#Criminal Minds fanfics

[sinfulspencer]

Flashed

Prompt: It’s too hot to wear clothes at home, so Reader walks around in her underwear. Spencer loses his train of thoughts at the sight.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (18+)

Warnings: light dom/sub dynamic (Dom!Spencer, Sub!Reader if you squint), dirty talking, hair pulling, light impact play, breeding kink, unprotected sex 

Words: 5.0k

A.N.: Horny Spencer. That’s it. Also, this is the first official Spencer Reid fic I have written since last year. It felt so good to write for him again. Written this with a prompt from the Summer Sunshine challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins. Thank you to @reidselle and @drgenius-reid for beta-reading this fic!

MASTERLIST. REQUEST GUIDELINES. TAGLIST FORM.

When Spencer asked you to move in with him at the end of the year, he was ready to face every challenge that life would throw at him. The first fights over laundry, the first fight over whoever almost set the house on fire, the first fights over the person that was supposed to remake the bed before going to work, the first fights over whoever left the TV on before going to bed… 

He was prepared for everything.

Spencer learned to cook (he wasn’t good at it, but he knew how to turn on the stove and boil some water, at least). He learned how to do laundry. He learned how to clean the floors without you falling on your own ass because he forgot to tell you that the ground was wet. 

But Spencer wasn’t ready for the summer. 

You moved in with him during the fall season, when it was still cold outside, and it was time to drink hot chocolate in front of the fireplace. You moved in with him when you were still wearing a winter jacket, leather boots and a scarf around your neck. You moved in when the wind was so cold that you could barely keep the window slightly opened in the bathroom after taking a shower to let the steam go out. 

Spencer wasn’t fucking ready for summer.

The hot weather was already taking a toll on his poor body and he hated it. Spencer despised the high temperatures because they made him sweat like a pig and he hated, more than anything, the feel of sweat under his armpits or behind his knees. 

Normally, before you moved in, Spencer would spend the whole time at home completely naked or wearing only underwear. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence, but it happened quite a lot. 

What was the problem, then?

Spencer used to walk around in his apartment in his underwear when he was alone, but you’re doing it while he’s in the house. He knew you paced around the house that way because you felt comfortable, but still. He was a stupid man, with hormones that rushed through his body like crazy.

You walked around your shared apartment with nothing on but a pair of panties that Spencer always wanted to rip off you and a stupid bra that made your breasts look even more delicious. 

And the sight had started to take a toll on Spencer for the worst. He was constantly horny, making it difficult for him to focus on simple tasks such as cleaning the whole apartment or doing laundry. 

He woke up one day and you already were parading yourself in your underwear, which made his morning wood even more difficult to take care of. He came home that same night and you were still in your underwear, which led him to forget he was supposed to grab some dinner with Luke because he ended up taking you against the bedroom door.

Spencer didn’t want you to wear clothes if you were too hot, but he also needed to learn how to keep his hands to himself whenever he saw an inch of your naked skin. He felt like a teenager, always eager to touch and ravish what belonged to him.

When Spencer tried to explain the situation to Luke, his colleague laughed right in his face. At first, Spencer was offended. 

‘Why are you complaining about seeing your girlfriend’s tits? You should be happy she feels comfortable around you.’

And Spencer was happy; he truly was. He was proud to know he made you feel good about yourself and allowed you to walk around the house almost naked, but he also felt like an idiot for getting a boner whenever he thought about coming home and knowing he’d find you dressed like that. 

Or better, undressed. 

That night, Spencer couldn’t wait to get home and tell you that he had a birthday party to attend next week. It was Penelope’s birthday and, as every year for the past ten, she had an entire day planned for her and her friends from work. There would be a huge pool party in a small agritourism she rented for the day, followed by a barbecue and a whole garden to explore. 

Spencer was excited to bring you there. 

You had been dating for over a year now and you couldn’t meet his co-workers and friends because you always had meetings to attend, or shifts that were incompatible with the nights the team hung out all together. 

“Y/N?” Spencer called out when he entered his apartment. 

The lights in the kitchen were on and he could hear you humming to a song blasting from the speakers. 

He dropped his bag on the floor and followed the sound of your voice, only to find you in nothing but your underwear. Again. You had your back turned and were swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music, making Spencer smile at the sight. Though the music was loud and almost hurt his ears, he was willing to tolerate the loud volume if it meant he could observe you in your element for hours on end. 

He was so enamoured with you even though you weren’t doing anything in particular. He fell harder for you everyday just watching you exist, breathe and live on your own.

But of course, the romantic thoughts in his head abruptly stopped when you felt his presence in the room and you screamed.

“Fuck! What the fuck, Spencer?!”

He didn’t want to laugh at your terrified expression, but a chuckle fell from his lips. 

“Did I scare you?”

You roll your eyes, dropping your apron on the counter. “No. I screamed because I was learning how to fry scream. Fuck yes, you scared me.”

Spencer walked to the other side of the kitchen counter and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a tight hug. You smelled like apples and he could see them in the corner of his eyes, all peeled up. 

“How was work? Did you get your stuff done?” you asked

Spencer nodded his head, kissing your temple without losing his grip on you. “Yes. I’m exhausted, though. I couldn’t wait to get home so I could relax and enjoy some time with you.”

You leaned forward, caressing his soft curls. “I bet you’re tired. You’ve been awake since five in the morning.”

As Spencer left the kitchen to get changed, he heard the music turning back on and he smiled. Your footsteps echoed in the room, and he smiled because he knew you were dancing to your favourite songs again. But still, there was a big problem that needed to be solved at that instant. 

You were still in your underwear and of course, he had noticed that. How couldn’t he? 

Spencer saw you for less than three minutes and yet, the bulge in his trousers made it difficult for him to think straight. He didn’t know how it was possible for you to turn him on that much, but you did and it was starting to make things harder for him.

If Spencer brought you to Penelope's birthday party, you were definitely going to wear a bikini. And a bikini is basically the same thing as your underwear… which meant one thing.

“Oh no.”

“Are you talking to me?”

Spencer turned around, attempting to cover the issue between his thighs with the jacket he brought to work that morning. 

“Uh, no love. No, I was just thinking about… something.”

“Care to share?” you asked with an innocent smile.

Spencer knew that smile was actually innocent; you had no ill intentions, but his brain was starting to play games with him. He was so turned on that Spencer thought every little microexpression on your face and every move you made were just actions to tease him and work him up. 

They were not. Or maybe they were.

“Sorry, uh… Yeah. Penelope invited me to her birthday party this Saturday.”

Your face enlightened at his words. “Oh! That’s so nice!”

“She asked me to bring you, too.” 

“I don’t like the tone you just used. If you don’t want to bring me, that’s…”

Spencer widened his eyes, realising that his words might’ve sounded rude. “No! I’m excited to let you meet all of my friends and co-workers, truly.”

“Then, what is it? I know there’s something that bothers you.”

You sat on the bed with your legs crossed, waiting for Spencer to continue but, he didn’t dare to move. If he placed his jacket on the bed, you would’ve noticed the painful tent in his trousers. If he didn’t move, you would’ve asked him why he wasn’t taking off his clothes and putting on more comfortable ones.

Too many thoughts were running wild through Spencer’s brain and it was difficult for him to gather them all, cast aside the naughty ones and focus on the more normal ones. 

It was tough not to stare at the curves of your breasts and how he could see the shadow of your nipples hidden behind the fabric of your bra. He has spent so many hours just licking and sucking your skin around your breasts, that he can still taste you on his tongue if he focuses hard enough. 

“Penelope has rented a whole place for all of us.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Sounds really nice. Is there a swimming pool involved? Is that why you’re worried?”

Spencer bit his bottom lip, forcing himself not to stare at the way your hair fell over your shoulders and covered the laces of your bra. A few days ago, he used his teeth to remove that same bra. It was a struggle not to think about that night, and he pathetically failed.

“I’m sure the place she rented is clean and…”

As you started to speak and comfort Spencer over his fear of germs, his mind wandered elsewhere. You moved to the centre of the bed to be closer to him and laid on it, with your arms behind your head and your body all stretched out. 

Your bra barely covered your full breasts and your thighs were much more visible, with all the little bruises still peppering your skin. The same bruises he caused two days before. The same bruises you begged him to create on. 

Spencer’s brain was starting to get even foggier. 

“Are you even listening to me, love?” 

You snapped your fingers in front of his face and Spencer dropped the jacket on the floor, quickly bending over to pick it up. Of course, he was listening to you, but he was just… thinking about something else while you were talking. 

“Hm.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Spencer turned away from you and looked down, frowning. His bulge was still there and getting more painful, but how in the world was he going to face you and ask you if you could help him out? He knew you would, in a heartbeat, but he felt miserable. 

How could he ask you to stop walking around his place in nothing but your underwear when he wanted to worship your body every hour of every day? How could he deny himself the sight of your stunning body? 

His eyes went straight to your breasts and of course, you noticed it. 

“Spencer!”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“My God.” - you started to say, sitting up on the bed - “You’re distracted! You can’t even finish a sentence or listen to me.”

Spencer hummed again, forcing his eyes to stay on your face. Unfortunately, they slipped down to your breasts once again - but that time, Spencer didn’t deny it. How could he? He had been so obvious since he arrived home, but you thought to yourself that maybe you were imagining things.

Or you were too horny, but you weren’t. He was. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“You’ve been staring at my breasts since you saw me in the kitchen.” you stated

Spencer sighed, turning his back on you again. “I’m sorry. They’re distracting.”

“Look at me, love.”

He lingered for a few seconds, covering his face with both hands. He didn’t want to turn around because he knew you would’ve teased him for hours on end, but it truly wasn’t his fault. It was his brain that tricked him into staring at your boobs and remembering all the things he did to you the night before and all the other days. 

It wasn’t his fault he had an eidetic memory and he could replay all your moments of intimacy together each time he wanted. How you looked when he kissed your neck, how you moaned when his tongue swirled around your nipples…

“You can look at them whenever you want, you know.” - you tapped his shoulder, kneeling behind him on the bed - “I’m your girlfriend, aren’t I?”

“That’s not the point, Y/N.” - Spencer replied, forcing himself to turn around - “You’re so distracting, I can barely think when you’re there… dressed up like that.”

You raised your brows. “Do you want me to change?”

“No!” - he exclaimed, before clearing his throat - “I mean… maybe. I don’t know, but I can’t keep getting hard because you’re half-naked.”

“What’s wrong with being attracted to me, love?” you asked with your arms crossed.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, you know, but it’s hard to be around you when all I think about is how I want to just…” - he took a deep breath before shaking his head - “I need to behave, I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of silence where you pondered over his words. He seemed so miserable and all because he was so attracted to you that he could barely think, that he could barely remember that he had other things to do other than you. 

That felt incredibly hot. 

Leaning forward, you placed a hand on his hip. “I want to hear what you’re thinking about right now.”

Spencer shook his head, covering your hand with his. “It’s too early.”

“It’s never too early to make love to your partner, Spencer.”

You were right, he knew that, but he also knew that if he kissed you and took you right there, he would’ve spent the whole night just trying to do it over and over until you were too tired to move or to keep your eyes open. 

Spencer sighed and looked down at you. “You drive me crazy.”

“And what’s the harm in that, love?” you asked innocently 

He moved his hands under your neck and forced you to look at him, gripping your chin with his fingertips. You went quiet, trying to decipher the expression on his face, though the tight grip was already a good hint of what he was thinking about.  

“No harm.”

“Exactly, so… What’s stopping you?”

Spencer knew nothing was stopping him from pressing your body onto the mattress and pounding into you. He had every right to do so because he knew you wanted it as much as he did, but still. There was an issue to fix and he refused to let his hormones get in the way, once again. 

But maybe just this time, Spencer thought.

You leaned your head against his palm, and closed your eyes when his fingers brushed over your cheek. He could look at you for hours, admiring how you basked in the sweetness of his touch that you found so comforting. 

“Nothing’s stopping me.”

You sighed, running your hands over his chest. “Good.”

Spencer unbuckled his belt and the metal clanking of it falling onto the floor brought an eager smile to your lips. Of course you smiled, because you were about to get exactly what you wanted since he came home. 

Little minx, Spencer thought. 

“You don’t need to hold back from what you truly desire, Spencer.” 

He drank up your words like they were the sweetest honey and he sighed. You were right; he didn’t need to stop himself from putting his hands over you if you wanted to be touched as well, but still.

“If you want to rip my underwear off me, you can do it.” - you muttered, slowly opening the buttons of his shirt - “If you want to fuck me like this, while I’m almost naked and you’re still dressed, you can do it.”

Spencer watched as your skilled fingers pushed his shirt off his shoulder and sighed, because there was nothing else he could do or say at that moment. You had him wrapped around your tiny finger and you knew it, which was why he loved you so much. You could’ve snapped your fingers and he would’ve dropped to his knees for you. 

“I just.. I just need to have you. At all times.”

“You can.” - you replied with no hesitation, only firmness in your voice - “I am here for your pleasure. Always.”

Spencer released a long sigh. “I know. I’m so lucky.”

Pushing his trousers down his legs to reveal his soft skin, you looked up at him with your lips turned into a wicked grin. You could see the emotions rapidly changing behind those eyes: lust, frustration, love, annoyance and desire. That was exactly what you wanted: you craved to drive Spencer crazy and you needed him to lose his mind over you. 

It made you feel powerful.

“You’re so pretty when you’re desperate for me.” you said 

Spencer leaned into your touch when you reached out for his face. “So are you, princess.”

But the tender moment was gone as fast it came, because there was no time to be nice to one another. Spencer wanted to wreck you and you wanted him to do as he pleased; you wanted the pleasure to consume him, and so it did.

Spencer kissed you for the first time since he came home and, of course, he had no time to be nice. His tongue pushed into your mouth without warning, but you let it as you laid down on the bed with the man on top of you. The kiss expressed all the frustration that had built within him ever since he came home and found you in the kitchen, wiggling your ass to the music and singing at the top of your lungs. 

His teeth dug into the soft flesh of your bottom lip and you whined, almost tasting blood on your tongue. 

“Let me be rough tonight.”

You grabbed him by the chin, staring right into those honey-coloured eyes. “Perhaps I was not clear with my words a moment ago, Spencer. I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

Spencer groaned at your words and pushed any rational thought out of his mind, allowing the frustration and profound desire felt for you to drive him. His pupils were blown wide with unbridled lust making you shiver, bringing the heat between your thighs where you so desperately wanted to be touched. 

Spencer kissed your mouth before moving down to your throat, attacking it with bites and gentle licks that made you whimper. 

“I’m going to ravish you tonight, my princess.” - Spencer whispered to your ear, running his hands all over your breasts - “And you’re going to take my cock like the good girl I know you are for me, yeah?”

