#dr. spencer reid
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MEOWWWW MEOWWWW MEOWWWW🤤😻
I LOVE MY HUSBAND I LOVE MY HUSBAND‼️
early vs late seasons spencer reid
#spencer reid#criminal minds#dr reid#matthew gray gubler#mgg#i love mgg#dr. spencer reid#nerdy bf#nerdy guys#nerdy boy
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Busy Woman



A/N: I do not wanna see ANY Minors in this bitch. Seriously. Like you'll get it when you get older I promise. This worm has been wiggling around in my brain for MONTHS. Things have been so busy that it's been a real struggle trying to write. I really hope you all like my excuse to write porn. Thank you to @cafekitsune for the border/dividers used. Thank you to @beenreidingaboutyou and @alsofoundinpeas and practically the WHOLE discord server for letting me send this google docs to you and yapping with me about logistics (positions at one point I'm sure). Enjoy!
Link to the AO3: Busy Woman -> Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Smut with plot. Reader is a maneater, some she/her pronouns at one point or another, PinV sex yall, wrap it up!!!! condoms my beloved (they are not used here, reader and the team go out drinking, spencer reid yapping, reader is a dommy mommy idc Spencer Reid would have a mommy kink, he’s a whiner, SUB SUB SUB SUB Spencer, nothing too crazy sexually (in my eyes), i forget something else this is porn, no creampie for you!!! (I know... i know..).
Genre: Smut w/ Plot. Pairing: ManeaterBAUFem!Reader x Season4!SpencerReid
Plot: After spending countless months watching you break men's hearts, Spencer is surprised when you call a sudden dating hiatus. Amid your 'break,' you confide in your lanky coworker how much you miss certain physical intimacies. Spencer is quick to offer a solution.
Word count: 11,827

A man-eater… by definition, is a woman who uses men to have a series of sexual relationships but does not love the men. The thought of being one of those men has been lingering in the back of Spencer’s mind for the past eight months.
He knows, of course, that you’re more nuanced than that feeble definition. The team never misses the opportunity to tease you; your dating habits are an ongoing joke and mystery within the bureau. Derek often jokes that the two of you are peas in a pod, which, in turn, makes you respond that he’s the one with commitment issues, not you. You insist that you’re just picky.
You’d give any guy a chance until they disappoint you, and then you’re gone. You knew what you wanted from them, and if they couldn’t fulfill those ‘duties’ (as Emily jokingly puts it), then it wasn’t worth it. Spencer hates to admit it —to you or anyone else— but he loves how you detach from them.
He likes how you lure them in with honey and how they drop like flies at your feet— that trap of yours working effortlessly. It feels strangely voyeuristic, which makes him feel like a creep, but he swears it isn’t like that. If he could describe it better, he’d say it was more like a form of admiration. He likes that you know what you want out of your relationships. The way you don’t stick around and accept bad behavior. It’s exceptional and incredibly intimidating. Maybe femme fatale would be a better title, though he doubts you’ve ever destroyed a man’s life, as that definition suggests. Distress? Most definitely.
His eyes are glued to you now as you brush a stray hair behind your ear, how your brows knit together when you’re concentrating, watching as your left hand plays with the chain of your necklace. Tearing his eyes away from you, he focuses on the map on his desk, circling the location of the recent body discovered earlier that morning. JJ leans over his right shoulder, her blue eyes looking at the work-in-progress geographical profile with silent intrigue.
She leans away from him, folding her arms across her chest, getting lost in thought until her gaze lands on you. You were so focused a few minutes ago, but now you’re looking at one of the officers across the station. He was young, about the same age as Spencer, if she had to guess. His uniform is a little loose on him, the material around his arms droops, and his shirt hangs off his body in a way that makes it obvious he’s wearing a size too big for him.
She watches with you as he tucks it into his pants nervously, his fingers adjusting his collar as he mutters something under his breath. He’s handsome, boyish, with decently styled brunette hair. His dimples pop when he gives one of his fellow officers a slight grin— just your average prey. “Don’t give him that look.”
Your eyes are on her in seconds, and she holds back a laugh when she sees your offended expression. “What look?” You sound shocked, glancing at the young officer. “I was just people-watching.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is hunting.” JJ counters as Emily walks in with a coffee in hand.
“Oh? She’s on the prowl away from home? Down girl, down!”
You frown, eyes narrowed as you look between the two women taunting you. “I’m not a dog. A girl can’t make an observation anymore?”
Emily shakes her head as she pulls her coffee cup away from her lips, “Not when the girl is you.”
Your frown deepens, looking at Spencer with a look that silently pleads for help. He can never resist that look— it’s one he knows well. He looks over his shoulder at JJ and gives her a light pout, “I don’t think that’s a fair assumption of her character.”
JJ’s eyes shine with amusement. This is how the dance usually went. You’d be selecting some poor gentleman as your next meal, they’d tease you about it, and then Spencer would come rushing in to protect your honor— assuming you had any, to begin with. “Spencer the Valiant enters into the arena, ladies and gentlemen.” Her hand comes up to playfully ruffle his hair.
Spencer fails to dodge her efforts. “Don’t,” he grumbles as he swats at her hand as it touches his already messy curls. “Do that.” He can never catch a break when it comes to being teased by the team.
You grin, watching Spencer flatten out his hair carefully, rearranging it until it’s slightly neat and wavy. You silently motion to him that part of his hair is still sticking up and watch as he blindly tries to fix it. Watching him struggle with his hair, you break the usual respect you show for his personal space, leaning over and smoothing down the cowlick with a soft chuckle.
His cheeks are red, watching you lean away from him, his gaze awkwardly avoiding yours. “Besides,” You begin, looking at the young officer with a charming smile. “You and Will make it work, don’t you?” You ask, talking to JJ without looking at her.
JJ scoffs a little, watching as the young officer looks up from his desk and across the station— he won’t last. You give him a little wave and flirty smile combo before looking at JJ. “Don’t even think about it,” JJ warns, but you technically don’t have to do anything. You shrug a little, looking down at the evidence pile on your desk.
Not while the young officer stands up, smoothing out his too-big uniform and taking large strides over to you. You don’t have to look to know he’s coming. JJ shakes her head with Emily when he arrives at your side. When he clears his throat, you don’t look up from your task, twirling a pen around your fingers.
The way you look up with gentle doe eyes and a polite smile on your lips as you turn to face him has Emily holding back a giggle. You blink a little, eyes reading the name tag on his uniform— David Miller. “Can we help you with something, Mister…” You trail off, acting as though you hadn’t just read his name tag.
“Miller and I don’t need help from all of you, maybe just you.” His voice is slightly deeper than you expected, and he sounds confident— which is fine— you just thought he’d be the shy type.
You let out a soft ‘ah,’ nodding slowly like the idea just occurred to you. “Well, as sweet as that is,” you don’t even let the poor guy officially ask you out. You just openly assume. “I’m afraid we’re all swamped working on this case— myself included.” You watch his broad shoulders slump slightly— the action doesn’t even last a full second— and you sigh like you’re contemplating something. “But maybe we could get a coffee in the break room?”
His demeanor brightens, eyebrows raising as he asks, “Now?”
You shrug, looking at the clock on the wall, “Ten minutes.” Standing, you brush off your jeans, as if this sudden coffee date weighs heavily on you. “You coming?” As you walk towards the breakroom, the question hangs in the air, and you don’t even bother looking back to see if he’s following you.
Three days later, Spencer watches you frown at David. Words can not describe how much he hates David. Well, many words could describe how much he dislikes David, but Spencer Reid is not a man to spit petty remarks at a man undeserving of them (though some may disagree). In truth, he only dislikes David because he envies him a little… he’s lying to himself. Spencer Reid envies that man with an intensity that rivals forest fires.
Spencer watches as David’s lips form words he cannot hear— words he’s sure you know all too well— Stay. He watches as you give David a small, sympathetic smile. His gaze lingers on your plump lips as you lean in to press a chaste kiss to another man’s lips, and he can imagine the sticky, sweet tone of your voice as you tell him that you have to leave.
Once you’re in the backseat, you relax your shoulders with a huff. Derek shakes his head at you in the front seat, staying quiet as the black SUV drives off towards the airport in this small Maryland town. Spencer knows that he should stop watching you, but it’s like he’s bewitched.
Your lip gloss is a faint pink— messy. You probably left some of David’s lips. Spencer wonders if it has a taste; he’s seen you use a cherry lip balm a handful of times. He can imagine kissing you, slow and sweet to start, if he had the time, getting hungrier and hungrier with each press of your lips on his. He wonders if you’d let him drag his tongue on your bottom lip and let him get a taste of cherries and skin. Could he pull on that full bottom lip with his teeth– “Spencer!”
He blinks, hazel eyes focus on yours. You chuckle, airy and slightly concerned, “Are you okay? You’re staring.”
Derek barks out a laugh from the driver’s seat, “When isn’t he?”
Spencer shakes his head, mainly at Derek’s idea of a joke, but also because he doesn’t want you to think something is wrong with him. His smile is unconvincing and quick: “I’m fine.” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, trying again. “Just thinking about you and David. H-He seems nice.”
You shrug, hair falling into your face, “I guess he’s nice, yeah.” Then you lift a hand, waving the idea off like it’s bothersome. “I don’t think I’m going to see him again.”
Derek groans out, “Surprise, surprise.”
Spencer manages to keep the smile off his face, but his voice gives him away: “Why not?” he sounds elated.
You move with your hands, throwing them up before letting them rest on your outer thighs, slumping a little in the seat. Your eyes search the car’s floor, as if it’ll help you find a good enough answer. Why not? He’s not what you envisioned in a romantic partner. He wasn’t gentle, well-spoken, or even stimulating.
He seemed like a good conversationalist during that ten-minute coffee break, but he kept pushing for a late dinner with you. When you finally relented, you found he lacked any real substance. He was… dull, hot, but bland. He didn’t have strong beliefs like you, lacked wit, and seemed entitled.
Sure, you could have let him take you home and given him something to remember you by. But, considering how dull he was over dinner, you doubted he could impress you in the bedroom. Why go looking for disappointment?
You force a small smile, gentle eyes leaving the SUV’s flooring to look at Spencer. “Didn’t pass the benchmark, I’m afraid.” It’s meant to be a joke, but your delivery is slightly off. You sound somewhat saddened by the fact, and Spencer debates asking you what’s wrong. However, discussing your dating life is not his strong suit. Instead, he simply delivers a curt nod, lips drawn into a tight line as the car falls silent on the way to the tarmac.
A week later, it’s one of those rare days when the BAU team stays in DC. Indeed, this week is a way to make up for lost time. Spencer has heard about two coffee dates, one dinner date, and how you’re going on a lunch date this upcoming Saturday. Not that you’re telling him necessarily; he tries his hardest not to ask about your dating habits out of fear that you’ll eventually catch on to his hopeless crush on you and break his heart before he’s mentally prepared for such a tragedy.
No, he hears about your escapades from Penelope, Emily, or JJ. Mostly in passing gossip sessions, he hears when he shouldn’t be eavesdropping. He’s not the biggest fan of gossip, especially when said gossip is about a coworker, but he can’t stop listening when it’s about you.
The second he hears your name leave one of their lips, he pours his coffee a little slower in the break room or takes smaller bites of his lunch. He even held the elevator doors for the group of women on a handful of occasions so he could silently listen in. Morgan says he’s whipped (and after Spencer gets clarification on what that terminology entails, he nervously disagrees).
He’s just a naturally curious person. His high IQ can be blamed here— you’re a constant question on his mind. He cannot solve you, and every time he thinks he’s close, you switch it up on him.
Penelope is trying to be discreet—genuinely— she’s walking at a normal pace, a rested smile on her face, and the feathered flower pinned into her blonde curls shakes slightly as she approaches Emily’s desk. Her eyes look towards your desk, glad to find you lost in conversation with Anderson. Spencer watches her anyway.
Emily’s eyebrows raise as Penelope leans down and whispers something into the small space between them, which is effective because Spencer can’t hear anything (much to his dismay). Emily reels her head back, shocked as she mutters in disbelief, “No way.”
Penelope beams, nodding quickly and letting out a drawn-out “Mhm!”
Spencer wonders if it has anything to do with Anderson. Could they be alluding to the two of you getting together? Spencer would feel nervous about the idea, but you never dated coworkers. Besides, Anderson didn’t have that boyish charm you so adore. Spencer thinks he can mark him as safe.
But what else could it be? He’s trying his hardest not to stare at Penelope and Emily as they whisper to each other a few feet away, his eyes darting around the case file in his hands as his mind runs away with him. His gaze occasionally flits over to your desk, taking note of that polite smile you’re sporting. Yeah, you’re definitely not into Anderson.
Something work-related? No, that sounds ridiculous the second he thinks it. He blinks, forcing himself to set down the case file and mull over all the probabilities. He feels like it’s too obvious to be a date. You go on those all the time. And he doubts it's a second date update because those never end well for you. However, there is a slight chance that this time, it did.
He’s still in the process of analyzing every bit of information related to you when he hears an open laugh from Penelope as she follows Emily over to your desk. Anderson is nowhere to be seen as you settle back into your desk chair, barely looking up when Emily asks, “You’re taking a break from dating?”
“Derek is such a gossip.”
“Don’t blame him, he can’t resist me.” Penelope sighs out.
Emily dismisses the comment with a slight wave, “For how long?”
You shrug, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, “I don’t know. Until I feel like talking to a man again?”
“Oh my god, an indefinite hiatus!”
You chuckle a little, “Why do you care so much?” You couldn’t imagine your dating life being that interesting. Then again, you have dated some questionable people.
Penelope gasps, hands reaching her chest, “Why do we care? You’re the only thing that saves us from boredom. You’re water in this gossip dessert. Don’t let us dehydrate, please, please.” Her palms press together as she begs you.
A strange laugh escapes you, your shoulders shaking as you giggle. “Listen, I really need—” You gently swat at Penelope’s still clasped hands, “I need a break from all the disingenuous compliments and ploys to get into my pants—” you scoff. Spencer’s heart stutters in his chest; he’s empathetic towards your feelings. He wants what’s best for you, of course (that and this could be his once-in-a-lifetime chance to see you be wholly unattached, his chance). “I need to be alone and work on some things before I date again, simple as that.” Well, so much for his chance.
“She’s so wise.” Emily turns to Penelope, her tone mocking. “Isn’t she so wise?”
“Oh, on par with Buddha.”
Your eyes shine with amusement, though you keep your tone serious, “Yes, laugh at me all you want for being a healthy person.”
Two months later, your hiatus is still going strong. Spencer has not seen or heard of any flirty endeavors surrounding you, much to the other’s dismay. It’s true in a way, gossip is drier during your dry spell. There’s been no mention of terrible dates nor any mention of bad kisses on first dates, or worse, lousy lays.
Spencer has never had any issues talking to you, but lately, he’s noticed you’re prone to daydreaming. You’ll stare off sometimes during a lull or mutter to yourself in the breakroom. He wants to ask how you're feeling amidst your break from dating, but it feels like such an intimate topic that he’s hesitant to approach it.
So now, he’s watching you watch Emily flirt with some stranger at the bar. This week has been grueling, with case after case. It never gets easier, but moments like these—the whole team spending time together—make it less painful at the end of the day. Spencer’s nursing his whiskey, always a slow drinker, but his attentions are on you as you roll the straw of your mojito between your fingers.
Eventually, after a quick sip of whisky, he gains the courage to ask, “Everything alright?”
You jump at the sound of his voice beside you, but you still smile at him when you turn to look at him. You open your mouth for a moment, then close it again, then open it again, “Yes.” You say in a strange voice— a twisted mixture of confident and drained.
Spencer raises an eyebrow, his expression letting you know that he doesn’t truly believe you. You laugh a little at that look of disbelief before your shoulders slump, and you mutter a soft, “I sort of miss dating.”
“Sort of?” It's more confident, more teasing than he’d like, but it just slips out of him. His cheeks are tinted the prettiest shade of pink, and you try your hardest not to stare at him.
Your eyes shift to the drink in your hands, fingers leaving the straw as you elaborate on the topic. “I don’t know. I didn’t think I would miss the flirty conversations or feeling wanted.” You trail off for a moment, eyes not meeting his for a moment. “Does that make me sound,” Your eyes finally reach his, “Conceited?” Your gaze is so full of worry that he has to stop himself from shouting his answer upon impact.
Instead, he swallows down a shocked breath, shaking his head. “No! No, you’re not conceited. That’s normal, considering all the attention you…well, attract.”
“Great,” You murmur, frowning. “You think that I’m some shameless, attention-seeking seductress,” gazing downcast at your mojito.
Spencer laughs nervously, “What?” He can’t deny that the seductress part might be true— you could seduce a saint, he’s sure. “I think a lot of things about you when I think about you, but shameless, attention-seeking seductress is not one of them.”
He’s melting at the look you give him. Head slightly bowed, looking up at him through those long lashes of yours, full lips in a slight pout. “Really?”
“Really.” He squeaks, much to your delight— the alcohol is messing with your head.
You sit a little straighter at that, sighing, “So, what do you think about when you think about me?” You ask, teasing Spencer wasn’t something you did often. The team teases him so much that you feel bad joining in. But you can’t help yourself, not when he’s looking at you with his gorgeous, honey eyes. All wide and deer-like, fuck, he’s pretty.
You would feel bad for thinking about your coworker like this, but in the dim lighting of this bar, you find that you don’t mind. Truth be told, if Spencer Reid weren’t your coworker, you would have worked some charms on him a long time ago. He was so pretty, so receptive to new ideas, a genius, a man of his word. God, he was so sincere. Why is that such a turn-on?
You drag your tongue along your bottom lip, lost in thought, a movement not lost on Spencer as he can’t seem to take his eyes off your lips. His mouth is dry, and his voice is caught in his throat as he stammers out a gentle, “What–” he clears his throat, trying to stop his voice from sounding so high, “What do I think about?”
