#criminal minds drabbles

[leanteam43]

I have a criminal minds request! Spencer x Female Reader, where she has a very big crush on him but they coworkers and everyone else knows it but him. She is so scared to admit to him because they are friends and coworkers. But she tries to drop hints and be flirty, but he is too oblivious to know she like him And one day she is just like "I love you, you smart idiot!"

Hot Fudge Pop-Tarts and a Box of Runts

(Spencer Reid One-Shot)

summary : head-over-heels!reader x oblivious!spencer

pronouns : she/her | female!reader

warnings : SLOW BURN LIKE DANG GIRL SPEED IT UPPPP, crappy vending machine facts i googled, mild swearing, reader technically not getting proper nutrients but nothing serious at all, also not proof-read so cope </3

a/n's : i girlbossed gutair is making me a crochet derek morggan - 🌿 | HAPPY VALENTINES DAY (pretend this came out for valentines day - 🌿) - 🎸 | mowmowmowmowmow - 🐇

It was no secret, like...seriously. No secret.

It was bad enough the whole team knew, but once the entire office started catching on...(Y/N) could barely enter the same room as Reid before someone made a teasing comment.

Yet somehow, someway, Spencer Reid still had zero clue that (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had the biggest crush on him.

It really did start out as just an innocent crush. The way Spencer constantly seemed to gravitate towards (Y/N)'s cubicle, the way he always seemed to agree with (Y/N)'s profiles or the way Hotch constantly paired the two up when working a case.

So if you really thought about it, it was technically all Hotch's fault.

He had to have known that (Y/N)'s already budding affection for the Spencer would turn into something other than platonic.

It wasn't unjustified of (Y/N) to have a crush, I mean how could someone not have a crush on the infamous Dr. Spencer Reid?

From his charming smile, to that stupidly adorable satchel he carried around...(Y/N) honestly should've quit the first day she saw him if she wanted any chance of making it out alive.

And yet, no matter how many times he walked up to her desk to ask her opinion on a case. The crush only grew stronger.

The team certainly didn't help either.

"He never asks for my opinion on cases." Derek teased, leaning over (Y/N)'s cubicle wall. A cup of joe grasped tightly in his hand.

Before (Y/N) could answer, Emily chimed in. "Me neither!"

Both Derek and Emily looked towards Garcia who was on her way back to her 'BatCave' after dropping some files off on Hotch's desk.

"Nope!" She replied, already knowing the question that was soon to be flung at her.

Well that certainly had to mean something. (Y/N) couldn't help but feel heat rise to her cheeks as she realized just how often Spencer came clambering over to her desk asking about cases and reports.

Derek laughed, patting (Y/N) on the shoulder before returning to the report he'd been dragging his feet on all day.

----

Later that day, as (Y/N)'s workload was down to a few pieces of paperwork and a handful of emails. She found herself waltzing over to Spencer's desk, leaning against the cubicle in an attempt to seem relaxed.

It took a few moments for Reid to realize she was there, but when he did his big brown eyes trailed upwards like a puppy looking to it's owner.

He smiled, opening his mouth to talk but she cut him off beforehand. "Have you had lunch?" She asked boldly, mentally she was screaming at herself because of course Spencer had lunch. The man ran on a schedule.

A schedule she knew like the back of her hand.

"Oh! Yeah! I had leftover pad-thai." He smiles, his pen tapping against the desk rhythmically. (Y/N) let out a small "ohh..", trailing off into thought.

Spencer smiled at her, "...Did you need help on a case?" He asked, "No!" She shouted, before clearing her throat.

"No. I um- I wanted to see...if..." (Y/N) took a deep breath before biting the bullet. She was going to do this because she wanted too, because she wanted to spend time with Spencer. Alone.

"I wanted to see if you would be interested in accompanying me to the vending machine." She said, immediately regretting it when Spencer's brows furrowed and his head tilted.

"It's just down the hall?" He questioned, giving (Y/N) a puzzled look. "I don't like the snacks in that one." (Y/N) lied, she actually only liked the snacks in that one.

That totally wasn't the reason she originally wanted to be in the BAU though.

Spencer thought for a moment before he stood up, grabbing his water bottle on the way before waiting for (Y/N) to lead the way.

----

"Y'know, Derek's jealous." (Y/N) joked as they waited for the elevator to meet the bottom floor. "Jealous? Jealous of who?" He asked, his voice hitching like it always did when he asked a question.

"Of me" (Y/N) mumbled, trying to hide her smirk. "...because you don't ask him for help with cases...only me." (Y/N) added, the context causing Reid to laugh softly.

"Seriously? I thought Derek had a much stronger ego than that." He joked, (Y/N) wrinkled their nose up in laughter as the duo stepped out into the lobby of the building. Now in pursuit of the vending machines.

"I like how you format your reports." Reid commented as they turned a corner, in all honesty (Y/N) had zero clue where she was headed but as long as she pretended to be know where she was going, which she was scarily good at, Spencer would follow along.

"Really? Hotch said Strauss complained about them the first few times." (Y/N) remarked, a sense of pride spreading over her chest. Spencer liked the way she wrote her reports.

"It's easy to follow, but still detailed." He complimented, (Y/N) felt their ears turning a light shade of red.

----

After a lot of dead ends ( (Y/N) had words for the person who designed this building.), the duo had finally found the Lobby-Level vending machine.

"Y'know Florida holds the record for the most vending machines." Spencer noted as (Y/N) searched for what she wanted.

"Really?" She entertained. Unlike most of the team, (Y/N) never actually got tired of hearing Spencer's facts and statistics. In fact, she quite enjoyed them.

"Yeah! Texas and California being close runner-ups." He smiled, excited she'd taken interest in the fact he had spewed. "Don't mess with Texas." (Y/N) joked as she dialed in the correct numbers for the treats she wanted.

"That's all your eating for lunch?" Spencer asked, eyebrow raised. "It's not like we're traveling today, I don't need lots." (Y/N) shrugged. "But that's it? Just hot fudge Pop-Tarts and a box of Runts??" Spencer questioned.

"I'll be fine, you worry too much." (Y/N) laughed, picking up their treats and tucking them into her purse. Spencer rolled his eyes as he moved his hair away from his face.

As the two made their way back upstairs, (Y/N) couldn't help but stand a bit closer to Spencer. Even if there was nobody else there.

"Y'know Reid, your the only one I consult on cases too." (Y/N) shared, nervously biting the inside of her cheek as Spencer took a moment to reply.

"I know." Spencer replied, a smile evident in his tone. "Of course you know." (Y/N) teased, stepping out of the elevator.

Spencer laughed, beginning to make his way back over to his desk.

----

A few weeks had passed and Spencer hadn't missed a single trip down to the lobby vending machine.

"Y'know, you don't have to come with me." (Y/N) said, feeling bad she'd dragged Spencer away from his paperwork at least once a day.

"I know, but what if the vending machine like...falls on you?" Spencer joked, though the worry had popped up a few times in his mind. "In what world would that ever happen??" (Y/N) asked as she waited for her box of Runts to fall from the spiral.

"37 deaths happened just in the years 1978-1995." Spencer spewed, causing (Y/N) to roll her eyes. "Well, if that happens to me I promise you can sue to FBI and keep the money." She joked, picking up the boxed candy.

Spencer wrinkled his nose, "I don't want money, I want my coworker." He said. (Y/N) felt their heart beat faster. "Really? You'd take me over winning a lawsuit and getting rich?" She asked, eyes meeting his as he leaned against the wall.

"(Y/N), if I wanted to be rich I'd play more poker." He joked, causing (Y/N) to stifle a laugh. "It's still sweet." She mumbled, causing a light pink blush to spread across Spencer's face.

Holy Shit. She'd done it.

After working for him for over three years, after tirelessly trying to flirt with the man. She'd gotten Dr. Spencer Reid to blush.

Spencer blinked a few times before taking a deep breath, "Uh- are you going to Rossi's after work?" He asked, obviously trying to switch the subject.

(Y/N) didn't answer. Still flabbergasted over the fact Spencer Reid blushed because of her.

Spencer waited a reply, switching between glancing over at her and up to check the how many floors until they reached theirs.

"...(Y/N)?" He asked, his tone turning to one of concern.

Maybe it was the fact that (Y/N) had been surviving off of vending machine food for lunch everyday just to spend time with Spencer.