“Yes. Yes, love.”

He moved his hands to your face, kissing the tip of your nose. “Hands and knees.”

You scrambled to turn around, struggling to move as his arms didn’t give you as much space as you needed. Spencer, ever so helpful, pulled your hips up when you managed to roll on your tummy. 

“Good girl, that’s it.”

You could feel his cock against your ass when he leaned forward to bite your shoulder and you moaned, closing your eyes. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your back, dragging your panties down your thighs before throwing them on the floor. 

Spencer’s mouth wandered down your neck, leaving a trace of kisses that started from your right shoulder and went down to your ass. He nibbled at the soft skin right below it before biting down, hard enough to draw blood. You yelped at the feeling, but didn’t complain as your hands scratched the blanket. 

Spencer pulled away for a second and traced the small wound with the tip of his index, earning a hiss from you. It hurt, but you wanted it to hurt - you promised you’d bleed for him, and bleed you did. 

“Good girl. So pretty for me.” - Spencer whispered, but you were more focused on the sound of a bottle of lube being opened - “I’m sorry, I’m so impatient to have you. I wish we could take this slow, but I can’t.”

“It’s okay, I know you’re desperate.” - you mumbled, moaning softly when his fingers breached your entrance - “It’s fucking cold.”

He chuckled at your reaction, smearing the lube all over your already wet slit. “Oops”

When you were ready, Spencer found no resistance as he slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside of you. He watched the way your walls welcomed him in and revelled in the sweetness of your whimpers and whines when you felt him. Spencer waited, watching you as you struggled to stay still for him. 

“Please, just… Get inside, for fuck’s sake.”

“Oh? Wanna take it all at once, my princess?” - Spencer asked, running his left hand through your hair - “Are you desperate for my cock? Then, fucking have it.”

In one hard thrust, Spencer bottomed out inside of you and you fell on the bed with your face in the pillow. You trembled when you finally felt every inch of his cock inside of you and you thought you were ready to fall off the edge in less than a minute. 

You were desperate for him every single time you had the chance to make love to him.

“Take it, princess. You wanted it and now you have it.”

Spencer watched you as you arched your back, tightening your grip on the bed sheets. A chorus of curses and moans flows from your lips as you try to get back on your knees, but his thrusts are too quick and harsh to let you get in position. So, again, you fell down with your face in the pillow. 

The pleasure quickly expanded through your body as Spencer never slowed down the pace of his thrusts, basking in the gentle sounds of your moans. His right hand travelled down to reach your ass, and before you felt it, you heard it - there was a brief moment of silence, followed by a loud smack and then a deep heat diffusing over your skin. 

It had been so long since he spanked you, but with that position, you couldn’t blame him.

The sensation heightened the pleasure within you. 

“Oh, fuck!”

Spencer moved both his hands on each side of your head and leaned forward, keeping his thrusts quick and regular. You could feel his body tense each time you tried to push back into him, to fuck yourself onto his cock. 

You were already close, desperate to ride that delicious end. 

“Please, more.” - you cried out again - “Please, I’m close.”

“Don’t you dare.” - he bit your earlobe - “Don’t you fucking dare come on my cock now.”

You whined at his order, not sure how you would be able to hold it and be a good girl for him. It wasn’t easy to hold an orgasm, especially if Spencer never stopped fucking into you with all the energy he had in his body. You were so close, you were right there but Spencer stopped his movements - and suddenly, you felt a warm tear slip down your cheek.

A single tear of frustration. 

Spencer forced you on your back, pushing you onto the mattress before sliding his cock back inside of you. 

“I want to see your pretty face when you come, princess.” - Spencer whispered, lifting your right leg and wrapping it around his own waist - “I want you to look at me as you come undone on my cock.”

His pace is as rough as before and you felt more tears spill from your eyes. Your hands quickly went behind his neck as you rolled your hips, a pathetic attempt at fucking yourself back onto his cock to feel more and more. 

You couldn’t form a coherent sentence. The only word that fell from your lips was a strained ‘yes’ that echoed in the room, encouraging Spencer to go harder and faster, to tear you down piece by piece.

And he looked fucking stunning as he did so. 

His lean body, his muscles were tense, a single strand of hair falling over his forehead and his tongue poking out in concentration… You wanted to get those details tattooed on your brain, on your body, every-fucking-where. 

“Such a good girl for me, huh? My pretty princess.” - Spencer whispered, looking down at you - “Always welcoming me with nothing on, knowing how crazy that makes me.”

Your lips opened slightly, more whimpers flowing from them. 

“Do you know how difficult it is to get out of here and not remember all the times I’ve fucked you against the door?” he said, his voice rough.

You shook your head, not sure if you understood what he said. 

“Fuck, you make me so horny. I fucking love your body.” - he mumbled, pressing his forehead to yours - “I always think about it and then I see dressed like that… It’s like you’re always begging me to bend you over and fuck your pretty cunt.”

You’ve always loved his dirty mouth, but that day it felt deliciously perfect. His thrusts were rough and faltering, which meant he was close to his orgasm too - you almost forgot you were close, totally enamoured by him and the way he spoke about you.  

“My slutty princess.”

You nodded with a smile, drunk on your lust for him. “All yours to use and destroy.”

You felt the pleasure built up again right behind your belly button and you knew you were close again. Spencer must’ve noticed it because he kept his pace quick, never changing the angle because he felt you clench hard around him each time he bottomed out. Your thighs were shaking around his waist and he could feel your heartbeat quickening under his fingertips. 

“My good girl.” - he mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment - “I can feel you’re close. Do you want to come on my cock, princess?”

He didn’t need a verbal answer, because soon your cries of pleasure were enough. You widened your eyes and threw your head back onto the pillow, crying out his name over and over as your nails dug into his shoulders. He could feel his skin breaking under your nails but he didn’t care. 

Spencer was too enamoured with you to realise how painful your grip was. 

“That’s it, gorgeous. You did so well.” he rewarded you with a kiss on the lips 

You barely felt it, drunk on the pleasure that he fed you. Your whole body was shuddering as Spencer helped you ride out your orgasm, but the more he thrusted, the more pain you felt stabbing you. You didn’t complain, though. 

You wanted it, you needed it and so did he. 

“Does this pretty princess want my cum deep inside of her, hm?” Spencer asked

You weren’t sure he heard you, but you managed to choke out: “Yes. Please, please, fucking do it. Please.”

A few thrusts later, Spencer granted you your wish. His warmth flooded you from the inside as he watched the way his body become one with yours, shivering with pleasure. His right hand pressed down hard below your belly button and you winced, feeling his seed run deep if that was even possible. 

It felt so incredibly good you could almost come again. 

“Ah, that felt fucking perfect.”

You closed your arms around his neck and caged him against your body, so that he wouldn’t be able to run away. Not that he wanted to, of course, but. 

Spencer didn’t move for at least five good minutes, struggling to catch his own breath while you stared at the bedroom ceiling with a grin on your face. You were deeply satisfied with yourself and you were sure Spencer was content, as well - though the conversation between you wasn’t over. 

You knew that not putting on clothes would’ve distracted him and maybe that was exactly why you never put them on when he was around in your shared apartment. It was fun to see him struggling between staring at your breasts or at your thighs, or forgetting that he had to hang out with his colleagues because he was too busy burying his face in your cunt or fucking you against a window. 

It felt good to be desired, and it felt even better knowing that it was the only thing Spencer was able to think about when he was away from you. 

“You have to stop walking around our place naked.”

You put a hand on his chest, gently pushing him upward. Spencer was still lying between your legs, but he was staring at you. 

“Naked? I am always wearing my underwear.” you stated 

Spencer bumped the tip of his nose against yours. “Which is dangerously distracting, Y/N.”

“Oh, you’re using my name in a conversation.”

“I’m being serious, princess. I can’t get a boner whenever I’m near you.” - he explained, pressing a kiss on your jaw - “Believe me, I appreciate the sight but… My brain needs some rest. And so does my penis.”

“Okay, alright. I’ll do my best to keep my clothes on.” - I decided to give in - “After six weeks of pure hell, I think you deserve a break.”

Spencer kissed your cheek, before biting it softly. “I appreciate it, my princess.”

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t do it occasionally just to drive you crazy.” you warned him 

“Oh, I’m fine with that.” - he said, rolling off your body - “But give me a heads up before doing it, okay? I wouldn’t want to come home with Luke and find you in your underwear.”

“Well… it could be fun. Maybe he’d like to join…”

Spencer covered your mouth with his’ before you could finish your sentence, but the kiss was interrupted by your loud laugh echoing through the walls. 

“Alright, Luke will never see me like this.” - you gave him a peck on the lips, pushing him off you before he could spread your legs again - “This sight is for your eyes only.”

TAGLIST @blvebanisters @koukatsuki @moesdraft

BROKEN TAGS @alelaeljfj @donttrustlove

[godsfavdarling]

Do you want me to take care of you?

my masterlist

+18!!!

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

words: 1.3k

summary: Spencer and reader love some morning love.

warnings: handjob, soft!dom!gn!reader, soft!sub!spence, no use of y/n (tell me if I forgot something) praise kink? 🤭😝

a/n: i was feeling a bit inspired. maybe i'll come back to my spencelle fic soon but for now hope yall enjoy this!

You woke up to find Spencer nestled against you, his head resting on your chest as you both lay on your sides, facing each other. 

His messy curls tickled your face, and you could feel his steady breathing against your skin, the soft exhales warming you. Your leg was draped over his hip, drawing you two as close as possible.

He had returned late, long after you had drifted off to sleep. Despite your efforts to stay awake to greet him, exhaustion had won out.

Sometime during the night, you felt the mattress dip as he settled beside you, seeking comfort in your presence. Though you briefly stirred, sleep quickly reclaimed you, leaving you both to enjoy the peaceful intimacy of the moment.

He had been gone for over a week, and the lack of communication had made you miss him even more. Especially during the quiet moments of the night. Falling asleep and waking up next to him was your favorite part of the day, and now that it was happening again, it felt almost surreal.

You ran your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his head as you savored his scent, careful not to disturb his slumber. It was his favorite shampoo, the same one you used. He had a habit of using your cosmetics, often remarking how they smelled like you and how comforting it was to him."

Suddenly, he shifted slightly, and you felt it—him, pressed against you, his hard length stirring an immediate arousal within you. 

There was an undeniable allure to morning intimacy, especially with Spencer. It seemed almost routine that he would wake up already excited, and you found it exhilarating.

Part of you couldn't help but hope that you were the cause of his arousal. While he may have just been the type of guy to experience morning wood, you preferred to believe it was your presence beside him that elicited such a response. 

Sleeping next to you seemed to consistently awaken him with desire, a notion that thrilled you. Initially, when you first started dating, he had been embarrassed and tried to conceal it from you. However, it didn't take long for you to reassure him that you had no issue with it. In fact, you welcomed morning intimacy eagerly, willing to sacrifice a few extra minutes of sleep if it meant indulging in each other's desires."

And now, you found yourself in the place you loved most: cuddled up to your boyfriend on a peaceful morning. His hard cock pressed into you.

You began to stroke his hair with a bit more bravery, aiming to gently rouse him from his slumber.

"Spence...? Baby..." you murmured, your voice soft against the morning quiet.

"Mhm...." he responded, shutting his eyes tighter as he hugged you closer.

"Are you waking up?" you whispered into his tousled hair, your fingers trailing gently along his scalp.

"Mhm..." he replied, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You traced soothing circles on his back with your other hand, allowing him to gradually emerge from his dreams. After a while, you started to slowly grind against him, earning a soft whimper that escaped his lips, betraying his arousal.

Pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, you teased, "Someone's excited?"

"Mhm..." he murmured again, his desire evident in his response.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" you whispered, your lips brushing against his skin.

"Mhm..."

"Yeah? I need words, Spence..." you teased playfully, seeking verbal confirmation.

"Please," he finally managed to articulate, his voice tinged with need.

"Okay," you chuckled softly, feeling a surge of affection for him as you reached your hand between your bodies, gently caressing the skin above his boxers.

"Mhm... please," he pleaded once more, his eagerness evident in his tone.

"Someone's needy, huh?" you teased, your voice filled with warmth and affection.

Since you hadn't seen him or felt him in too long, you decided to forgo the teasing and get down to business. He deserved to have everything he wanted, to feel everything he wanted. No more teasing or playing around for now.

You dipped your hand under the waistband, firmly grasping his hard cock, eliciting a breathy exclamation from him.

"Oh god," he gasped, his voice muffled against your chest.

"That feels good?" you inquired softly, seeking confirmation.

"Very good," he murmured in response, his breath warm against your skin.

As you continued to stroke him, you reached for his hair, gently playing and pulling, adding another layer of sensation to the intimate moment.

Placing tender kisses on his forehead, you felt your hips instinctively beginning to move, responding to the rhythm of your shared desire. 

It was irresistible, especially with Spencer softly moaning and whimpering against your hot skin, his lips brushing against you, and the warm breath escaping his lungs tickling your skin, intensifying the intimacy of the moment.

His velvet skin felt like a dream, large, hot, tip leaking profusely, your hand slid easily. With your fingers tracing along the veins and around the pink head, Spencer's hand slid around your back, pulling you closer.

"Spencer, honey, you're holding me too tightly. I'm trying to make you feel good," you gently reminded him.

"Sorry," he whispered, loosening his grip.

"It's okay," you assured him, continuing to massage the swollen, taut flesh as Spencer trembled beneath your touch.

You reveled in the feel of his length in your hand, delicate yet powerful. "You're doing so well, my pretty boy," you encouraged him softly, watching as his lips parted, barely glistening with saliva, and his whimpering grew louder.

Starting with your thumb against his slit, you applied pressure, eliciting a moan from his lips, before moving to the pre-cum pooling on the tip. Smearing it along the bottom vein, you used it as a guide as your hand began to move up and down, utilizing the small amount of lubrication present.

His nose scrunched as you picked up the pace, his body responding eagerly to your touch. You twisted your hand, using your nails to tease the head of his manhood, causing him to tense uncontrollably.

"Look at you, Spence. You want it so bad it hurts?" you teased, your tongue between your teeth.

"Please..." he pleaded, his eyes shut tightly as your hand continued its relentless motion.

His head turned to nuzzle into the pillow, his moans muffled as he neared his peak.

"Come on, baby, finish for me," you urged, and Spencer complied, his loud groans filling the room as his release coated your hand, warm and sticky.

He went limp against you, his hands bringing you closer as if he couldn't bear to be apart from you. You softened, stroking his hair with your free hand after helping him come down from his high.

"That's it. You did so well," you praised him, giving him a few more gentle pumps before kissing him tenderly on the lips.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice still trembling with the remnants of pleasure.