That slow smile makes his heartbeat skip a beat, he’s seen that smile before, and he’s screwed if you decide to do anything more than teasing him. “Yeah, you said you think lots of things when you think about me. I’m curious.”
“Well, I, uhm,” He swallows, his tongue feels like sandpaper. His eyes shift down to his whiskey, his gaze shifting between you, his drink, and the table. “ I think you’re kind. You’re always willing to help a friend, like when you made all those meals for Penelope after she got shot.” Your expression softens at that, your teasing smile melting into something warmer. He takes this as a sign to keep going, “You’re considerate. I think you could make Hotch smile, I’m sure you have, all because of your sense of humor. You rarely judge people; you’ve never judged me. You’re empathetic, seeing you connect with people so easily, it’s— you have this gift for shifting your perspective, and I—”
“Spencer,” You cut him off with a gentle touch of your hand on his. You’re quiet for a moment, eyes searching his, looking for some kind of sign of deception, but finding none. Your gaze warms him to his core, melting away anything cold residing within him. “Thank you.”
He lets out a soft stammer of confusion, about to ask you why you’re thanking him, but instead, he regains some of his composure and nods. “Anytime.” He hates how cold his hand feels when your fingers leave his skin. Everything about you is so warm: your smile, your laugh, your touch— and against all reason— he’s sure he could survive frigid winters as long as he spends them by your side.
An hour later, you’ve ditched the idea of feeling sorry for yourself. You were seemingly determined to make your own fun. And you were. Penelope had bought a second round of drinks, and you chose something a little stronger than the mojito from before, and drank it fast. It wasn’t enough to get you drunk, but it did give you a slight buzz, feeling looser now as you spun around the dance floor with Penelope.
Penelope’s sure that your voice will be gone from how loud you’re singing to the song the DJ just started playing, laughing harder as you place a finger to her lips, grab hold of both of her shoulders, and dance to the beat.
Spencer isn’t a dancer, well, he can slow dance, but he doubts he could keep up with you right now. So, he lingers on the sidelines of the bar. He —like many of the men at this bar— can’t take his eyes off of you as you spin around in a sloppy circle. The way you move your hips in a circle has his head cocking to the side, focusing on the slope of your lower—
A chuckle can be heard beside him, making Spencer stand up straight, turning to look at Derek. Derek, who has the biggest grin on his face, is shaking his finger at Spencer. Spencer rears back his head, giving his friend an odd look. “What?”
“Nothing.” Okay, so he’s lying. Derek stuffs his hands in his pockets, acting aloof as Spencer stares him down. Derek, however, has his attention on you and Penelope. “You know,” there it is, “She’s gonna need someone to walk her home.”
“Who?” For a genius, Spencer can be incredibly dense at times.
Derek sends a deadpanned look his way, eyebrows raising, waiting for Spencer to catch on. Spencer blinks, his brows furrowed in confusion, oblivious to what Derek is saying. Derek groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose before dragging his hand down his face.
He then points over to you, Spencer’s gaze following his finger. “Ms. Vixen, Pretty Girl, the Man-eater of the BAU, the temptress of the —” Spencer holds up a hand, cutting him off.
“I get it, okay?” Even though he knows that Derek’s joking, Spencer’s tone still comes out clipped. He forces his shoulders to relax.
“She’s going to need someone to walk her home,” Derek says in a calmer tone, his shoulders shrugging slightly.
Spencer stammers, flustered with the idea of walking you home. To be honest, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He wouldn’t let it. His imagination runs wild when it comes to you, and he daydreams about the oddest things— the taste of your skin, his palm on your lower back. “Didn’t she come with you and Penelope?”
Derek clicks his tongue, “Nope, she lives two blocks over, walked here.”
“Oh,” He responds lamely, his arms crossing over his chest. He chews lightly on his bottom lip, thinking it over. He had his whiskey over an hour ago and had been nursing a water, but it didn’t matter much, considering he, too, walked here. “Well, I mean, I can’t assume, wouldn’t it be rude to think she’d,” He bounces around before he drops his arms at his sides. “You think she‘d say yes?”
“What makes you think she’d say no?”
“I don’t know,” Spencer tries to think of a good reason as to why he’s worried you’d turn him down, but finds nothing but his own insecurities. He knows that you’re kind; he knows if you didn’t want to do something, you wouldn’t. Spencer finds that very reassuring. “Just don’t want her to think I’m weird.”
Derek barks out a sharp laugh as if he knows something that Spencer doesn’t. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Pretty Boy.”
Spencer wants to ask why, but Derek looks away from him before he gets the chance. Spencer steals a glance over to the dance floor, watching as Penelope and you giggle yourselves away from the crowd.
Your pupils are dilated, and Spencer is sure that if he pressed a hand to your cheek, your skin would be warm, either from the alcohol or light giggles still leaving your lips. He feels his lips twitch upwards at the sound of them, broken up with soft gasps of air as you and Penelope hold onto each other in front of them. His heart clenches in his chest as he hears your giggles die away, and your gaze meets his. He wishes he could keep you this giddy all the time.
Your face relaxes into a gentle smile, and you let out a slow sigh. “Hi,” you motioned between Derek and Spencer with a wave of your hand. “What are we talking about?”
Derek cuts Spencer off before he has the chance to embarrass himself. “We were actually discussing leaving,” Derek says, much to Penelope’s dismay.
She’s frowning, and Derek knows he can’t tell the blonde his plan to get these two together, not yet, anyway. Spencer’s pining is evident to anyone with eyes, and you aren’t exactly smooth either, always choosing men who look strikingly similar to your lanky coworker.
“It is getting pretty late,” You mutter, sobering up a little at the idea of walking yourself home at this late hour.
Worry must be written across your face because Spencer is softly clearing his throat. “I can walk you home,” he offers in a soft voice. You don’t even question how he knew that you walked here. Instead, you can feel your cheeks flush. The idea is tempting, but it feels somewhat… intimate.
“That’s okay,” You begin, “You don’t have to go out of your way–”
“I don’t mind!” He’s leaning into you, nodding his head slowly. “I’d sleep better knowing you got home safe.”
A little tiny voice inside of you is shrieking with delight at that, but you answer him in a reasonably calm voice. “Well,” you tsk, “if it’ll help you sleep better.” Your tone is flirtier than you’d like it to be. You’ll be the first to admit it: It’s hard controlling yourself around him, and being dehydrated and tipsy isn’t helping. “Let me grab my things.”
Spencer is nodding, discarding his plastic cup of water and ensuring he has everything on his person before he looks at Derek, who has very clearly filled Penelope in by now in fast whispers. Derek gently taps a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “Breathe. You’re just walking her home. Remember, you’re already friends with her. She won’t bite… hopefully.”
Spencer prepares to shoot back that he doesn’t need the pep talk because nothing is going to happen, but his mouth snaps shut as you materialize by Penelope’s side. “Ready?” You rock back and forth on your heels, eyes shining.
Spencer’s brows raise, smiling nervously as he hums a shaky-sounding, “Mhm.”
The night air smells fresh and clean with the promise of summer, warm and refreshing. You dragged in a slow inhale through the nose and hummed. A cool breeze brushed over your shoulders for a moment, and you felt awake again, your slight from earlier replaced with a second wind of energy. You glance over at Spencer, who is still holding the bar’s exit door for Penelope and Derek.
He doesn’t look bored or annoyed by the task, and though it’s the tiniest act of kindness, it makes you smile. You hug Penelope, tight and secure around her middle, muttering gentle goodbyes to her in a playful tone. Derek laughs when you bid him farewell in the same style, pulling away from the hug, smiling widely, and shaking his head. He then points at Spencer, “Stay safe,” his gaze moving to you. “Both of you.”
You wave his worries off, nodding, “Dr. Reid, lead the way.”
Spencer lets out a tiny scoff, waving his friends goodbye before doing exactly as you say. You seem incredibly awake, despite the last hour. His eyes are so focused on you as the two of you begin the short walk back to your respective apartments that he almost trips on a crack in the sidewalk, not even ten minutes in, and he’s already making a fool of himself.
You pause your movements, hands raising in the air as if you’re preparing to catch him, “Everything okay?” Your tone gives away your amusement.
He nods, “Yeah, yes, just distracted.”
“How out of character for you.” You tease lightly, sighing out as you lower your hands. You let out a soft hum, thinking about a tune they played at the bar, when you see two bodies pressed up against a wall in the not-so-far distance.
Your shoulders feel tense as you try your hardest not to stare at the couple as they kiss, soft sighs and moans of pleasure leaving one lover’s lips as you force your eyes straight ahead. Spencer, however, is staring. His eyes don’t stay on the couple long as he hears a frustrated sounding exhale from you.
His lips quirk up when he sees you walking with a rigid posture. “Does PDA bother you?” He asks curiously, keeping his voice low as he passes the couple to his right.
You shake your head, cheeks feeling warm at the sound of his voice. “What? No. I just,” You pause, unsure about how much you should be sharing with him anyway. Would he want to hear about how much you missed it, dating, kissing, sex, the touch of someone’s hand in your hair? Your eyes nervously glance at him, then the sidewalk, a soft laugh leaving you. “It’s going to sound so pathetic.”
Spencer finds that highly unlikely, “Try me.”
You bite your lower lip, considering it for a moment. It had only been two months, how could you be so… needy? You can feel the edges of your ears grow warm as the night air— you were so pathetic. How could someone become so touch-starved in such a short amount of time? How could you tell that to him? Then again, Spencer Reid was not quick to judge… though maybe he would be if he knew what you were thinking about right now.
You're slow to smile, and your face looks a little shy and awkward. You speak in a hushed tone, “I think I miss it.”
“Kissing?”
“No, I mean yes, but more than kissing. Touching, heavy-petting, dates,” You dare not glance at him, “Sex.” You can’t stop yourself now, the words leaving you against your will. “I’ve just been stressed, irritable lately, and I think sex… took my mind off things.”
Spencer’s throat fills with cotton, and he tries to swallow normally, going shockingly quiet for someone who always seems to have something to say. It doesn’t last long as he feels the growing silence crawl under his skin— he can’t stand it. “That’s normal, for someone— well, anyone who hasn’t had it, sex, I mean, in a while.” He stops himself from asking how long it has been before continuing. “Regular sex can boost your immune system, am-among other things.”
You grin, “Of course, it does.” You feel lighter hearing Spencer nervously ramble about sex, less judged, more listened to. You glance to your side, admiring the sharp slope of his jaw, the ends of his brown hair curling against his smooth skin. “Don’t stop on my account; I love learning.”
Of course, you do.
It seems to be Spencer’s turn to stare daggers into the distance, following you as you take a left turn. “In some women, sex can lower the risk of heart attacks. Which is funny, Men’s likelihood of a heart attack goes up with continuous sexual activity.” He chuckles lightly, sparing a glance over his left shoulder at you.
His knees feel weak seeing the way you’re looking at him. Your gaze occasionally glances at the sidewalk, but your eyes shine with curiosity. He’s always liked that about you. You’re always willing to listen to his random rants, never poking fun at him. No, it's not like you to laugh at someone for something as direct as knowledge, but you still smile at him.
He keeps going, his hazel eyes focused on you. “Rhythmic stimulation,” He should not look at you as he says this, “During an orgasm, has similar brain activity to dancing.” Your eyebrows raise at that, mouthing a gentle ‘huh’.
“So, what, like birds?”
“Yes! Dancing has been a long-standing method of seduction, so I suppose it stands to reason that muscular stimulation, in that way, would make our brain activity act that way.”
Your head tilts, trying to get the mental image of Spencer’s hands on your waist as you dance against him out of your mind. “I suppose it would. Though I wouldn’t consider orgasmic pulsing to have a steady rhythm.”
Spencer feels his heart stutter against his ribcage, his jaw clenching as his mind graces him with the mental image of you under him, shaking, hips stuttering against his roughly. He blinks, the tips of his ears turning red as he struggles to find something interesting to say. “W-Well,” he squeaks, and he feels panic flood his system, watching your grin widen when you hear such an embarrassing sound. He coughs, fixing his shirt collar, “Oxytocin— endorphins really— are released when dancing, same with uh,” His mouth hangs open for a second as his gaze dips down to your lips, “Climax.”
He’s your coworker, he’s your coworker, coworker, cowork— “Would you consider orgasms to have a steady rhythm?” Honestly? Not the worst question you could ask right now. You just hope that it comes off as you being curious instead of desperately horny.
Spencer needs someone to put him out of misery, cheeks hot as he answers you, “I suppose that maybe, possibly, they could, yes.”
Your chin tilts upwards, and a soft “Uh-huh” leaves you before the two of you are swept up in a slightly charged, albeit awkward, silence. You try to talk down the little voice in your head that seems to be screaming at you for making things so uncomfortable.
Why did you ask him that? What did you expect? Was Spencer supposed to drag you into an alleyway and immediately make you cum? Well, on second thought, that’s not such a bad idea— enough! You try to think of a possible escape from this silence, but all your dirty mind can think about are more inappropriate questions and remarks— just your luck.
“It wouldn’t be such a bad idea.” Spencer’s voice pulls you away from your thoughts.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea––” He clears his throat in an attempt to keep it from closing up, “Having sex, to help with your, uhm, stress problem.” He holds his breath, waiting for your reactions. Morgan told him that the worst thing a person can do is say no, but Spencer disagrees. Said person could scream at him, slap him for being brazen, or stop talking to him altogether. He wouldn’t blame you if you did. Why did he have to say that? Why would he suggest something like that so openly—
Your laughter makes his brain short-circuit. What kind of reaction is that? Did you think he was joking, or did you find his suggestion so funny that you’re laughing at him? His laughter escapes him in a nervous attempt at self-preservation. If he can play this as a joke, maybe you won’t tell Penelope, and then Penelope won’t tell Derek, and Spencer can live another day free of embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” You stammer, “Is the Doctor Spencer Reid suggesting that we sleep together for a dopamine boost?”
He doesn’t know how to save himself from that; his poker face is not a good one, not when it comes to you. His emotions almost always show on his face; there’s no way you’d believe him if he lied. So, he mentally prepares himself for rejection. “Not necessarily, strictly, suggesting anything. I’m just saying that it could be beneficial to you— both of us— if you needed some help with your irritability, since you’re free.”
“Are you saying that I have nothing better going on, so I might as well have sex with you?” He’s not exactly wrong, but you don’t need to admit it.
His cheeks feel hot, burning as he rasps out a shrill, “No! No, speaking from a scientific standpoint, biologically it is one solution to your problem.”
You let out a soft chuckle, breathy and short-lived. He can’t be serious, there’s no way he’s serious. Not Spencer Reid. And if he wasn’t joking, what would you even say? Sure, sounds like a great plan. Do you have a condom, or should we stop at the store? Better yet! Let’s do it raw to reap the full biological benefits of sex together.
It’s not realistic.
Spencer says odd things all the time. Once, he told you about how the spread of ringworms between animals and humans works, solely because of one off-handed comment. Not that you mind, you do enjoy learning, that was no lie. Spencer was a plethora of knowledge, and you trusted every little word that came out of that pretty mouth of his.
He’s grown to be more than just your favorite walking, talking, human encyclopedia. Spencer Reid had the biggest heart, the best laugh, and the softest hazel eyes. He cares about other people intensely, is always willing to go out of his way to listen and help others, and is borderline selfless sometimes. Sure, that was part of the job, but Spencer made it into something more, something raw.
So, no, he couldn’t be suggesting such a thing. Not your Spencer Reid. “You’ve got a weird sense of humor, Reid.” You mutter, your feet falling into sync beside him. You can see your apartment building coming into view and feel your body beginning to long for your bed.
The rest of the walk is quiet, with soft mentions of summer plans and idle chatter. Spencer shouldn’t be so disappointed. You’re still talking to him, still laughing at his jokes, listening to his random facts mid-conversation. You’re willing to make everything go back to normal, ignore his odd suggestion, and go to bed. He should be grateful, and maybe a small part of him is, but the rest of him? The rest of him is so disappointed.
Not because you ignored him, but because you didn’t give him a proper yes or no. Even without a direct answer, he feels rejected, and he’s kicking himself for not being able to make a move like a normal person.
He walks you up to your door, staring at the number four on the outside of your apartment door for longer than necessary as you dig through your bag to find your keys. When you find them, you hold them up with a proud smile. “They materialize.” You muse, your back facing him as you push the key into the lock.
The last thing he wants tonight is for him to walk home regretting something. He could go home lamenting the fact that he didn’t make a move, or he could go home regretting the fact that he did. For him, one of those options is far worse than the other.
Pushing your apartment door open, you begin to turn back towards him, “Thanks for walking me home, Spence, I appreciate it—” A jolt of energy zips through you as Spencer’s lanky fingers wrap around your wrist, yanking your body closer to him. You barely have time to look down at your wrist before he’s inching closer, pressing his lips against yours in one swift movement.
The kiss is timid and far too quick for your liking, and when he pulls away from your lips, he immediately apologizes. “I’m sorry! I know I should have asked you first, but I got so nervous with everything I said earlier and—” The rest of his rushed apology is tuned out as you stare up at him with wide eyes.
In complete amazement, you stare at him like that for what feels like forever. You’d blame it on the alcohol for the way that you find his pathetic ramblings adorable, or for the way you’re reevaluating your conversation from earlier, when you laughed him off. And then there was that little, insistent voice in your head that demanded another kiss, claiming the feeling of a dim spark.
And who were you to deny it?
Spencer’s hands are moving with him as he talks, finger trembling as he explains that he “....couldn’t go home ruminating on the what-ifs and I needed to do something, and Morgan says that confidence is key and I was trying—” Your fingers hook into the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to your level with a rough yank.