Or maybe it was the fact she'd waited 3+ years to get a blush out of Spencer.

Either way it didn't matter, because (Y/N)'s mouth started speaking before she could determine if what she was saying was a good idea.

"I like you." She said, there was no taking it back now. Not even the butterflies that instantly appeared in her stomach could take away what she'd just said.

Spencer's brow furrowed.

"Three. Years." She breathed. "I have liked you for over three years, Spencer." She said, her voice more confident now.

"(Y/N)-" Spencer's eyes glanced at the electronical sign that told him what floor they were on just for a moment before snapping back to her eyes.

"Over three years, I have...flirted with you, bought you gifts, I learned how to play chess." (Y/N) listed off on her fingers, the butterflies in her stomach turning to wasps.

"You love chess?" He said, tilting his head in confusion.

"THAT'S WHAT YOU CARE ABOUT?" (Y/N) yelled, "I hate chess. It's the most boring board game there is. My favorite board game is CANDYLAND." (Y/N) continued.

"I have put my love life on pause for over three years." (Y/N)'s voiced filled the elevator.

"For, you." She continued.

Her voice was so powerful, so full of frustration and desire that neither of the Agents heard the elevator 'Ding!' nor the door open.

"Spencer Reid you are the smartest idiot I have ever met." She finished, taking a deep breath.

The silence that followed was so thick, it couldn't have been cut with a butter knife.

"...I like you too, (Y/N)." Spencer muttered out, a deep shade of red overtaking his face.

Cheers.

Spencer and (Y/N) whipped their head towards the elevator doors, finally realizing that they'd opened.

There Derek and Garcia stood, cheering. Derek's arm in the way of the doors closing as Garcia excitedly bounced up in down spewing out excited nonsense. "Finally! Finally!" She cheered, her hair bouncing excitedly.

(Y/N)'s face turned hot with embarrassment as she looked between all three of her colleagues. Spencer's face was still red, but it was unclear for what reason.

(Y/N) pushed past both Garcia and Derek. Making a beeline for her desk, grabbing her car keys and rushing to the stairwell because the elevators were still too crowded.

"(Y/N)! Wait!" Spencer called after her, his lanky legs struggling to keep up. Reid didn't think he'd ever seen her run this fast in the field.

(Y/N), of course did not wait.

----

After both Garcia and Emily confirmed that (Y/N) hadn't quit her job out of pure embarrassment, all that was left to do is wait.

Hotch informed Spencer that (Y/N) would be coming back to work after a week, she'd used a whole sick week just to avoid the embarrassment.

Well, a week was up and Spencer was pacing by his desk looking at both the clock on the wall and his watch as if that would make time go by any faster.

Thankfully, the bundle of flowers he picked up from the supermarket yesterday hadn't begun to wilt. The hot fudge Pop-Tarts and box of runts were waiting patiently for (Y/N) to walk out of the elevator any second.

Spencer, however, was not waiting as patiently. "Kid, if you walk in one more circle your gonna tear the carpet." Derek mumbled, not taking his eyes away from the paperwork.

"What if she took another week off? What if she really did quit-"

DING!

Spencer's eyes immediately met yours as soon as you stepped into the bullpen. Then, he watched as your eyes trailed down to the flowers and treats he'd displayed on your desk.

A sweet smile was shared between the two of you. Spencer took initiation (it was only fair, you'd only been leading the way for over three years) and walked over to you, ignoring Derek's whispered encouragement.

"Spence, this is so sweet but...I think if I eat one more Pop-Tart I'm gonna actually need a sick week." (Y/N) said, laughing quietly.

"I KNEW IT!" Spencer yelled, causing her laughs to grow louder.

"You really are the smartest idiot I know." She joked, causing Spencer to roll his eyes.

Spencer smiled, "I uh...there's this place I like to go for lunch if-"

"Oh my god, yes." (Y/N) breathed, excitedly holding onto Spencer's arm. Spencer laughed, nodding.

"It's a date."

[hornyhornyhimbos]

pov: spencer is absolutely in love with you, but he loves your pussy almost as much ♡

18+ duh, 1.4K words whoopsies, sub!spencer reid x dom!afab!reader, mommy kink bc i said so, oral fem!receiving, cowgirl activities, nicknames (mommy; baby/good boy), probably more oops, inspired by this post by @radiant-reid

no one would have ever suspected spencer reid—the innocent one, the one who never had time for relationships—to be so pussy-drunk he can't even form words. rarely forms thoughts, other than when he's thinking about your pussy.

and yet...

the second most people walked in the front door after a long day at work, they'd find themselves tossing off their shoes and sprawling out on the couch with a glass of wine. but not spencer.

spencer was practically throwing off his shoes, most likely missing the bin, and slipping off his jacket, placing it somewhere in the general vicinity of the coat rack.

you found yourself in the kitchen, finishing up the last of dinner, thinking about the freshly chilled champagne in the fridge. two hands slithered around your waist, catching you off guard, while a pair of lips met the crook of your neck.

a smirk appeared on your lips. "i don't remember leaving the door open for pedro pascal."

he let out a chuckle. "har har, very funny," he mumbled into your exposed shoulder.

his hands traveled from your hips, up your stomach, and you already knew where this was going. still, you allowed him to continue, his lips sucking softly on your bare skin and his hands moving from your belly to your breasts.

"spencer," you started, "dinner."

"i was thinking," he said, pausing to rub his thumbs over your tank top covered nipples, "we could do things backwards tonight. dessert first, then dinner."

a smirk appeared on your lips. how could you say no to that?

most nights were like this. after he found you, spencer was like a horny teenager—lived off the feeling and taste of your pussy. he'd trudge through the front door, practically attacking your cunt with kisses before he ever even said hello to you.

the two of you stumbled down the hall to your bedroom, his hand slipping inside your underwear before you'd even opened the bedroom door. "so wet already," he teased.

you tossed him back on the bed, fumbling to undo his pants and pull him out of his boxers. you went glassy-eyed as you looked at his cock, your mouth nearly watering at how pretty and pink it was. "not like you can say anything, hmm?" you teased back, swiping a finger over the pre-cum that had gathered on the end of it.

he let out a sigh, your hands soft and mesmerizing as they slid up and down his cock, just the way he needed it.

"not so fast, i want my fair share first," he practically begged, pushing your lounge shorts and panties down to your ankles.

you rolled your eyes, cocking an eyebrow upward. "that's not how good boys ask for things, now is it?"

he forced himself to look away from your puffy cunt, licking his lips at the mere thought of your essence. "can i please taste you first?"

"you can if you're a good boy and use your manners," you instructed.

he cleared his throat, crawling onto his knees and looking up at you through innocent, brown, doe eyes. "can i please taste you first, mommy?"

a smirk appeared on your lips as you leaned down to kiss him, a soft peck that only lasted long enough to have him craving more. "good boy. you may taste me first."

he gripped your waist and flipped you around, pushing you down lightly on the california king. he stood before kneeling in front of you, immediately diving into your pussy. "mmm," he hummed, like he'd just eaten the tastiest meal in the world.

you let out a hot breath as he suckled on your clit, your hands slipping into his curls and tugging at them lightly. "so good, baby," you sighed, your chest heaving up and down in that little black tank top, your bare nipples poking through the material.

"tastes so good, mommy," he said after pulling away for a split second. but as soon as his sentence was finished, he went right back in, spit dripping from his lips into your hole.

his tongue worked at all the places you needed it most, your legs already struggling to stay spread open as your first orgasm came closer. "s-spence!" you shouted out, your grip on his hair tightening.

he didn't say anything, just quizzically looked up at you through dark eyelashes, his eyes filled with slight worry that he'd done something wrong.

"oh, fuck!" you screamed, your veins burning as your pleasure approached. "don't stop, pleasepleaseplease!"

he slipped a finger inside you as his tongue went back to focusing on your bud, kitten licks attacking your cunt just the way you needed them.