"You're welcome," you replied, your tone tender and filled with affection as you looked into his eyes.

"I love you," he confessed, his gaze filled with adoration as he searched your face for reassurance, sweat glistening on his forehead and his curls tousled from the intensity of the moment.

"I love you too," you responded, your heart swelling with warmth at his words, feeling the depth of your love in every syllable.

"Let me take care of you now," Spencer murmured softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he shifted his focus to you. He was ready to reciprocate the love and attention you had just bestowed upon him.

[drgenius-reid]

Bathtime Bliss

A/N: This is my first piece for Spencer and I absolutely just took it from one of my previous fics for a different person but I think it's cute and I love it so I edited it, lol. I hope you all like it, L x Summary: You share a bath with your husband on vacation Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader  Category: Fluff Content Warnings: (18+ Minors DNI) Implied smut, sharing a bath with a partner, innocent kisses Word Count: 750

Every candle that you could find in the cabin surrounded the bath. You’d balanced them wherever you could– on the sink, on the ledge that sat behind the bath taps, on the windowsill, and the floor in safe spaces. Despite the bitter cold of the outside air that had started to seep through the cracks in the window frame, the bathroom was warm with steam rising from the surface of the water that you were submerged in. 

You were at one end of the bath with your legs resting against Spencer’s thighs, watching him with a playful smile that he mirrored. Getting him to agree to sharing a bath had been a struggle. He’d spent almost an hour telling you about the germs that are spread through bodies of water and how it could get uncomfortable. 

But with every argument Spencer made, you had a counter argument. After what felt like an eternity, he agreed to take a bath with you and after you squealed in excitement and showered him with kisses, you ran through to the bathroom and started to run the hot water. 

Spencer’s hands reached forward just enough that he could run his fingers over the skin of your calves under the water. Your lungs filled with air and you let your eyes flutter closed slightly. It was the first time in a while that you felt truly content. It seemed like there was no break in cases and you struggled to find the time to take a break and enjoy your husband. 

‘Do you think we should maybe do something tomorrow?’ Spencer asked. ‘We’ve been here for two days and we haven’t left the cabin once.’ 

Taking a sip of wine and allowing the liquid to burn your throat slightly, you blinked at him. ‘Why would we leave the cabin and go out into the cold, wet snow when we have such a soft, warm bed here?’ You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and let it go sensually. ‘And we have been doing things. Lots of things. Fun things.’ 

Spencer shook his head at you playfully before splashing a little bit of water over you as his smile grew. When his hand moved back to your leg, he squeezed it before shifting his body in the water to get comfortable again. The water flowed around you, rippling around your body and heating up the areas of skin that hadn’t been submerged in a while. 

The bubbles that hadn’t popped while you’d spent over an hour in the bath were lapping at your skin. They tickled slightly and you couldn’t help but want to grab a handful and blow them over Spencer. 

‘Don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed every minute of the things that we’ve been getting up to here,’ he whispered as he used his strength to push himself forward to be closer to you, ‘but we came here to enjoy the town. There are cute cafés and stores for us to go to. And there are bookshops too.’ 

‘Oh well if there are cafés,’ you chuckled. Spencer hooked your legs around his waist and pulled you into his lap as he ran his hands over the expanse of your back. ‘Breakfast out does sound nice,’ you mused as Spencer’s hands roamed your back delicately. 

‘So tomorrow when we wake up we will put on every single layer of clothing that we can and we’ll go for breakfast. After breakfast I was thinking we could walk around and do some shopping. I promised Garcia that I would take her a gift home.’ 

‘You promised her? I promised her too,’ you laughed. ‘I guess she’s getting two gifts.’ 

Spencer shook his head and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You sighed into it and held his cheeks softly to keep him where you wanted him. 

‘There’s an English style pub in town too that we could go to for lunch. And then when we’re back here, we camp in front of the fire to prevent getting sick.’ 

Spencer’s nose scrunched at the thought of being sick and you chuckled gently, kissing him once more. ‘That sounds like a good day to me, Dr Reid.’ 

‘I love you,’ he whispered against your lips, ‘and as much as this bath is very romantic and I love just being here with you and being selfish with your time…I-’ 

‘Me too,’ you laugh, kissing him again. ‘Come on, let’s get out and go to bed.’ 

‘Who said anything about the bed?’ 

[triptuckers]

working from home - spencer reid

Request: nope Pairing:  spencer reid x reader Summary:  spencer works from home to take care of you when you're sick Warnings:  mentions of sickness Word count:  841 A/N: in honour of me getting covid in OCTOBER 2023 (the sheer AUDACITY of this bitch) and feeling Like Shit, here's a fluffy spencer fic

you rarely got sick and when you did, it usually wasn't that bad. as a result, you almost never call in sick. most of the times, you just take a few painkillers and head to work anyway.

this time, it was actually spencer who called in sick on your behalf.

you hadn't eaten a lot of dinner, assuring spencer it wasn't his fault. that the food was delicious, but you just weren't that hungry. spencer, being the sweet boyfriend that he is, immediately got worried. you told him you were okay, that you probably just needed some sleep.

the next morning the two of you got a call from emily, telling you there was a case. while spencer was talking to emily on the phone, he tried to nudge you awake. but when he hung up, you were still fast asleep.

spencer rolled over and nudged you again, a little harder this time. then he noticed you were radiating warmth. after laying the back of his hand on your forehead, he was quick to conclude you had a fever, so he decided to let you sleep.

he called emily, who agreed to let you stay at home. spencer would assist the team in any way he could from home, while they flew to seattle to solve the case.

after a couple of hours, spencer hears movement coming from the bedroom. he looks up from his desk to see you shuffling into the room, still in your pyjamas and your eyes half-closed.

'hi sweetheart.' he says.

'hi.' you say, walking over to where he's sitting.

you take a look at the papers scattered on the desk and frown.

'what's this all about?' you say.

'oh, it's the case we're working on.' says spencer, reaching out to loosely wrap his arm around your waist.

'we have a case? why are we still at home then?' you say.

'because you're sick. so we're staying home.'

'what? no, I can work. I'll just get some tea and a painkiller. give me a few minutes while I take a shower.'

you start to walk toward the bathroom but spencer pulls you back.

'y/n, you're sick. you have a fever. I know you don't like cancelling on work, but you need to rest. you'll only make it worse if you exhaust yourself.' says spencer.

'but I want to help them.' you say.

'you'll help them on the next case. when you feel better.'

'wait. if I'm sick, how come you're also at home? shouldn't you be with the team?'

'I already took care of it with emily. I'm staying home to take care of you.'

'spencer! you know you don't have to do that.'

'we've talked about this, y/n. it's what we do for each other. I can help the team just fine from here. now, are you hungry?'

you shrug. 'not really.'

'how are you feeling? nauseous? sore throat? I know you have a fever, that's for sure.' says spencer.

'a headache. and yeah, sore throat. I just feel like shit.' you say.

'why don't you go back to bed, and I'll get you some tea and painkillers?'

for a moment, you want to protest, but then you agree. spencer is right. as much as you want to help the team, you have a fever and you need to rest.

'alright.' you say, heading back to the bedroom.

spencer takes his time to make your tea just how you like it. by the time he brings it to you, you're already asleep. even though he can feel you still have a fever, you're shivering from the cold. he pushes the blanket down a bit to cool you down, and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

just as he walks back to his desk, his phone starts to buzz. the screen lights up, telling him it's emily who is calling. he briefly glances back at your sleeping figure in bed before picking up.

'hi emily, what's up?'

'hey reid, how's y/n?'

'taking a nap for now, but she's so cold she's shivering in her sleep even though she still has a fever. she really got it bad. I think it's only a matter of time before I get sick as well.'

'well, give her our love, will you?'

'will do. any updates on the case?'

'that's actually why I'm calling you. we found some quotes on a piece of paper, looks like poetry or a book. we were hoping you would recognise it.'

'send it over, I'll have a look.'

'will do, talk to you later.'

'bye.'

spencer hangs up and gets up from his seat behind his desk. he walks over to the bed. you’re fast asleep, but still shivering a bit.

'get some rest, sweetheart, you deserve it.' he whispers to you, even though he knows you most likely won't hear him.

but as he walks away, he hears you. very softly, you thank him.

spencer smiles and walks to his desk to take a look at the quotes emily sent over.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Max/Marit

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

A Stranger | Post Prison!Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: You and Spencer deal with the changes after he spent his time in prison. The man who walked into that prison wasn’t the same one who came out, but you have no idea why. You see the change after he defends you from a drunk at the bar. 

A/N: hope y’all like this! x 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} closed

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

! Warning: fighting, blood, guns, typical criminal minds shit 

Your body shook with nerves as you stood outside the grey prison. Spencer was finally proven innocent and would be released from prison. You were a little hurt that JJ was the one to go inside to get him and you were forced to stay out here in the parking lot. It had been like that the entire time Spencer was in prison. 

You’d only been able to visit him once before you were taken off his visitation list by his request. You were hurt. Especially when everyone else was cleared, JJ included. No one would tell you why Spencer wouldn’t see you and he wouldn’t even call. 

This would be the first time you’ve seen him in 3 months. You nervously bit your lip, eyes strained on the door. You didn’t want to miss him. You played nervously with your fingers, especially the one on your left hand. 

You finally spotted the two of them walking out of the prison, they were in conversation, JJ and him both with a smile on their face, laughing about something. A pang was felt in your heart at the sight. 

He’d let his hair grow out, along with the stubble on his face. He even looked like he’d gained more muscle. 

As he neared, he spotted you, his smile not faltering, “Hi baby,” 

“Hi,” You say softly before his tall form engulfs you in his arms. You felt your body relax against his, this was the moment that kept you going all these months. 

“God, it’s so good to see you,” He pulls away to admire your face, his large hands cradling your head. 

Tears are rolling down your cheeks, “I’m a mess,” you quickly wipe them away and he wipes a stray. 

“No,” he smiles, “You’re as beautiful as the last time I saw you. Maybe even more. I don’t know how that’s possible.” 

Your shoulders sag, “God, Spencer.” 

“I know,” He hugs you tighter this time, “I’ve missed you too.” 

~ 

You couldn’t believed he’d agreed to drinks at the bar with the rest of the team, but here you were. Spencer’s large hand on your back as he stands next to you waiting for your drinks at the bar. 

You felt a presence beside you, a man elbowing his way through the crowd to order his drink. He was swaying, noticeably drunk. 

Spencer noticed as well, his hand wrapping around your hip, bringing you closer to him. 

The man ordered the drink and when he took notice of you standing beside him, his eyes raked up and down your body, tongue on his teeth as he admired you, “damn.” 

You’d missed it, but Spencer for sure didn’t. “You say something?” Spencer confronts him, a dangerous look in his eye. 

The man held his hands up in surrender, “Just admiring the lady.” 

“Spence.” you place a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him and direct his attention elsewhere. 

“She isn’t yours to admire.” 

The man shrugs, “man come on, she’s hot, you can’t expect men not to look at her. Especially with a body like that. She’s every man’s wet dream.” 

And that was the final straw. Spencer snapped, lunging at the guy. 

“Spencer!” You shrieked, eyes wide. You’d never seen this side of Spencer. He had the guy pinned against the bar, punching him again before someone, the bouncer, yanked him off the guy. 

You’re standing there in shock at the scene, the guy’s nose is bloody and his blood is on spencer’s knuckles. Two bouncers drag him out of the bar, tossing him out the door. 

You follow them out the door, still in shock at the events that just unfolded,“What the hell was that!” 

Spencer wipes his nose, “He was talking about you, you didn’t hear the crude comment he made about you?” 

Your eyes are wide, you motion to the bar, “he was drunk!” 

“And?” he runs a hand over his disheveled hair, “he shouldn’t talk about you like that.” 

“The old spencer would have never done that. You can’t go around punching people for speaking bad about me! Guys do it all the time. I’m use to it. You have to ignore it.” 

“There won’t be any ignoring it around me. You don’t deserve that. The guy deserved his ass beat” He steps toward you, but you step back. 

“I have no idea who the hell you are anymore.” You put a hand out to stop him and stare up at him. He’s a stranger standing in front of you. You shake your head, needing air and wanting desperately to be in the comfort of your home. You start down the sidewalk. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I’m going home.” 

Spencer follows behind you, “You can’t walk home alone in the dark. That’s when most kidnappings and murders happen.” 

Your mind goes to his time in prison, the denial at the entrance. Your name wasn’t on the approved visitors list. You stop, overcome with the thoughts of the last 3 months and turn abruptly to face him, “Why wasn’t I on the list?” 

“What?” 

“The visitors list! I visited once and I never saw you again, but god you were sure to have JJ on your visitor’s approved list! But your wife?! No of course not!” 

“If you knew..” 

“If I knew what spencer? I knew nothing! I still know nothing! No one told me anything. The team wouldn’t tell me shit about you in prison, what happened or what was happening with the trial. I was kept in the dark the entire time. Do you know how that made me feel!”

“If only you knew what they said about you.” His voice is soft, “The inmates. They knew you were my wife. and that I was an FBI agent.” 

“And I didn’t deserve an explanation?” You say defeated. “I went three months without seeing you. Without hearing your voice. I was heart broken.” Tears swelled in your (eye color) eyes. “You let her, in.” You pointed off in the distance, “the woman you’ve always loved. Always had a connection with.” You pointed your index finger into your chest, “But not your own wife.” 

Spencer’s shoulders sag. He never meant for it to happen this way, but the things he heard from those inmates about you. The things they spoke about you, he never wanted to hear it again, or risk you hearing it. He didn’t want you near that place. He wanted to protect you, but ended up only making it worse. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like that.” 

“But it did and the man that walked into that prison isn’t the same one who walked out. The one who is standing in front of me isn’t my husband, but I have no idea why. No idea what happened on the inside to change you. You won’t talk to me about it at all and I’ve tried giving you space, but I deserve to know.” Your fingers tug at the ring on your finger, “until you’re ready to discuss it with me-” You grab his hand and force it open. 

“don’t-don’t do this.” 

You place the ring into his hand, “I can’t do this anymore, Spencer.” You step back from him and head back the way you were going. 

~ 

You struggled with the decision you’d made. Had it been too harsh? You hadn’t left the house or seen Spencer in a few days. He’d left you to have your space and to think things over. He knew he was in the wrong. He shouldn’t have kept you in the dark, but in reality all he wanted to do was protect you. It’s all he’s ever wanted, but he did more harm than good. 

A knock on the door pulled you from your spot on the couch, “coming!” You called out as the person knocked again. You peeped through the peep hole and spotted a man, dressed nicely on the steps. You couldn’t get a good look at his face as he was scanning the neighborhood. 

Something felt off and you debated on dialing Spencer’s number. “Yes, who is it?” 