Your lips meet his in a sloppy kiss for just a moment before he kisses you back, and when his head tilts ever-so-slightly to the side, it becomes something else entirely. His lips are softer than you expected, hungrily meeting yours. Spencer kisses like he’s starved for attention, for touch. His hands find purchase on your hips, holding you in place with both hands, like he’s scared you’ll disappear.
The way the palms of his hands squeeze at your waist makes you weak at the knees. The kiss has seemingly shifted from tender to needy in a matter of seconds, his lips pressing against yours with a delicious roughness. When you pull away, you can feel your bottom lip tingling, a feeling that leaves you a little lightheaded.
The soft pink of Spencer’s lips is the first thing you’re looking at before pushing him deeper into your apartment. His feet stumble as you force him into your apartment, the flat of your palms on his chest. When the door shuts behind you, the two of you are left in the dark of your apartment. Moonlight seeps through your living room curtains, illuminating the room with a softness so close to ethereal that it leaves Spencer wondering if he’s dreaming.
He’s sure you’re about to tell him that this is a bad idea and send him home, before you let out a frustrated groan and ask him, “Are you sure this is alright?”
Holy shit.
He can feel a faint squeeze in his lower abdomen, licking his lips as he tries to think clearly, for your sake and his. “I want this.” He’s clear with his feelings for once. “And I can promise you I want this and much more.”
As his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, he can see the shine in your eyes. You're staring up at him with the eyes of a woman lost between admiration and awe. You nod slowly, your left hand grabbing his right, “Then don’t keep me waiting.” And while your tone is playful, he can’t help but take it to heart, letting you guide him toward your bedroom.
A soft giggle can be heard from you as you press a quick kiss to his lips, then another, and another, until the back of his knees are hitting the edge of your bed. You lean in slower now, with the tempting promise of a sweeter, sensual kiss—one where Spencer can enjoy the taste of your lips in full. Your lips brush against his as your hands press against his chest, his balance wavering, and then he’s pushed down on the edge of your bed with a light groan of disappointment.
His head is spinning from the teasing brush of your lips, his eyes lingering on them as you smile down at him, the look of innocence. “Did you think I’d make this easy for you?” Your teasing words shoot an electric shiver down his spine, a breathless laugh leaving him as your hands rub his shoulders.
“I don’t believe easy is in your vocabulary.”
“Oh?” You muse, your hands stopping the gentle massage of his shoulders, your left hand leaves a trail of fire up his neck to his chin, tilting it up slowly. Your head cocks to the side, he’s never seen you this smug. Were you like this with everyone else? Or is this just for him? He’s too scared to ask. “Care to elaborate?”
Spencer swallows slowly, trying to keep his voice steady. “You like the challenge. You like having to work for it. I used to think it was because you wanted to be intellectually stimulated, but seeing you like this makes me think that you get off on it. ”
You try to hide your smile, the grip on his chin slacking as your thumb traces a soft pattern on his lower jaw. “God forbid a girl has a bit of fun.” He cracks a smile with that, letting out a low hum as he raises his hands to pull you closer towards the bed, your knees hitting the edge of the bed that lies between his thighs.
Spencer’s pleading eyes almost make you cave, those soft chocolate pools of desire almost too alluring to resist. Almost. Although you guess he deserves a little treat before the night begins. You lean down, cupping both cheeks to press a slow kiss to his lips. Spencer matches your energy, not taking the kiss up a notch until you do, one of your hands straying to the root of his hair and pulling lightly at his brown curls while your tongue slowly slides against his bottom lip.
Fighting back a groan, Spencer eagerly parts his lips for you. Your tongue drags against his, exploring his mouth at a torturous pace. Spencer can feel his cock, begging for some friction, jump inside his pants as you softly suck on his bottom lip. He’s breathing hard, your mouth swallowing most of his groans and sighs, until your teeth pull at his bottom lip and he lets out a sweet, quiet whimper.
You pull away, and Spencer can feel himself spiraling before you push his hair back and whisper a breathy, “So good, baby.” His genius mind is out of commission after that, and whatever energy, whatever brain cells he has left over are now yours to use as you like. “Lean against the headboard.”
It’s a direct order that he immediately follows. He’s kicking off his shoes as fast as possible, moving around on your bed until his back hits the headboard.
His enthusiasm both excites you and amuses you, your eyes rolling with a playful shake of your head. He watches as you crawl over to him on the bed, swallowing hard as his eyes take you in. He’s waiting for his alarm to go off and for him to wake up in bed, without you, alone, and painfully hard.
You let out a short laugh, seeing his wide-eyed expression, “You’re sure you still want this?” You ask as you reach him, your eyes on his.
Spencer’s answer is a quick, “Yes!” which makes you smile wide at him, “Are you?” His fingers are itching to touch you, but he keeps them in his lap, fidgeting.
You let out a playful hum as you swing a leg over his lap, carefully straddling him. “Yes," you answer, looking down at him. You lean in, teasing his lips with a light brush, leaning away whenever Spencer tilts his head up in a vain attempt to kiss you thoroughly.
“Patience is a virtue.” Your lips brush against his as you whisper, kissing the corner of his lips, much to his dismay.
Spencer would say he’s not usually this needy, but he doesn't have ample experience to draw from anyway. He can only blame his neediness on you. You who is grinning from ear-to-ear as you kiss his cheek, you who is hovering over his lap, you who is laughing when you see his pleading expression. You mutter something that Spencer can vaguely make out as disappointed, “Greedy.” Before your lips press firmly onto his.
He could spend hours kissing you. In fact, if nothing else happens tonight, he’d walk home happy knowing he kissed you like this. Your languid kisses easily turn hungry as Spencer slides his hands to your waist, guiding you to sit on his lap. He can feel a ghost of a smile against his lips, his hands squeezing gently at your sides as you resume your earlier task of exploring his mouth with your tongue.
You swallow a groan from Spencer as you take a moment to suck on his tongue, his hand gripping your waist tighter. Letting out a muffled hum of pleasure, you grind your hips down on his with almost perfect precision.
Spencer’s back goes rigid, feeling the way your hips grind against his, unsure if it’s okay for a moment before lust wins out against logic. His large hands tighten around your clothed hips, pulling your hips down against his until he’s rutting his hips against yours like a dog in heat. He can feel your grin against his lips again, and he’s already whining by the time you pull away from him. Your hips lean away from his, sitting up on your knees.
His eyes look dazed, lust and confusion dancing in them as he tries his best not to come off as anxious, “Why’d you stop?” His breathy voice sends a shiver down your spine, right to your core.
“You want to take my clothes off, don’t you?” You leave his lap, moving to the side of his outer right thigh to properly strip.
His parted lips snap shut, nodding as fast as he can, immediately playing to your whims. You raise an eyebrow, “You need to learn to let a girl have her fun with you.” You muse as your hands reach for the edge of your top. Spencer’s heart rate doubles as he watches your fingers curl around the bottom hem.
His gaze darts between your fingers and your face, but his brows knit together, clearly confused. “What do you mean?” You’re pulling your top off painfully slow, and he’s debating asking you if he can do it for you.
Your top is passing your midriff. “If I’m on top,” His breath catches in his throat as he sees the bottom swell of your breast, “And if I want to tease you, learn how to take it.”
“Jesus Christ,” He shifts under you, your words reminding him how his erection is going ignored. “I’m going to need a good teacher.” It’s meant to be witty, but his tone sounds so strained that he’s surprised that you aren’t laughing at him right now. His eyes, not knowing what to stare at, barely meet yours before the sight of your lace-covered breasts enthralls him.
His strained, whiny voice has your body feeling hot all over. Making a mental note to make this man whine some more, you throw your top off to the side of the bed, hands making a beeline for your pants. “Oh, how exciting.” You slide out of them, leaving you in your bra and panties. “Your first lesson.”
Spencer, feeling awkward that he’s still fully clothed, begins to pull his shirt off. But when he goes to undo his pants, your fingers cover his. Your fingers are quick to pull his pants down to his thighs, and Spencer kicks them off without needing to be told.
You were a professional; you didn’t sleep with coworkers, no matter how tempting. Spencer Reid, however, is your forbidden fruit. His hazel eyes, wide and soft with need, make your chest clench with affection. You can feel some part of you salivating for another taste of him, knowing you’re too far gone to listen to reason.
Your gaze is slow to drop to his lap, eyes flickering across his bare chest, then down to the bulging outline of his cock against the thin material of his boxers. You hesitate, just for a moment, hand hovering in the air before you gently trace the outline of his cock through his boxers— undeniably pretty.
“Just for me?” Your head is bowed, eyes looking up through your lashes. Spencer lets out a shaky sigh, nodding a wordless response. You drag your index fingers roughly against the tip of his clothed dick. “Words, Spence.”
“Yes,” He whines, groaning as your hands pull down his boxers. “It’s all for you.”
“Very good.” Then, you're pulling his boxers down, gaze hungry as you expose Spencer’s hard cock inch by inch. You shift slightly to help him pull his boxers off, but your eyes are locked onto his cock. Red, hot tip with a slight curve towards his stomach, thick and twitching. You swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth slowly, and millions of ways to tease him immediately come to mind.
He tries to stop himself from feeling hot under your intense gaze, fighting the urge to beg you not to stare. He’s about to cave when you reach your left hand into your panties. A gentle groan leaves your lips as you swipe your fingers along the entrance of your warm cunt, “I can do that—” Spencer begins, but you’ve already stopped touching yourself, pulling your left hand away from your heat, fingers covered in your slick. You wrap your hands around his length, and Spencer has to stop his hips from immediately bucking at the feeling of your slick-covered hand.
“What was that, pretty boy?” Your hand slowly begins to move up and down the length of his cock.
Usually, Spencer would say something in rebuttal to that nickname, but the only thing you can hear right now is the sounds of him letting out tiny moans. He sputters, trying to reply, but your grip grows tighter as your hands move down his length, and all you get is a pathetic-sounding whine.
Leaning in to press a wet kiss to his shoulder, you watch as Spencer’s hips jolt when your index finger does a quick sweep over the pretty pink head of his cock. “Feels so much better than your hand, huh?” You read his mind, looking up at him.
Spencer’s head nods, breathing picking up as your lips suck on the sensitive skin of his neck as your hand steadily strokes him. “I–” You pick up the pace, teeth dragging against his pulse point. “Mmm, I’ve fantasized about you touching me like this.” He has no reason to lie, not now. He has pictured what it could feel like to have your fingers wrapped around his cock instead of his own, how you’d spread the pre-cum around the head of his cock, how you’d look licking his cum off of your hand.
His breathy admission earns him a soft groan, “Often?” You sound excited as you pull away from his neck. The idea of fulfilling one of his fantasies leaves you with an oddly triumphant sense of pride. Truth be told, he was fulfilling your fantasy: having Spencer Reid whining and moaning at your touch—a guilty pleasure on lonely nights.
Spencer doesn’t want to look you in the eyes when he answers, but he does anyway, your lustful gaze making it hard for him to look away. “Yes.”
You let out a satisfied sounding hum, looking away from him to lean down closer to his cock, for a second he’s sure you’re about to take him into your mouth. But, he isn’t disappointed when he sees a long trail of spit leaving your lips and coating the head of his cock.
Your hands helps coat your spit all around his cock and he’s in heaven. His head leaning back against the headboard as your hand brings him closer to the best orgasm he’s ever had. “ I-I’m, oh god,” He pants out, head rolling to the side to catch your gaze. “I won’t last very long if you keep this up. I’m not as experienced as,” His mouth falls open mid-sentence as you move your hand faster, letting out a cry of pleasure.
“I’m not, shit—” He swallows hard, “I’m not as experienced as I’d like to be, can–can’t last that long with you doing that!” He practically shouts at the end of his sentence.
“With a cock this pretty,” You give his length one last pump, “I find that hard to believe.” Carefully letting go of his cock, after all you want to have fun too. If Spencer thought his cock was being ignored before, he wasn’t expecting this. He whines, feeling the warmth of your hand leave him, his breathing heavy.
Your hand, covered in remnants of spit, dips into your underwear where you haphazardly smear the spit against your folds. Spencer’s heart skips a beat, enjoying the show you make of pulling your panties off your body. He almost sobs when you straddle his lap again, carefully sitting with your dripping core pressed directly onto his aching cock.
You let out a shaky groan when Spencer’s hips buck into yours, a wild look in his eyes that makes him seem more animalistic than needy. You can feel your walls squeeze around nothing as the head of his cock slowly grinds up into your clit. You bite your bottom lip to muffle a low moan, shuddering above him.
Your lips part, staring down at him with half-lidded eyes as Spencer’s brows furrow and eyes flutter shut with every needy rock of his hips. His hands grab at your hips, pushing and guiding you down to meet his. It’s not nearly enough and the both of you know it, the desperate urge to fill your sopping cunt to his heart's content growing with every pleasured sigh that leaves your lips.
“Please,” Spencer’s hands move to swell of your ass, gripping the skin hard as he uses your pussy lips as his personal toy. His breath is hot against your chest, lips leaving sloppy kisses below your collarbone. To him, you’re ethereal, a seraph, as you grind your pussy lips against his length and he desperately needs to be inside you. He needs to know how the cunt of an angel feels as soon as possible. “Let me fuck you.”
Fuck. It’s not a question, nor a demand, but a plea. His wording makes you groan, the idea that he has to beg to fuck you like this, that you have control over him like this. You’ve imagined Spencer in bed a handful of times, assuming that he’d be timid, yes, but fantasies are nothing compared to hearing that desperate plea.
You reposition your knees, pressing your chest into his face as you reach between your legs to guide him to your entrance. Spencer’s hands knead against the plump skin of your ass as you slowly sink down on him, a shaky exhale can be heard from the both of you. The fact that you haven’t been stretched out on his fingers dawns on you as you struggle to relax around the girth of his cock.
And Spencer seems to have the same thought, his hands snaking up your back to unlatch your bra. Once off, his lips sucking and nipping at the skin around your right nipple before his lips latch around its aroused bud. Your discomfort is partially forgotten as the flat of his tongue drags against the sensitive bud. A gasp, followed by a small, “Mhmm, that’s it.” Your hands leave his shoulders to push his hair back and away from his face as he focuses on his task, threading your fingers into his brown locks.
Your core swallows the rest of him whole, and you experimentally grind your hips down on his cock. His eyes, previously half-lidded, widen for a second before looking up at you. His lips still attached to your breast, eyes silently pleading for more, for anything, he has you teasing him with a light clench of your walls around him.
“Remember what I told you, Reid,” Spencer remembers… well, practically everything. But memories are hard to conjure when he’s buried deep inside you, velvet walls pulsing around him. Leaning away from your breast, a trail of spit still connects your skin to his tongue. “Learn how to take it.” You playfully scold, right thumb trailing down from his hair to swipe at the spit on his lips. “You can do that, can’t you?”
Spencer’s lips twitch into a soft smile, your thumb tracing a soft pattern against his bottom lip. “I can do that.” He confirms with a gentle tone, eyes searching yours. The man beneath you looks lovesick, drunk on your touch, perfectly content to spend his days doing whatever you tell him, obedient.
The thought that he’ll do anything you say. The first move from you is a gentle roll of your hips, followed by a slow exhale. The sting of discomfort readily gets replaced with pleasure as you begin to ride him. Your palms move to grip the headboard behind Spencer’s shoulders, tilting your head to the side to carefully observe him, getting off on every little reaction he shows you.
A quick, lust-filled smile graces your lips as you move your hips up and down at a slow and steady pace. Spencer’s head tilts back slightly, soft sighs of pleasure leaving his parted lips everytime your hips sink down on his cock. “Is that good?”
You're teasing him, and he’d be dumb not to notice it; he knows that you can see—feel— how much he’s enjoying this, hear it even. Nevertheless, his head nods quickly as he rasps a mewl of a “Yes, so good.”
Canting your hips closer, you pick up the pace. The slight change in your position has his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside your pussy that has you shivering ontop of him, electricity coursing down your spine. Your eyes flutter closed, chasing after that feeling, panting as you use Spencer’s cock to bring yourself closer to your climax.
Spencer’s hips meet yours now as you ride him faster, the slapping and squelching of skin meeting skin can be heard alongside a cacophony of sinful-sounding moans and pants. Spencer’s head is thrown back, brows drawn together as he staves off his orgasm, wanting to drag this out for as long as possible. “Oh, god,” your name falls from his mouth in a string of pathetic-sounding moans, “Oh, Mommy—” He squeaks as he realizes the words that have escaped the dirtiest parts of his mind. His rosy cheeks turn slightly pale, eyes peering open to see your reaction.
Your cunt squeezes him tighter when his worried eyes reach yours. Your gaze isn’t filled with disgust, but darkened with desire. “What was that baby?” You gasp out, hips expertly snapping down onto his. Spencer’s mouth falls open to shamelessly repeat himself, but it’s too much for him. His words choking in the back of his throat as cries of pleasure replace them.
Pouting, you snap your hips down onto his with an abrupt stop. Spencer lets out a strangled sounding sob as you tilt his chin up, “Oh, Spencer, baby, do you need to say something?” You’re breathless and so, so, so, so close, but you need to hear him repeat those words before you cum.
Spencer’s chest softly heaves, blinking away the confusion in his eyes as you squeeze your tight walls around him, his hips struggling against yours. It’s hard to tease him properly as the head of his cock keeps grinding into your g-spot, your mind becoming hazy with pleasure. But you can’t risk stopping, not when you’re this close. Your lips part, a whine threatening to leave them as you speak, “I’m so s’close, you can handle a little more. Just a-a little longer.” Your voice trembles for a second, but it coaxes a gentle moan out of him nonetheless.
His cock feels desperate to empty into you as you deny him his orgasm with another sharp, “Not yet.” He feels he must obey your demand, his head becoming lightheaded whenever you order him around. He can feel tightening around him, walls fluttering against him with every second you get closer to your climax.
Spencer can feel his eyes prickle with tears, his bottom lip trembling, “I need to cum. Need to cum, let me cum, Mommy.”