"hnnnnggg, God, spencer!" you cried out as bliss overtook your body, your essence spilling all over his tongue.

his mouth didn't leave your core once as you rode out your high, your hips practically humping his face. he didn't care though, all he was focused on was tasting every last drop you had to offer him. he slipped a second finger inside you, working at your spongy spot, which only made you moan that much more.

you weren't the least bit surprised when you had to physically pull him away from your cunt, his mouth turned downward as you did so. "please, baby, i need you this time. ok?"

he didn't say anything, just nodded before moving to his usual spot on the bed. a good relationship is all about compromise—he gets to eat your pussy, you get to ride his dick. simple enough.

you pulled his boxers out of the way, watching how his thick cock slapped against his stomach. you leaned down, opening your mouth, watching as your drool mixed with his, sliding your hand down to cover him with a mix of spit and pre-cum.

the only he could manage to get out was a short, "please," before you sank down onto him, slowly easing yourself down until his balls rested against your ass. "you ready, baby?" you asked, slowly moving yourself around on him.

he shook his head quickly before opening his mouth, sliding the two fingers that previously sat deep inside you into his mouth, sucking hard on them before nodding.

you rode him like your life depended on it, moaning obscenities every time his balls would slam against you, suddenly regretting your decision to not suck him off first instead. his mushroom head pounded into you, brushing your g-spot every time. "oh, God, baby!" you screamed out, your head thrown back in that pure euphoria only spencer could provide you with.

he groaned around his own fingers, a filthy sight you could bask in all day. he whimpered, and you weren't so sure those weren't tears forming in his eyes.

"that's it, baby, right-fuck-right there!" you screamed out and he brushed against your sensitive spot again. his opposite hand reached under your shirt for your boob, pinching your nipple in just the right way.

his cum shot through you, and just like it always did, it took you off guard. spencer came more than anyone else you'd ever met, taking at least twice as long to empty all of his seed into you. so much so that it overflowed, dripping down your thighs.

you came not long after, feeling his dick twitch inside you as your walls pulsed around him. "oh, baby, feels s-so good!" you screamed, riding him for all he's worth.

you slowly pulled yourself off of him, lying down beside him and attempting to catch your breath. but, you should've known he wasn't quite finished yet, as he moved down to your core again, drinking up every last bit of your cum and his cum that had mixed together.

a third and final orgasm washed over you as he worked his tongue in and out of your greedy hole. you couldn't form words yourself this time, just deep gasps as your hands tugged at his curls.

he pulled you in for a silent kiss, an absolutely pornographic scene as cum trailed from his mouth into yours, the taste of mixed juices tasting absolutely wonderful and vulgar as your tongues molded together.

you pulled away first, a pout sitting tightly on his lips. he pulled your shirt over your head before trailing kisses from your lips, down your neck, and ending on your previously neglected nipple, sucking it much in the same fashion as he had your cunt not ten minutes prior.

"ohhh," you breathed out, running your fingers through his now sweat matted hair. "go again, baby?"

-> taglist: @rupsmorge @writer-in-theory @broken-stardust @reidselle

[hotchnisslvr]

intro <3

hiiii my name is ash! basic things to know: i’m 26, queer, use she/her pronouns and love all things criminal minds. this is primarily going to be a fic account dedicated to the cm fandom and my beloved hotchniss, jemily, and reader fics! my requests are always open so feel free to drop an idea in my inbox! i love bringing people’s visions to life! see my master list below for all of my fics <333

master list

hotch x fem!reader

power struggle

banana pancakes

drunk dial

through love and loss

after hours

how do we carry on?

emily x fem!reader

for her, i’d endure

hotch x emily

come home with me

emily x jj

lavender bath salts

other

a bau found family easter

[happenstnces]

⠀CRIMSON CLOVER ✧ E. PRENTISS

✧ based off of this prompt.     emily prentiss x gn!reader ! 

syn. it may be your job, but you’re getting sick and tired of patching her up. warning ! intentional lowercase, swearing, mentions of blood, alcohol, & smoking, suggested smut, enemies to a little more than friends, slight hurt/comfort & angst. wc. 2.4k 

      ೃ⁀➷ masterlist ! add yourself to the taglist here

            the first time you met her, you immediately knew you could never get along.

            getting her to sit down at the foot of the rig was a struggle on it’s own, she kept insisting that she was fine, that it was just a scratch, and she made it nearly impossible for you to just do your damn job. she huffed the entire time, rolling her dark eyes as you fired through the list of routine questions, acting as though you tending to the gash in her forehead was nothing more than an inconvenience.

            “seriously, i’m fine.” she snapped, shrugging the hand you had on the top of her head away. you quirked a brow, “you need stitches.”

            “no, i don’t. it doesn’t even hurt,” she raised her hand to prod at the open wound, but you were quick to catch her wrist before she could make contact and inevitably give herself an infection. “oh, i didn’t realize the fbi gave out medical degrees.” 

            you dropped her hand back to her lap and cocked your head in annoyance, hoping to god she would just shut up and sit there. “when you work in a hospital that isn’t on wheels, i’ll start taking medical advice from a nurse.” she muttered.

            she wasn’t even sure why she said it, she didn’t have any particular hatred for paramedics, in fact, she often found herself very thankful for them. part of her felt bad for being so rude to you, you were just doing your job, but in her defence, getting clocked in the head with a two-by-four had slowed her down and allowed the unsub to escape; leaving her unwillingly sat in the back of an ambulance while the rest of the team followed in pursuit.

            “perfect. next time you need a hospital on wheels, i’ll remember you said that.” you made sure your tone matched hers, infused with clear irritation, while trying to just scrape being professional. it may be petty, but your day hadn’t exactly been going your way, either. “and i’m not a nurse.”

            “are you done yet?”

            “did i say i was done?” 

            she bit her tongue, stewing in her annoyance until you snapped your gloves as you pulled them off. “there. now i’m done.” she narrowed her eyes at you, “thanks.” if she had only waited until she was a few more feet away, you would have missed what she mumbled beneath her breath as she strode towards the black SUV parked a little up the road.

            “smartass.”

            you didn’t see her for some time after that, either she had been extremely careful in the field (which sounded rather unlikely), or she had requested you specifically be removed from the rotation of paramedics that are first on the bau’s beck and call.

            in all honesty, you wouldn’t put it past her—hell, you had even thought about requesting it yourself. the next time you saw her, you internally groaned, rolling your eyes when her back turned to you.

            “please, roll your eyes harder. i don’t think they got a good look at the back of your skull.” judging by the smirk on her lips, she must’ve thought that was quite clever. you didn’t respond, keeping your eyes trained on the bloody knuckles cradled in your hands, brows knit together in annoyance. you didn’t have it in you to bicker with her right now, quickly making friends with silence.

            “what? no snarky remarks for me today, sunshine?” she prodded, raising her leg beside her, foot tucked into the crook of her knee. you hummed, but said nothing. the quicker you could patch her up, the quicker you could continue with your day. “you bruised the bone.” you disturbed the lull that had snaked its way between you.

            “no, i didn’t.”

            “really?” you pressed ever so gently on the knuckle of her pointer finger, watching as she winced and swore and tugged her swollen hand from your grasp. “ow!” your brows raised knowingly, pursing your lips as if to silently say i told you so. “what did you do?” she was hesitant to slip her hand back into yours waiting open and patiently. “nothing, yet. if you don’t let me do my job, my story might change.”

            you held her gaze for a second, as if to solidify your threat, but it quickly dissolved into a small smile that mirrored hers. “what did you do?” you changed the topic; maybe if you got to know her, your distaste would soften. you highly doubted it, but it was worth a shot, right?

            “punched someone.” she said nonchalantly, “a few times.”

            you let out a sharp puff of air from your nose, a sorry excuse for a laugh, and reached for the medical tape beside you. “i’d hate to see what they look like.” you were both silent again, and you didn’t speak until you had taped her hand and told her she was free to go.

            “stop getting hurt, i’m sick of fixing you.” you called as she began to walk away. she turned on her heel and took a few steps backwards, biting back a laugh. “oh, no! what am i to do without my favourite nurse?”

            you curled your lips downward, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “still not a nurse.”

            much like before, a few weeks passed before your paths crossed again—this time, it wasn’t in the middle of your workday. you were walking home from a game night with your friends when she came stumbling out of a bar a few paces up the sidewalk, hand cupping her jaw as she cursed, rather loudly.

            “fucking christ!” you weren’t going to say anything, hoping you could seamlessly pass by, until she spit a mouthful of blood in front of her boots, wiping the corner of her bleeding lip with the heel of her hand. 