“I’m a friend of Spencer’s? We went to college together, is he here?” 

“No-” Your mind went to what Spencer had taught you, “He’s on his way home, should be here in the next 5 minutes. You’re welcome to wait or come back.” 

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you well, could you open the door?” 

Your fingers hovered over his number, before your gut told you to do it. He answered on the second ring, “y/n? I’m so sorry-” 

“There’s a guy here at the house, asking for you.” 

“what guy?” Spencer’s on alert, “What’s his name?” 

“I don’t know, he said you two went to college together.. I-” 

“Don’t open the door.” Spencer doesn’t waste time, slipping into his shoes and heading out the door of Emily’s apartment. “Go to the back bedroom, in the side table there’s a gun, it’s loaded. Get it and lock yourself in the bathroom. Don’t you dare open the door until I get there.” 

“Spencer what the hell-” You step back from the door. The only guy he kept in the home was the one assigned to him as an FBI and it stayed locked in the safe in his closet when he wasn’t on duty. 

“y/n!” He snaps, voice full of desperation, “Just do as I say, please!” 

Just as you turn down the hallway, the man kicks the door in and before you could make it to the bedroom, he grabs you by the arm, shoving you against the wall, the pictures crashing to the ground in a shattering puddle of glass. Your phone is knocked out of your hand and lands somewhere across the room. 

You struggle against his grip, “let go of me!” 

“Spencer’s little wife?” The man smirks, “this is going to be some sweet revenge.” A knife snaps open in front of your face, knicking your cheek. 

Your body trembles in fear and you do everything in your power to fight against his grasp, but he easily towers over you, his strength overpowering you. 

“Be still, quit moving!” 

You continue to thrash, managing a poor kick to his groin, that loosens his grip enough for you to get loose, but his reflexes are quick and he grabs you by the hair, tugging you back. 

both of you tumble to the ground and you crawl away, but he yanks you back by your leg, crawling on top of you. He punches you, stunning you. You blink your eyes trying to regain your senses, but your head is pounding.

“Now back to where we were-” His knife goes to cut at your clothes, but a loud gun shot rings out and blood splatters on you. 

You scream out in shock, the man’s lifeless body falling on top of yours. It doesn’t stay there long. 

“y/n? are you okay?” Spencer’s frantically grabbing at you, hauling you to your feet. You’re trembling, staring at the man’s dead body. 

“Hey are you okay? did he hurt you?” Spencer grabs at your face forcing you to look at him. His eyes are frantically searching yours. 

You can’t speak but burst into a sob. Spencer holds you against his chest, cradling your head, “it’s okay, i’m here. I’m right here.” 

He presses a kiss against your hair, his grip around you tightening as he stares at the man in the floor. He was in the cell block with Spencer, the same one who spoke ill words about you. and the reason Spencer wanted to protect you. 

~ 

The rest of the team showed up only moments later, taking care of everything. Spencer led you to the bathroom, sitting you on the edge of the tub. As he starts to move away from you your hand darts out to grab his, “don’t leave me,” You beg. 

“baby, i’m only getting a wash cloth.” He gently pries your hand off his wrist and turns back to the sink, wetting a cloth. 

He leans down to you, washing the blood from your face. 

Your bottom lip continues to tremble, your ears still ringing from the gunshot and blow to the head, “Was he one of them?” 

He looks to you to continue. 

“One of the guys from prison?” 

Spencer nods, “I don’t know how he was released early.” He squeezes the cloth and wets it again, “but yes he’s one I was worried about coming after you. The reason I didn’t want you at the prison.” He gently cleans the cut on your cheek before placing a bandaid on it. 

“I’m sorry I snapped on you. and gave you your ring back.” 

Spencer tosses the blooded rag in the sink before puling your ring from his pocket, “You had every right.” He sits next to you, holding the ring between his fingers, “I should never have kept you in the dark, but I thought I was doing the right thing.” He holds the ring back to you. 

“When you’re ready, I’m willing to tell you everything. Right now, I want to make sure you’re okay.” 

You take the ring and stare at it before slipping it back on your finger, “Don’t leave me.” 

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and cradles you against his body, “never.” 

“I love you spencer.” 

“I love you too.” His grip tightens around you at the words. He’s forever grateful to be able to hear you say those words. This night could have gone very differently. 

Comments, likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading. xx 

[immaturegzb]

masterlists

mix of my favorite angsty, smutty, fluffy fanfics/smau's

MDNI - most of these recs are nsfw

a-angst, s-smut/suggestive, c-comfort, f-fluff, h-hurt, m-mature

~kpop:

bts, exo, svt

jungkook (my man, my man, my man)

smau/fake text

~criminal minds:

dr. spencer reid

reid pt 2

aaron hotchner

~tv series

HotD

Bridgerton

[roselilies]

[incognit0slut]

Behind Closed Doors

Part two

Your admiration of his vest leads you to an empty office with his face buried between your thighs—and an urgent Emily demanding your whereabouts.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spence (are we even surprised), fingering, oral sex (f), semi-public, slight overstimulation, and Emily kind of overhears because she calls Reader in the middle of the deed (oops). 5k words

A/n: I don’t have any excuse for this one, I just wanted to rewrite this scene of him because looking at it is not enough

You heard him before you saw him. It wasn't his voice per se, but the distinct sound of rapid shots cutting through the air. The noise seemed to intensify as you stepped into the control room, almost overbearing, but you'd long since grown used to its piercing sound.

"Is that Reid?" You asked, your polished boots echoing into the confined space. The officer monitoring him through the surveillance camera glanced over at you, and even though her expression didn't betray outright displeasure, you could hear a subtle edge in her voice.

"Agent Y/L/N," she greeted, her eyes darting between the rows of monitors, then to you, and finally settling on the clipboard in her hand. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Actually, I am. It’s Tuesday, my usual training day.”

"Not for another hour."

"I know," you countered, holding up your wrist to check your watch. "But I have some spare time, thought I’d come by early."

“I’m afraid it’s occupied right now. Agent Reid is still in the middle of his test."

This caught your attention. "What test?"

She glanced at you, her expression conflicted. "It's just a routine evaluation."

"He's currently not an active agent," you pointed out. It hadn’t been too long since his release from prison. It didn’t make any sense for him to go through an evaluation, not when he was behind bars for the past few weeks. Then recognition dawned on your face. "He's being evaluated to rejoin the team, isn't he?"

"I... I'm not at liberty to discuss that," she replied. Her gaze faltered momentarily before she nodded slowly, confirming your suspicions. "But yes, it's standard procedure for agents returning from extended leave."

"Oh wow—okay," you responded, absorbing the information. Your eyes flickered towards the monitor. "How's he doing?"

Her lips formed a thoughtful line before she answered, "Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp."

You let out a laugh, finding the comparison amusing. You'd known Spencer for what, three, four years? While he wasn't bad with firearms, comparing him to a historical figure like Wyatt Earp seemed a bit exaggerated. However, as you watched him through the monitors, despite your initial skepticism, you couldn't deny the truth in her words.

You had witnessed him handle a gun countless times, but always in situations where there was a real threat, where you both had to be on high alert. Yet as you observed him now from a different perspective, it was hard to tear your eyes away. It was as if he was in his element, and Spencer Reid in his element never looked so... attractive?

Now that wasn't an exaggeration. Although you had never admitted this to anyone—god forbid what your teammates would say—there was an undeniable charm to the confidence he exuded. While Spencer had always been attractive, there was something different about the way he handled the gun.

You were sure it had something to do with his time in prison. After all, who wouldn't be affected by such a daunting place, especially when you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place? Yet, surprisingly, Spencer seemed to be coping better than you expected. Despite the toll it must have taken on him, it was evident that his experiences had shaped him, perhaps more than he let on.

Although he was still the same sweet, adorable guy you considered one of your closest friends. But you weren't sure your current observation of him fitted the typical definition of friendship… because there was nothing remotely friendly about the thoughts running in your head right now.

Not only was it not friendly, but it wasn't exactly innocent. Because look at him. Look at the way he was gripping the gun, his arms defined beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Look at the way his protective glasses covered his face, the black-rimmed frames accentuating his handsome features. And even though you had seen him wear the uniform vest countless times, somehow it was undeniably distracting the way it hugged his chest. 

Yep—there was nothing remotely friendly about how you wanted to climb up the man.

A sudden buzz echoed in the room, snapping you to reality. You glanced up and noticed the officer you were talking to entering the monitor screen and it dawned on you that you had been so distracted by your thoughts that you hadn't realized she had left the control room.

"I'll send the results to the review board this evening," the officer's voice resonated from the screen.

"Did I do okay?" His voice came through.

"Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp," she replied, echoing her earlier assessment. Her gaze shifted to the printed cardboard image of a man, supposedly representing the Unsub, which was shredded right around the face. "Or... Al Capone, maybe."

You observed Spencer's slight nod as she turned and walked out of the screen. Quickly, you exited the control room and met her in the hallway.

"Agent Y/L/N," she called out as she spotted you. "You can have the room in five minutes—"

"I need to reschedule."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Reschedule?"

"Uh... yes, something urgent came up," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

She regarded you for a moment before nodding. "Alright, just let me know when you want to reschedule."

"I will, thank you," you said quickly. Sensing her lingering gaze, you added, "Oh, I'm just waiting for Reid. I need his help on... something."

A faint smile played on her lips, though she didn't press further. "Of course, I'll leave you to it then." 

With a nod, she turned and walked away just as the door at the end of the hallway opened, revealing Spencer emerging from the room. His eyes met yours in confusion, and you could sense his curiosity as he approached you.

"Hey," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

You cocked your head to the side.

What were you doing here? 

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before offering a shrug. "Just passing by, I guess."

His brow furrowed slightly as if he sensed there was more to your answer than you were letting on. "Alright," he said, though his curiosity lingered in his gaze.

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling the need to change the subject. "So, how did the evaluation go?"

"So you've heard.”

"Yeah," you confirmed, starting to walk down the hallway as he stepped in pace beside you. "I can't wait for you to be back on the team. Officially, that is."

"If they let me back on the team."

"Of course they will," you reassured him, your hand finding its place on his shoulder, offering support. "You're more than qualified."

He sighed, and you tried not to notice the subtle movement of his vest across his chest, or how it shifted under your touch. "You think so?"

"I know so," you affirmed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, they'll definitely bring you back."

He stopped his pace, and so did you, before his eyes flickered towards your hand on his shoulder. He must've sensed something different, considering you weren't exactly the type of person who liked physical contact. Neither of you were, actually. While Spencer was known for his aversion to germs, you simply preferred maintaining a certain level of personal space.

"Seriously," he wondered, his tone laced with curiosity. "What are you doing down here?"

You cleared your throat. "I told you, I was just passing by."

"Really? Is that why you're talking to me instead of going through your usual training?" he pressed on. "It's Tuesday. I'm well aware of your schedule."

Damn him and his eidetic memory. You shifted away from his gaze. "Can't a girl just choose to have a chat with a friend?"

"You chose me over your scheduled routine?” his lips curved into a subtle smile. “Am I that much of a distraction?”

Yes, that damn vest is distracting me.

"Distraction might be a bit strong,” you replied, the lie sounding feeble even to your own ears.

"So you’re admitting I’m slightly distracting?"

"I never said that.”

Spencer leaned in and you felt the heat of his proximity radiating from his body. "But you didn't deny it either.”

You felt a faint blush creep onto your cheeks as you realized the shift in his tone. Dare you say he was... flirting with you? Or was it just your imagination running wild? From the corner of your eye, you caught the subtle way he licked his lips, and without meaning to, your own gaze was drawn to the movement.

It was a habit of his, one you'd observed countless times before whether it was out of concentration or a mere reflex. But seeing it up close now, the way his tongue traced the curve of his bottom lip, was driving you insane.

You swallowed hard. This was not friendly behavior. A friend wouldn't be imagining what it would feel like to have his tongue on your lips instead.

"Y/N?"

Your face felt hot as you met his gaze. "I..."

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter and chatter from down the hallway reached your ears. You heard Penelope's unmistakable giggle with JJ's animated voice, and suddenly your instinct took over. Without a second thought, you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him into an empty office nearby. 

The door shut with a soft thud, and you frowned, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn't want to be caught in a state of flustered panic like some nervous school girl talking to her crush, but as Spencer stood behind you, you realized you were overreacting. The more you dwelled on it, the more absurd it seemed to hide away when there was no reason to.

With a sigh, you turned to face him. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to..."

But as your gaze met him, your words faltered because he was standing closer than you expected. Close enough that the color of his eyes seemed to intensify under the soft light filtering through the window—a rich brown, like warm chocolate, with specks of gold that danced in the sunlight.

Your eyes involuntarily traced downwards, from the sharp lines of his nose to the curve of his lips, lingering on the stubble lining his jawline. Your mind wandered, and now you couldn't help but wonder how it would feel having it against your skin. Or how it would feel pressed against your thigh.

Your face grew hotter at the thought.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" he asked, taking a step forward. You squeaked in surprise, an actual high-pitched sound leaving your lips, as you felt the hard surface of his vest pressing against your chest.

"It's just..." You hesitated, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. "You're standing really close..."

He glanced down at you, his eyes resting on your lips. "Do you want me to move?"

"I... uh..."

His eyes flickered back up to meet yours. "I'll take that as a no."

Before you could process his words, his hand reached up, fingers gently gripping your waist. You felt a rush of heat spread through you at his touch, the sensation seeping through your shirt and you found yourself leaning into him, your breath catching in your throat as his face hovered closely above yours.

It was happening. Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips drew closer. You couldn’t believe it, he was going to kiss you—Spencer-fucking-Reid was going to kiss you.

But just as his lips hovered dangerously close against yours, he suddenly stopped.

"Just to make this clear," he began, running a thumb along your side. "I respect you, both as a friend and a colleague. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with, so if you think this is pushing any boundaries then—"

"Spencer," you cut in. "Just kiss me already."

With a hint of relief and a small smile playing on his lips, he finally closed the gap between you.

You never imagined his lips could be so soft. He had the softest lips that moved against your own with a hint of coffee and something undeniably sweet. Those soft, soft lips parted away from yours for a moment before he leaned back in, more desperate, more needy. And when he swiped your bottom lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, you couldn't help but welcome him with a soft moan of pleasure.

He devoured you then, his tongue pushing eagerly into your mouth, his lips enveloping you with a hunger that left you breathless as he pressed himself against you. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, you were walking backward until your back collided with the solid surface of the desk. 

With strength you didn’t know he possessed, he effortlessly lifted you and perched you on top of it, prompting a surprised squeal to escape your lips. He laughed in response but you were too caught up in the moment to worry about whether he found you amusing. 

