazes the skin underneath for just a moment. Before he can get any further, you grab the front of his prison-issued jacket and turn him, then push him against the wall. He makes a surprised noise.

“One of us needs to watch the door,” you explain. “And it’s easier for you to see over my shoulder than the opposite.”

“Right,” he says. “Got it. Watching the door. Can I feel you up now?”

You make a half-snort, half-giggle sound. “Yes, you may.”

He doesn’t possess an iota of hesitation as he slides his hand back under your shirt and up to your chest. He makes a grumbling noise, as if he’d forgotten there would be a bra in the way, but manages to get his hand beneath it all the same. “Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he mutters between kisses.

You press closer to him, your hands doing their own wandering. “I can tell,” you say. “I’ve never seen—or felt, rather—you get completely hard so quickly.”

Spencer huffs out a laugh. “I told you, it’s been a while. Paired with the way you were looking at me earlier…”

He tugs down the collar of your shirt to bite and suck a hickey into the skin under your collarbone, making you gasp. “Spencer.”

“Mm.”

“Not that I don’t enjoy foreplay, but...” you start, and he finishes the sentence like you figured he would.

“We need to be quick. I know.” He sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to the mark he’s just made on your skin.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask as you unbutton his pants. “Mouth, hands?”

“I’d never make you kneel on a concrete floor like this,” he replies. “And I want as much of your body touching mine as possible.”

You feign being put upon, as if you hadn’t been worried about the concrete floor as well. “Oh, if you insist.”

He doesn’t pay your tease much mind, instead adjusting one of your legs to hook around the back of his calf to keep your legs parted just enough for him to get his hands on you the way he wants, but without making what you’re doing immediately obvious to anyone who’d walk by or glance in.

You unzip his pants and push his underwear down just enough to free his cock, the tip already damp with pre-cum. You give it a few light strokes, coaxing more of the clear liquid out of it to spread down his length so you’re not jerking him off dry.

He sighs in a way that sounds like relief, and for a few moments, his hands still and he tips his head backward against the wall, letting the pleasure wash over him. You allow him his moment of calm, before gently reminding him, “Watch the door.”

He straightens back out and his eyes immediately fix on the small window in the door. “We’re still good,” he confirms. Despite your reminder on where to keep his eyes, they flicker back down to you, but you can’t really blame him. You’d find it hard to watch the door, too.

Spencer goes back to kissing you, sliding his hands fully up under your skirt to grip your ass and pull you even closer to him. He encourages the way you naturally rock against him, but when he moves a hand to rub between your legs, you feel a frown on his lips.

“Why did you have to wear tights?” he downright whines.

“What?” you ask with a surprised laugh.

“You wear this skirt—that I know you know I love, by the way—and that’s great, because skirts are easier to get into than pants, but then you paired it with tights, so it’s like you’ve canceled out the benefits,” he protests. “Why?”

The little pout he’s giving you, even as you continue to stroke his dick, is adorable. “Because it gets cold in this place,” you answer, which is the truth. “I can slide them down a little—“

“No need.” And before you can fully process what’s happening, he’s moved both of his hands to the junction of your tights and tugs on it until it rips.

“Spencer Reid!” you hiss.

“Tights aren’t that expensive,” he says dismissively, pushing on the inside of your thigh to open your legs to him further. “You have my wallet at home. Just take my card and get a new pair.”

“I’m less concerned about the cost of a new pair of tights and more so about the fact that I planned to wear these all day,” you say. It’s the truth, but you also can’t deny that what he’s done was unbelievably hot.

Spencer doesn’t address these worries, but rather gets right on with what he ripped the tights to do. He runs his hand once across the fabric of your underwear, and you can tell when he feels the slight damp spot because he lets out a little growl in your ear that makes you shiver.

“Sweetheart, if you wouldn’t mind…” he murmurs as he pushes your panties to the side. He gives a little rock of his hips.

“Oh!” You realize that you’d stopped stroking him when he tore your tights, and start up again, pushing his own underwear a bit farther down to be able to run your hand across his full length.

“Thank you, my love,” he replies in a soft and gentle voice that contradicts the greedy way he’s sliding his fingers into your folds and coating them with your wetness. He doesn’t waste any time in pushing one finger inside you, quickly followed by a second when the first glides in so easily.

You sigh in the same way he did earlier, a sound that’s tinged with relief.

“Your own fingers and toys just aren’t the same, are they?” he coos, beginning to thrust his fingers in and out at a steady pace.