            “prentiss?” you called out, stopping a few feet away. she looked up, and if you had been looking a little closer, you would’ve caught the relief that momentarily flashed across her face. “oh, hey.” she shook her stiff hand out, the once swollen and bloody knuckles reduced to faint green and yellow blots, wobbling on unsteady legs as she did so.

            you scoffed, already wishing you could go back in time and keep walking. “what happened?”

            “bar fight.”

            “jesus,” you muttered, wryly chuckling in disbelief. “i’m starting to think you’re purposefully looking to get injured.” she smiled back at you, wincing when the movement stretched the open cut on the corner of her lip. “fuck,” she hissed. “guess i can’t stay away,” she spat another mouthful of blood on the pavement, “where else am i gonna find a nurse with such an attitude?”

            you cornered her with your gaze. “you’re making it really difficult to want to help you.” again, that cocky, shit-eating smile lit up her face. “c’mon, what other patient do you love as much as me?”

            “oh, love is not the word that comes to mind when i think of you, prentiss.”

            “emily.”

            “what?”

            “my name. it’s emily.”

            you nodded firmly, just once. “okay, emily. do you want me to look at that split lip, or what?” her smile only seemed to grow. “it sounds like you really want to. i dunno, i think you do love me. just a little bit.”

            you nudged her with your shoulder as you began to walk forward again, silently beckoning her to follow, and it’s only when she was behind you did you let your sheepish smile present itself to the cement. you were quick to reel it in, turn your head over your shoulder, and nod up the sidewalk, an indication for her to come with you. “i don’t need you telling everyone i neglected an injured fbi agent. you coming, or are you too busy spitting up your teeth?”

            she giddily smiled and began following the ghost of your footsteps, lighting a cigarette after a few blocks of silence. “are you seriously smoking right now?” she cluelessly looked at you, cigarette hanging from the intact corner of her lips, “oh, sorry. want one?”

            “no, i don’t. i can’t believe you smoke.”

            “why? tons of people do it.”

            “yeah, and it kills tons of people—people who aren’t already in danger because of their job. you’re like a walking death wish.” 

            you came to a halt in front of the door to your complex, watching as she tossed it to the ground and stomped it out with the toe of her boot. “technically, i’ve died already.”

            “i’m sorry, what?”

            “don’t be. it was kinda cool, i guess. i don’t know.”

            your lips smoothed into a small frown. you didn’t ask her to share, you didn’t want to prod.

            she briefly explained how she had been put in witness protection after the doyle case as you made your way up to your apartment, finishing her story once you sat her on the lip of your bathtub and began rooting through your medicine cabinet. “i’m sorry that happened to you.” she shrugged it off as if it was nothing more than an insignificant, bothersome part of her week, like getting stuck in traffic or the grocery store being sold out of her favourite snack.

            you watched her gently prod at the cut with her thumb, looking down at the dried blood smeared across her hand in confusion. “is this from me?” she looked up at you, brows furrowed in drunken uncertainty. she didn’t remember there being this much. “stop touching it.” after gathering what you needed, you sat cross-legged on your toilet seat and grabbed her by the shoulders, tilting her towards you.

            “but yes.” you were cautious to grasp her jaw, ever so gently slanting her head to the side to get a good look, “damn, whoever you fought got a few good swings in. maybe you’re not as good as i thought,” you tried to lighten her confusion with a joke, only her intoxication blurred the line between harmless poking and genuine disappointment.

            her face fell slightly. “emily, i’m kidding.” she hummed. she was silent for a long while, glassy eyes inspecting your bathroom as you dabbed the dried blood off her chin with a washcloth. “you’re not obligated to do this, you know.” she quietly confessed.

            “to do what?” she grabbed your wrist and pulled your cool fingers from her face, turning her head straight to look at you. “to keep fixing me.” you let out a shallow, calm sigh, shaking your head. “if we’re still talking in technicalities, i am.”

            you raised your hand to keep going, but she stopped you again, bloody fingers twisting around your own. “but you’re not. you could’ve kept walking. why didn’t you?”

            “why didn’t i keep walking?”

            she nodded, “i know you don’t like me.” and while there was a kernel of truth in her statement, you weren’t exceptionally fond of her, you couldn’t help but find her snarky attitude a little charming. “i can’t let you walk around like this. who’d trust an fbi agent that looks like they got their shit rocked?” 

            again, you tried to bring your conversation back to lighthearted territory. “you’re deflecting.”

            “and you’re profiling me.” 

            this seemed to shut her up for a moment, enough time for you to wipe away the blood that had trickled down the column of her neck. you started to clean along the length of her forearm when she stopped you again, prying the washcloth from your hand and placing it on the edge of the bathtub beside her. “seriously, why are you helping me?”

            you held her eye with your own slightly pointed. “can’t i, just…be nice to you? why do you think i have ulterior motives, or something?”

            “because you’ve never been just nice to me.”

            “you’ve never given me a reason to be.”

            again, this seemed to stun her for the time being. whether it be the intoxicated mind-lag or not, she sat wordlessly and inspected your face as you began rooting through the first aid bag again. “i don’t have the proper stuff to stitch your lip,” you whispered, mostly to yourself, trying to think of a quick temporary fix until the morning.

            “you can kiss it better.”

            “ha-ha, knee slapper.”

            she nudged your ankle with her foot, bringing your focus back to her face. “i wasn’t kidding.” this time, it’s you that was stunned to silence for a beat.

            “you’re drunk.”

            “i’m sober enough to know what i’m saying.” she cocked her head, fingers splayed along the small of your wrist. “i see the way you look at me. i know you want to.” she leaned ever so slightly, enough so you could faintly smell the cigarette smoke lingering on her tongue.

            your eyes flicked from her own, her lips, then to her eyes again. “i don’t kiss my patients.” 

            “no? not part of your specialty?” she smiled, bottom lip slipping between her teeth. then she tipped her chin up, brushing her lips warily against yours. when she felt you start to kiss her back, your hands flying to cup her face in your hands, she poured a little more faith into her movements and kissed you like she meant it, like your lips against hers was the thing she’d been unknowingly missing.

            “do you want me to stop?” she clarified between soft lip locks, hands trickling down your sides. “no.” and then your lips connected again, moving in perfect synchronicity, slow and gentle as you map out exactly what the other favoured. when you part your lips, emily hesitantly swiped her tongue across the bottom one, asking for permission.

            you opened your mouth a little wider, your tongues rolling against one another as you explored each other’s mouths, hands roaming over clothed skin and shallow breaths swapping between you. 

            the next morning you’d awoken to an empty bed, naked body twisted around the cold, stark-white sheets you had found yourself entangled in the night before. it wasn’t until you fully sat up did you notice it; the small crimson blotch in the middle of the pillowcase beside you. it was impossible to miss, it made you grit your teeth and whip your head around in search of the source.

            instead, at the end of the trail your clothing created, a sticky note on the bathroom doorframe anticipated your attention.

             morning, sunshine.            did you know the coffee place down the             street does a nurses discount?            i’d check that out if i were you.             - emily.

           you scoffed. 

           you were right, you could never get along.

an. mean lesbian emily number one in my heart forever <3 this is borderline ooc but idc this was a lot of fun to write :-) 

tglist. ( open ! you can request to be added or removed here ) @mylilenbyheart​ @storiesofsvu​ @mickey-gomez​ @daffodil-heart​ ​

[ouat-in-spare-oom-of-rivendell]

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Preferences

Visiting your boyfriend at work Spencer, Derek, Luke, Hotch

Aaron Hotchner

Prompt #70 + #76 drabble

Derek Morgan

Prompt #12 + #17 drabble

Spencer Reid

What You Leave Behind series

Summary: After the death of an acquaintance, Spencer takes drastic measures to keep you safe. Thirteen years later, a new case is bringing up old memories. The newest victim is a mystery that the team can’t seem to move forward in solving. What happens when the unsub makes things personal for Spencer?

Series Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Kidnapping, Mentions of Sexual Violence, Minor Character Death, If You’ve Seen the Show You Know What to Expect

Read on Ao3 (x Reader)

Read on Quotev (also x Reader)

Complete

It Looks Good one shot

Summary: Spencer isn't as comfortable in clubs and bars as the rest of them are, but after an especially draining case, there's something that draws him to one girl in particular. ~Song Fic inspired by Home Free's "It Looks Good"~

[elizalyn]

Masterlist

This is a master list of who I'm willing to write for...