Your hands eagerly roamed over his chest, fingers curling around the strap of his vest as you pulled him closer. He slipped between your parted legs with ease and when he pressed his evident bulge against your core, you both gasped in pleasure.

"We should... we should probably stop, right?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your lips. Despite his words, his actions betrayed his self-control as he began to roll his hips against you.

“We're at work, someone might—” He groaned. “Someone might… hear us..."

He was right, but you found yourself unable to care about anything else but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your heat.

"We could stop, or..." you found yourself saying without thinking. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, finding their way between you as you started to unbutton your shirt, the fabric slipping away to reveal more of your skin. 

"Or..." He prompted, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip yet again, his breath coming out in shallow, ragged bursts.

"Or..." you repeated, pushing the front of your shirt open. "We could be quiet."

"We could be quiet," he agreed all too quickly. "We could definitely be quiet."

You let out an amused laugh. "We’re going to get in trouble if anyone finds us."

“Then you shouldn’t make a sound.”

“Me? What about—oh.”

His lips were already trailing down your body, leaving soft kisses as they lingered on your neck, across your collarbone, and then he moved lower, sucking lightly on the swell of your breasts. A whimper of his name escaped your lips, your fingers entwining in his hair.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes drinking at the sight of your breast pushed up against your bra, a glistening sheen of his saliva coating your skin.

“You are stunning,” he murmured, before leaning back in to place a tender kiss on the spot where your collarbone met your shoulder. “How far do you want to take this?”

You blinked, trying to ground yourself into the moment between the lust fogging your brain. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he muttered as he rutted his hips against yours, drawing a needy moan from you. “How far are you willing to go?”

“If you’re asking whether I want to have sex with you, the answer is a hundred percent yes.”

You could practically feel his smile on your skin as he buried himself in the crook of your neck.

“That’s good to know,” he whispered, causing you to arch your back as your chest pressed against the hard material of his vest. “But I don’t think we can do much considering we’re supposed to be working. Well, you at least.”

You grasped his shoulders, pushing him away to meet his gaze. “I thought we agreed to keep quiet.”

“We can keep quiet,” he assured you, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “But I can’t rush my time with you. Besides, you deserve a much better setting than an unoccupied office full of dust.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. “Maybe, but it’s more about time, really. I just want to take—” His lips brushed against your cheek. “My time—” A peck on your lips. “With you.”

You melted right there and then. You could’ve sworn you were nothing but a puddle mess. If he wasn’t holding you for support you were sure you could fall right back to the floor.

“Alright then,” you finally said, reaching for the buttons of your shirt with trembling hands only to be stopped as his fingers curled around your wrist.

“What are you doing?”

You shot him a puzzled look. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex right now.”

“I didn’t say anything about stopping,” he replied, releasing your hand before his palms slid up your thighs. “There are plenty of other things we can do.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “Like what?”

“Well, I guess we'll just have to get creative.”

Your breath hitched when his fingers hovered over the button on your pants. You watched with a mix of excitement and disbelief as he started to undo them, your mind turning into a mushy mess. It was as if every neuron in your brain had decided to stop working.

“Lift your hips for me.”

You met his gaze, trying to summon up your composure but you couldn’t help the nervous twitch of your lips. He smiled at you.

“Come on, pretty girl, we don’t have all day.”

Not only were you melting, but you were practically liquid by now. Your body moved on its own accord—your hands gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, synchronizing perfectly with his gentle movements to slide the material over your hips and down your legs.

He placed your pants on the empty space beside you while his eyes never left your body. His gaze lingered on the rise and fall of your chest, and he leaned in, his fingers trailing over your skin before settling on the hem of your panties. His thumb slid to the front, brushing along the delicate material. Your hips bucked as he continued to run his thumb up and down as if he were trying to map out your slick folds over the fabric.

“Look at you dripping,” he mused, his eyes fixated on the way his thumb slid over to your clit. “Are you always this wet?”

Your cheeks heated at the question. He wasn’t even trying to make it come off as dirty talk; he asked it like a normal question, as if he were simply wondering about what you ate for breakfast. But the question alone had your face burning because you did not expect it to come from him.

“I… I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he asked, his tone amused. He hooked his fingers into the material of your panties before pushing it to the side.

“I-I don’t know.” You let out a breathless moan when his fingers grazed your slit. “Whenever I’m turned on, I don’t... I don’t exactly touch myself just to check how wet I am.”

Spencer chuckled softly, angling his hand between your thighs before gently pushing his middle finger into your entrance. You gasped at the sudden stretch, brows furrowing as he pressed further, and your hand instinctively gripped onto his arm.

“Do you often touch yourself?”

Your head fell back as he started to move.

“M-Maybe,” you managed to stutter out.

"What do you think of when you do?" he asked slowly, his own breath starting to grow shallow as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He observed the way your mouth fell open, your tongue slightly slipping out in the corner, and the way your eyes shut closed. He was fascinated by the effect he had on you, on how just a simple touch had you squirming.

“A… a lot of things,” you managed to reply.

“Have you ever thought of me?”

Whoa.

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, momentarily stunned.

This was dangerous territory, but then again, nothing seemed quite as risky as being fingered by your coworker on a Tuesday afternoon. So what harm could it be if you admitted that yes, in fact, he had crossed your mind when you touched yourself wishing it was his fingers instead?

A lot of harm, actually. One, it seemed like an inappropriate confession given your friendship. Friends don't usually imagine each other in sexual scenarios. And two, you could die of embarrassment.

"No," you replied, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

He hummed skeptically. “I thought we were past the point of lying between profilers.” With a pause, he added another finger inside you, causing you to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan. “Is this how you imagined it in your fantasies?”

What was the point of lying now? You swallowed hard, trying to think of a witty response to distract from the intense pleasure coursing through your body.

“Uh… This is slightly better.”

“Slightly? I’m hurt.” He pressed his thumb onto your clit. “What else did you think of then?”

Your cheeks flushed even more. “You… well, um, you also used your tongue.”

The airy laugh he let out sent a shiver down your spine. “Really? And how did that fantasy play out?"

Your heart raced as you tried to find the right words. "Let's just say it involved a lot more tongue action and a lot less talking."

His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “Then let’s reenact it.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you. “Lay on your back.”

With a shaky breath, you complied, sprawling out on the desk, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. When he reached for the waistband of your panties, you couldn't help but crack a joke. "If I knew this was the direction this day was heading, I would've worn my fanciest underwear."

Spencer shook his head. “Trust me, you don't need fancy underwear to drive me crazy."

He then deftly removed your panties, his movements confident yet tender, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. When the fabric pooled at your ankle, he got down on his knees and parted your legs wider, positioning himself between them.

You watched, anticipation building, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your inner thigh. Then, with a teasing glance, he pressed his lips to your skin, planting soft kisses along the trail of your inner thigh, inching closer to your core.

You shivered at the sensation and your heart raced with every kiss. His hands roamed over your thighs, tracing delicate patterns while his mouth brushed closer to where you craved him the most. You bit down your bottom lip, unable to contain the moan that escaped as his tongue flicked out, grazing your sensitive flesh.

This was definitely better than your fantasies, the ones you'd harbored in secret, too taboo to admit even to yourself. But here you were, living out those desires in the most deliciously real way possible.

You gasped as his tongue lavished your slit, tasting every inch, mixing your arousal that was beginning to drip from your core with his saliva. Your back arched off the desk, thighs trembling and when they threatened to close, he made sure two heavy palms kept them open long enough for his tongue to drag over your clit.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Somehow it felt like a dream, but everything was real. His face was right between your thighs; his mouth pressed against your cunt, his tongue lapping through your wet folds. And it wasn’t as simple as tasting you, he was eating you, devouring you, swallowing every drop of your arousal as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste.

You started to lose control of your mind, your body, your actions. Your hips bucked to meet his tongue, your jaw slackening as stifled moans spilled from your lips. And that was when you felt it—a faint vibration against your thigh. At first, you thought it was just the sensation of his touch, but then the loud, unmistakable loud ringtone of your phone shattered the moment.

"Shit!" You squealed, scrambling to grab your phone from your discarded pants. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover you in this compromising position.

"It's Emily—“ You pushed his head away, trying to hide your flushed face as he looked at you with surprise. His lips were glistened with your arousal and his hair seemed messier. God, he looked so pretty.

"Don't answer it."

"It might be important." With a pointed look, you silently urged him to keep quiet as you brought the phone to your ear with trembling fingers. “H-Hey... what's up?"

Emily's voice came through the line, slightly muffled by the sounds of commotion in the background. “Hey, I need you to review the report you submitted yesterday, you left a few details about the Unsub.”

Spencer's lips brushed against your inner thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, and you had to bite back a moan. You shot him a warning glare, mouthing ‘stop’ before turning your attention back to the call.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “So… um, which report?”

"The case in Florida," your boss explained. "You mentioned that the Unsub was targeting women between the ages of 25 and 35…”

You were trying to listen, you really were, but it was hard when you felt his fingers ease into your cunt, your juices dripping out, coating his flesh as he curled them inside. You almost let out a whine as his thumb pressed to your clit, caressing in circular motions. 

“…he's also been stalking younger women."

Your eyes screwed shut as he sped up his pace. His touch was driving you crazy, and you could barely register the conversation over the sounds of your own arousal echoing in the room.

“Y/N.”

You snapped your eyes open, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you tried to concentrate on the call. "Uh, yeah, go on," you managed to stammer, hoping she didn't notice your wavering tone.

“Are you okay? You sound... off," Emily's voice cut through the haze of pleasure. You shot Spencer another pleading look, but he simply smiled at you with a hand still between your thighs and the other slipping underneath your bra.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, fighting against the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. "Uh, yeah, I… I-I’m doing my training.”

You mentally cursed yourself for the terrible excuse. Emily didn't seem entirely convinced. "Training?"

"Yeah, you know, the uh... firearm training? I-It’s Tuesday.”

There was a pause on the other end before she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound like you're in pain."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers curled inside of you. "No, no, I'm fine. Just... a little out of breath from all the… shooting."

Spencer let out an incredulous scoff, and you shot him a pointed glare.

“Are you with someone?”

You hesitated, racking your brain for a believable excuse, but all you could muster was a feeble, "Uh, nope.”

There was a pause on the other end, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken as your body flushed with heat. Meanwhile, Spencer seemed intent on torturing you, never stopping his pace. If anything, it seemed like his movements were increasing. Just when you thought you couldn't feel more exposed, another scoff echoed through your ear, this time from Emily.

“Alright, where are you really?” she pressed, her tone indicating she wasn't buying your flimsy excuse.

“I told you I-I’m doing my training.”

She laughed. “Y/N, we profile people as a job. I can sense your lie even through the phone.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. What was up with these profilers and their knack for sniffing out lies? You were one yourself, but apparently, you were no match for their scrutiny.

“I’m not—“ your words were cut short when he stood up, hovering above you. You looked up at him, smiling at you innocently as his fingers continued to curl deep inside you. You clutched his forearm with your free hand, attempting to steady yourself.

"I'm not lying," you managed to squeak out.

"Mhm," came Emily's voice from the other end. “Just come by my office and grab the report, okay?”

Your breath hitched as his fingertips delved deeper, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of his hand moving between your legs, coated in your arousal with each thrust. You could feel your orgasm edging closer. Your hips moved in sync with his motions as the pressure built, the tension coiling tighter in your stomach and—

“Y/N!”

“Y-Yes, I’m… I’m coming.” Spencer's low chuckle filled your ears, and you realized what you'd unintentionally implied. Your eyes widened in embarrassment. “I mean, I-I’ll be there soon, okay, bye!”

You quickly slammed your phone down on the desk, ending the call with a thud. But before you could even take a breath, Spencer's fingers were back to their rapid pace, driving you to the edge of sanity. Your body staggered under his touch, your hips moving in sync with his relentless rhythm, the world outside the room fading away into a blur of pleasure.

"A-Ah—w-wait, fuck—"

You barely managed to utter a protest before his hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure. Your back arched, your head thrown back as you tightened your grip on his wrist, your body writhing beneath him as your orgasm consumed you.

It lasted longer than you expected and Spencer seemed determined to push you over the edge as he shifted his attention from your cunt to your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew momentarily, only to return with a renewed intensity, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Your senses were on overload as you moaned into his hand, the sound muffled but still audible. He worked you, over and over, and you didn't even know your body could take so much. Every stroke, every caress sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, building up to an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as the sensations reached a fever pitch. It was all too much, too intense, and in a moment of desperation, you pushed his hand away. When the last tremors of your orgasm finally faded away, you collapsed back onto the desk, panting heavily, your limbs feeling like jelly. 

Spencer removed his hand from your mouth, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched you catch your breath. “Are you okay?" 

You nodded weakly. “Yeah, just… that was intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Really good intense,” you replied with a sheepish grin, which only made him smile. With shaky hands, you pushed yourself up from the desk, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over you. As you began to dress yourself, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him—or rather, the evident bulge underneath his pants.

“That… that doesn’t look comfortable,” you remarked.

Spencer waved off your worry with a dismissive chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of it myself.”

“Here? At work?” Your eyes widened at the implication. “I didn't know you had it in you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “That’s not what I meant. It’ll eventually go away if I ignore—stop staring at it,” he added with a laugh. “You’re not helping.”

Your gaze lingered a moment too long on his bulge. "I can think of another way to help.”

Spencer's breath caught in his throat, his imagination running wild with possibilities, but he quickly regained his composure. "Go," he said, gently nudging you towards the door once you were properly dressed. "Emily's waiting for you."

Your eyes swept over him and a wave of awkwardness suddenly washed over you. What was the protocol after experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life? Shake his hand? Give him a high-five? You couldn't help but stifle a nervous laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

After a brief moment of contemplation, you decided to trust your instincts. With a hint of hesitation, you stepped closer and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, you were already rushing to the door.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched you leave, a tingling sensation lingering on his cheek where your lips had briefly touched. But as he licked his lips absentmindedly, he couldn't shake the taste of your arousal that lingered there.

Groaning softly, he shifted uncomfortably as his mind filled with vivid images of you squirming under him; your mouth agape, eyes half-closed, your pretty legs spread apart. The memory of your moans echoed in his ears and his cock stirred in his pants. 

He sighed, realizing he was in for a long day if he didn't do something about it. With a slight grimace—and the embarrassment gnawing at him for what he was about to do—he let his feet carry him to the nearest bathroom.

[reiderwriter]

Hi, so I have a request, but please don't feel pressured to write it now.

I was wondering if you could please do a scene or scenario where Spencer shouts out in desperation and panic "where's my wife" after a close call with the team on a very dangerous case.

A/N: I put a bit of a twist on your request so I hope you still enjoy it! Thank you for requesting~♡

Warnings: minor injury to canon characters, explosion, temporary loss of hearing, sight, etc.