You let out a broken laugh as he finally says the words you were so desperately waiting for, “You’re the one who asked for this, Spence.” You managing to speak so coldly to him while vigorously bouncing on his cock has him letting out another weak sob, “Look at you, you can barely handle it.” Your moans are becoming louder and slightly animalistic. “Let me use you while I can.”
You do exactly that, using him as you feel your orgasm crashing on you, your hands move to his shoulders, nails dragging against his skin as you loudly cry out for him. When your hips stutter against his, your body shuddering and melting into pleasure, Spencer is quick to buck his hips erratically up to yours, helping you ride out your orgasm to the fullest.
Spencer is quick to follow, grabbing your hips tightly to pull himself out of you with a curse, his seed coating your pussy lips and inner thighs. “I’m sorry,” He pants out, the ends of his hair sticking to his forehead, “I’m sorry, I’m–”
“Spencer, it’s okay.” You exhale, panting lightly as you look down at him with a lazy grin.
He’s quiet after that, his grip of your hips loosening as you dip your head to look at him, forehead slowly pressing against his. You let out a little laugh, exhausted and giddy, “You good?”
He lets out a soft ‘mhm’ that tells that all his energy has left him. You can’t judge him; your body is suspiciously close to crashing. You can hear him mumble your name, and you move your head away from his, “Yes?”
“Are you—” He stops, licking his lips, “I’d like it if we could be—” He struggles to find the right words, anxiety and exhaustion making him into a simpering fool.
But you’re grinning, so he must be doing something right. He’s about to attempt his messy request to be the only man in your love life when you mutter a soft, whisper-like, “I’d love to be exclusive with you, Dr. Reid. On one condition.”
You smooth his hair back, out of his face, “We keep this between us until we’re ready to tell the team, I don’t need a team of profilers in my love life— not while we’re together.”
Spencer can feel his chest tighten, watching as you move to hold your pinkie finger towards him. He links his pinkie around yours, “Deal,” He laughs. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Spencer finds acting normal around you increasingly difficult, especially when you keep leaving flirty notes telling him to meet you in the supply closet in ten minutes on his desk (for the fourth time this week). Ever challenging when you insist that your ‘innocent’ little rendezvous won’t lead anywhere, but your plump lips kiss his so hard that they’re swollen in seconds.
He knows the team knows something is amiss, but he can’t think to worry about it as his head finds a place between your hips, your fingers threading into his hair as you bite your swollen bottom lip in a weak attempt to quiet yourself.
JJ and Emily note your absence this fine Wednesday morning, something Derek doesn’t find too interesting until he sees that Spencer is also missing. But who is he to ruin it for Spencer? He’s sure the boy genius has you on a mini-coffee date at some café across the street.
Well, he was sure, until he rounded the corner to see you stumble out of a supply closet, your hair ruffled and makeup smudged. He almost calls out your name when he notices Spencer tailing behind you, his cardigan ruffled and hair equally tousled. Derek’s jaw drops open, waiting and standing in awe as you blow Spencer a kiss and head in the opposite direction toward the bathrooms.
The second Spencer turns to see his friend, the smile drops away from his face, and the color leaves his cheeks. Morgan’s smile is reminiscent of the Cheshire cat’s as he draws out a proud “My man!” and Spencer feels dread fill his soul. He’s never going to live this down.

#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#x reader#criminal minds x reader#spencer x you#dr spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid criminal minds#doctor spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#professor reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid smut#spencer reid season 4#criminal minds fanfic#dr reid#bau reader#maneater reader#sub spencer reid#early season spencer reid
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An Accidental Marriage
Spencer Reid x fem! reader fluffy fluffy fluffy
Spencer Reid never thought he'd start his morning by nearly choking to death on his beloved coffee. But, then again, he also never thought he’d get accidentally married and find out about it at the same time the rest of the 6th floor at the FBI.
Yet here he was—standing in the BAU’s bullpen, coughing and sputtering as the one person he never expected to see in Virginia stormed into the room and screamed:
"DID YOU KNOW THE MARRIAGE WAS REAL?!"
Everyone seemed to freeze. The usual hum of the FBI’s elite profiling unit went completely silent as every single agent turned to stare at the scene unfolding before them.
Emily Prentiss slowly set down her mug. Luke Alvez raised an eyebrow. Tara Lewis and JJ exchanged glances. Penelope Garcia, the BAU’s self appointed gossip queen, visibly perked up like a cat spotting a canary. And Spencer? Spencer was still choking.
“Marriage?” JJ echoed, tilting her head. “Spence, is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
His childhood best friend—you—stood in front of him, arms crossed, expression half exasperated, half completely bewildered. What were you doing in Virginia? You wen't supposed to finalize your move until next month. Did he get the months wrong? He never got the months wrong but then again thinking about you always did something to his brain, he thought.
“I went to get my license updated, Spencer. My license. And do you know what I found out?” You didn’t wait for him to answer, waving an official-looking paper in front of his face. “I have been legally married for ten years and nobody thought to tell me?”
Spencer finally managed to recover, rubbing his throat before he pushed his glasses up his nose, his mind whirring. “Wait, wait, wait—how is that even possible?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Crash maybe it’s because we signed a legal document at that stupid fair years ago thinking it was a joke when it was actually real!” The moment you called him Crash, the way you had since you were kids (a nickname born from his clumsy nature and his inability to stay upright for long), something clicked in his brain.
The fair. The marriage booth.
The backup plan.
“Oh my God,” Spencer whispered.
“Oh my God is right!” you cried
Penelope practically vibrated in her seat. “Wait, wait, wait—did I just hear correctly? My favorite boy genius has been secretly married for ten years and didn’t know it?! This is better than any rom-com I’ve ever seen!”
Luke smirked. “And you never thought to check?”
“Why would I check? It's Spencer!” Penelope cried
Rossi, who had been listening with an amused expression, leaned back in his chair. “Alright, kids, humor the old man. Start from the beginning.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, and plopped into the nearest chair. Spencer sat beside you, running a hand through his hair.
“Okay,” you started. “Spencer and I grew up together in Vegas. We were best friends. Like, inseparable. Hi, by the way names Y/N and I probably know a lot about all of you.” Spencer nodded. “We met when we were six years old. Statistically, most childhood friendships don’t last into adulthood, but we were an anomaly.”
Emily waved a hand. “Cute, but get to the part where you got married.”
You rolled your eyes, not liking that people didn't like Spencers facts. “When we were kids, we made a pact. If we weren’t married by forty, we’d marry each other. You know, as a backup plan.”
JJ let out a small aw before covering her mouth.
“Then,” Spencer continued, “when we were twenty, we ran into each other while I was visiting my mom in Vegas, Y/N was supposed to be visiting her sister in California but missed her plane. There was a fair at the local community college, and we thought it would be fun to relive our childhood for a day and spend the whole day together like we used to.”
You groaned, rubbing your temples. “And that’s when we saw it. The stupid marriage booth.”
Luke frowned. “Marriage booth?”
Spencer nodded. “It was part of the fair attractions. A fake wedding setup where couples could take pictures, sign a certificate, and get one of those novelty ‘marriage’ papers. We thought it was funny—like a way to get a head start on our backup plan.”
“Turns out,” you grumbled, “since we were in Vegas, it wasn’t fake at all.” The room went silent. And then Penelope excitedly screamed.
“Oh. My. God.” Penelope clutched her chest like she was about to faint. “That is the most romantic accidental love story I have ever heard.”
Spencer shook his head. “It’s not romantic! It was a mistake.”
“I don’t know, kid,” Rossi said with a smirk. “Sounds a lot like fate to me.”
You groaned, throwing your hands in the air. “That’s exactly what the lady at the DMV said when she showed me the proof!”
Tara leaned forward. “And now what?”
You glanced at Spencer. “I guess we get it annulled.”
For some reason, the thought sent an odd pang through Spencer’s chest. Annulled? Why did the thought of getting it annulled make him want to through up?
Emily leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. “Or—” she drawled, eyes gleaming mischievously, “you could just stay married.”
“What?” you and Spencer said in unison.
Tara shrugged. “You were childhood best friends. You made a pact to marry each other if you didn’t find anyone else. Maybe this was fate stepping in early.”
“Fate,” Spencer repeated blankly.
“Oh, you cannot annul this,” Penelope gasped. “This is the most romantic accidental love story ever. Think of the story you’ll have for your grandchildren!”
Just as you were beginning to protest, agent Grant Anderson strolled into the bullpen, carrying a stack of case files. His gaze landed on you, and a charming smile spread across his face.
“Well, hello,” he said smoothly. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
You blinked at him. “Uh, no, I guess we haven’t.”
Anderson’s smile widened. “You must be new. Are you visiting, or is this a permanent thing?”
Spencer, who had been silent for a moment too long, suddenly stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled over. His jaw clenched, his normally gentle brown eyes darkening with something sharp and territorial. His hand curled around your wrist, firm but not forceful, and then—“My wife,” he said.
And before you could react, before you could process what he just said Spencer Reid—your childhood best friend, the genius who was accidentally your husband, the man you have been in love with since you knew what love was—grabbed your face and kissed you.
The bullpen erupted in cheers. Penelope squealed. JJ gasped. Emily shouted, “Go Reid!” Rossi laughed like this was the best thing he'd seen in years.
Anderson took a step back, holding up his hands. “Well. That answers that question.” When Spencer finally pulled away, you could only stare at him, breathless, heart pounding, lips tingling. “What—what was that?!” you managed. Spencer swallowed, adjusting his tie. “A leap,” he said simply. You blinked. And then, before you could stop yourself, you kissed him back. Tagging some friends because for some reason I can't find my taglist
@samuel-de-champagne-problems @boldlyvoid @milla984 @reidsaurora @reiding-and-writing
#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#dr reid#doctor spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic
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A Bit Rougher (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)
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Author Masterlist
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.
Summary: You and Spencer have been in a relationship for a little bit more than four months now, and the team doesn't know. One day, the BAU girls ask you by your mystery partner they know you have - even if they don't know who it is - and bring up a topic you are not so sure to share with Spencer yet: your kinky side in sex. What happens when the same Spencer puts a test on you on that matter?
Word Count: 6.5k (I'm not sorry)
Warnings: SMUT/18+/MDNI. Where do I start? Reader sleeps with Spencer (obviously). Talks about sex life. Mentions of tantric sex and rough sex. Mentions of some kinks like choking, spanking, and dom-sub dynamics. Clothes get ripped, Spencer calling you 'my girl' (oh God), masturbation (f receiving), fingering, kind of choking, dirty talk. Spencer does his best as a dom (soft!dom because it can't be any other way), penetrative sex, spanking, begging, more dirty talk, creampie (it really doesn't exist another word for this?), and aftercare. Spencer is the best boyfriend in the world. If I forgot something, please let me know.
A/N: This one was a request. I can't find the original message, and I don't know if the person who asked wanted their name here (I can quickly add it if they want to).
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The moment rays of sunlight peek through the curtain and hit my face, I turn to my back to avoid them, not ready to fully start the day yet.
Still half awake, half sleepy, I can feel a pair of hazel looking at me. I peek one eye open, and I see Spencer smiling at me.
"Good morning, beautiful," he rasps. And I don't know why such simple words have me blushing like a schoolgirl. Beaming, I return the greeting.
"Morning, handsome."
I get my reply with a lingering kiss on my lips, which I fully savored until a sudden thought came to me.
"What time is it? We need to get up."
Spencer, with his calm voice, shakes his head.
"It's a bit early yet. We have time. Also, you have some clothes here, so you don't need to go to your apartment before driving to work."
Smart me for bringing clothes to his apartment. It's an obvious decision, though, considering I have spent more nights here in the past weeks than in my place.
A devilish smirk makes an appearance on my face.
"So, we do have time, don't we?"
"Yes, sweetheart. We do," Spencer mumbles, scooting closer and peppering kisses on my face and then down to my collarbone.
Oh boy, this is what I call a good way to start the day.
-
How much time can you fool a bunch of the best profilers in the country, hiding your relationship with one of your coworkers? Spencer and I keep the count. The mark is set now in four months and two weeks.
It's not that we are embarrassed by what we have or anything close to that. It's just that things started so casually and naturally, and they're running so smoothly, so we want to keep it to ourselves as long as we can.
And by now? It's working.
We have also been careful about it. On our first nights together, we woke up early and went home for a shower and a change of clothes. After some weeks, we started to pack extra in our go-bag. Now, we have at least a change of clothes in each other's places. The second rule is never to get to work at the same time or on the same transportation. Spencer usually takes the metro even if I can drive and make time in the parking lot. Just one day, we did it, and we were so worked up in our making out session that we almost got caught by Morgan, who parked two cars away from mine.
Naturally, any form of PDA at work is completely off-limits. That's the toughest rule to follow. After all, we spend more time at the office and on the road than we do at home, so avoiding any kind of touch is definitely a challenge.
Despite all that, I can't help but feel happier every day as I fall deeper for Spencer. I often feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, constantly distracted by thoughts of him. Clearly, my behavior hasn't gone unnoticed, at least not by the three girls cornering me right now in the BAU kitchen.
"So, are you going to deny you're having fun these days?" Emily teases me while JJ and Penelope giggle in agreement.
"Where did that come from?" I say, intentionally diverting my gaze to the mug I'm filling with coffee.
"It's just basic observation, my dear," Penelope chimes in.
"Basic observation? I honestly don't follow you guys at all," I reply, feeling a bit overwhelmed by this unexpected Tuesday morning interrogation. This time, JJ steps forward with her evidence laid out right before me.
"We have all noticed the changes in you over the past few months—the giddy smile that lights up your face when you read a text on your phone, the new pep in your step, and how you hurry home every time we finish a case. Do I need to say more?"
"Busted!" Garcia points a mocking finger at me. I roll my eyes in fake annoyance. After all, they are completely right.
"Okay, okay. Yeah. I'm seeing a guy. Happy?" I confess, and Garcia squeals.
"Yay! We need to know everything about him."
Oh. That's dangerous territory.
JJ notices my discomfort and tries to ease it a bit.
"Penelope, I'm sure we'll know more with time. Right?" JJ looks at me, and I nod appreciatively.
"Okay. But the basics. Is the guy good?" Emily asks. A silly smile appears on my face.
"Of course he is. He's caring, fun, always attentive-" I'm about to start a rant about how my mystery man is perfect. But Emily's snort stops me at mid-sentence.
"What?"
"Emily is asking if he is good in bed!" Penelope clarifies, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Oh, Lord. What have I got into?
"Are you really expecting me to tell you about my sex life?"
The three girls nod in unison with no shame. Well, I guess I got my answer.
"Like if you haven't done it before. And for what it is worth, we all have said something about it more than once. That's why we created girls's night in the first place," Emily points eloquently, as always.
Touchè. They are right. I have said more than I would like to admit about my sex life. But now it's not that simple. We are talking about Spencer, even if they don't know it yet.
"Then? Is he good or not?"
I contemplate my answer not because I don't know what to say but not revealing more than necessary.
"I don't think good is enough to describe sex with him. The first time we slept together was amazing. The whole night was if you know what I mean. Since then, we have taken our time, savoring the moment, giving, and receiving a new part of ourselves when we do it. So, yes, sex with him is more than good."
"But it could be better," Garcia interjects, and I look at her baffled.
"How's so? Didn't I just say the sex is great?"
The three women nod in agreement, but I think I'm missing something here.
"Don't take it the wrong way, my lovely. We are really happy you are having fun and enjoying yourself," Garcia says, patting my shoulder. "But it sounds pretty vanilla to me. And it's not bad! Not at all!"
I frown, and Emily rolls her eyes, continuing Garcia's idea.
"What Penelope tries to bring here is what we talked back then about your last partner. Remember? The one who liked tantric sex?"
Oh. Yeah. I remember that one. It's not one of my finest choices, if I have to be honest. But it wasn't the guy's fault.
"Yeah. What about him?"
"You forgot how you complained about him being basically a statue? That you wanted it rough, and the guy never got the memo?" Penelope fills in, arching an eyebrow. My cheeks are flush crimson right now.
"I can't believe we are talking about this in the office kitchen," I mumble, embarrassed. "But that was different."
Emily scoffs. "What? Did you change your kinks now? What happened with the choking, the spanking, the begging, and all those things?"
"Emily Prentiss, can you please shut up? This conversation is too much for a morning in the office," I complain, shaking my head to try to cool my red face.
"Okay, okay. I'll stop. But if you are still into it - and I'm sure you are - maybe it's a good idea to share it with your partner. Healthy sex life and all that, so it doesn't happen what it did with the tantric guy."
"Well, thank you all for your concern. But I think I'm good. Now, can we please drop the subject?"
Luckily for me, the girls listened and changed the topic. By the time we leave the kitchen, I feel less embarrassed and ready to continue my paperwork.
But the conversation kept popping into my head from time to time during the day. My sexual preferences haven't changed 180 degrees, that's true, but with Spencer, it's different. I wouldn't want to bring something like that up if it's going to make him uncomfortable. Our relationship is still fresh, and I'm happy with our current sex life.
And talking about Spencer, I haven't seen him the whole morning. By the time lunchtime arrives, he doesn't come back to his desk, so I go with the girls and Morgan.
When we come back from lunch, I finally see him at his desk, concentrating on a pile of files. A smile creeps in my face. He looks so damn good with the crocked tie, messy hair, and shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms. This man has ruined me just sitting there. I'm doomed.
"Hey," I call his attention, and he turns his head to look up at me.
"Hi," he returns a smile.
"I haven't seen you around in hours. Are you okay?"
A frown appears on his face, but he brushes it off quickly.
"Me? Oh, yeah. Fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. It's just Hotch that had me checking and analyzing a pile of boxes with folders from old cases in the store office. That's all."
It makes sense. Spencer's fast reading is a blessing and a curse, and obviously, people tend to use it often in the office.
"I'm sorry, sure it wasn't a very entertaining task."