Please, send in requests if you have any, I would love to write for any of these shows/movies. I do have some in the works currently but still don't hesitate to send in any sort of requests, I'd be more than happy to write for you :)

~Anime~

My Hero Academia

Haikyuu!!

Snow White with the Red Hair

Kakegurui

Fairy Tail

Demon Slayer

Attack on Titan

~Others~

Marvel

Harry Potter

Criminal Minds

Twilight

How to Train Your Dragon

Avatar (not The Last Airbender though I love that series)

[gold-onthe-inside]

"i gotta ask," piper voiced, leaning back in her chair and spinning around slowly, "why a revolver?"

"that's your big question?" spencer asked and piper gently bumped her heel against the side of his leg.

"that's my question. standard issue is a glock. why do you use a revolver?"

"they're easier to use, okay?" spencer replied, exasperated. "i don't wanna end up fumbling with the magazine in the field."

"but you'd rather painstakingly reload every single bullet?" piper asked, looking at him incredulously.

"well, not all of our dads put in the time to take us to a shooting range," spencer scoffed bitterly and piper wanted to bite her tongue.

"did i touch a nerve?" piper asked softly, glancing at his scowl, adorable and pouty. "i can teach you how to use a semi-automatic if you want."

[temilyrights]

cm drabbles

a collection of my writings that are below 1000 words. 

the descriptions below are short. click each link for more information about content and warnings for each fic. 

Emily Prentiss:

peace: emily comes home after a long case and finds you already asleep in bed. 

Tara Lewis: 

i kissed a girl: tara kisses you and panics. 

Alex Blake: 

see you soon: alex says goodbye to you before you leave for a work trip.

denial: “kissing each other to prove there’s nothing there, except the kiss proves the opposite.”

stay: the aftermath of 9x24. you try to stop alex from leaving. 

BAU: 

the big little things: the bau take care of you.

criminal minds fics

[reidsaurora]

Hello, beautiful people!

*yall when you see what the rest of this post is about*

I know it's been a hot moment since I did one of these, but I am here to tell all of you:

I am going to be doing another themed imagines week!! 🥳🎉

The theme for this week is songs the author loves!

Some of them are songs I love at the moment, some of them are just random songs I got inspiration from, and some of them are songs I'm absolutely in love with!!

Anyway, I hope you're all ready for this super fun week!! wish me luck as i attempt to crank the unwritten ones out quickly

And, as always

☆𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒☆

general taglist: @1234-angelika @amythedoctor @ohhmychuck @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @mrspeacem1nusone @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @kbakery @leigh70 @the-lucky-ones311 @mercuryvapours @danzalladaggers @darkloverfox

[ssahotchnerr]

okay but when the team actually starts calling the reader and aaron mom and dad behind their backs and one day someone lets it slip out in front of them??

i just… aaron’s reaction?????

the parentals

i love this dynamic SO MUCH cw; fem!bau!reader, established relationship, fluff <3

as you and aaron entered the bullpen, you were both quick to notice the others huddled around spencer's desk, surely for a new session of physics magic.

a smile immediately twitched at aaron's lips, tossing you a mischievous look. as long as it didn't make a mess, or a disruption - per his and reid's previous discussions - he really didn't mind the recurring demonstrations.

but would he ever miss an opportunity to get the blood rushing in this scenario - never.

"be nice." you teased, laughing softly under your breath as you followed him over.

"i'm always nice." aaron playfully insisted, those brown eyes flickering in that way that just melted your heart. "what do you mean?"

"better be careful," emily's warning came into earshot as you neared, completely oblivious to the two of you - the timing just perfect. "or else dad's gonna ground you."

aaron's expression quirked at the title, his eyebrows lightly furrowing.

"oh please," spencer said, his fingers making quick work of whatever the experiment happened to be. "he's too busy with mom-"

jj's eyes happened to lift right at mom, made direct eye contact with you, and immediately choked back a laugh. some horror timidly filled her eyes, and she didn't cover up her sound too adequately. it caused the others to instantly look up too, and freeze.

"busted." jj mumbled, her gaze finding the ground.

aaron's smile resurfaced, crossing his arms. his tone was playful, yet confused and utterly amused nonetheless. "dad?"

spencer flushed. "uh..."

"oh c'mon. cut the crap." emily interrupted with an eye roll, looking between the two of you. "like it's not shocking at this point. just look at what the two of you were about to do, lecture us-"

"hey no," with a laugh you cut in, arching an eyebrow. "i don't lecture."

"exactly. he does," emily crossed her arms also with a smitten smirk - her point thoroughly exhibited. "you're the flexible one. see, mom and dad."

"i always thought rossi was dad." aaron expressed openly, a small chuckle shaking through his chest.

"no, you were always dad," jj shook her head, "rossi was mom, until," once again, her eyes found yours, smiling softly this time. "until someone else came around, and took on the role wholeheartedly."

you grinned, exchanging a quick, loving glance with aaron. "what's dave now, then?"

"old."

[tinyluvs]

imagine dating spencer and you come to visit or something and make him so distracted that he literally can’t info dump on something and the rest of the team is just shocked

yes yes, a hundred times yes 🤭 thank you so much!

catching a glimpse of yourself in the elevator mirror was the last thing you needed right now. you were covered in paint, your dungarees showing up every coloured streak and hand print against the light denim. you're sure there's paint in your hair but you don't have time to dwell on it, you're late

you'd got stressed, painting your boyfriends apartment on your own, lost track of time and then didn't have the time to change before running out of the apartment, just about managing to remember to grab yours and spencer's lunch on the way

"i'm so sorry i'm late," you sigh and frown as you rush through the bullpen to the collection of desks you're oh so familiar with, "please excuse the state of me,"

spencer turns at the sound of your voice, "hi sweetheart," he hums, looking up at you just as you dip to kiss him quickly before pushing the bag of food onto his lap

"hey," you smile softly at your boyfriend before turning to his colleagues, "hey guys, how are we all?" you ask, getting a mixed bunch of replies back

"how's painting?" derek laughs, looking at your appearance and the state of your clothes

you slide onto spencer's desk, pulling your legs up to sit cross legged, "standing six feet up a ladder trying to hold a tray of paint and a brush is hard, i've nearly fallen off twice," you huff,

spencer hands you the sandwich he knows is yours and then seemingly looks at you properly for the first time since you've been there, "hey," he says, almost breathlessly

"hello?" you question, head tilting slightly, "you've already said hi," you say, looking at emily and jj who just snicker and shrug their shoulders but spencer doesn't reply, "oh before i forget!"

your boyfriend watches you carefully as you produce a piece of paper from the tiny pocket on the front of your dungarees, flapping it around to unfold it, your other hand busy clutching your food

"the living room is next, i need to know how much paint to buy," you explain, handing the paper to him, "the cans are one litre or five litres, i can't figure it out"

truth be told you hadn't bothered to try and work it out, knowing spencer would be able to reel off the answer like it's nothing, naturally, he knew the exact measurements of every wall in his house

the boy stares up at you blankly, big brown eyes soft and sparkly. your cheeks heat up under his gaze, your eyebrows raising slightly, "spence?" you nudge him with your knee

he jumps ever so slightly, his head shaking a bit, "hmm?" he asks before only just registering you've handed him something, his eyes scan over it, "oh!" he blushes, turning his chair to face his desk

"what colour are you doing the living room?" jj asks while she stabs at her salad like it's offending her. you'd consulted the girls with all of the decorating developments.