The force of the blow was so strong that when Spencer Reid finally came to, a few seconds after hitting the ground hard, he couldn't hear a thing. 

Whether it was adrenaline, or an injury, or pure shock, his senses were numb, and the only thought in his head as he started screaming was of you. 

“Wh-where,” he coughed, shaking his head to try and focus. “Where's my wife?” 

His voice was quiet and weak at first, but it didn't matter to him. After all, he couldn't hear the words at all. He just felt his lips form the words and knew the familiar vibrations in his throat meant the sound was escaping into the wind. 

You pushed through crowds with a scream as you tried to get through to your team. Spencer wasn't the only one close to the blast. 

Emily, JJ, Morgan, and Hotch were all in various states of disarray around you as you ran back from the car across the street. You'd run back to check some files, feeling something off, and the heat and loud boom behind you was the confirmation you'd been looking for that you were right. 

After his first few attempts, Reid still couldn't see you, much less hear you or touch you or press his arms around you and not let go. He struggled to his feet and began calling again. 

“Where's my wife? Where is… WHERE'S MY WIFE?” His voice broke, and he  coughed gasped through each word, but he didn't stop. 

He stumbled forward, looking to see you through the haze of dust that had erupted from the blast site. Morgan ran to his side just as he tripped, pulling an arm under his as they stumbled together away from the rubble. 

“Where is she? She was right here, I need-” he coughed, leaning more on Morgan than he was walking for himself as his ankles twisted under him. 

“Hey, hey kid, we're okay. We need to get away from the blast, okay? Away.” 

Spencer kept rambling, though, his ears ringing as he blinked away his confusion and the panic creeped in stronger. 

“My wife, where is she? Morgan, I have to find her, she could be hurt,” he demanded, his voice stronger now as he pushed out of Morgan's grip. 

Ambulances and police cars were beginning to pull up, half of them already having been on route when your team had pulled up. 

Spencer searched through the crowd, sorting through faces until he found the one he desperately needed to see. 

Emily and JJ had been thrown back towards the cars, but both seemed to have missed big shrapnel and other injuries. He watched them clutch each other and stumble behind the cars as they called into their phones, requesting backup. 

Hotch was similarly talking fast to surrounding officers, and though he looked fine, he clutched his knee in his hand. The already dark material of his pants was somehow darker, and shinier in places, and it was only a moment later that Spencer realized a large chunk of shrapnel was jutting out of his leg, just above the knee. 

Rossi had been the furthest from the blast, bar you, and it was him that Spencer saw next, dusting off his clothes as he moved quickly to assess the scene. 

Morgan was still worriedly trailing behind him as he tripped over his feet. 

“Where's my wife? Where's my wife?” 

He finally saw you then, as you dove into the dust and smoke to assist your team. He was just about to fall to his knees when you ran to him, holding him up under his arms as he wrapped himself around you. 

“Found you. I found you, you're okay?” He asked, hands gently cradling your cheeks as he asked, tears in his eyes. 

“I'm fine, Spencer. Are you-” 

He silenced you with his lips, mouth slanting down on yours as he pushed every fear, every emotion, every ounce of adrenaline into your body. He kissed you like you'd never been kissed before, with desperation and longing and relief. 

And when he pulled away, he collapsed into your arms. 

Luckily, Morgan had been only steps away and took some of his weight off you as you stood, gasping for air and reeling from the kiss. 

You were so dazed, you collapsed to the floor, your knees giving in beneath you, and both Spencer and Morgan came down with you. The three of you were weak and traumatized, and emotions were running high, which is why you tried not to be offended by Morgan's line of questioning. 

“How long have you two been married?” He asked, and you were suddenly taken further aback. 

“What?” 

“Reid was looking for his wife. He was shouting ‘where's my wife? I need to find her.’ He was desperate. He was pushing away from me, and then he saw you, and he relaxed.” Despite the blow of the explosion and the now whirl of shrill sirens surrounding them, Morgan laid every word out carefully, like you would blow just as easily given the chance. 

“I'm not… we're not…Morgan, we're not even dating. I don't know what that was but…” 

Your hands carefully stroked Spencer's hair, gently smoothing it out of his eyes as you searched for answers in the man's unconscious form. 

You didn't stop until the paramedics arrived four minutes later, sitting unblinking as they hooked him up to an oxygen tank and carted him off to the nearest hospital. 

XXX 

The second time Spencer Reid awoke, it was dark outside, and the lights were low. But you were at his bedside, sleeping with your head by his legs, and your breathing was steady. So he let his eyes close again, not registering any of the pain the day had inflicted, and let himself sleep beside you. 

XXX

The third time Spencer Reid awoke, you were gone. He wasn't alone, though. Rossi sat upright in a chair beside the window of his hospital room, reading from what looked to be a case file. 

“Spencer, glad to see you returned to the land of the living,” Rossi said, noticing the younger man's movement and walking to his side. He pressed a button, and a doctor raced in, closing the door gently behind him. 

“Where is she? Where is-” 

“Spencer, it's okay. Everyone's okay. The doctor needs to run through some questions with you to check if you're feeling okay. Do your best to answer, okay, genius?” 

Spencer nodded, ignoring the small ache in his head, so similar to the headaches he'd been plagued with in earlier years. 

The doctor ran through standard questions, checked his blood pressure, checked his reactions, and made sure physically he was fine before moving on to more probing issues. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm going to ask you some simple questions about yourself now to assess for any neurological damage.” 

Reid nodded, regretting it instantly, but wanting to get out of the hospital as fast as possible to see you.  

“How old are you, Doctor Reid?” 

“Thirty, I'll be thirty-one this fall.” The doctor nodded and continued. 

“Where did you grow up?” 

“Las Vegas, Nevada. My mom still lives there. She's a patient at Bennington Sanitarium.” 

The doctor nodded and continued. 

“Are you married, Doctor Reid?” 

“Yes, my-” Spencer had to cut himself off as he processed the question fully. Was he married? No. He didn't remember any wedding. He had no romantic arrangement with anyone at this point in time. So why was he saying yes? 

Your face flashed into his head, and he grabbed his chest as his heart ached. It wasn't your face as he usually saw it, but that dazed and shocked expression you'd worn after he'd kissed you. 

He blanched and reclined slightly, suddenly needing all the pillows on the bed for more support as he realized the weight of his mistake. 

“Doctor Reid? Doctor Reid, did you understand the question?”

“What? Oh, no. No, I'm…I'm not married, I guess.” 

Rossi and the doctor shared a look before the doctor took his leave, promising to check in on you again in a few hours. 

The concerned look from Rossi as his bedside was almost too much to take. 

“Stop looking at me like that, Rossi,” he said, grumbling to himself, suddenly upset at the end of his delusions. 

“Like what? I'm not allowed to look at you now?” 

“You're not allowed to pity me. Where's everyone else? They're okay?” 

Rossi took a seat next to him and sighed.

“Hotch is in surgery - non-critical. They just want to be sure the shrapnel that landed in his leg didn't strike anywhere near a nerve or an artery. Morgan survived with a few bruises and scrapes that make him look even more like an action movie hero. He's coordinating with local law enforcement to catch out bomber.” 

Reid nodded along to each revelation, but his patience was growing thin. Rossi was watching him squirm. Reid, waiting for your name to pop up in conversation so he could talk about you, think about you with a valid excuse. 

“Emily and JJ are back at the motels, Penelope met them there to help them out. Emily's left arm is broken, and she has a nasty cut on her face, JJ twisted an ankle and sprained it pretty bad, so she'll be sitting for a while. I, myself, survived with pleasantly few cuts, a boon given my advancing years-” 

“Y/N, what about Y/N?” Reid finally burst, looking pathetically down at Rossi from his hospital bed. 

“Eager, aren't we?” 

“I need to know she's okay, and that... that she doesn't hate me.” 

“You can find those answers out yourself, kid. My shift is almost over.” 

Rossi stood and grabbed his cup of coffee, saluting Reid as he strolled out of the door. 

Reid was confused until the door opened again thirty seconds later, and you rushed in, breathing heavily as you took in his appearance, checking for damage. 

“Y/N,” he said, sitting up again. “Listen, I'm so, so sorry for kissing you yesterday. My mind must've been jumbled after the explosion and- and I thought you were actually my wife, and we were married-” 

You closed the distance between you quickly, grabbing his cheeks like he had grabbed tours only a day before and planting your lips back on top of his again. 

You kissed him the way you'd been kissed once before. With desperation, and longing, and relief. And when you pulled back, there were tears in your eyes that you didn't let fall, as you pressed yourself into Spencer Reid's arms. 

“Don't. Don't scare me like that again. I thought we'd lost you, I thought you'd kissed me and then - and then died!” You ranted, your arms gesturing wildly, every few seconds pausing to rake a hand through your hair. 

“You're not angry?” 

“Yes. Yes, I am angry, Spencer. You got hurt again, I'm seething.” 

“At me. You're not angry at me for kissing you?” He asked, smiling up as you goofily, a little bit worse for wear, but still shining nonetheless. 

“Oh. No. I was confused, but I'm not angry.” 

“Good,” he said, nodding, the two of you falling into an awkward, tense silence. You picked at dust on his shoulder as he stared at you, neither of you bold enough to say another word until the tension was palpable and Spencer Reid burst open. 

“Can I kiss you again?” 

[spencer-reids-fbivest]

Let’s appreciate this man’s hands… and his muscle memory in the second picture😝💋

[nereidprinc3ss]

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

[godsfavdarling]

How could you?

my masterlist, part 2

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader (established relationship)

words: 2,3k

summary: You go to Spencer's apartment, only to witness a shocking betrayal that shatters your world.

warnings: angst, hurt, spoilers for season 15!

a/n: this was one of the ideas for the later chapters of my full story 'Keep Holding On' (completed and available here), but there wasn't really a place for it. so, I decided to just make it into a one-shot with a gender-neutral reader!

You and Spencer have been together for a few years now, your relationship a patchwork of late-night conversations, lazy weekends spent on a couch with books, and long nights in each other's arms.

Although his job isn't easy and you don't get him to yourself as much as you'd like to, you wouldn't change a thing. He and the love you share mean everything to you.

In the quiet moments when you're alone, you find yourself marveling at how unexpected and yet perfectly fitting your love story is. You never thought this could happen to you. 

You never let yourself believe that there would be a man like Spencer loving you and accepting every fiber of your being.

Spencer's presence in your life is like a gentle breeze on a hot summer's day, soothing and comforting. His unwavering support and understanding make even the toughest days bearable. And when he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, you feel a sense of belonging that you've never known before.

You cherish the simple moments shared over cups of coffee in the morning or stolen kisses in the middle of the day. In Spencer's eyes, you see a reflection of your own hopes and dreams, and in his laughter, you find the melody of your heart's desires.

As you drift off to sleep each night, nestled in Spencer's embrace, you offer a silent prayer of gratitude for the love that fills your days and the warmth that fills your heart. 

In him, you've found not just a partner, but a kindred spirit, a soulmate who completes you in ways you never knew were possible. And for that, you will always be thankful.

There's an unspoken language that exists only between you and Spencer. It's a language of love, trust, and understanding that transcends words.

You marvel at how effortlessly Spencer seems to know what you need, even before you do. His intuition is uncanny, his gestures of affection tender and sincere. 

Whether it's a simple touch on the small of your back as he passes by or a reassuring squeeze of your hand when you're feeling uncertain, Spencer has an innate ability to make everything feel right.

You trust him with your deepest fears, your wildest dreams, and every fragile piece of your heart.

In his arms, you find sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world, a safe harbor where you can be your truest self without fear of judgment or rejection.

And as you navigate the challenges of life together, you're constantly reminded of just how perfect Spencer is in your eyes. His kindness knows no bounds, his patience infinite. 

But it's not just his virtues that make him perfect; it's the way he loves you, wholly and unconditionally. In Spencer, you've found a partner who sees you for who you truly are, flaws and all, and loves you all the more fiercely because of them.

Now as you climb the stairs to Spencer's apartment, your heart flutters. Spencer has just started his 30 days of obligatory sabbatical, and you're looking forward to spending more time together now that his only obligation is his teaching job. You've picked up takeout on the way, eager to share a quiet evening together.

But as you open the door, your excitement turns to shock and disbelief.

There, before you, is Spencer, locked in a passionate embrace with JJ. Her hands are cupping his cheeks, their lips pressed together in a kiss that sends a jolt of pain through your chest.

Time seems to stand still as the bags of food slip from your fingers, crashing to the floor with a dull thud. You can't tear your eyes away from the scene before you, the weight of betrayal crushing down on you like a ton of bricks.

A thousand thoughts race through your mind, each one more painful than the last.

How could Spencer do this to you? How long has this been going on? And most importantly, how could you have been so blind to the truth?

Your heart feels like it's been ripped from your chest, shattered into a million pieces by the revelation before you. The love and trust you once shared with Spencer now lay in ruins at your feet, leaving you feeling empty and alone in a world that suddenly seems cold and indifferent.

As Spencer and JJ finally break apart, their eyes widening in shock at your sudden appearance, you feel a surge of anger rising within you. But beneath the anger lies a deep well of hurt and sadness, a pain that cuts to the very core of your being.

Without a word, you turn on your heel and flee from the apartment, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggle to make sense of the betrayal that has shattered your world.

Everything spins around you in a blur of tears and confusion, you turn and run down the stairs, desperate to escape the pain and betrayal that threaten to consume you.

Each step feels like a marathon, your legs heavy with the weight of sorrow and disbelief.

But just as you reach the bottom of the stairs, your vision swimming with tears, you stumble, your foot catching on the edge of a step. You plummet forward, the ground rushing up to meet you with terrifying speed.

In that split second before impact, a pair of strong arms wraps around you, pulling you back from the brink of disaster. You gasp in shock and relief as Spencer catches you, his grip firm and steady.

For a moment, you cling to him like a lifeline, your body trembling with the force of your emotions.

You can't breathe, can't think, can't comprehend the enormity of what has just happened.

As you collapse onto the stairs, your sobs echoing in the empty stairwell, Spencer kneels beside you, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration.

He reaches out to touch you, but you flinch away, unable to bear the thought of his hands on your skin.

"Please," he pleads, his voice cracking with emotion. "Let me explain. It wasn't what you think. I didn't...I didn't do anything."

But his words fall on deaf ears as you struggle to make sense of the chaos swirling inside your head.

How could Spencer betray you like this? How could he let someone else touch him in that way?

As the truth begins to dawn on you, a wave of anger washes over you, hot and relentless. You push yourself away from Spencer, your chest heaving with the effort to draw breath.

"Don't," you choke out, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't touch me."