A shy smile creeps on his lips, and I have to use all my self-control not to pounce on him right now and pepper his face with kisses.
"It's okay. I'm already done, anyway. How has been your morning?"
"Oh. Mostly paperwork. As everyone. But I think I'll be done soon, too." Before continuing, I check my surroundings to ensure nobody else is listening. "Maybe we can go home early?" I suggest seductively.
The flush in Spencer's cheeks is endearing. It's like the ones I sported this morning when the girls were interrogating me. And they want me to tell this boy about my kinks? No way. I won't do that if it means he won't feel comfortable with me again.
"We could. But I'm afraid plans will have to wait," Spencer says as his gaze shifts from me to Garcia and the quick tip-tap of her heels, heading to the conference room.
Fuck. A new case.
-
Don't get me wrong. I love my job. But being stuck in the middle of the desert, looking for an unsub that seems to be a ghost? And I say 'ghost' literally because we are looking for a guy who is dead for the town records. No, this is not my idea of a 'normal work day.'
It's frustrating, and not only for the lack of progress. The heat here is like hell. The AC barely works, and everyone's mood is bitchy.
We are not making any progress by now, so Hotch sends us to the hotel for the night. Once in my room, I text Spencer, not with an explicit purpose but to talk to him for a while. But he doesn't answer my texts. Is he sleeping by now? Considering he's a night owl, I found it very rare. But maybe he's drained like everyone else, so I let it slide.
In the morning, after my shower, I'm checking my phone, and I don't have any messages. Has Spencer received my texts?
I don't want to sound paranoid, but it's like something is going on. At the precinct, I barely get a hello from Spencer. Okay. Maybe it's the stress. I don't give it too much thought, either. Not when we have work to do.
And boy, we have been working hard on this one. Some clues give us hope, but we're far from catching the unsub.
In the little spare time we have between interrogations and visiting dumping sites, I try to share moments with Spencer, but it definitely seems like he doesn't want to be alone with me in the same room, even if he doesn't say it or shows signs of annoyance or animosity towards me.
I can't tell why he is so distant, but it's starting to worry me. Did I do something? And it's killing me because the more I think about it, the more I miss him. A kiss, a hug, anything from him would ease the ache I'm starting to feel.
It doesn't help that he has been choosing to wear the sexiest clothes he has in his go-bag. Those tight grey pants that accentuate his ass, those button-ups with sleeves rolled up.
We have been here for six days, and I think I'm going crazy. I have been trying to be subtle and professional. But I swear that if one more day goes by without being able to feel Spencer's touch, I don't know what I'll be able to do.
It seems heaven has listened to me because we finally managed to catch the unsub, and we're on the jet on our way home. But I'm nervous. I didn't even want to sit next to Spencer like I usually do. I don't know why. What if he wants to break up with me, and I'm just dragging things out?
What the hell am I talking about? I don't believe I'm thinking clearly here. But this week has been so odd that I don't know what to think.
Maybe when we land, I can finally talk to Spencer and put an end to my overthinking. With that in mind, I doze off for the rest of the trip.
Once the jet is down, I'm starting to gather my things when I hear Spencer rushing out, saying goodbye to everyone.
Disappointed and frustrated, I leave the tarmac.
Maybe a full night of sleep in my bed isn't a bad plan after all.
But be that as it may, fuck you, Spencer Reid.
-
As if all that had happened wasn't enough, when I got to the parking lot, my car fucking didn't start. I knew I had to get it checked before.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
That delayed my arrival home for another 45 minutes.
Now, disappointed, frustrated, and with no car, I slam the door shut. The apartment is pitch black, and I have no energy to flick the lights on, so I drag myself to the bedroom. When I open the door, a yelp escapes my mouth when I see a silhouette of a man sitting in the chair I have in one corner.
I'm about to reach for my gun when the bedside lamp flicks on, and the scare turns to confusion when I see Spencer sitting there.
"What the fuck!"
"Hi," he says as if he hadn't almost scared me to death two seconds ago.
"Spencer! What are you doing here?" My voice sounds harsher than I intended, but Spencer brushes it off quickly.
"Waiting for you," he says matter-of-factly.
I'm officially confused. We were together an hour ago? He left without saying anything.
"I don't understand. The way you left the jet in such a hurry, I thought I was the last person you wanted to be with."
My words come out resentful, but I can't help it. Spencer's eyes soften. I averted his gaze as I dropped my go-bag, unholst my gun to set it on the safe, and sat at the end of the bed to remove my boots.
"Hey, don't say that. Of course, I want to be with you," Spencer says, standing from the seat and kneeling to help me remove my boots.
"I'm sorry, but it didn't show that way. You avoided me all week!"
Great, now I sound like I'm making a tantrum.
From his place where he knelt on the floor, his eyes met mine, and I don't know why suddenly I felt a shudder running down my spine.
"Sweetheart, you know we were working, weren't we?"
That condescending tone escaping Spencer's lips? It is something unexpected. But why does it make me kind of nervous? It's a type of nervousness that gives me butterflies in my stomach.
"I know! But- but then in the jet. And you left."
Why am I babbling? Since when did Spencer have looked at me with those piercing eyes?
He stands and offers me a hand to help me to do the same.
"Is my girl upset?" He asks when we are both upright.
'My girl'? That's new. Spencer always calls me by my name, a short version of it, or beautiful, or sweetheart. But thinking about it, 'my girl' doesn't sound bad at all.
"No! I'm not-"
"Oh yes, you are. Look, I wanted to prepare a surprise for you tonight, so I left in a hurry. I was thinking about a bubble bath, dinner, wine, and a movie. I even had the table done with candles ready to lit," he says nonchalantly, and I feel silly for thinking the worst scenarios all week.
"Oh," is the only thing escaping my lips.
"But now, thinking about it, maybe you don't deserve it. Not if you're questioning me like this," Spencer shakes his head in fake - I hope - disappointment.
Okay. Stop right there. What the hell is going on here? Why is Spencer talking like that? About me as 'not deserving' something? What's next? That I'm a naughty girl? - Uhm, I wonder how it could be hearing those words from his lips.-
"What? Why I-"
"Come here," he requests as now he is the one who sits at the edge of the bed and pats the spot in his lap. It doesn't sound too commanding, but sure as hell, I don't need anything more to comply. I need to know where this is heading.
As I'm at Spencer's reach, he pulls me by my wrist to land on his lap while his other hand cradles my face.
"Tell me, uh? Why are you upset?"
His voice drips like honey, and I start to feel hot here.
"I- I don't know. I just missed you, I guess."
"You guess?" He arches a questioning eyebrow.
"Yes. I mean, I do know. I have missed you," I confess, defeated. Oh yeah, now I'm the needy one.
"It helps if I say I have missed you, too?" he says, caressing my cheek tenderly with his knuckles. "I have seen you tense all week; that's why I thought I could do something special for you tonight."
I close my eyes, and for the first time tonight, I let myself enjoy Spencer's embrace.
I exhale a heavy breath as I get lost in his arms.
When I open my eyes, Spencer's are fixed on mine. But his look is not as sweet or reverent as it usually is when we are like this. No, this one is dark and raw. His pupils are fully dilated, and I feel like the breath leaves my lungs.
"Spencer-" I barely mumble.
"I know," he whispers, moving one hand to cradle my neck and bring my lips to his.
Oh God, what I have been craving for days is finally happening, and I can't stress enough how happy I am.
The kiss starts slow and sensual. But not far from that, it gets needy and messy, charged with all the pent-up emotions from the past days. If I had any doubt about Spencer's distance in the last week, this kiss quickly eased my anxiety.
My fingers go to undo the buttons of his button-up, but Spencer stops me with one of his hands, grabbing both of my wrists.
Why didn't I notice before how big and strong his hands are compared to mine? I mean, I always admired his long and deftly fingers, but this? Wow. It's new territory.
"But I want to touch you," I pout when he keeps hold of my wrists in his hand. The cocky bastard raises an eyebrow, contemplating my request.
"You will have to be patient this time and earn it, darling," he says casually, and as my eyes go wide, my jaw goes slack. These words have never come out of Spencer's mouth before. But why am I suddenly starting to feel hotter and more worked up? I blame it on sex abstinence.
"Please, I have missed you so much," I insist, trying to escape his grip to get what I want: undress him. But he doesn't budge, tsking his tongue.
"I already told you. You need to earn it. To my knowledge, only good girls get what they want, and I don't think I'm wrong, do I?"
Jesus Christ! I had never heard Spencer say 'good girl' before, and I'm sure now I'll be addicted to hearing it every chance I get.
"Spencer, please. I'll do anything. I promise. I want to be a good girl. I want to be your good girl."
Spencer's smirk tells me he likes my response, and I'm not at any ounce ashamed of sounding desperate.
He maneuvers me so that I am now on my back on the mattress. I watch his every move intently, and I get lost in his gaze, which screams lust and desire.
He kneels between my spread legs, staring at me intently as his hands move to the edges of my blouse. Just when I think he's going to work on unbuttoning it, he grabs it and rips it open.
A yelp escapes my lips at the raw sound and the view of buttons flying. Spencer doesn't seem fazed by his display of caveman style. And me? I won't mind if he rips all my clothes right now. His hands go to caress my breasts over the fabric of my bra. And then pull it down to free the skin. The cool air quickly stiffens my nipples.
Spencer leans down to suck one of them, twirling the other one with his fingers. A moan escapes my lips at the pleasure his touch is giving me.
"You like that, uh?" he mumbles, still with his mouth sucking and lapping.
"Yes!" I say, as my hands fly to his hair so I can ground myself in something.
After giving enough attention to both of my nipples, he helps me to get rid of the fabric of the ruined blouse and my bra. Now his mouth is sucking a hickey under my jaw, and I feel like I can faint of how aroused I am. One of his hands goes south and stills at the button of my work pants. His breath is hot in my ear.
"I'm going to take care of you. If I do something you don't like, just say it, okay?"
That's a sliver of the Spencer I know, and I can't even think of something this man can do to me that I wouldn't like.
"Okay," I manage to blurt when his fingers work on my pants, leaving me clad only in my panties in a matter of seconds.
Under his intense gaze, I feel exposed, but I also feel safe. There is no place where I would rather be right now.
"You're gorgeous. You know that?" Spencer says, trailing feather touches on my skin aflame with desire. "You don't know what you do to me, do you? I barely can control myself," he continues his praises, thumbs toying with the waistband of my panties.
I'm about to combust.
"Spencer, please."
"What is it, my girl?" he asks, kissing my neck as his fingers slide down my legs, removing the soaked fabric that used to cover my most intimate part.
"I - I need more."
"Are you already desperate for me?"
I can feel how his fingers trace soft patterns in the skin between my thighs, explicitly avoiding the spot where I need him the most.
"Yes! I am. I - I can't-"
I don't even care if I sound coherent at this point. I'm already so turned on and desperate that I can't be bothered by my lack of speech. Spencer still doesn't budge, though.
"I know you want to beg. And I know you can do better than that."
Oh God. I don't know how Spencer's words manage to make me more aroused, but they do.
"I need you," I croak, eyes pleading him to take me. I can feel his fingers ghosting my throbbing clit.
"I need you, sir. Please. You can use me whatever you want, but please, touch me!"
What the fuck? I just called Spencer' sir' and offered my body explicitly to him to use. And the bastard doesn't even flinch? Who is this guy in full control, and who am I acting like a pathetic submissive?
I don't have the answers, but honestly, I don't care. Did he want me to beg? If this isn't begging, I don't know what it is.
"I know you do, baby. Do you think I didn't notice how needy you have been all week? How have you tried to get my attention all these days?" Spencer's voice drops almost two octaves as his finger finally starts rubbing circles on my clit.
Just feeling his touch makes me whimper pathetically.
His lips ghost in my ear, and I can feel his breath heating the spot before his teeth nibble my earlobe.
A mewl leaves my mouth, and if I wasn't soaked before - which I was - now I'm dripping.
"Tell me, this is what you wanted?" His voice is commanding but feels like honey leaking on my body.
"Yes! Please, don't stop."
His movements are deliberate and precise, and when he buries a finger into my core, I can feel the coil in the pit of my lower belly beginning to form. My moans increase in number and volume.
"So needy, my sweet girl. Like that? That's how you want me to touch you?" Spencer coo as he watches me tremble under his touch, adding a new finger to fuck me.
His ministrations continue, but his free hand moves slowly from my cheek down to my neck, caressing the exposed skin with his thumb.
"Or maybe you want me to touch you like this?"
A mewl escapes my lips when he poses his open palm over my throat, not squeezing but seizing how much of my neck he would be able to cover with his huge hand.
"Yes! Please, do it. Please Spencer," I babble, feeling my orgasm closer and closer. And he complies. Applying the minimal pressure in my throat is enough to highlight all of my senses. That, plus the way his ring and middle finger pound in and out of me and his thumb toy with my clit at the same time, sends me to the edge.
"Spencer!" I scream as my climax washes over me.
I don't remember having an orgasm like this in a long time. My vision blurs and I feel like I'm floating on a cloud of pleasure that I don't want to come down from. I can hear Spencer's encouraging words in the distance as he helps me ride my orgasm.
"That's it, my girl. You did so good for me. See how good I can make you feel?"
With hooded eyes, I see Spencer sucking clean the fingers that were fucking me seconds ago.
"You taste amazing. I'll never get tired of it," Spencer says, with a satisfied grin on his face.
Still dizzy, I gesture for him to come closer. When he does, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in for the most passionate kiss my current post-orgasmic state will allow. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it is like my sex drive reminds me I want more. I need more.
"Please, fuck me," I mumble between kisses, and I can feel the smirk forming on his lips.
"I just did that," he states when we part from the kiss. "Are you being ungrateful?" Is he joking? I hope he does, but I won't take the chance of not having his dick in me tonight.
"No, baby. I'm thankful for the way you have touched me tonight, but I want you to feel good, too."
Spencer looks at me with a raised eyebrow.
"Is that so? Are you willing to do what I want to make me feel good? It's not only for your benefict?"
"Yes! Whatever you want. I'm yours. Take me the way you want to do it. Whatever you want to give me."
I don't know at what moment I became this kind of submissive, but if I have to beg again to have Spencer inside me, I will do it without complaining. And considering he's still fully clothed, I don't know what kind of plan he has right now.
"On your elbows and knees."
It's simple, and the moment the words leave his mouth, I move quickly to obey.
Unfortunately, from this position, I can't see Spencer, but I can hear him undressing. When I listen to him undoing his belt buckle, I have to do everything in my power not to rub my thighs together in search of some friction. And Spencer notices.
"I can bet you're dripping again. Don't you?"
The anticipation is killing me. When I feel the mattress dip with Spencer's weight, I can't stop the mewl that leaves my lips. It doesn't help when he presses his body to mine, and I can feel his hard cock pressing my ass.
"Can you feel what you do to me? I want to fuck you so bad. I want to ruin this pussy." Spencer's voice is husky and low, almost predatory, and I can't wait to feel him.
While we've used dirty talk before, I think this is the first time I can feel it coming naturally from Spencer. I'm usually the one with the filthy mouth.
When I feel his tip teasing my entrance, I instinctively push my ass back, gaining a laugh from Spencer.
"Be patient, once inside there is no coming back." Before I can say anything in reply, I feel him push his cock between my folds, and the stretching is painfully delicious.
"Oh, fuck!" I yelp as I hear Spencer hissing when he bottoms it out. He is still there, grabbing my hips to keep me from moving.
"So warm. So tight. Made for me," he mumbles, leaning to kiss my shoulder blades.
"Just for you, it was made for you," I agree, in a new state of pleasure and urging him to move. Spencer pulls back almost completely, only to thrust hard again, setting a slow but deep pace.
"That's my girl, taking everything I give her. You wanted this, didn't you? I know you do. Fuck! So good for me."
Another thing I'm not used to is Spencer being a talker during sex. I mean, yeah, he's very vocal, moaning, whining, cursing, and so am I, but his words are now taking me there faster than I expected.
"Spencer, yes! Don't stop, please!"
"I won't, baby, I won't. Not when this pussy tighen me like this."
His pace quickens, and in the room, you can only hear the sinful sounds of skin hitting skin, our moans, and the dirty words escaping Spencer's mouth.
"Spencer, please, harder," I beg to him. I don't know why, but I want to go to my limit, and I trust Spencer. I need it. He's quick to deliver, and with every thrust, I'm entering into a new space of ecstasy.
He is pounding me harder, and my broken moans are testimony to the brutal pace he leads. I can feel him hitting in all the right places.
"Like that?" He asks, panting in my ear.
"Y-yes."
"I can't hear you, darling," the bastard demands, not faltering his thrusts.
"Yes! Fuck, yes! Like that! Oh, fuck-"
My voice cracks when I feel a sharp smack in my ass.
And I can't stress enough how good it feels and how it helps the ball forming in my lower belly to grow.
"What a sight. You should see how my fingers are red imprinted on your skin," Spencer says, amazed with his doing, not ever slowing his thrusts, and I can feel closer to a new earth-shattering orgasm.
"We need to even the score, right baby?" I can't even catch what he's talking about when I feel a new smack in my other ass-cheek. And then I lose it. I'm teetering to my end, and I need Spencer to fall with me.
"Spencer, I'm so close. Please, I need-"
"Are you going to come? That's what you're trying to tell me?"
"Yes! I need to cum, please-"
"I'm right there with you, my girl. Come on, cum on my cock. Show me how you fall apart because of me."
And I did. My orgasm crashes me like a freight train, screaming Spencer's name once and again until my throat goes dry. He keeps his pace, chasing his own end, and after three deep thrusts, he stills, and I feel him spilling inside of me, grunting as he does so. The feeling almost makes me cum again.
We stay in that position for a few moments, him inside me and trying to catch our breath. I feel like I'm out of this world, savoring the post-orgasmic euphoria of the best sex of my life.