"a light brown i think, we have so much to hang on the walls," you pause to swallow, "so something neutral," you finish with a slight nod

a door opening to your side grabs your attention, aaron coming out of his office with his lunch. he comes down into the bullpen, sitting on the edge of emily's desk, "the paint fighting back?" he asks you, slight smile creeping over his face

you roll your eyes at him, playfully, while the other laugh at your expense, "very funny but i don't see any of you offering to help"

penelope scoffs, "actually, i did" and she was right, however her idea of getting wine drunk and decorating had been quickly shut down by spencer, the only input he's actually offered up in the whole process

giggling, you turn back to your boyfriend who's been far too quiet, "boy wonder?" you say gently, pushing your fingers through his hair, "got an answer for me?"

usually he would have an answer within seconds, his minutes of silence making you frown, he turns to you with the same frown painted across his face, "i don't know," he says

people around you gasp, loudly too, "what do you mean, you don't know?" emily almost chokes on her lunch, sitting forward to gawp at the boy

"i do not know how much paint we need" he confirms

derek scrambles, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "say it again, i need record of this moment" he pleads while garcia smacks him

"well there's a first," david says, wandering over after hearing spencer say i don't know for possibly the first time, ever

your boy stares at the paper in his hand and then up at you, confused, "i have to go and work it out, excuse me" he says, rushed, as he stands and takes off towards circle table room

after a moment of shocked silence you turn to the team who are all staring directly at you, "i'll go check on him, i wonder what's wrong?" you say to no one in particular as you hop off of the desk

"i think i know," jj sing songs and the others hum in agreement as you hop up the stairs and along the walkway into the room.

when you get into the room spencer is stood in front of the biggest whiteboard you've possibly ever seen, marker in hand though the board is still empty of his handwriting

"spence? angel?" you say quietly, staring at his back as he starts to write the measurements of the walls in his living room, "everything alright?"

he hums, not turning to look at you as he continues to work through the problem, "yeah, fine, just can't think properly when you're around," he admits, "not when you look like that," he turns slightly to look at you

"oh, do you want me to leave?" you're sad, its obvious in your voice. nervously you start fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt

your boyfriend gasps, "no, no, honey that's not what i meant!" he says, holding his arm out. you slide into the space, head resting on his shoulder, "you're so beautiful and i love you so much, so so much, my brain just switches off when you’re around"

"really?" you giggle, looking up at him. he hums and nods his head, a light blush rushes up his neck before taking over his cheeks, "i love you too,"

he's taller than you, forcing you onto your tip toes to kiss him, not caring when someone, emily, whoops from the bullpen. gentle hands squeeze at your waist, while you hold his face with one hand, the other resting on his shoulder

"three litres," spencer mumbles against your mouth, you pull away with a sight hum, forgetting what you'd asked of him, "you need three but it's cheaper to just buy five and have left over, now come back" he huffs, his arm wrapping tighter around you to pull you back in for another kiss

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

[leanteam43]

send criminal minds request plz i am begging you

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

send literally any request (EXCEPT NSFW.)

my hyperfixation is back in full swing >.< !1!

i mainly write headcannons/preferences and drabbles but am down to write a few one-shots!!! - 🌿

[hornyhornyhimbos]

for the "anon" who requested this in my other inbox, this is for you! happy birthday to us hehehe

pov: aaron hotchner gives his birthday girl a well-deserved birthday spanking ♡

18+ obvs, mean dom!aaron hotchner x slightly bratty!afab!reader, unprotected piv sex (don't do this or your cooter will rot off), degradation out the wazoo, nicknames (aaron is called sir; reader is called just about every degrading name in the book), spanking both with and without a belt, clit spanking with hand, use of restraints, mentions of vibrators, mentions of safe words (not used), explicit language, honestly probably more because this shit filthy as hell, 1.6K words, not beta read, color coded speaker tags!

birthday bash | filthy fridays | ask box

you knew when aaron's note said to wait, you really should've listened.

in your defense, it was your birthday, and how could you resist not snooping in the pretty little fleur du mal bag?

you knew as soon as you sent that picture, showing off the sheer panties and the bra that left little to the imagination outside of the heart-shaped patches covering your nipples, that you were screwed. but when that call came through, aaron's voice demanding you to not touch yourself all day and to be ready—lying on the bed, wearing nothing but that new lingerie set—you knew you were in for it.

you heard the familiar tap of his shoes on the hardwood as he entered the house, and your heart rate already began to speed up in anticipation.

by the time he rounded the corner, his tie was already lose and his hands were already unbuttoning his shirt. "good girl," he commented, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looked you over. "knew this would look nice on you."

"thank you, sir."

he slid the shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the corner of the room, but holding onto his tie. "it's a shame you just couldn't wait until i got home to try it on."

your stomach flipped as he leaned in, his lips stopping mere millimeters away from yours. his hot breath fanned around your face, only adding to the naturally occurring warmth that had begun to creep onto your cheeks. "turn around for me, baby."

you already knew what was coming, and you couldn't say the thought didn't cross your mind when you disobeyed his commands that morning. you stood, bending over the bed, your ass practically on display for him.

he moved to wrap the tie around your wrists, knotting it so tight it was almost painful. not nearly as painful as what was to come, though.

arousal all but dripped down your thighs as you heard him unbuckle his belt. you looked over your shoulder, biting your lip as you braced yourself for impact.

"i was going to go easy on your birthday spanking, but it appears someone needs to learn a lesson, doesn't she?"

without a second thought, his belt was on your ass, the familiar sting bringing you both pain and pleasure. "i'm s-sorry," you managed, but even you knew it was a lie.

"lying to me will only make it worse," he reminded you with a second hit. your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip, tears already pricking your eyes. "you knew exactly what you were doing when you sent that picture, didn't you?"

you didn't say anything, just waited for the next hit. this time, he hit a little harder, a whimper falling from your lips as he instructed, "answer me when i ask you a question."

"y-yes," you admitted, and down came another smack, your breath catching in your throat at the impact.

"dirty girl," he commented, your stomach fluttering at the nickname. he must've caught that little twinge of a smirk, slapping you harder than he had before. "it wasn't a compliment," aaron growled, slapping you with his hand this time. you moaned at the contact; nothing brought you more pleasure than knowing his palm would be imprinted on you. "thanks to you, i had to get myself off in the bathroom like a fucking teenager. bet you love thinking about that, huh?"

you nodded, and another strike from the belt sounded through the room. your new panties had to be ruined by now, your arousal drenching the fabric from this whole exchange.

"nasty little thing, aren't you? always so cock-drunk, even when i'm not around." the belt slapped you again, this time hard enough to have you screaming.

"aaron," you called out in some mixture of pleasure and torture. even you couldn't tell if you wanted him to stop.

"you know your safe word," he reminded you, his hand settling on your ass, grabbing the fat with a smirk, "you'd use it if you needed to."

in one swift motion, he was pulling you up and turning you to face him, that smirk turning into a full on evil grin. "but you don't need to, do you?"

you shook your head, your lips parting as his free hand moved to cup your pussy. a silent moan fell from your lips as he moved a thumb over your clothed clit in a slow circle. "of course you don't. because you're a nasty slut who doesn't care how she gets off, am i right?"

you didn't answer, you weren't sure you could. his hand flew back, slapping your clit almost as harshly as he'd slapped your ass. "i asked you a question."

you mewled as his palm hit your clit again, downright hard this time. "yes! yes, you're right, sir!"

he untied the fastening around your wrist, but you knew it wouldn't be over that easily. "panties off, on the bed, arms against the headboard."

your legs tightened as you moved, searching for any form of reprieve you could find. while you undressed the rest of the way, he pulled the handcuffs out of the nightstand. you moved onto the bed, and he tightened each of the cuffs around you much harder than they had to be. "now that you've admitted that you don't care how you get off, let's just see if my theory is right."

he reached over into the nightstand, pulling out your favorite rabbit vibrator. you couldn't control the way your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets because, after all, you knew exactly where he was going with this.

"when i left this morning, this was fully charged. i'd planned on letting you have a little fun, since it is your birthday. but since you disobeyed, this thing should be fully charged."

and, just as he had suspected, when he held down the power button, it was to no avail. not a single flash of light from the buttons, not even a twitch of one of the rabbit ears. "interesting," he simply said, moving onto the bed.

he slid off his slacks and boxers in one go and tossed them elsewhere, his hard cock bouncing up against his belly. "you want to act like a whore, you're gonna get fucked like a whore."

with no warning, he was shoving his length inside you, giving you no time to adjust. tears stung behind your eyes, your jaw falling slack.