You twist your hand as you run it down his cock, then thumb the tip, drawing a barely suppressed moan out of him. “No, they aren’t,” you reply simply. “You know there’s only one thing that I like inside of me more than your fingers.”

He hums. “I do. And as much as I’d love to provide that, we’re already pushing it with what we’re doing now.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “We keep slowing down; we need to pick up the pace here.”

He nods, glancing up at the door again to check for any changes. “Then let’s get to it.”

Spencer leans in to kiss you. As your lips meet, you change your hold on his dick from soft and casual to firm and purposeful. At the same time, he adjusts his hand so his thumb can rub your clit.

Both of you are well versed in how to get each other off. You know what each other likes the best, and how exactly to do it. You just don’t normally do it this fast and aggressively.

It’s working, though. It’s not long before you’re both panting into each other’s mouths more than you’re kissing. It helps that neither of you have been satisfied for over a month. He may think you’ve done just fine getting yourself off over that time, but in truth, laying alone in your shared bed always makes you too sad to get in the mood.

He doesn’t need to know that, though. Doesn’t need anything else to worry about, to feel guilty about.

You tip your head forward onto his shoulder as you feel the tension that’s been steadily coiling in your core start to close in on the breaking point. “Spencer,” you sigh out in the way you know he likes best.

His answer is a groan and a buck of his hips into your hand. “Don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last here,” he says, voice strained.

“I know I’m not making it another minute,” you say bluntly. The hand you’re not using to get him off has been gripping his arm hard enough to leave little crescent shapes through his clothing, but you move it now to push up your sleeve so it won’t get dirty when he cums.

He’s been remarkably quiet this whole time—his inclination to ramble carries over into the bedroom—and you imagine it’s been no small effort on his part. But when he feels one of the involuntary clenches of your walls that signals that you’re close, his resolve breaks.

“Honey, look at me, please, I wanna watch you cum,” he says, speaking as fast as he can while keeping the words clear enough to be distinguished.

You lift your head as he asks, similarly looking forward to watching him. The expressions he makes always enchant you, and unlike him, you don’t have an eidetic memory to draw on when you want to see it.

“Thank you, thank you. You’re so beautiful,” he praises. “Brightening up these dreary walls.”

You adjust your hands, wrapping one of them around the base of his cock and keeping it there so you can focus more on the head with the other. You watch him bite his lip to hold back what would usually be an unabashed moan.

“Best days are when you visit,” he continues on. “I just wish we could do more together. I wish I could touch you every time. Mm, so close.”

“You or me?” you ask, despite knowing the answer.

“Both.”

He crooks his fingers inside of you, hitting just the right spot, and you can’t help but gasp and momentarily throw your head back. Your body has its eyes on the finish line, and it’s racing towards it. You clench down on his fingers hard.

“That’s it, just like that,” he breathes out, and you can tell from the way his own muscles are tensing that he’s trying to hold back his release to see yours first. “Can you come for me, sweetheart?”

You nod. “Mm-hmm.”

As always, your body responds to his words with enthusiasm. Seconds after his request, you reach your peak, moaning out his name as quietly as you can. He shudders as he climaxes right after you. His release coats your hand and inner arm, warm and wet, as your walls clench rhythmically around his fingers.

“Oh, my god,” he sighs out, an expression of the pleasure and relief he’s feeling. You both rather clumsily work each other through your orgasms, unable to keep up the same steady pace while you’re distracted by the flood of feel-good hormones washing over you.

You stand catching your respective breaths for a few moments, then with the casual, practiced synchrony of lovers, he slips his fingers out of you, you let go of his cock, and you both wrap your arms around each other, mindful of which hands are sticky and wet.

When his lips find yours again, they’re gentle, almost reverent. “Thank you,” he breathes.

“My pleasure. Literally.” After hearing his quiet huff of laughter, you turn your head to rest your cheek against his shoulder. You can’t settle into each other’s arms in your regular way, but make do the best you can. In the quiet, familiar post-climax calm, things almost feel normal.

Almost.

You both look up at the ceiling as the buzzer that had quickly faded into the background of your mutual haze of lust suddenly stops.

“Think that’s our cue,” Spencer says softly, voice tinged with sadness.

“Yeah,” you agree just as quietly. You both straighten out, reluctantly letting space between your bodies. With your clean hand, you reach into your pocket and pull out a travel-sized pack of tissues

He pauses in tucking himself back into his pants. “You just have those with you?”

“Yeah. I, um…” You take a moment to think on how to respond as you use a tissue to wipe his spend off your hand and inner forearm. You decide on the partial truth. “I cry in the car after visiting you sometimes, so…”

More like every time.