Spencer pulls out, and I hiss at the loss of him. Carefully, he helps me turn over and lie down to rest my back on the mattress. I close my eyes, regulating my breathing, content and completely satisfied.
"Are you okay?" Spencer asks me, but I'm still lost in the haze of pleasure. I can barely acknowledge the moment he goes to the bathroom to bring a warm cloth to clean me up.
"Uh? Yeah. Amazing." My words escape before I can process them, but I'm not lying. And I can feel the tons of endorphins running in my brain right now.
"Are you sure?" Spencer checks again. And because I'm more alert now, I can see his worried eyes.
A tired smile forms on my lips as I turn to the side and bring a hand to his cheek.
This man just has fucked me senseless, and now he sees me with those panicked eyes as if he had broken me. And maybe he did, but in the best way possible.
"I'm fine, Spencer. I'm more than fine, actually. That was something else," I confess, caressing his jaw. He lets out a breath of relief, and his cheeks turn a shade of pink.
"So you liked it?"
"Liked it? Did you just forget how I was screaming your name just minutes ago?" A satisfied chuckle escapes Spencer's lips. "But I need to know something," I prompt, propping myself on one elbow to have a better view of Spencer's face.
"What is it?"
"Where did this idea come from? It's not like you woke up one day and said, 'Next time, I'm going to choke her and spank her,' right?"
"Well, yeah. It wasn't that kind of spontaneous idea, even though I have thought about it before," Spencer looks at me sheepishly.
"Yeah? Well, then?"
"I heard you. Talking with the girls the other day at the BAU's kitchen." I narrow my eyes, trying to pinpoint the exact moment, and when recognition washes over me, my entire face flushes.
"Oh, God."
"I know I did wrong. It wasn't a conversation for me to hear, but you were talking about your mystery man, and I - I don't know, curiosity got the best of me."
Spencer looks apologetic, and I feel kind of embarrassed right now. It's funny for two people that minutes ago were fucking like there is no tomorrow.
"Don't apologize. It's my fault for spilling those kind of things in the office kitchen." Wait a minute. "From what part you heard?" Spencer purses his lips in thought.
"The part when you admitted seeing someone."
"So you heard when I said I was happy with our sex life, right?" He nods. "Why did you feel compelled to try something different, then? I'm not complaining at all, but I don't want you to feel obligated to do something because of me."
Spencer shakes his head. "I don't feel obligated. I wanted to. But can I ask why you didn't tell me what you liked before?"
That's a valid question, and I don't want to make him feel like I don't trust him because it is not like that.
"It's just- I mean, I love what we have. And I'm falling for you even more each day. I don't want to lose that, and I thought maybe I would have made you uncomfortable saying those things. I didn't want that."
Spencer's eyes glisten with warm understanding. How could I have doubted that he would comprehend? One of his hands goes to push back a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"I love what we have, too. And you won't lose this or me if you share those things with me. I know I'm not the best example of a sharing person, but I'm learning to do that with you. And I want you to be happy and satisfied in this relationship."
"I really am. Seriously!" I quickly reply. God forbid Spencer from thinking I'm not happy and satisfied because it's far from the truth.
"And I'm happy to hear that. But there is no harm in experiencing new things, right?" He says, caressing my cheek.
"You really mean it?" Spencer nods and chuckles.
"It's not an altruistic offer, you know? I pretty much enjoyed what we did tonight." Only remembering what we did minutes ago brings a wide grin to my face.
"Sure you did. Okay. We can keep trying things. One condition, though."
"Name it," Spencer states, opening his arm for me to scoot closer to his side, which I happily do.
"I want you to choose the next kink to explore," I request, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction.
With narrowed eyes, Spencer is contemplating his answer. After a few seconds, his lips turn into a mischievous smirk, and he looks back at me.
"Have you heard about temperature play?" he asks, and I immediately bit my lower lip in excitement.
What can I say? This man is full of surprises, and I'm the lucky one who will experience all of them. I can't wait.
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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid smut#a bit rougher#amanda perry williams#aperrywilliams#spencer reid fanfics#spencer reid fluff
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‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ���̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥
THAT’S MY BOYFRIEND🤤😻🥵🥰
‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥
MGG you are the coolest most awesomest person ever😋💗

Hes sooo pretty
#criminal minds#spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#dr reid#i love mgg#mgg#mggedit#matthew gray gubler#fan edit
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HOW I MET YOUR DAD
pairing: late seasons! spencer x bau! reader
summary: in which you retell the love story of you and spencer to your child.
tw/cw: you two have a kid!! yay or nay chat, also you two are married because why not. it's unspecified whether or not your child is adopted, and their gender aswell as name is up to you. tried to keep it as androgynous as possible, gn! reader but interpret it as you please. your kid calls both you and spencer bwabwa 😭
shayli's ted talk: i wanna write for wilson but the thing is im only on s2 of house m.d and im scared to mischaracterize him.. yolo ig
The methodic and steady hum of the refrigerator keeps you rooted to this moment, a moment of silence and domestic bliss. A refuge from the chaotic upbringing of your lovely child and the toys that scatter and trail in their wake.
You've been dicing the same onion for a minute or two now, your mind scrambled and unusually bothered by the fact that there were no distractions.
It left you suspicious of what your kid was up to, no older than 7 and prone to accidents like they were a magnet for cuts and bruises. You drop the knife steadily on the board where chopped onions lay, careful not to be too loud and startle the little animal you were going to approach.
Your footsteps are steady, rythymic, and careful. Like you were in a warehouse where an unsub stood unseen, your days of the FBI are long behind you, admist your 6 month long sabbatical you had forgotten how to wield the same steadiness that used to come naturally to you.
It didn't bug you at all that you had lost that sense however, it made you... happy. That you wouldn't be exposing your bundle of joy to the dangers of the career that followed you to your door like a banshee that couldn't be excorcised.
You linger on each doorway to a different room, peeking inside momentarily each one as if clearing each place like it was an FBI raid. Keeping your eyes sharp and open for any sign of the cheeky troublemaker on the loose.
Each room that you claim empty makes your stomach gurgle with unease, a fear that gnaws deep inside your core until it ate it's way out, you knew it was highly unlikely. That your child had not been kidnapped, but you still feared it anyway.
You call out their name when you finish looking around the guest bedroom where they often hid underneath the bed to spook you, your eyebrows shot up instinctively when you hear not a response back, but the sound of shuffling. A familiar melody you hear whenever you fish through the drawers looking for an item lost in the sea of tangled chargers and socks that didn't have their pair.
Approaching the source of the sound, you peer into the cracks of the master bedroom door left slightly opened, and sigh in momentary relief when you see that your prankster has not been touched by an intruder.
"And.. what are you doing here?"
You ask gently, looking down at them with intrigue, not with the intent to scold or to punish. You had swore to yourself after all you would treat them with love and nothing else, regardless of the times they had used your lipstick as paint for the wall.
"Bwabwa! Look!" Piping up energetically, and you only snort at the nickname they had given you. You assumed that they took it from that show they always watch, what was it..? Right, Rabbids Invasion, where those bunnies only spoke in a language consistent of "bwabwa" and nothing more.
You tilt your head at their discovery, leaning down to sit down next to their figure on the floor before scooting in closer. Bringing them to your side as you wrap an arm around their neck the best you could manage for their smaller height.
Laid there in their hands was a scrapbook.
The cover was white, and the letters cut out from other newspapers' letters and such to form a few words.
" SPENCER AND [NAME] : THE BOOK! "
Each separate letter was either wonky, had a piece of it's lineart cut off, or was in a different font. You hardly made the words out if you didn't tell what it was from your memory alone.
You remember making this scrapbook with him, taking photos of practically everything on each memorable date, but with Spencer– every date was worth remembering.
He had insisted that you two wouldn't need this because his mind alone could replace the book just fine, you gave him a punch to his shoulder and then he obliged– very hesitantly.
After every date, or hangout, or maybe even after just staying together for a while. You'd paste or staple something tied to that moment and jot down a few key notes about the event, like it was a project of some sorts. Often scribbling an extremely cartoonish picture of you two that he'd furrow his eyebrows at and claim that this was "not him"
He had filled it in with some of his own memorabilia, usually it'd be something simple and he'd let you fill it in with the colour and vibrant things. Maybe a poker card or a monopoly piece from a game you had flipped the board for.
He had rarely written any fun facts about the date in his pages, but when he did– boy, did he write. Sonnets in your name and fine poetry that was written in languages you didn't know, or sometimes in your native tongue. Claiming that there wasn't an English word that would suffice for a writing that would be jotted down and kept in the record.
You smile, a heart filled with nostalgia and love that still sparked strongly between you two. You open the book carefully, like a treasured artifact that should be preserved, and nearly tear up at the first entry. Photos of you and an awkward Spencer who was only 26 at the time, on your very first date.
"Bwabwa, who's that?"
Your child murmurs, pointing to Spencer who had longer hair and not an inch of hair on his chin, you only laugh when you realize they don't recognize him.
"That, sweetheart, is your dad." You correct them gently, putting your pointer finger on his face in the polaroid, they look up to you in disbelief like you had just told them the sun would explode in 5 minutes.
"That's.. bwabwa?"
"Yes, sweetheart, that is papa."
They look down at the photo once more, eyes concentrated in deep thought as they compared the image to the mental image of their dad, cross referencing each feature until they finally saw the similarity.
"Tell me more! Tell me more!" They sit up straighter, eager for you to explain what this book meant and the history of each picture and item glued onto the pages. Their eyes glistening in a curiousity you found in their father aswell.
You couldn't resist.
"Well... I suppose I can push back dinner by a little bit." You reply back hesitantly, but faced against the puppy eyes of a 6 year old, you really didn't stand a chance. Completely forgetting the stove and instead reliving the memories that would forever be in these enchanted pages.
"It was the autumn of 2007."
OCT 12, 2007, QUANTICO.
In the absence of Elle Greenaway and her sudden departure, you had been chosen to step forward and fill in her shoes. Though at first you had initially felt iced out by the intimidating, and highly valued profilers in the room. You soon learnt to become a family member too.
Spencer and Hotch were the last members you had before you could finally complete your collection of "befriended BAU team members." Garcia being one of the first few to be bedazzled by the personality you slowly showed each passing week.
It was Spencer's birthday, and claimed mandatory by Garcia, you all had went out to O'Keefes. Even if the birthday boy himself didn't like to drink, that didn't mean you all wouldn't celebrate with alcohol in his name.
You however, found yourself in a similiar predicament with the boy wonder. You didn't particularly enjoy alcohol as much as the others, when you had turned 21 and took your first shot on your birthday. You scrunched your nose and didn't take another for the rest of the night.
He sat there in the corner, pushed up uncomfortably by a Derek who didn't know of the personal space he was invading and pathogens he was throwing at Spencer's clothed figure. You felt bad, guilty even for how he stood out in his birthday and not in the good kind.
He didn't sparkle grandly with a grin that said that he was happy and content in the moment, he looked like an outsider pretending to be someone who understood the inside joke. Except there was no inside joke, it was just conversation, but with the art of socializing so complex for him. The feeling of being left out came easy, natural, and expected. Even if he was meant to be the center of the attention.
Nobody did anything more than glance and murmur quietly when he stands up, excusing himself to leave the spot to try and find a more secluded area. Leaving everyone stumped, but not enough to cancel the celebrations that everyone resumed with minutes after.
Naturally, you began to try and forget that moment aswell, even if the guilt swelled inside your chest and screamed for you to do something. You couldn't just... he didn't even classify you as a friend. What would you even do when you approached him? That is if he still was somewhere near and hasn't already went home disappointed.
You politely exit the steady conversation with a rushed smile and an excuse nobody would've ever bought, but admist alcohol and a very hearty celebration. Nobody did more than wave you goodbye aswell, just like Spencer.
You swipe your purse away from the table and head towards the exit of the bar, looking for any sign, any of his features that stood out until you landed on a slumped figure on the bench just about 17 or 20 steps away from you. A figure you could definitely identify as Spencer.
You look behind you to make sure no one from the team had followed you, not wanting to turn this little moment to comfort him and maybe gain his favour to be seen by the team. Not because you felt ashamed, but because you knew that gossip spread like wildfire in your social circle, but that gossip wasn't always... accurate.
With wary steps you make your way over to him, when he finally spots you from his peripheral and looks up at you. You raise your hands slightly in surrender before sitting down next to him slowly. Keeping a modest amount of distance between your bodies before starting a conversation.
"Bad day?"
You probe gently, carefully, making sure you don't look like you're asking for too much. Especially since your friendship wasn't even steady just yet, your interactions were only polite or regular colleague etiquette. Nothing personal like this.
"Yeah."
He answers, you aren't surprised when he leaves it vague and up to your interpretation. He doesn't trust you enough– Hell, he might not even trust you at all.
So instead of asking "why?" or trying to subtly figure it out like he was a suspect to break down. You ask something dumb, unexpected, and not what you usually say when comforting a co-worker in a slump.
"... You wanna get ice cream?"
"Sorry?"
"Ice cream, do you wanna get some..?"
You felt stupid having to repeat yourself, wishing you could have gone back in time just a few seconds ago and shook your 18 seconds younger self to have not said that. Your voice falters near the end of your question when you repeat it, as if already bracing yourself for the rejection to come with the embarrassment.
"... Sure."
He nods in approval of the now-not-so-absurd idea. Smiling to yourself as you stand up with a new friend beside you, now in pursuit of the nearest ice cream shop for a certain sugary treat
You may have not known it, and Spencer sure as hell didn't at the time, but this moment of ice cream hunting and eating was more than just a cheeky moment between two future best friends. It was a milestone, the beginning of a love story of the two stars who had no idea they were even in it.
"And that, is how I properly met your dad." You finish the story with a small smile on your face, leaning towards your child before giving them a boop on their nose with your finger. Giggling with them in response.
"More more!" They clap in excitement, turning through all the pages in the scrapbook until they land on the last entry where the book ended– but certainly not the love that followed.
Your wedding.
MAY 28, 2019, OUTDOOR VENUE
It was your wedding day.
Like... really your wedding day, not the rehearsal from the night before, not the bridesmaid party, and not... a figment of your imagination. This is real, in just a minute or two you'd be walking down the aisle of the carpet ontop of the beautiful greenery.
You and Spencer had unanimously agreed to have your wedding outside and during spring. Where the flowers reached their peak in blooming, and the grass was at its greenest. A few large willow trees sitting in the background of where your wedding was, while a gentle breeze brushed you both while you recited your vows.
You fidget with your fingers while looking at yourself in the mirror, dressed to the nines and looking the absolute best, though in Spencer's words. He'd probably say something like "you always look your best" in that cheesy tone that made it more funny than flattering.
Were you getting cold feet?
No, you most definitely were not, you love Spencer and he loves you. That's all that mattered in this moment, you'd walk down that aisle with nothing but love and confidence. You'd leave this venue with his last name, or maybe yours and his last name combined.
All your doubts and second thoughts dissipate like smoke being waved away when you see Penelope coming in your dressing room, bearing the news that it was time. You straighten invisible creases in your attire once more before following behind her and already beginning to tear up.
You stand there, all the way at the start of the white carpet that would lead you to a new beginning in your life, another chapter written into your book. Your father laughs as he takes his place beside you, murmuring reassurances you didn't catch trying to stop your tears from flowing so soon.
Not long after, wedding music begins to fill the outdoor space, Spencer straightening up in anticipation and nervousness when he spots your figure down the aisle beside your dad.
You both take one good long look at each other before you both smile weakly. Not even halfway through your stride to where he stands with Rossi– who insisted on being the officiant, he starts wiping tears with the sleeve of his suit. By the time you reach him and finally stand there infront of him, you both are crying and laughing at the same time.
"Dearly beloved, we gather here today..."
Rossi's words blend into the background as the two of you stare at each other with a love that's never felt more passionate and beautiful than right now. Having to be snapped out of your reveries with a gentle cough from Rossi.
You both jump a little bit and stare at the man before he chuckles to himself and shakes his head. Repeating the vows once more
"Do you, Spencer reid, take [Name] [Last name] to be your wedded spouse? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"
"I do."
He quickly answers with little to no hesitation, causing you to nearly tear up again with how he agreed to love you for eternity without any doubts.
"Do you, [Name] [Last name], take Spencer Reid to be your wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"
"I do."
You respond just as fast as Spencer did, smiling back at Spencer when his breath hitches from hearing the finality of those words. The guarantee that you two would be bound to each other not by restraints, but by love.
"Then, with the power bestowed upon me, I pronounce you husband and spouse."
Rossi announces, waiting just a few more seconds before finally speaking the sentence he knew Spencer had been waiting for patiently. Grinning to himself before he speaks up once more.
"You may now kiss the–"
Spencer doesn't waste a single minute before he pulls you towards him and his lips. Kissing you before Rossi could even finish as the audience seated infront of you all erupt into cheers, laughter, and applause.
You're about to continue on with how the rest of the venue went when you feel a smaller figure land on your side with a snore, looking down you can only coo at the sight of your usually energetic child having fallen asleep on you admist your storytelling.
You plant a tender kiss onto their forehead before letting them curl into you better for more comfort. Looking up your eyes land on the doorway, which is where your husband now stands with a smile that mirrored yours.
"Hey there, how long have you been standing there?" You tilt your head before ushering him to sit with the two of you on the floor. Placing a chaste kiss on his cheek when he settles right beside you
"Around the time when you were talking about how we weren't friends." He says 'weren't friends' while making a gesture of air quotation marks with his fingers, causing you to roll your eyes with a huff of disbelief.
"I'm right though, we weren't friends at the time."
"Mmmm... not so sure." He replies, exaggerating the 'm' to make himself sound more dramatic. It earns him a gentle punch to his shoulder that he naturally says "ow!" at, even though it didn't really hurt.
"I love you." You murmur quietly, resting your head on his shoulder shortly with a soft smile. Letting your eyes close as you sigh softly in content and satisfaction of where you've gotten in life.