But Spencer refuses to give up, his eyes burning with determination as he reaches for you once more. "Please," he begs, his voice raw with emotion. "Let me explain. It wasn't me. It was her."

You place a trembling hand on your chest, trying to steady your racing heart as you struggle to catch your breath.

"How could you?" you utter, your voice barely above a whisper, the words heavy with accusation and pain.

Spencer's eyes are full of anguish as tears well up in his eyes. He reaches out to you, his hand hovering in the air between you, a silent plea for forgiveness that you're not sure you're ready to grant.

But before you can respond, JJ appears at the top of the stairs, her mouth open as if she's about to say something. But then, with a quick shake of her head, she closes her mouth and walks past the two of you without a word.

You stare after her in disbelief, your mind reeling with confusion and hurt.

You struggle to make sense of the situation. You knew of the hostage situation with JJ and how she had professed her love for Spencer. But you also remember how Spencer immediately came to you, confessing everything and reassuring you of his love for you.

He spent the whole night telling you every detail of what happened, assuring you that his heart belonged to you and you alone. He made it clear that you were the one he loved, not JJ.

So what happened? How could he be kissing her now, after everything he said and everything you've been through together?

With a shaky breath, you push yourself up from the stairs, your muscles tense with the effort to contain the storm raging within you. You want to flee, to distance yourself from him and the shattered remnants of your trust.

But before you can take a single step, Spencer's voice cuts through the tumultuous haze of your thoughts, pleading with you to stay. His words are a desperate plea for understanding, for a chance to explain the inexplicable.

"Please," he implores, his voice cracking with emotion. "Don't leave. I need to explain. I swear, it wasn't what it looked like. You have to believe me."

You hesitate, torn between the desire to escape and the need for answers. Despite the overwhelming pain coursing through your veins, there's a part of you that still craves the truth, no matter how agonizing it may be.

You groan loudly, the weight of the situation bearing down on you like a leaden blanket. Your mind races with a million questions, each one more painful than the last.

But for now, you're too overwhelmed to process anything.

With another loud groan, you turn and begin to make your way back upstairs, your steps heavy with exhaustion and despair.

You can feel Spencer's eyes boring into your back, his silent plea for you to stay echoing in the empty stairwell.

As you reach the top of the stairs, you don't look back, you enter the apartment and your only thought is to find a moment of solace in the solitude of the bathroom.

With trembling hands, you shut the door behind you, the click of the lock a final barrier between you and the chaos that threatens to consume you.

And as you sit there, trembling and broken, you realize that there's something about Spencer, something in the depths of his eyes that compelled you to stay, to hear him out.

It's a trust that runs deeper than words.

As you emerge from the bathroom after a few minutes, the weight of the silence between you and Spencer hangs heavy in the air.

You find him on the couch, his leg shaking uncontrollably, his fingers fidgeting nervously. His face is etched with worry and pain, mirroring the tumult of emotions raging inside you both.

He gave you space, just as he always did. It's one of the things you've always admired about him, his ability to recognize when you needed time to process and heal.

But now, as you sit in the armchair nearby, staring at him with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, you can't help but feel the need for answers, for some semblance of understanding in the chaos that surrounds you.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Spencer speaks. His voice is hoarse with emotion, the words tumbling out in a rush as if he's been holding them back for far too long.

"She just showed up," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. "Out of nowhere, she started talking about how she loves me and how she was stupid for ignoring it for so long. She said she couldn't pretend anymore..."

You listen in stunned silence, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. So it wasn't Spencer who initiated the kiss, it was JJ.

But why?

As Spencer continues to speak, his words are a desperate attempt to make sense of the madness that has engulfed your lives, you find yourself drawn to him, to the vulnerability etched into every line of his face.

Despite the pain and betrayal that still lingers between you, there's a part of you that can't help but empathize with his plight.

As Spencer falls silent, his eyes searching yours for some sign of forgiveness or understanding, you find yourself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions.

Hurt, betrayal, and confusion war with a lingering sense of empathy and love for the man sitting before you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart and collect your thoughts. "Spencer," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "I... I don't know what to say."

His eyes widen in anticipation, his expression a mixture of hope and fear. "I understand," he murmurs, his voice laced with regret. "I know I've hurt you, and I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"I need time," you finally say, your voice trembling with emotion. "I need time to process everything, to figure out where we go from here."

Spencer nods solemnly, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I understand," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here, waiting for you."

With a heavy sigh, you push yourself up from the armchair, your limbs feeling like lead. "I'm going to go," you say, your voice barely a whisper. "I just... I need some space."

Spencer nods, his gaze following you as you make your way to the door. "I'll be here," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "I love you."

You pause in the doorway, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. "I love you too," you murmur, your voice choked with emotion.

And with that, you step out into the cool night air, the weight of the world heavy on your shoulders.

As you make your way home, you can't help but wonder will it ever be the same between the two of you?

[rreids]

WANT • S. REID X READER

smut (mdni, you will be blocked); needy spencer; praise; fem!reader; oral (f receiving); possessive wording; ~1.1k words

Spencer was, for lack of better word, whipped.

Morgan would say pussy-whipped, but Spencer wasn’t fond of that. Just because he liked you, would stop what he’s doing at the drop of a hat for you… it was for more than your body.

Even if it was beautiful.

He could remember every curve, every scar, every wrinkle, envision it clearly in his mind's eye. 

God, he missed you.

“Hey, boy genius,” Morgan calls, and he snaps back to attention. “Staring at your file won’t get it done,”

“I know,” Spencer grumbles, going to make more coffee. He sends you a text — miss you. — when he does. He’s not one for that, preferring calls and time together, and knows you’ll piece it together.

It’s an excruciating hour and a half that it takes to get the paperwork done and put in and to drive back to your shared apartment.

He relaxes even as he puts his key into the lock, door opening to the smell of your body wash.

His eyes find you first, dressed in one of his shirts, hair still wet.

“Oh.”

He lets it click shut behind him, eyes trailing up and down you shamelessly.

“Missed me?” You tease, and he nods. You wrap him in a hug, clingy as ever. He melts into you.

With you wrapping him in your arms, he has no choice but to stumble to the couch and let you sit him down and straddle him, lightly tracing the smile lines that won’t fade as he looks at you.

“Pretty boy,” you coo, and he smiles more. “What’s going on in your head?”

He makes a show of pretending to think and grab the thought before meeting your eyes. “Thinking about how gorgeous you are,”

You beam at him, and he wills the image to sear itself into his memory.

You’re so warm and soft above him, just supple skin and delicious smells that make his head spin with need, nothing on but his shirt and a pair of flimsy panties. He can feel everything, and it drives him insane, fingers twitching against your thighs. 

“Spence,” you whisper. “Words, baby,”

“You’re so soft,” he exhales quickly and you cock a brow, letting him trail his fingers to your inner thigh, where he draws circles.

He wants to pull your panties to the side so badly. But he knows to wait.

“Yeah? I moisturized today.” You give him a smile, sultry and enticing, and then you tug your (his) shirt off, pressing your breasts into his chest. “Feel. Soft, right?”

He obeys, trailing his fingertips so lightly it raises goosebumps. His mind feels like it’s full of cotton. “Yeah–yeah, soft,” he clears his throat, wanting to nibble hickeys into the skin. With effort, he tears his eyes away and to your face. “And so gorgeous. Like always.”

You hum, tap a finger against his temple. He leans into your hand, desperate for the touch. “Thank you, baby,”

He stares at you in silence, forcing back thoughts of what he wants. 

“Wanna prove how much you missed me?”

“Please,” his tone is almost reverent, and he should be ashamed how easily he folds for you; how he wants to be on or in you, always; how he wants and wants and wants, and how it’s never enough; how he’s happiest with your smell and touch overwhelming his senses.

“Show me.”

Spencer slips to the floor on his knees, pressing a kiss to the side of your knee. He crawls his hands up slowly, lets them hook in the waistband of your panties and tug. He thumbs the wet spot before dropping them to the ground, and he knows his eyes are blown out when he stares at your beautiful pussy, glistening with your need for him.

He exhales shakily and shuffles closer, presses a kiss to your thigh before licking a stripe up your core. He groans at the taste, shutting his eyes when you whimper at the sensation — the sight of your chest heaving, eyes glazed over already, head thrown back as far as you could while keeping your gaze trained on him… it was too much.

Spencer circles your clit with his tongue before kissing it, letting your thighs squeeze around him with an eager moan.

He shifts a little lower, nose bumping into your clit as he dips his tongue into you. You shudder, whimper his name like he’s helping you see heaven, and he sighs, sloppily licking into you.

He normally has good technique but he’s already so drunk off your taste, ears buzzing and face burning hot, red with desire and loss of air.

Spencer only whines when you tug on his hair and yank him back, reveling in the way it stings.

“Breathe, Spence,”

He nods, head swimming. He wants — god, he wants you spread open on his fingers and tongue, quivering under the stimulation, sweating and sobbing from how good it feels; he wants you to help him get off, wants you to fuck him until he can barely breathe and it aches to be touched; he wants you to mark him and he wants to be called yours.

“‘m yours,”

“Hm?” It comes off airy and whiny as he sucks your clit back into his mouth.

He takes a bit to answer, pulling back breathlessly. “Tell me I’m yours,”

“You’re mine,” you tell him, tugging his hair and shoving him back into you. He whimpers. Loudly. “You’re my good boy, you’ll do what I say, yeah?”

He nods vigorously, getting sloppier and sloppier, more whimpers and vibrations into you than coordinated movement. 

“Spence. My love,” you gasp, arching up into him. “Make me cum,”

Spencer nips your clit, just enough for you to shriek and melt under him after tensing. 

“Mine, my pretty fuckin’ girl,” he’s incoherent, babbling. “So sweet and pretty, always ready for me, such a sweet girl… tastes as good as you look, as you talk,” Spencer locks eyes with you finally, and he swears he could cum from how dazed you are alone.

You wail as he finally tips you over the edge, and Spencer can’t stop. Not when you taste so good, and all he can smell is your arousal coating his chin and your thighs, when you’re shaking around him and all he wants is for you to do it again.

It takes you yanking him away from you for his mind to clear a little from the fog, breathing heavily and eyes trained on your pussy until you guide him to look at you.

“Enough, baby,” you coo, rubbing your slick off his chin. “Give me a breather,”

He whines.

“Pussy-whipped,” you coo, and he can only nod. “Just give me a second and you can have me again,”

Spencer licks his lips. “Thank you.”

fuck it we ball (not proofread which.. expect that. when it comes to my works). i need him so bad. gif is my own :)

[drgenius-reid]

In the Quiet

A/N: Happy New Year! I wrote this short little piece for the wonderful @foxy-eva. I hope you like it, friend! 🤎

Summary: After partying at Rossi’s, you and Spencer are in bed together talking about the family you have at work. 

Word Count: 1320

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol. I think that’s it, honestly. 

It was in the quiet, when it was just you and Spencer in bed, recounting the day you’d had with the only light coming from the moon outside, that you loved the most. It was when Spencer pulled you lovingly into his arms and held you close, pressing soft kisses to your temple mumbling, ‘You’re allowed to rest, my love,’ against your skin. 

It was when your mind was far from quiet, still reeling from a gruelling case that had well and truly taken everything out of you, and you didn’t want to relax but tried anyway. It was in your fiancé’s arms, your head on his chest and his heart beating against your cheek where you were almost able to forget everything you had seen and calm down from a busy evening out with friends.  

After getting home from a rather demanding time in Ohio that took more out of you than normal, you’d gotten to the office to find Penelope dancing around the office to try and forget about the gruesome details you’d had to feed her during the case. The second she saw you all walk through the doors to the bullpen she lit up even further, rushing over to you with a tray of drinks. 

‘I thought we could have a little BAU party!’ She beamed, holding the tray for you all to take a drink from it. You knew that she was trying to ignore the pain that rushed through her in the only way she knew how, by showering everyone with love and positivity. And fun drinks. ‘These ones have no alcohol but if we go to the bar we can absolutely get alcoholic ones.’ 

Unlike everyone else, Rossi found the idea of going to the bar less than appealing. Not when he had perfectly good alcohol and floors and tables that weren’t sticky at his place. Everyone was more than willing to take him up on the offer, knowing that he had the good stuff that you didn’t have to pay for. 

Within minutes of finishing your drink and JJ putting the empty glasses in the kitchenette to clean the following day, you all headed down to the parking garage so that you could head to Dave’s house. You and Spencer, who had gotten to work the previous week on public transport, climbed into the back of Derek’s car where Spencer rested his hand on your thigh instantly. 

Neither of you were huge fans of PDA but in the quiet moments where he put his hand on your body and held you close were some of your favourites. The warmth of his hand radiated through your body and made you forget about the cold Virginia weather momentarily. 

‘Do we think that Emily and Derek decided to go to a club after like they said they would in the car?’ 

Spencer’s nose was buried in your neck and you sighed happily as he snuggled into you. Despite him not showing huge amounts of physical affection while you were out of the house, the second you were in your own space he was all over you. His hands roamed your body any time they could, and he loved to hide his face in your neck with his lips trailing over your skin. 

‘There is a ninety nine point nine percent chance that they are currently in a club somewhere being one another’s wing…person.’

Emily and Derek, though happy to be going to Rossi’s house for the evening, had spent the entire car ride talking about whether they had it in them to go partying after the party. 

‘Our very own two person after party!’ Emily had laughed as Derek pulled up to a stop sign. ‘We can be each other’s wing person. Think of all the ladies, Morgan. Think of the ladies.’ 

Derek turned to face Emily and tilted his head. Even in the dim light of the car you knew that he was smirking. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as the light turned to green and he accelerated once more. 

‘Well if it’s for the ladies.’ 

‘And the point one percent?’ You asked Spencer, gripping his hand that sat at your middle tightly, needing to be as close to him as physically possible. 

‘They’re passed out somewhere in Rossi’s house.’ 

You breathed a laugh and made a mental note to text Emily before bed and find out what she wound up getting up to after you and Spencer had left Rossi’s. 

‘If we’d have stayed there any longer we would have passed out on his couch too. Well I would have anyway. You slept on the jet for most of the flight. Even through turbulence!’ 

Spencer hummed against your neck, trailing his lips across the soft skin. The heat from his breath and the softness of his kisses had your eyes falling closed on their own accord. You relaxed yourself into his touch, physically feeling the stress leave your body. He ran his tongue across the bottom of your neck before pecking his way up to your cheek. 

You twisted around in his arms and pressed your lips to his softly. Even after years together it felt surreal kissing Spencer. He was still just as gentle as he had been when you first started dating, taking his time with you as he held you close. When he ran his tongue along your bottom lip, begging you for the access he desired the most, your heart fluttered deep in your chest. 