You have to look away from him, then, or else the little heartbroken look on his face will make you start crying now. You take the few tissues he’s used from his hand and look around for some sort of bin or trash can, but there isn’t one, so you stuff the soiled tissues into your empty pocket. Apparently you’ll be doing laundry when you get home.

Spencer puts his hands on your cheeks, a silent ask for you to look back at him. “I’m so sorry I’m putting you through this,” he whispers when you meet his eyes.

“It’s not your fault you’re being framed, love,” you reply.

He shakes his head. “I should’ve—“

“Shh.” You press a finger to his lips. “We could talk all day about shoulds, woulds, and coulds. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. We do the best we can with the information we have at the time. That’s all we can do.”

He’s still cradling your face, and you lift your hands to loop around his wrists. You kiss him softly. He keeps his eyes shut when you pull back. “Try not to worry too much about me. Just focus on yourself and getting through this.”

The sigh he lets out is shaky, and a single tear falls down his cheek. “I’ll try.”

You wipe away the tear with your thumb and you’re about to try and comfort him further when the moment is cut short by the sound of a door opening down the hallway. “The guard’s back and heading down here,” Spencer confirms when he looks out the window.

You look over each other—you fix his collar, he straightens out your off-center skirt—then quickly move to your chairs.

“You know, I can hardly believe we got away with that,” you remark, lightening the mood and reaching across the table to hold his hand until the last possible second.

“Me either,” he chuckles, looking at you fondly.

The buzzing of the door signals you to pull your hands back and you fold them in front of you, trying to project a perfect image of innocence. You have to stifle a laugh when the two of you make eye contact out of the corners of your eyes.

The door swings open, and the guard doesn’t look much different than before, just red-faced and slightly sweaty from whatever he had left to do. “Visit’s over. All inmates are to go back to their cells,” he says, and you notice another guard is hovering behind him. He’s not as out of breath as the first, but definitely winded. You hope Spencer can get the scoop on what went down, because you really want to know.

“Okay,” you say simply, and stand. “I love you, Spence.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he replies, staying seated for the moment.

When you get to the door, the guard steps aside to let you through, but not before studying you with narrowed eyes. You assume he was anticipating one or both of you to protest the abrupt ending of your visit.

You turn to look at Spencer one last time before letting the second guard escort you out. You put on the adoring smile you know is one of his favorites, then press your fingertips to your lips and blow him a kiss.

Smiling back just as sweetly—god, you’ve missed that smile—he pretends to catch it and touches his own lips. For just one moment, with eyes only for each other, he seems completely relaxed.

“Come on,” the second guard says, grabbing your upper arm and tugging you away. You hate being manhandled by the guards, and normally you’d give them a piece of your mind, but today you don’t care. It’s worth it. Because for the first time in months, Spencer looks like himself.

—————

tell me what you thought here!

[specialagentsergio]

Seven Minutes

Summary: Seven minutes stuck in a closet with Spencer really feel like heaven

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Fluff, Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) alcohol consumption (responsibly), Reader is a little tipsy, flirting, truth or dare, suggestiveness, forced proximity, playing seven minutes in heaven, heavy kissing, grinding, allusions to sex

Word count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Stuck Together Writing Challenge

Masterlist

The alcohol was buzzing in your veins when you let your sight wander over the room. It was to be expected that Penelope's birthday party would be a blast but you hadn't quite expected how much a certain someone would catch your attention. 

Any remaining inhibitions were suppressed by the two glasses of wine you just had. It was not enough to make you lose control, but enough to become more blatant with the object of your desire. 

And damn, Spencer really looked desirable tonight. 

Relaxed against the cushions of Penelope's couch and deep in a conversation with Luke, he had never looked more handsome. A smile was blooming on his face, obviously excited to share whatever random fact had just come to his mind. 

You watched him from a few feet away before you decided it had been long enough. Craving his attention, you walked over to the couch. He looked up at you and you noticed a slight rosy shade spreading over his cheeks. 

All the seats around the coffee table were taken by party guests. That didn’t stop your plan to finally close the distance between you and your favorite coworker, though. 

You pointed at his lap and chirped, “I'm sorry, is this seat taken?” 

Spencer looked up at you wide-eyed, making the confusion your question caused apparent. 

“Uh, I can get up if you want to sit here,” he offered as he attempted to stand up. 

You were quick to place your hands on his shoulders to push him down again. “No need,” you snickered right before you plopped down in his lap. 