"Yeah I know." He replies jokingly, trying to play off the love confession like his heart still didn't beat faster everytime he heard you say it. The joke doesn't pay off very well though, unless you consider a punch payment.
"Ow! You didn't have to punch me for that!"
He whisper yells, careful to not wake up your sleeping child still beside you two. You only smile to yourself at his reaction with a quiet giggle before letting the silence take over a bit, waiting for what you knew what he was going to say.
"I love you too." He says it back proudly just to show that this one wasn't an attempt at a joke like his previous comment. Letting his head fall ontop of yours which sat on his shoulder and closing his eyes too.
shayli's ted talk: please don't mind how the writing slowly gets more bad i wrote the other half of this on my break💔
written by @ssareiids
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#spence reid#dr spencer reid x reader#dr. spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid angst#doctor spencer reid#criminal minds fan fiction#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fluff#written by shayliᥫ᭡
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6 AM
↳ After a good night of free drinks at a bar, reader wakes up in a bed that looks nothing like her own. Maybe that mistake isn't so bad after all.
main masterlist | my previous fanfic
who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
category: flangst (my specialty) and suggestive intimacy +18
warnings: mentions of sex, naked, mentions of alcohol and hangover. English is not my first language.
word count: 2.5K
a/n: I stole the title from a song that I almost don't like but it's very this. I also sacrificed myself for the team by getting drunk on Christmas to write this better (it wasn't a good experience, but what am I saying? I'm very committed to my work. Oh and happy almost new year!
Every story has a beginning and how much you wish you could remember the beginning of this.
A ray of sunshine.
That's what woke you up, a ray of sunshine. But not the kind that sneak in through the window and burn your eyes even when they are closed. What woke you up was the warmth of the arm that wrapped around your torso from behind, that kind of sunshine.
You look at the clock and it's damn 6 AM. You didn't expect to start the year so early but there you were.
You relaxed when you feel a warm breath touching your skin. For a moment you felt so fine, until that horrible headache made it difficult to make sense of where you were, but you could remember the ghostly sensations, the pressure against the mattress, his hands running over every corner of your skin and the way the sheets molded with every movement.
You craned your head slightly to get some clues about your surroundings and then the clothes on the floor became visible in your field of vision.
Damn it.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened the night before.
You tried to get out of the grip of the mysterious man you spent the night with, but...
He pulled you towards him again, this time with more force. "Please don't go." He pleaded, but he was still somewhat asleep.
Damn it, damn it, damn it.
You recognized that beautiful voice immediately. It being a random guy was a bad thing but Spencer? that was worse.
A wave of panic and guilt ran through you. Now what the hell were you going to do?
You looked at him sideways, first at his lips, and just looking at them made you remember how they felt on your skin.
That's when a fragment of last night hit you...
"Spence." You whispered in the darkness, you couldn't see him but of course you could feel him.
His big hands on your thighs, his tongue caressing you like a feather and the way his nose brushed your sensitivity complemented how good you felt at that moment.
Were you dizzy from the pleasure or from the alcohol? Maybe both.
Now you understood, you let him cross boundaries that a friend should never cross. But you were too drunk to tell him to stop? No, that was an excuse, because in reality both been drunk, a lot.
You let him continue for the pleasure and because he was Spencer. There was no one else on this earth you could trust enough to do something so intimate, so personal.
You blinked a few times before coming back to the present, your memories were so fragmented at the moment that it was best not to put pressure on your mind.
Spencer looked so calm while was asleep, you didn't even know why but you started counting his eyelashes.
That would have been a perfect morning. But one question kept nagging at your brain. How did you get into his bed?
Very simple, it all happened while everyone was on the jet, returning from a case.
"I just hope there isn't another case. It's New Year's Eve, we should be celebrating and not catching serial killers." Emily said. "I'll ask for a raise." Then she brought the glass of whiskey to her mouth.
"Prentiss, you haven't even been with us that long." Morgan let out a light laugh.
"It's been a tough year." You supported Emily. And it was true, Elle and Gideon left a void that no new face could fill. But luckily Emily was Emily, Rossi was Rossi. Neither of them intended to fill the void they left.
"Yes indeed," Rossi added to the conversation. "Drinks at O'Keefe on me, who's coming?" And there was the monetary contribution, maybe your favorite thing about him?
You, Emily and Morgan were quick to raise your hands.
Hotch laughed lightly. "I'll pass, I want to visit Jack."
You stood up from your seat on the jet to approach Reid. "And you? Come?" You gave him a slight nudge with your shoulder. "Or you have a secret son that I don't know about."
Reid shook his head in amusement before setting his book down on his lap. "I don't know, I'm tired."
"Come on." You gave him puppy dog eyes. "And I'll take you back to your apartment."
"Don't know..." He bit his lower lip.
"Oh come on, who's gonna tell me random facts all night? Morgan?" You insistent.
"I heard you!" Morgan shouted from the other side of the jet.
Reid chuckled. "Of course not, that's my place in your life. Besides, he already has Penelope."
You looked at him with hopeful eyes. "So you're coming?"
He shrugged. "I haven't another choice."
One, two, three. Happy New Year!
By that time you and him were already so drunk. Everything was spinning around and both had laughed at every stupid thing Morgan said, that wasn't a very good sign.
You helped Reid into the taxi, almost falling with him in the process. When you left him in the back seat he looked at you, with a pout.
"You said you were going to take me home!" He spoke very loudly, without meaning to.
"If you want to die then let's go in my car." Your words dragged on.
He shook his head and patted his seat. "I'm not going to let you drive. Come on, get in."
You sighed but finally agreed and got into the taxi with him.
He fell asleep with his head resting on your shoulder, it felt so comforting that you didn't even notice when you fell asleep.
After a few minutes the taxi driver spoke. "We're here."
You opened your eyes suddenly.
"Hey... Are you awake?" Spencer whispered, leaving a soft, brief kiss on your shoulder.
You didn't answer anything, hoping that... Who knows what the hell you were hoping for. A miracle maybe.
Spencer said your name, his tone oddly serious. "Can we skip the part where we pretend we don't sleep together and we can just talk about this?"
He kissed your neck and your hand ran over his exposed torso. "Can we skip the part where we do this and we can go straight to the action?" Alcohol makes the braves.
Reid smiled against your skin. "Anything you want."
He moved away a little just to separate your thighs and settle between them.
Reid placed his hands on either side of your head, you watched him intently waiting for what would come out of his lips.
"I'll stop whenever you want, okay?" Even a little drunk he was a gentleman.
You nodded hurriedly, excited for what would come next.
His breathing is a mess, your breathing is a mess.
During the act he searched for your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. His hips and yours moved together, like puzzle pieces, only in a constant rhythm, which made the bed creak.
The noise of the mattress, of his mattress, merged with the noises that came from between your lips which came in different forms but had the same effect on him...
You couldn't say for sure that you remembered everything, but from those little fragments you knew that you had never felt so good in your life.
∗⋅✧⋅∗
You move under the sheets until you are facing him. But that was a worse idea than you anticipated.
Confronting him after all the images you have of him in your memory feels like someone has just punched the air out of your lungs.
"To begin with, do you remember anything?" He breaks the thick silence, again.
"Fragments." Your voice comes out as a shameful whisper.
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Me too..." He whispers too. "But I do remember that you tried to leave me in the morning."
"Oh..."
Really? Was that the only thing that could come out of your mouth?
Reid sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment that seemed like an eternity. "Listen, I know this might be awkward but please don't go..." A pang ran through your chest as you saw his pleading eyes. "We don't even have to talk about it."
"Okay..." He sigh of relief at your answer.
But as a cruel joke of life someone knocked on the door, ruining the conversation for Spencer and bringing a postponement for you.
Reid sighed before reluctantly unwrapping his arms from you. "I'm sorry. I... I have to go." He said before getting out of bed.
Last night probably, no, definitely last night you saw him to the soul, but still this time you stared at the ceiling until he got dressed in pajama pants and a gray t-shirt.
He left the room leaving you alone on his bed, naked. Wow, that was something unexpected.
You stood there for a few moments, before wondering what the hell you were doing?
You rubbed your face with your hands as many questions collided in your mind, all eager to capture your attention while you didn't even want to think about it.
What does it mean to sleep with Spencer Reid? He was one of your longest friendships and just by letting him spend one night everything is ruined.
He was acting so casual, like waking up with you was something so normal...
But you didn't even know how to name this. Because, after all, what was this?
You got out of bed and immediately searched the floor for your clothes. You found almost all of them at least.
Once dressed and half combed, you decided to leave the room and try to get out of Spencer's apartment.
But it was such a stupid idea considering it wasn't just you and him in the apartment. Even though you thought you were going to get out of this alive when you saw Reid's back turned to the door.
"Who do we have here?" Morgan's voice was enough for Reid to see you and you to see him.
You had been caught red-handed.
Reid frowned. "You were leaving?"
You stammered a bit before deciding to stop embarrassing yourself and close your mouth.
Morgan's gaze traveled from Reid to you and back to you before figuring out what was happening or at least what had happened.
"Wait guys... Both had sex?" Morgan whispered, trying to be discreet, something that was definitely unusual for him, but not the strangest thing today.
You let out a nervous laugh. "We? Of course not!" You rush to say.
Reid's frown deepened. "We don't?" He said with a hint of mockery and another of bitterness.
No one knew what to say for a while, but the only one in trouble was you.
Morgan stood up from the couch. "Yeah... I think I'd better get going."
Spencer didn't say anything, not even when the door closed behind Morgan. He just looked at you with severity, a severity that disguised his vulnerability. How vulnerable he was before you, as if his heart was exposed on a silver platter.
You weren't willing to talk and he felt like he had already said too much, so the silence between you only grew thicker.
Reid snorted. "For the love of god, just say something!" He swallowed. "Say something, whatever. That I'm bad in bed, that what happened was a one night stand, or that you just tried to run away because you're afraid that if you stay you'll have feelings for me." He try with all his might to keep the tears in place.
You shook your head at his first sentences, but perhaps the last was right. "I... Am I hurting you with this?" Maybe it wasn't the best question, but at least you were honest this time.
He looked away, debating what he should or should not say. "Yes... Yes, you're hurting me." Spencer didn't understand how the words managed to slip through the thick lump in his throat.
Guilt and you were never good friends. "Yes, maybe I'm starting to feel something for you beyond a friendship, maybe I already felt it before. I don't know... I'm scared."
Spencer hesitated but finally took a step in front of you. "I'm scared too." He whispered.
You hesitated for a minute but finally put your arms around him. At that moment you just needed the warmth that his arms could give you.
Reid hated how easily he hugged you back, you were close to abandon him...
"I'm sorry." You murmured as you held onto him.
He places a kiss on the top of your head before rubbing your back. "Just don't exclude me from this, let us both figure out together what's going on here, okay?"
"I promise." You tilted your head back to look at him.
"Changing the subject." Spencer looked at you intently, were his eyes always so beautiful? "Did you see my bra? I couldn't find it while I was getting dressed."
"Oh." Spencer nodded and his cheeks quickly turning a pinkish color. "I kicked it under the couch when Morgan knocked on the door.'
Neither he or you remembered how your bra had gotten there. But it happened while the messy make-out session was going on.
Reid broke the kiss and slipped his hand inside your shirt, stopping until he reached the clasp of your bra. "Can I take it off?" He looked at you with pleading eyes.
"Of course." You tilted your head towards him, not willing to leave his lips for long.
He gave you a couple of short kisses while unbuttoning your bra. "I love you." He murmured against your lips.
"I love you too." Your statement came out as a gasp when he pressed his lips against yours more intensely.
Both were drunk when they said such important words, yes, but isn't it said that drunks always tell the truth?
#criminal minds#spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#fanfic#fanfiction#one shot#angst#fluff#flangst#spencer x self insert#spencer reid imagine#spencer x you#spencer x reader#spencer x y/n#agent reid#larfetfanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fic
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And then later on when Penelope passed down her octopus mug to Spencer... 。:゚(;´∩`;)゚:。



...he named it Mildred. I AM NOT CRYING (╥﹏╥)
#criminal minds#spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#jason gideon#maeve donovan#criminal minds season 15#maeve#matthew gray gubler#mgg#mgg pics#lovemggubler
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tw: suicide, mourning, skipping meals, heavy topic
The day after you killed yourself, he couldn’t get up from your bed. He had gone to your apartment the moment he heard and fell asleep- wrapped around your scent- sobbing into your pillow. Your cat, George Washington, had curled himself into a ball about into the little indent in your designated untouched sleeping pillow- not purring. He only purred if you were around.
The day after you killed yourself, he didn’t get up from the bed until noon. His limbs were so heavy he didn’t really mind going to sleep and not waking up again. In fact, it was your precious baby (George Washington) that had finally got him up. Meowing and whipping his tail at the crying man’s face had succeeded in bringing him to his feet. And when he got up, he saw the sun shine on all the photographs tucked in the side of your vanity mirror- pictures of you smiling back at him with your dimple showing and your eyes squinting the way they did when you were smiling genuinely.
The day after you killed yourself, he went on a drive with George Washington because he didn’t know what else to do and going through your stuff felt like confirmation that you really… weren’t coming back. And he just wanted to believe.
He wanted to believe that if he closed his eyes long enough, he’d see the shape of you refracted by his cornea. He wanted to believe that if he played the playlist you had carefully curated for date night, he would hear you singing along with the tracks just like you always do did. He wanted to believe that, just for a minute, that he was your husband (not just your boyfriend) and he was coming home to you.
When he finally parked in the lot near your apartment, George Washington climbed into his lap. Your songs were still playing on the radio but he couldn’t turn them off.
That night he didn’t eat. Instead he got George’s food and water bowl fixed up before melting onto the couch in front of your TV. He didn’t feel hunger, no, despite the fact he hadn’t eaten anything since the day you…
It was another hour before he brought himself to look at his phone: the incessant, unending buzzing of his phone had finally cut through the murky emotion of grief and numbness and pain and anger. When he scrolled through the notifications, he could only work his thumbs to type out ‘Will call you tomorrow. I love you all.’ to your family groupchat before his vision blurred and he let his eyes close so he could dream of a future he would never have with you.
#jules writes 📓🖊#angst angst baby#angst#the day after you killed yourself#x female reader#female reader#aaron hotchner#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid angst#steve harrington imagine#eddie munson#boyfriend#imagine#boyfriend x reader#derek morgan x reader#Ethan winters x reader#Aaron Hotchner x reader#simon riley x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick x you#steve harrington fic#Remus lupin x reader#james potter x you#angst no happy ending#angst no comfort#peter parker andrew garfield#peter parker x reader#peter parker imagine#miles morales x reader
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cherry ☆ s. reid

ship spencer reid x afab!reader
content smut, period sex (kinda?), eating out (f!receiving), while on your period, it’s not that gross i swear, he’s a munch ur honour 🙇
word count 1.7k
summary usually during your period, you get really hot and bothered for no particular reason other than hormones. spencer offers to help out with your problem.
a/n im posting this directly after seeing a show at the moulin rouge, it’s currently 2am; this was inspired by my experience at the eras tour in stockholm
Periods are hell for you. Not just because of the cramps, or the blood, but because you just get so horny.
Now, to others it’s completely normal to masturbate while their periods are happening, either with a fingers or with a toy. Period sex is also a thing you’ve heard of, even from your friends who have often recommended the activity.
But to you, doing anything remotely like that, either by yourself or with anyone else, is a no. Mostly because of the messiness and how troublesome it would be to clean it up. So instead of getting relief by just touching youself, you always decide to wait until your period is finished to start doing sexual activities again. Besides, you only just have to go a few days without stimulation.
But this week is hard. You have the urge to just rip your underwear off and play with your clit until your wrist starts to ache all the time. It’s pure agony for you, and sometimes you find youself clenching your thighs together, or pushing your heel against your clothed pussy to get some sort of relief.
In the middle of your monthly period, one day is especially hard. You’re laying on the couch with a heating pad on your abdomen, your hair hidden in your drawstring hood, and your legs on your boyfriend Spencer’s thighs while he reads a book at 20,000 words per minute. He sometimes glances up at you from his novel whenever you squirm a bit, though you’re not sure if he thinks you’re just in pain from your cramps or if he’s able to read through you.
Besides, you know for a fact that your boyfriend won’t help you get off while you’re on your period. Spencer’s known to have a thing with germs, so there’s no way that he’ll touch your pussy, especially if it’s bleeding.
The next time you shift slightly and whine softly, Spencer closes his book and sets it down on the coffee table. “Are you okay, honey?”
“‘M okay,” you respond, your voice muffled by your pillow being cuddled in your arms. You unintentionally clench your thighs together at his caring voice which unfortunately, Spencer notices.
“You sure?” He gently massages your calf, which only adds fuel to the fire. You hate that he’s a profiler now. “Just cramps?”
“Mmph…” You nods your head a bit as you hide your face in the pillow, trying to hide your soft blush.
“Maybe you’re aroused?” He asks suddenly. One of his hands moves up your leg to squeeze your thigh. Profilers.
Again, you nod your head, defeated since he can so clearly see how horny you are. “Mm-hmm.”
“I see,” he mutters under his breath, but you can hear him. Disproving your previous judgements about him, he shifts his position so that he’s directly facing you, leaving one of your legs to hang off the couch and allowing him to be between your legs.
You pull the pillow down to your chest, wanting to see what he’s trying to achieve. “What’re you doing?” you ask, your eyebrow cocked.
“Can I help you?” Spencer suggests, his hands planted on your upper thighs, close to your core.
“With what?”
“You’re aroused,” he points out again. “And you’re in pain. Studies have shown that orgasms can help subside period cramps.”
Oh, that’s probably why your friends keep recommending period sex. But you feel too tired for full-on penetration right now. Yet again, he could maybe help you in another way. “Are you sure? It’s gonna be messy, and I know you don’t like germs, and I just feel gross.” You argue self-deprecatingly.