"i wanted to fuck you sweetly, you know that?" aaron asked, beginning to find his rhythm. "wanted to go slow, please you just the way you like. hell, i wanted to worship at your feet like you deserve. but as it turns out," he paused, slamming back into you hard, "this is what you deserve. to be treated like the dirty slut you are."

his balls slapped against you, only coaxing on your impending orgasm. he wrapped a hand around your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "look at me when i make you cum. especially when it's an orgasm you don't deserve."

you clenched around him, sucking him impossibly deeper into you. he fucked in and out of you, building up to his own climax. the bed rocked against the wall, and you were sure your neighbors could hear all that was happening, despite the brick exterior of your home.

you screamed as he slapped your clit again, the tears from before finally falling from your eyes. "can't believe you acted like that when all i wanted was to spoil you. you better be glad i'm even letting you cum."

he pistoned into you harder, skin slapping against skin, the sound and smell of mixed arousal filling the air. "where do you want it?"

you willed yourself to squeak out, "inside me! inside me, please!" but you should've known you wouldn't get your way.

he stayed inside you long enough to make sure you came around his cock, your back arching as euphoria burned through your body. your cunt tried to suck him back in, but it was no use; he was pulling out, jerking himself off the rest of the way, moaning profanities as his release spilled all over your stomach and his hand.

"maybe next time- fuck- you'll learn how to behave, yeah?" he whispered, already on the brink of coming down from his dominant headspace.

your chest rose and fell as you watched him jerk off, your eyes all but crossed and surely glassed over as you tried to catch your breath. "thank you, sir," you managed, your core still pulsing from the aftershocks.

"for what?" aaron asked, his head falling back as he held his dick, coming down from his own high.

"for letting me cum, and for giving me the prettiest birthday present ever," you sighed, a blissed-out smile forming on your face as you looked into his eyes again.

"you're welcome," he said, leaning in to kiss you, a juxtaposing gentleness to the action. "i'm sorry i got so mad. but you know the rules are there for a reason."

you nodded, giving him another peck. "yes, sir. i'm sorry i didn't follow orders."

his lips moved to brush your forehead, the salt of your sweat surely coating his lips as they pressed against your skin. "i forgive you. now, let's go get you cleaned up so i can give you your real present, yeah?"

aaron spent the whole night showering you with love, affection and gifts, but not before he could shower with you, where you may or may not have gone for round two… and round three… and maybe even a fourth round. but hey, you were his birthday girl. who could blame him?

-> taglist: @reidsbookclub @broken-stardust @dungeons-are-too-cold @theghouligan @sadgirlml

[luveline]

i NEED anything with glasses reid or munch reid i’m literally frothing at the mouth 🙏

ty for ur request :D fem!reader

"Emily," you say weakly. "What is that?" 

Emily looks up from her desk, clearly desperate for a distraction, the lip of her coffee mug against painted lips. "What's what?" 

"That." You point. You feel sick to your stomach. "That right there." 

"Oh," Emily says happily. "You finally noticed. Yeah, Spence forgot to renew his contact prescription. He has to wear glasses for two weeks." 

Spencer stands by the photocopier with a perturbed frown, clicking a button, then another. His brow is furrowed and his hair is falling into his eyes. He has the stupidest, dorkiest, prettiest face, and practically every expression he makes has you weak in the knees.

"That long?" you ask. 

Derek looks up in concern at your pained tone, following the line of your eyes. When he realises what it is that's hurt you so, he skirts around the desk to shake your shoulder. "You could always tell him how you feel. I'm sure he'd keep the lenses forever if he knew you liked them." 

"I don't like them," you say. You sound faraway to your own ears. You hate them. They're gonna be your demise. 

Spencer runs a fingertip across the photocopier's screen, in his own world as the machine finally begins to chug out whatever it is he'd been wanting a duplicate of. The frames of his glasses sit snug on his nose. You can tell from even this distance that the lenses make his eyes look a tiny bit smaller. You could probably point out a misplaced freckle if he asked you to.

"Don't be cruel, he looks cute," Emily teases. 

Spencer collects his papers, shuffling them into a straight line as he makes his way back to the bullpen. You pretend to take interest in Emily's things. She sips her coffee too nonchalantly. Derek doesn't even bother pretending. 

"What?" Spencer asks, swift to spot your suspicious behaviours. "Is it the glasses?" 

You wince. "Of course not. You look… you look really nice, Spence." 

"You know he used to wear 'em every day?" Derek asks.

You would've died. "Before I joined?" 

"For a few years," Spencer says, looking you over. "You're unhappy. Is something wrong?" 

He looks to Derek and Emily for confirmation. Emily stutters for an answer while Derek laughs in the background, "She– you know. She just– She missed breakfast!" 

Spencer pushes his glasses up his nose by the leg and drops his copies onto the desk. "I have dried apricot in my bag. Two seconds." 

He bends over his chair to retrieve his bag from under the desk. Your eyes blow wide at his position, the sudden demonstration of well-fitted pants. Derek's laugh echoes up to the eaves. 

"And he has that twenty four seven," Emily says against the rim of her coffee. 

You scrunch your eyes closed and tilt your head back. After a few seconds, a hand touches your elbow gently, a hesitance that comes with only one member of the BAU. "You okay?" Spencer asks. 

"I'm okay. Headache," you lie. 

Spencer presses the apricot into your hands. "Maybe you should see an optician. You know they can tell if you have a brain tumour from one photo of your sclera?" He smiles morbidly, his glasses slipping down his nose. "They measure the size of your optic disk. It takes less than a minute. I can give you the name of my doctor, if you want. She's nice. Not as nice as you." 

Your throat is so dry you can't form words to answer him. He doesn't judge your rigid nodding. 

"I'll write down the number for you. And, Y/N?" 

"Yeah?" you choke out. 

"You look really nice today, too." 

Emily has to kick you in the leg to bring you back to earth. Stupid Spencer. Stupid lovely glasses. 

[happenstnces]

⠀ MIDNIGHT LOVE ✧ E. PRENTISS

✧ based off of this prompt.    emily prentiss x fem!reader ! gr. angst

syn. being colleagues-with-benefits isn’t working anymore, and it hasn’t been for quite some time. warning ! intentional lowercase, swearing, suggested smut, & angst. wc. 1.9k

  ೃ⁀➷ masterlist ! add yourself to the taglist here

            truthfully, you don’t know why you keep coming back.

            you're sick of the clandestine meetings, the stolen glances, the illicit affair you've found yourself wrapped up in, teetering on the edge of casual hookups and unspoken romance like a tightrope. the chronic feeling of being a consolation prize isn't worth it. it isn’t worth this, and it hasn’t been for a while, and maybe it never was.

            yet here you stand, toeing the threshold of emily's apartment with your fingers buried deep in the pockets of your coat. each time you tell yourself i’m done, i can't do this anymore, you find yourself here, in this spot, staring at the welcome mat that feels a little less welcoming the more you see it.

            you're like a dog with a bone, and no matter how far emily tosses it in the opposite direction, you retreat to her bed as if you belong there—and sometimes, you swear you do, that twisted beneath her sheets in the early hours of the morning is where you're supposed to be; where you're made to be. 

           but reality is always standing at your bedside when you wake, and no matter how deep you burrow beneath the covers, you can’t ignore its looming presence. you can’t keep pretending this is something it isn’t.

            the door swings open before you finish knocking, brown eyes pouring over you like a bucket of cold water, sending a chill down your spine. "you're punctual. right on time," emily jokes, holding the door so you can shuffle inside. you do just that, stepping into the familiarity of her home like it’s littered with landmines, like one wrong step will cause an explosion. "you know me," you hum, turning to face her hovering in the foyer. 

            “did you come straight from work?" emily questions. she doesn’t know why, she knows the answer—it’s the same every time. she steps closer to you, hands stretching out to paw at your sides and pull you close to her front. "yes. nobody saw me." your body is rigid in her hold, and she backs away ever so slightly, arching a brow. "you okay?"

            you nod, just once. "just tired. hotch's been up my ass all week about this case." while that's true, hotch has been sitting on your last nerve like he’s getting paid to do so, that isn't the cause of your exhaustion, and really, you don’t know why you lied. she can tell you aren’t being all that truthful. 

            however, you hadn’t really surpassed honesty, you are tired. you’re tired of being a her late-night indulgence, tired of feeling like silver while you hold her like gold. being kept a dirty secret has taken its toll on you, and while you were made aware of the strict rules of your arrangement before you started, you can’t seem to scrub away the grime coating your insides.

            a frown smooths over emily's face, one of her hands rising to cup the side of your jaw. you lean into the touch and reach out for her, arms securing around her neck, the pads of your fingers paging through the hair at the nape. "i'm sorry. whad'ya say i help you decompress?" you know she says it to be cordial, nothing more than a formality. she isn’t sorry—not about hotch, and not about this—it’s just another routinely scheduled step in the dance you’ve come to hate. 