Spencer froze underneath you while the people around you gasped and laughed and playfully sang ‘ooooh’. Your boldness surprised not just him but yourself too. 

His face was mere inches away when you turned your head to look at him and quipped, “I hope you're comfortable.” 

“I bet he is,” Luke chuckled and playfully hit Spencer’s shoulder. 

“I uh…,” he muttered, still looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights. 

It was then that you noticed how his arms were hovering over you and he seemed incredibly tense. You felt bad for just invading his space like that, a knot forming in your stomach at the thought that your proximity might be unwanted. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you tried to get up again.

To your surprise, Spencer’s hands flew around your waist, hindering you from moving away from him. 

“No, please stay,” he finally managed to say. 

Your heart began beating so loud you were sure Spencer could hear it. The way his palms were placed on your body, his fingers burying into you ever so slightly, let your head spin. 

Spencer leaned back against the backrest of the couch, relaxing his body so you could comfortably lean against him, one arm resting on his shoulder and your side pressed into his chest. 

Your eyes fell to the coffee table at Spencer’s drink, expecting to find an alcoholic beverage. That would at least explain the way he reciprocated your action. But unless he had spiked his tea, you were certain he must have been sober.

You turned back to look at him. “Is this really okay?” 

He nodded as a smile spread over his face. “Yeah, I like having you close.” 

You could feel how your cheeks began burning, if from the alcohol or his words was unclear, though.

Luke suddenly got up from his spot beside Spencer, chuckling, “I think I'm gonna give you two some space.”

With the seat beside Spencer now vacant, it felt odd to stay in his lap, so you slowly slid off his thighs to sit beside him instead. In an instant your heart protested, yearning for his touch again. 

By the way a quiet sigh fell from Spencer’s lips, you hoped he might already miss your nearness too. He was quick to shift in his seat until the side of his thigh touched yours, creating a connection that would soothe your longing for now. 

Before you could overthink whether or not that had been intentional, Penelope approached the group of people sitting around the coffee table and loudly sang, “Time for truth or dare! And nobody gets to say no because it's my birthday!”

She sat down opposite from you and placed her tablet on the table. “I already put everyone's names in,” she announced when she pressed the start button of some colorful app. 

Your heart began racing as you watched the display, relief washing over you when the name Tara appeared. 

“Truth,” she said while pressing the button on the display. 

Penelope read the question out loud, “From all the people here, who would you like to kiss?” 

Tara began laughing, “What, is this a special matchmaker version of Truth or Dare?” 

Penelope glanced over you and Spencer and snickered, “Perhaps.” 

Her reaction made you a little suspicious but you decided to let it slide for now. Instead you took another sip of your wine while curiously waiting for Tara's answer. 

“Emily,” she finally said and even you had to chime in when the others reacted with a playful ‘oooh’. 

Two more rounds and you learned that Penelope's neighbour fantasized about his librarian and laughed while Rossi presented his worst pick-up line. 

Then Spencer’s name lit up on the screen. To your surprise he picked dare and froze in place once the words appeared on the screen. Penelope began giggling uncontrollably, unable to read it out loud. You leaned forward to see what the dare was. 

Seven minutes in heaven with-  

You gasped once you saw your name. It became very obvious very quickly that Penelope must have messed with the algorithm somehow (or maybe she had programmed the app altogether).

“Come on, you two lovebirds,” she laughed. “My closet is waiting for you!” 

Your heart sank when you saw Spencer shake his head and shoot her an angry glance. “Come on, Garcia. That's not funny,” he scolded her. 

“We're just following the rules,” she protested. “Come on, don't be a killjoy.”

“Yeah, Reid. You loved having her in your lap earlier,” Tara quipped, very obviously already tipsy as well. 

Spencer found your eyes, an apologetic look in his eyes. “Are you okay with this?” 

It felt like the room was spinning when all eyes were suddenly on you. The bravery you displayed earlier was long gone but the thought of being alone with Spencer excited you more than you could bring to words. 

Tentatively, you nodded as you got up from the couch. Everyone began squealing and gasping when the two of you followed Penelope to her bedroom closet. Before you realized what was happening, she shoved the two of you in and closed the door while exclaiming, “See you in seven minutes!” 

You leaned against the wall and Spencer stood right in front of you, a few inches away. The light inside the closet was dim. It felt too awkward to look at him, so you decided to let your sight wander over Penelope's colorful dress collection while mumbling, “Seven minutes, huh? So what do you want to talk about?” 