Your hands pushed through his hair until they settled at the nape of his neck where you held him close as you kissed him back, granting him the access he craved. He tasted like fruit juice–sweet and sticky, and oh so intoxicating. His chest heaved against yours when he pulled away to rest his forehead on yours. 

‘Tonight was fun,’ he whispered against the silence of the room. ‘Thank you for not letting me get out of it.’ 

You laughed softly and cupped his cheeks delicately. ‘You’re welcome, handsome. It was really nice getting to share that with you. And with everyone else.’ 

‘It was,’ Spencer whispered, capturing your lips in a small peck. ‘Did Penelope send you those photos yet?’ 

Reaching over Spencer you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and settled back into his arms, shifting until you could use both hands. As promised, Penelope had sent you the photos she had taken that night. There was no denying that they were some of your favourite photos ever. 

They all so perfectly highlighted the fun that you’d all had together–Derek and Emily dancing around Dave in the kitchen as he tried to pour everyone a drink; Penelope and JJ dancing in the living room with Hotch in the background laughing at their dance moves; and one of you and Spencer curled up on the sofa, one of Spencer’s hands on your thigh as you leaned your head on his shoulder. 

Out of them all, your favourite photo by far was one that you were all in. You all huddled in the living room while Penelope set her camera on a timer on the mantel, telling you all to get ready because she wasn’t willing to take more than one photo. 

Something got lost in translation though because when she looked at the photo she bowed her head in shame. Emily had turned to flick Derek’s ear, JJ was staring at them telling them to stop acting like children, Hotch and Rossi were staring at the camera with rigid smiles, Spencer’s eyes were closed and you looked cross eyed. 

All the while Penelope had the biggest grin on her face. It was the worst photo that could have ever been taken but it was also your favourite because it showed everyone so perfectly. 

‘I like that one.’

‘It’s just…us,’ you smiled. ‘It’s-’

‘Family,’ Spencer finished for you. ‘It’s a family.’

[januaryembrs]

YOU'RE TOO SWEET FOR ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: @avis-writeshq says -

HELLO HELLO jumping on your 2k celebration reqs because 2K OMG SO DESERVED ‼️🫶

may i perhaps request a spencer reid x fem!reader fic please 🥹 maybe him post prison w new reader and she follows him around everywhere because she’s just instantly enamoured to him 🤭

thank you so so much lovely and congrats again !!!

Description: thirteen years in the fbi and ten weeks in prison does a number on Spencer, only when he arrives back in the office he meets the sunshine rookie that seems rather taken with him.

word length: 2.6k (this really ran away from me)

warnings: post-prison Reid, slightest age gap, Spencer dealing with coming home from prison, gun shooting?

authors note: hozier’s new song 'Too Sweet' + post-prison reid is a need, not a want.

He smelled her french vanilla perfume before he even knew she was there. But then again, it was all he could smell the minute she waltzed into the office with a tray of coffee, like someone had stuck a sweet dessert in the oven and baked it on full. 

“Good morning!” She chirped, winding an arm over his shoulder and setting down a take out cup and a little chocolate donut on his desk, “Pen said you like chocolate, and I mean who doesn’t like chocolate, right?” 

She was potent when she was so close to him, and in one single breath he caught a whiff of her shampoo, before she had flitted over to her side of the desk that sat opposite his, where Morgan once sat. Noticing his hesitance, mistaking it for discontent she paused, almost spilling her own beverage over the potted plant she kept by her keyboard, scrambling to set it on the surface.

“Y-you do like chocolate right? I mean they had strawberry too, I can switch yours with JJ’s, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind-” She splurged, and her face was much too worried considering it was a matter of a donut, particularly considering he was already eying up the way the thick chocolate was melting in the pastry bag.

“Chocolate is great, I love…” He held up the bag to read the label with squinting hazel hues, “Cocoa Caramel delight,”

He had never heard of it.

He had never even seen this brand, but he wanted to quell her nerves even in the slightest. The BAU didn’t have the funds for a new keyboard, let alone time to send her to the ER if she ended up spilling her coffee over her hand. 

She seemed convinced, and he offered her a small smile, not exactly his most enthusiastic, but then again he hadn’t been much of a morning person since he’d come out of prison. He liked quiet, he liked a moment to himself before Penelope called them into the round table for briefing. But she was sweet, too sweet perhaps for the dark nature of their job. 

He could already see it chewing up her perky disposition and spitting her right back out within a year. It happened to the best of them.

But she smiled back at him, a million watt grin that made him think maybe he was being a little cruel. She was still brand new, still trying to make friends and he remembered how hard he tried when it had been his first few weeks on the team. He turned his gaze away from her in shame, reading the way she’d written his name on the cup in a pink sharpie, framing it with two doodle hearts. 

She all but skipped away, sensing he didn’t feel like talking much anymore, and he heard Emily exclaiming she was ‘A caffeine angel sent from the heavens,’ as she handed her the drink. He watched her braided hair disappear down the hall as she bounced over to Penelope’s lair. 

He picked at the cocoa caramel delight with a kind of self loathing he was familiar with, the french vanilla still a saccharine sugar in his nose. 

-

She caught him again; though this time he felt her bristle past his arm, watching the bullets pierce the target paper with an accuracy that only came from fourteen years of practice. 

“Do you reckon you could teach me how to do that?” Her cadence was light and airy, and he had to stop himself from jumping, from slamming the butt of the gun into her nose on reaction, because he knew she meant well, even though she had no idea how damaged he was.

He was still out of sorts from having to look over his shoulder at every second of the day, and he was surprised he was holding it together so far. He supposed shooting the shit out of a target helped.

Because it was just her, looking at him with soft eyes and a smile that could start wars, and he knew she had no idea the effect she had on the walls he’d tried so hard to build in prison. 

She must have mistook his look for annoyance, because she was quick to fumble with her own loaded gun, taking a step back in retreat, worried that she crossed some line she didn’t know he’d drawn.

“Or I could get Luke to show me, I didn’t mean to bother you, I just am really a shit shot and I know that’s pretty useless in the field-” It wasn’t until he flicked the safety on and took a step to follow her did she look at him again hopefully. 

“No, I’d be more than happy to show you,” He cleared his throat, setting his pistol in its holster and stepping behind her as she lined herself up for the fake body meant to resemble an unsub, “We all have to start somewhere. Show me your form,” 

She raised her arms up in front of her, aiming for a few seconds for the spot in the centre of the chest cavity, her finger reaching up for the trigger. 

She shot once, her face hardened for the first time he’d ever seen, and they both watched the paper rip about half a foot down the unsub’s leg. 

“See, in my head it’s hitting dead centre and then by the time I shoot it’s wiggling all over the place,” She explained, scratching her neck and frowning at the paper body, “I don’t suppose unsubs are willing to stand still and wait while the rookie figures out her shot,”

“Your hips are perfect, wide stance means you get more stability against the ricochet,” She tried not to simper at his words, or the way he sidled up behind her, his hands coming up to her shoulders as if he’d known her for years, as if JJ hadn’t told her how much he hated other people’s germs, “It’s in your shoulders you’re losing balance, try relaxing a little,”

But she couldn’t not when he was breathing down her neck, rubbing those long fingers over her shoulder blades trying to get her to straighten out her posture, hoping he couldn’t feel the way her chest rattled with nerves. 

“Relax,” He reminded, trying not to chuckle when he felt her shake her arms out as a means of hiding the way her skin had warmed under his rough touch, “You know, my unit chief taught me how to shoot. I wasn’t at all good at it when I first started,”

“Oh really?” She asked, her breaths feather light as he reached around her and adjusted her grip on the gun, “H-he must have been a good teacher,”

“He was the best,” Spencer agreed, brushing off the fact she was all but putty beneath his hands, “Three steps for the perfect shot; front sight, trigger press, follow through. Always keep your head forward, always keep your dominant finger ready, and wait until you’ve shot to drop your stance,” 

She looked up at him in admiration, and her soft smile was back as his own musk of laundry detergent and chamomile soap encompassed her as his arms did. 

He brought one of those big hands to the back of her head, moving her with gentle ease to look back at the target, a slight chuckle in his voice as he spoke: “Focus, what’s step number one?”

“Front sight,” She echoed him, fixing her shoulders with determination as he dropped his hands and stepped away from her. Taking a deep breath, she murmured to herself under her breath the next step as her forefinger rested over the trigger. She pulled it after a moment of courage, and froze in spot as she watched it hit where the stomach would sit. 

Not a perfect shot, but certainly a lot better than she had been doing. 

Her eyes widened behind the thick protective glasses, and her hands became fists above her head as she squealed in delight. 

“Did you see that- did you see!” She yelled over the sound proof ear muffs they both wore, and he was quick to grab the gun out of her swinging arms, clicking the safety on for her before she could end up blowing a hole in the ceiling. 

“Very good, give it a few months you’ll be a natural,” He complimented with a smile as she clapped her hands in glee, buzzing on the spot as if she’d chugged five energy drinks or doubled up on her coffee for the day. 

He tried ignoring the way his chest warmed seeing her so happy because of him, especially when she looked at him like that. 

--

“You said you needed those files, Dr Reid,” She’d appeared again, like she always did, and he had barely enough time to glance up from the paper he was already inspecting before he was hit by the perfume again, and he looked up to see two bright eyes watching him hopefully. Her arms were piled high with easily a box full of folders he had asked Anderson to find for him, and he saw the way she strained slightly to keep them held tight. 

“Jesus! Let me help you,” She prayed he couldn’t feel the way her heart thumping against the manilla folders as he leaned over to take them out of her grasp, the way her eyes fell to his light smattering of facial hair as his lips were little more than a few inches from hers. Even when his hands brushed hers, and he seemed to realise she was staring, watching her scramble to look somewhere else other than his amused eyes, embarrassed he’d caught her, “Thankyou. And just call me Spencer,” 

“Thankyou,” She echoed, shaking her head with a girlish smile on her face, her cheeks warm with humiliation, “I mean you’re welcome, any time,” 

For the sake of her self preservation he waited until she turned around to smile to himself, pretending he didn’t see the way she muttered under her breath, or that she almost walked straight into the filing cabinet on her hasty exit out of the office. 

“Seems like you have a shadow,” Emily’s voice met him as he heard her heeled footsteps approach, and they both watched their newest team mate almost bump right into JJ as she kept her head down, stroking her hair nervously, “She was super excited to meet you when you were away, said she went to one of your guest lectures you did with Hotch a couple years ago,”

His brows shot into his hairline, something warm flourishing in his chest when he saw her peek back to see the two of them watching her, and she immediately darted for her seat for an excuse to turn her back to them. 

Spencer smiled again, running a hand through his curled locks as if he was trying to think of something else other than the joy that had over come his features. 

She certainly was charming, in an incredibly girlish way, and he wasn’t the only one who thought it. He hadn’t heard Penelope giggling so much since Morgan had left, nor did he miss the way Rossi and Emily watched her darting around in the field, chasing after her as if she needed one of those leashes people had for toddlers.

Or the way Luke had had to talk her out of bringing a stray cat back to the BAU just two days ago because ‘it looked sad and lonely’. 

She was only eight years his junior, and yet he felt like the job had made him too hard, too mature, too tough against a softness like hers.

Girls had never really been interested in him, at least not for him as Spencer Reid, not as SSA Dr Reid. He had the occasional fling, even Maeve in the grand scheme of things had been a budding romance at best, and just the thought of Cat Adams viper-like eyes had him shuddering. 

He barely wanted anything to do with women at the moment, at least that was what he’d told himself every night he’d been fighting for his damn life in prison. 

But it was almost too easy to feel this way about her, like he couldn’t drink in her sweet smell or even sweeter voice fast enough, or bathe in her gaze that melted like rich chocolate when he took a glance her way. 

He didn’t bring it up with her until they were the last few people filing out of the office. 

“I can drive you,” She chirped, almost dropping the contents of her bag everywhere as she rooted for her car keys, and before he could protest, because it was like all he could see now was how eager to be around him she was and he wasn’t too sure he could keep himself from opening pandora’s box, she jingled her keys, that of course had crochet bluebells hanging from them and all but danced past him into the elevator. “Come on, you can have shotgun,” 

“I’ll be the only passenger, doesn’t that mean I automatically have shotgun?” He asked, following behind her as she stood in the elevator with a beaming smile, her finger clicking the ground floor button a bunch of times even though it made no difference how fast the doors closed. 

“Well, yeah, but it’s going to be the best shotgun you’ve ever had. I’m talking you can be Miss Daisy and I’ll be your Morgan Freeman,” And as if her spirit was infectious, he shook his head with a hidden chuckle.

There was a minute of silence between the two as she played with a loose thread on her cardigan, and it was then he took the chance to ask her the question that had been burning on his lips all day. 

“You didn’t by any chance go to University of Pennsylvania, did you?” Spencer asked, noting the way her eyes fell to the floor and how she licked her lips nervously.

“Yeah,” She replied cautiously, fingers clenched tightly around her keyring, “I know it’s not Caltech, but it was pretty good-”

“Didn't you see my lecture with Hotch?” He asked, and his smile widened tenfold when her hands slapped over her cheeks that burned with horror, moving quickly up to cover her eyes, “Little birdy told me you were quite excited to meet me-”

“Oh, Emily,” She groaned, burying her face in her palms, avoiding his teasing expression like the plague, “I knew, I knew she was going to tell you, I’m surprised she didn’t tell JJ first, unless she did and our whole team know I was some crazy girl who liked the FBI agents so much she switched her major,” 

“You switched your major for me?” He asked incredulously and he only laughed harder, one of the first times since he’d come home, when she groaned louder, turning away from him entirely. 

“Shut up, I did not swap my major for you,” She bit back, and she finally met his gaze, her expression an embarrassed wince, “I just… liked the material. You were very compelling,”

“Did you have a poster of us?” Spencer wanted to stop teasing, knew he was being a little cruel, but how could he resist when she shrieked in between laughter, shoving his shoulder with mortification.

“No,”

“Did you kiss Hotch’s picture before bed like an obsessive fangirl?” 

She gestured to him vulgarly as they left the elevator and headed for the car park, and it made a huge difference to the usual adoration she watched him with, but maybe, he thought, it made him like her even more. 

“No more shotgun for you, you’re going in the trunk like an old rug,” She snapped, though he could tell she was still horrified by the way she avoided his delighted hazelnut gaze. 

“Like an old rug?” He feigned hurt, but when they sat in her car, she finally looked over at him with something vulnerable and yet affectionate, like he’d seen her for all she was worth. He reached over the console to squeeze her hand gently, not missing the way her palm clammed beneath his and she struggled for words, so he continued for her, “That’s really no way to talk to your idol, you know,” 

Spencer swore his chest felt lighter than it had in months watching her laugh like that.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

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