            "yeah," you breathe, frigid palms sliding down to where the slopes of her shoulders fade to the expanse of her neck. your faces are mere inches apart now, swapping shallow breaths with no words shared between you. in some sad, unspoken sense, you swear emily knows what you're thinking—perhaps the silence had told her your secrets.

            she looks guilty, maybe almost as guilty as you feel, and you actively fight the urge to sweep your feelings aside to absolve her of her own. "what's wrong?" you whisper. she lets out a small sigh, then offers you a rather sorry excuse for a smile. you almost think she's going to confess as she opens her mouth, that she’ll finally let her remorse seep through your fingers and into the apartment below, yet no words come. instead, she curls her lips together and shakes her head.

            "nothing."

            you don't know why you're continually hopeful she‘ll talk. she never does. 

            "okay." you don't push it. you never do. 

            emily’s lips envelop your own before you can speak again, her hands scoring down the sides of your body, thumbs hooking through the loops in your jeans, pulling you close enough to feel her pulse steadily thumping through the thin fabric of her shirt. you worry she can hear your own, that the way it drums against your ribcage echoes off the red-walled living room you've found yourself in the middle of. if that’s the case, she doesn't say anything, and you’re starting to think she never will.

            much like countless nights before, you trade conversation for fingertips pressed into hot skin, finding intimacy in a fistful of sheets and repressed frustrations run rampant on thighs and hips and collarbones. 

            now it’s three in the morning, and her window is open, and you’ve found yourself searching for warmth in someone who isn’t willing to provide any. you’re sat on opposite sides of her bed as you wordlessly slip into your clothing, and you realize that getting dressed, here, now, feels much more like putting on a costume than the clothes you had come in with. 

            neither of you dare disturb the silence—you dress in the quiet you’ve become mutual friends with and hope it says much more than any words you could speak—you always find this part ritualistic in a way that makes you want to believe in god again. 

            you still; you listen.

            like always, you hope she says something.

            like always, she doesn’t.

            you stand up with your belongings cradled to your chest like a child, and your friend, the quiet, walks you to the door.

            “hey,” 

            your head slants over your shoulder, then the rest of your body follows, looking at her lingering in the doorway of her bedroom. you pause; you pray. you silently beg her to tell her what you want to hear. she mindlessly fiddles with the knot in her robe, and you watch the silky ribbons slide through her fingers like water. “same time tomorrow?” 

            this is the part you hate the most—the part where the quiet is replaced with the tension, with the longing. the air that weighs on your shoulders is thick and heavy like an oil spill. your lips curl into a thin line, and tonight, you stop this godforsaken dance. you don’t say yes with a forced smile and pretend it isn’t excruciating. she cocks her head as she watches you, still and listening.

            “no.”

            “what?”

            she steps forward, brows hugging her eyelids, hands raised and ready to wrap around you. you shrug away from them before she can touch you, the fog of confusion surrounding her only thickening. “what’s wrong?” you can’t help but laugh. it’s watered down from the tears burning your eyelids. “seriously?”

            she cocks her head. “did i do something?”

            and there it is; the wrong step, the explosion. 

            “i can’t keep doing this, emily. i’m done.” 

            her hands fall, and her pointed features are quick to follow. “why? was i too rough, or something? you kn—“

            “jesus, no! i can’t keep being a quick fuck for you. i’m done.”

            her gaze softens, if only for a moment. “you knew that’s all this was when we started.” she reminds you in that tone that makes you want to scream, low and condescending like she’s talking to a child. “well, i can’t do it anymore. this isn’t worth it.” 

            she scoffs, “what does that mean?”

            “this!” you wave your hands around you, fingers cutting through the air that’s filled with the tension and the longing as if it’s physically sat in front of you. “this is not worth it. it’s never been worth it.”

            “you’re the one who keeps coming back. if this isn’t worth it, why are you here?”

            “don’t make me say it.” you threaten through clenched teeth. she knows why you’re here—the silence had told her. “no, tell me. if this was never what you wanted, why are you here?” she takes a step towards you, challengingly, almost, as if getting closer will change what you both already know, as if it will change the i love you and i keep hoping you’ll realize you love me, too bubbling in the base of your throat.

            you furiously wipe the tear that flits down your cheek, hoping she didn’t see it. you grit your teeth. “fuck you.” 

            “fuck me?”

            “fuck you. for all of this.” you know the back and forth is pointless and immature, and you know blaming her for everything is unfair—this isn’t entirely her fault. after all, it takes two to tango. “i didn’t force you to come here. i didn’t force you to do this, y/n. i was very clear on what this was when we met, so if you thought this could ever be anything more than that—“ she pauses, as if she’s trying to take back the words that had tumbled out in a throw of hurt and confusion.

           she angrily swipes her tongue across her bottom lip. “it’s not my fault you fell in love with me.”

           you’re silent for a moment, perhaps a moment too long, and she worries that she had crossed the invisible line, that she had somehow found more landmines waiting to be set off. “but it is, though, isn’t it? i wasted so much time just trying to get you to see me.”

            “i see you.”

            “you look at me, but you don’t see me—not like that.”

            there’s the quiet again, stepping back into the room like a frightened little kid, hesitant and weary. you share mirroring glances until she lets out a long breath, dragging a hand down her face as if she’s trying to manually tame the emotions simmering beneath the surface. “i’m sorry.” another cordial formality. 

            “no, you’re not. and that’s fine, but don’t lie to me.”

            her silence is as good an answer as any, and you watch as her irritation fizzles to guilt. you awkwardly shift on your feet. you don’t know what to say now that the landmine has gone off. you don’t know how to fix what the explosion dismantled, so you choose not to. she is not yours and you are not hers and this is not your mess to clean.

            she watches as you open the front door and slip into the hallway, staring at that welcome mat that had really been nothing but a prolonged goodbye as you pass. “wait,” she calls once you’ve made it a few paces down the hallway—she followed the ghost of your footsteps and now stands before the welcome-goodbye mat—holding your eye with her own, pupils blown and bloodshot. “for what it’s worth, i really am sorry.” 

            this is the first apology of hers you don’t have trouble pouring faith into. you search her face for a trace of malice, a trace of formalism, a trace of anything. the only thing you find are eyes desperate to be believed. 

            you remain stoic. “thank you.” you aren’t even sure why you thank her, perhaps it’s for confirming what you already knew or perhaps it’s for letting you walk away with at least one apology you can count on, but it doesn’t matter. you share a lingering glance before you turn on your heels and disappear into the elevator much like all those nights before; the final curtain call.

an. u can tell i wrote this sleep deprived bc i took a couple metaphors and beat them into the ground 😀 i’m not a huge fan of this but !!!! it’s something

tglist. ( open ! you can request to be added or removed here ) @mylilenbyheart​ @storiesofsvu​ @mickey-gomez​ @daffodil-heart​ ​

[secretlovezz]

Spencer Reid wakes you up with kisses as often as he can.

His slightly chapped, perfectly pink lips drag across the heated skin of your neck. The kisses are sickeningly sweet and so impressively gentle that goosebumps spread themselves along your arms and butterflies erupt in your stomach making your eyes flutter softly as you start to wake yourself.

You grumble sleepily when his hands move to wrap around your waist tighter. Your hands grab and lace your fingers with his.

When your eyes finally will themselves open, they crack only slightly, your eyesight blurs, and you're pretty sure your eyes are crusted in the corners. Spencer's cheek smooshes roughly against yours and you groan in pretend annoyance. He smooshes harder in response.

"Spencer..." You groan again.

He presses a wet kiss to your cheek and you try to fight against the smile that began growing on your face.

"I just love you," Spencer whispers to you, you feel his breath against the shell of your ear.

"What time is it?" You ignore him on purpose.

He squeezes the skin of your waist, "Say it back... please."

You want to hold out just to tease him but the way his voice sounds when he pleads with you makes you give in instantly.

"I love you, Spence"

You feel a grin grow against your cheek, he snuggles closer to you almost like no matter what he can't be close enough like he needs to be attached to you completely, apart of you.

"Love you," He sighs, gives you one more sloppy kiss, and let's you fall back asleep once and for all.