“I'm not in the mood to talk,” Spencer grumbled, his tone shocking you. Your eyes found his to scan his face. What you initially interpreted as anger was actually something else. 

Something even more dangerous. 

The heat his body radiated was overwhelming and you noticed how his lips parted. His eyes were dark and filled with desire. The way he looked at you let shockwaves run through your body. 

Despite already suspecting the answer, you still whispered, “What do you want to do then?” 

Instead of answering you, his hands flew to your face, gently cupping your cheeks before he leaned in. 

“This,” he breathed right before his lips met yours. 

The kiss was soft and timid at first, almost as if he wanted to give you a chance to back down. That was the last thing you wanted, though. Without hesitation you reciprocated the kiss, your arms grabbing his shirt to pull him closer. 

Kissing him felt like tasting the first droplets of water after a lifelong drought. Soft lips brushed over one another while gentle hands didn’t dare to let go. When a silent sigh escaped your throat, the atmosphere shifted. Spencer tongue begged for entrance and you granted it, melting into him with a vigor that knocked the air out of his lungs. 

Spencer pressed his body into you, a soft hum vibrating against your lips. It was mesmerizing to be kissed like that, a sensation so phenomenal it made your head spin and your heart flutter. 

Spencer leaned back just enough to groan, “Seven minutes with you is not enough” 

A breathy laugh fell from your lips. “Depends on your skills,” you quipped.

He chuckled before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. Then, he whispered,  “Are you challenging me?”

Your hands wrapped around his neck as you pressed your body flush against his and snickered, “Why don’t you find out” 

Spencer sighed when he felt you press your hips against his. His nose tenderly brushed over yours when he cooed, “I'd much rather take my time with you.” 

You expected him to capture your lips once more but instead his mouth found your neck. He kissed and nipped on sensitive skin until you whined so desperately it made him smile against you. 

“To learn all about you,” he whispered into your ear.

As if your knees hadn't already felt wobbly enough, one of Spencer’s hands brushed down your waist and over your hip before hoisting one of your legs up, making space for him to press his body even harder into you.

Heat rushed through your body and down between your legs when you sensed his desire burning for you. Even through several layers of clothing you could feel how his hardness pressed against your center. 

His lips found yours again, but just for a second. Then, he murmured, “To find out what makes you sing my name.” 

The way he ground his hips against your sensitive core let a moan rip right through you, immediately followed by his name.

“Spencer…” 

“Hm exactly like that,” he hummed before getting lost in another deep kiss. 

Time stood still as you got lost in this sinful embrace, rocking your hips against him ever so slightly, creating enough friction to sooth your desperation for now. 

This really felt like heaven.

Until Spencer suddenly and without a warning broke the kiss, having you whimper in protest. He let go of your thigh, gently placing your foot back on the floor before taking one step back to look at you. Your arms reached out immediately to pull him closer but he shook his head and took your hands in his, placing an innocent kiss on each of them. 

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “Only two minutes left and I need to uhm… cool down.” 

His sight dropped down to his crotch for a split second to make clear what he meant. Then, he found your eyes again. Spencer had never looked more beautiful with his lips plump from kissing and cheeks blooming pink. 

You looked up at him with widened eyes as you bit your own lip, struggling hard not to rip off your clothes and jump him right then and there.  

“Please stop that, you're making this impossible,” he chuckled as he averted his eyes to the wall behind you.

You took pity in him, aware how embarrassed he'd be if Penelope saw how riled up he'd gotten. Taking a deep breath, you tried to ground yourself.

“Do you want to talk about baseball?” You joked. 

Spencer laughed at your words, “Not really, no.” 

His smile was soft and so, so cute when he looked at you. “You’re very beautiful,” he said. 

His words let your heart flutter. “So are you.” 

Comfortable silence filled the confined space until your attention was captured by high-heeled footsteps approaching.

“You good?” You asked Spencer who took a deep breath and adjusted his pants before nodding.

Penelope swung the door open, a wide grin spread over her face. “Oh boy!” She squealed. “You two look like things got a little heated!” 

“Not really, no,” Spencer lied. 

“I hope you used protection,” she giggled as she stepped aside to let you walk out of the closet.

In a warning tone, Spencer grumbled, “Garcia…”

“Oh! Oh! You know what would be even better! Cute little curly-haired baby geniuses! Giving me another godchild would be the perfect birthday present!” She continued babbling, making the both of you laugh.

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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[specialagentsergio]

7.11 │18.03

[specialagentsergio]

sPENCELLE VALeNTINES??