“Well I can put a towel down.” He gets up from his position between your legs and goes off to the bathroom. From the couch, you can hear him opening cupboards before he comes back with a black towel in hand. He continues with what he was saying. “And I want to help you. It’s not gross, it’s natural. I want to make you feel good. Here, lift up your hips.”
He puts a hand on your hip to guide you as you lift your bottom half up just enough for him to place a towel down and make sure it’s flat before he guides you back down. The towel is only just there if you say yes though, which he eagerly awaits before he does anything else to you.
You sigh, and figure that this might be worth a shot. You drop the pillow to the ground in front of the couch, quickly followed by the heating pad that was on your stomach. “Okay, fine,” you say as enthusiastically as you can which, with your cramps and your tiredness, isn’t really that enthusiastic.
Still, Spencer mouths a silent “thank you” before he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweatpants. You lift your hips up once more to make it easier when he tugs them down and off, leaving you in your underwear. Following the same pattern, he once again pulls your period panties off, and you let your hips settle onto the towel-covered couch.
His hands find their way between your thighs and he spreads them just enough for him to have access to your core, wet from your arousal and your blood. The five seconds he spends just staring at your vulnerable pussy, dripping blood onto the towel, are the most nerve-wracking five seconds of your life. You halfway convince yourself that he’s going to back out and leave you like this, horny and bloody with your pants off.
And yet, he buries his head between your legs and starts by gently kissing your heat, then licking a long stripe from the base of your slit all the way up to your sensitive clit, causing an equally long moan to erupt from the depths of your throat.
“You’re so beautiful, honey,” he says before he dives back in again, drawing circles around your bundle of nerves with his tongue before he traps it between his lips and suckles.
You kick your legs up a bit when he focuses on your clit, the stimulation to your sensitive bud ripping sudden moans from your lips. Your hands find their way to the top of his head and you grasp on to his hair tight.
He looks up at you through his lashes, still working his lips around your clit before he moves his tongue down to your slit, licking a bit before thrusting it into your wet cunt. His thumb replaces where his tongue was before, rubbing small tight circles around the bud.
You can’t believe how good he’s making you feel right now, and you can feel your pleasurable knot in your stomach tightening because of his undeserved-but-needed efforts. You don’t know if he’s doing this for you just to be helpful — considering his complicated personal relationship with germs and the like — or if he just really enjoys eating your pussy this much. With each second that passes by having Spencer lapping at your cunt like a man starved, you start to think that it’s the latter thought.
And he can tell you like it too, with the way you moan and arch your back and even when you start to grind your clit against your nose while his tongue is deep in your pussy. Even if you’re wearing a baggy hoodie and were wearing sweatpants, he still manages to make you feel incredibly sexy. Or “sexy” is maybe not the right word — loved; you feel loved in this moment.
He appears to feel the same as well, with the way he moans in content seeing you like this and feeling your fingers nestled in his hair and tugging lightly. With every small pull, a tiny sound emits from his throat and it feels oh so pleasurable on your pussy.
Sensing your impending orgasm, he takes his tongue, wet by your slick and blood, out of your weeping hole and quickly replaces the muscle with his index finger. He slowly pushes the digit in, feeling your walls pulsate around him as he pushes and pulls it in and out in a steady rhythm. A minute later, he adds a second and starts to curl his fingers against that gooey button inside your cunt once he’s knuckle-deep into your warmth.
It’s so much for you; almost too much. Your jaw hangs open in a silent moan and you almost can’t believe it when you start to grind your hips against his thrusting fingers, fucking yourself with his index and middle as it continuously and without fail hits the spongy button everytime.
Your orgasm hits you almost unexpectedly, a wave of pleasure overflows you as your eyes flutter shut and your back arches just a bit more. Your chest heaves while you gasp for air; this is just what you needed during your period. Seeing you’re damn near overwhelmed, Spencer works you through your orgasm, your arousal forming a creamy circle around his still-working fingers.
“There we go, that’s it, you’re doing so well” are among the small praises he breathes onto your pussy while you slowly but surely come down from the high. At the same speed, his fingers slow down until they become stationery, before he pulls them out with a wet squelch, causing you to whimper softly. When your eyes meet next, he can see how glossy your eyes are with satisfcation pulling at the corners of your lips.
“You didn’t have to do that.” You half-lie with a small laugh trailing behind your words. Though to be fair, you definitely needed it.
He pulls himself up to be eye level with you while you’re still laying there on your back catching your breath. You can already see a mixture of your arousal and your blood dribbling down his chin, though he doesn’t seem to mind all that much. “No, but I wanted to.” He says with a dopey smile, still pussy drunk.
Though the lower half of his face is still covered by your juices, he tries to lean in and kiss you, only to be stopped by your hands on his shoulders and you turn your head to the side with an amused smile. “Ew! I don’t wanna taste my blood!”
Spencer scoffed playfully at your reaction. “I just ate you out and I don’t even get a kiss?”
The way he pleads just makes you melt a little and you decide to give in just a bit by gently kissing his cheek. You can feel his cheeks heat up against your lips. Despite his previous openness, he gets flustered and smiles sheepishly, sighing a little. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” you joke, your mouth still planted on his cheek.
i’ve been plane-hopping around europe for over a month so i haven’t had a lot of access to wifi + i nearly failed one of my courses bc my professor was horrible at giving feedback, hopefully this explains my absence and i hope u enjoyed this !! (i posted this in a flurry btw, lmk if there are any errors whatsoever 🫶)
taglist @queermaxwooo @theoraekenslover join the taglist!
#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ spencer ꒱ ୨🎧୧#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fandom#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#dr. spencer reid#mgg#matthew gray gubler
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As Cool As I Think I Am
Summary: The 5 times Spencer tries to be cool, and the 1 time he doesn't care.
Alternatively; Spencer never thought he was cool, but he found himself wanting to be just for you.
[a/n] Recommended to be read after, "A Question Unasked", and is a roundabout sequel to "Mixed Messages."
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader| cw: slight spoilers for s1e04, s1e06, s1e08, s1e10, and s1e18 | description of canon-typical violence, timeframe switches because I can, and Spencer being an oblivious, lovesick idiot (can't believe this version of him survived all of this lol) | word count: 7.2k
Amazing. You had called him, “amazing” during the Arizona case and that was all that had been occupying his mind as of late. He had been called brilliant before. Been described as bright, gifted, hell, he was called a genius even. Yet that was the first time anyone had said anything positive about him.
Removed from his intellectual capabilities.
It made him think that there was more that he could offer than just his never-ending stream of knowledge and incessant rambling.
You had seen that in him.
Seen that he was 'amazing.'
But he certainly wasn’t feeling that way now.
“On SWAT we broke shots down into three steps." Spencer nodded as he listened.
"One: Front sight. Focus on the front sight, not on the target. Two: Controlled trigger press. Three: Follow through. After the shot, you come right back to the target. Now, what did you do wrong?”
He sighs with his eyes closed. “I didn't follow through.”
“Right. You came off the target to see where you hit.”
Hotch had been observing him for the past few minutes to prepare him for his assessment tomorrow, and yet it still felt like he was making no discernable progress.
He had memorized every trick, every form, every physics interplay that could better the ballistics of his shot and yet he still couldn't do it.
"Hotch, my firearms qualification is tomorrow morning. I barely passed my last one." He had said, putting the gun down.
He feels his unit chief gently push him aside to demonstrate and he gets in position.
"Front sight," He aims his gun.
"Trigger press," He presses down on the trigger, resulting in a gunshot to the target.
"Follow through." He finally says. Keeping his eyes forward with his finger still depressing the trigger until he holsters his gun again.
"You do those three things, you'll hit your target every time." Spencer shakes his head.
He tries to replicate the steps again, but only fails miserably.
He has been doing that. He is doing that. And yet he still keeps missing.
If this wasn't part of his job, maybe he wouldn't have cared all too much about his gun proficiency. Or lack of.
And yet it was.
And it was imperative that he learned it to keep his place on the team, but he had been losing hope.
"They're going to take away my gun."
Sensing his frustration, Hotch empathizes with him.
"Profilers aren't required to carry." He groans at that.
"Yeah, but she does and she's great at it."
God, you must've thought he was pathetic.
Aaron laughs internally at that. He knows exactly who the younger one is talking about.
He had seen the way that Spencer had been watching his 'protege,' and it didn't take being a profiler to know that he was absolutely smitten. If he hadn't known any better, he would've thought that Reid's frustrations stemmed from wanting to seem more experienced in front of you.
And Hotch saw no problem with that, at least for now. On the contrary, the two of you working together seemed to have bolstered his focus on the case. Making the team more efficient with their investigations.
He also thinks that it helped because you seemed to return Reid's sentiment, which is why he had brought you along to help him.
So when Spencer turns and sees you walk in, he blanches.
As much as he really liked your presence (you were friends, right?), he really didn't want to embarrass himself in front of you.
He does that more than enough on his own.
But it seemed like your mentor didn't care.
Hotch says your name with a greeting before excusing himself which tells Spencer that he had planned this from the start. He sighs at that. Chest feeling heavy at the pressure.
He sees you give him a polite smile, which he's come to recognize to be your way of easing him, and he returns it.
"I've heard about your progress." Spencer rolls his eyes at that.
"More like regress. I'm sorry that you have to be here." You snort at his joke but shake your head to assure him.
"I'm right where I want to be. "
His heart fills, even though he knows that not what you meant.
"Why don't you go ahead and show me how you fire that gun?"
He nods and waits for you to put on your ear muffs and goggles before he returns to his position. Calming himself down as he remembers Hotch's words.
Front sight, trigger press, follow through.
He fires three bullets and sees them all hit the whites of the target, which makes him sigh for the umpteenth time.
He puts the gun down and lowers his ear muffs to look at you. Seemingly deep in thought, chin resting on your hand, with eyes travelling slowly up and down his form. Observing.
Scrutinizing.
Assessing.
He can't help but feel naked under your gaze.
He always knew you were smart. The cases you've helped solve were more than proof of just that, but he knew that even you couldn't solve the mystery that was his aim.
He couldn't expect that of you. He relies on you so often already.
He briefly wonders how there's such a different between you and him. You joined the same year, joined the same unit, and worked with the same people on the same cases. How was it that you seemed calmer, cooler, and more prepared for anything more than he ever was?
Spencer firmly believes that intelligence cannot be quantified. And if anyone ever doubted him, he would just point at you and say that you had him beat everywhere despite what any number might have to say otherwise.
Case and point. you had been talking to him about something very important and thoughtful and he had been zoning out the entire time.
"I um,–– what?"
You shake your head and gesture to his gun once more. "Show me your form again."
He takes his gun hesitantly, but readies himself the same way he did earlier. The only exception being that his finger isn't on the trigger.
He hears that telltale, almost bored, 'hm' of yours before you speak again.
"Tuck your chest in."
He's read countless firearm manuals and instructions and he's never heard of that before.
"I'm sorry?"
"Tuck your chest in." You say it again, but it's still not making sense to him.
Unable to voice or even act upon his confusion, he watches as you wait with an impassive face before asking,
"Can I touch you?" He lets out a shaky, but immediate 'yes' and you move to stand beside him.
Given your calm and nonchalant demeanor, he anticipates a more impersonal touch. For lack of a better word. He expects a shove. Maybe a push, to correct him into the right place.
So when your hand comes to softly rest on his stomach, fingers splaying across the expanse of his undefined abdominal muscles, he feels his breath hitch. Upper body slightly crumpling in on himself as he does.
He's surprised he hasn't dropped his gun.
"Dr. Reid,"
He's also surprised that his heart hasn't stopped. With how you said his name, and how close you are– he can already feel your soft breath gracing his ear–
"You're an autodidact, aren't you?"
A self-taught person, he thinks.
"I–– I am." Curse his shaky voice.
"You know, there are some things that can't be learned by just reading textbooks and looking at diagrams."
He feels you tap his stomach and he suddenly feels hot.
"Feel this?" He feels you engulfing his senses, that's for sure. But he nods slowly.
"Remember it. Your center of gravity is different from the subjects in those graphics. So the form you need to take is likewise different."
And just like that, all too quick for his liking, you move away. Hand leaving him just like whatever depraved thought might've been running around his head.
He hesitantly looks back at you, and you gesture to his gun again. Noticing how your free hand is resting on the gun in your holster.
A Glock 19, he remembers.
"Go ahead and shoot like that now."
He does, in the same way that he's compelled to follow your voice like always–
Front sight, trigger press, follow through.
And fires three shots.
To his surprise, he manages to shoot the target's chest. Not quite centered, he admits, but its a vast improvement from his previous attempts.
"I– I did it." He feels the disbelief on his face when he looks at you again. He's expecting you to look just as shocked as he does. After all, you saw just how egregious his aim was. So it surprises him when he turns and is greeted instead with the small smile on your face.
Not the same polite smile that you usually give when you're at work, no. It was a soft, genuine smile, or so he thinks.
"I never doubted your capabilities, Dr. Reid."
He beams under your praise. Blooming like a flower under the warm radiance of the Sun. Once again subject to that brain-freezing sensation from a few weeks ago.
If he just remembers everything you told him today, which wasn't a lot, he theoretically should pass his firearm qualifications with no problem.
And maybe, just maybe, he'll get to see you smile at him again.
After all, he had always wanted for you to look at him. Actually look at him.
Maybe if he passes his test this time, you will.
----
The following day, he doesn’t pass his test.
And he is much more embarrassed now than he ever was before.
He returns to the bullpen with his head down. Already expecting everyone to know of his failure.
He really didn't want to see if you were one of the ones that had been looking at him.
What he doesn't see is that you were.
But you weren't disappointed at all. You wanted nothing more than to reassure him. To tell him that you could always help him again, and that you didn't mind the extra work if it weren't for the stares that you had been getting back.
Seemingly turning your what-would've-been act of friendship and care into an expectation and responsibility.
"Make a wish!"
"Come on, man. Blow, baby, blow!"
"I thought you were full of hot air, Reid."
"They're trick candles, Spence, okay? They–– They're going to come back on every time."
While Spencer is glad that he’s spending his birthday with actual people, there's one in particular that he's missing.
He also feels sort of embarrassed that he's having a full-on birthday at his workplace. Though he is very thankful that his friends care about him enough to do this.
"Hope you like chocolate." JJ says with a laugh and he is only now recognizing the cake. Previously too caught up in blowing out the undying flames to even notice the festive dessert that supported them.
"Where's the cake from?" The blonde only gives him a look that he can't quite understand, but he is immediately distracted when he feels a draft from where Hotch passes by him.
He looks in the direction he came from and lo and behold, he found the very person he was missing.
He gets up, wanting to at least get a greeting from you, but he's interrupted by Gideon asking him something before he can even try.
"You having fun?"
He knows that he's asking him, but he can also see how his eyes aren't quite addressing him back. Instead, looking up a few inches above him.
He gives a tight lip smile when he realizes just what he's looking at.
God, he felt pathetic.
“Yes, definitely. I am definitely– having fun.”
"Make a wish?" He asks another question and that’s when Spencer sees what he's doing now.
Ever since he first exhibited signs of interest in you, he knew that his mentor would be the first to clock them. He couldn't even hide it if he tried. If there was anyone on the team that he knew would figure it out this quick, it would've been him.
He expected it.
What he didn't expect was for Gideon to show disapproval for it.
For you.
Back during the Arizona case, he remembers how Gideon had interrupted you when you were explaining something. And that's when he realized you were going to have a hard time.
You were going to have a hard time because of his own rapidly growing interest.
Because he froze when you said one nice thing about him, then proceeded to wow him with your observational skills.
He didn't want Gideon to think that you were being a distraction to him, so he instead chose to show just how well the two of you had worked together. Even going as far as to double down and reiterate your statements to convince him of that.
And it seemed to have worked, but now he wasn't so sure.
"Can I take this hat off?"
He wanted nothing more than to do just that before you notice him, but his mentor just shook his head.
"I wouldn't."
He doesn't know it's because Gideon knew you found it cute.
By the time that he notices the elder doesn't really care about the conversation anymore, probably too distracted by the TV behind him, his gaze finally focuses on you.
The very person that he had intended to talk to.
The one he intended to talk the entire time before he got sidetracked.
You still hadn't turned to look at him though, or make an attempt to greet him. Not even a laugh to mock him for the huge, 'Happy Birthday' hat that sat on his head to make him look like a dunce!
Instead, you were staring at something. Or rather, someone.
He turns his head to look just where you were and there he sees his unit chief, your mentor, on the receiving end of your intense gaze.
Just like always.
He shakes his head and decides to just go talk to you, but he is once again interrupted. This time by Hotch with a solemn expression on his face.
“Sorry guys. Party’s over.”
You immediately spring into action at his words, completely missing his hand that was just about to come up to wave at you. He tightens his lips into a thin smile.
Spencer's starting to doubt Morgan and Elle's words.
–––––––––––––
The sentiment is rectified when he finally receives the one thing he had been looking forward to on his birthday, and it wasn't the gift.
Not even the greeting.
It was being able to be in your presence. Being able to spend time with you. The you that wasn't so stressed or strict about work, or the case, or your boss.
It was just him and you. You and him. And the scarf that seemed to warm him just as much as his heart warmed at the sight of your smiling face.
God, what he would do to have this with you forever.
Spencer is well aware that likes you.
Hell, even the rest of team knows it by now, but he's starting to fear that his unconscious mind is more aware of that than his conscious one.
Case and point, he had been having dreams.
Nightmares, actually.
Nightmares that he can't help but think will happen if he takes his eyes off of you for even a second.
Morgan had asked him earlier when he was making coffee if something was causing him to lose sleep. If you had been causing him to lose sleep, he had asked with a teasing smirk.
And while normally he would've flushed and stumbled at his implication that a night of you had been keeping him up, he admits to what's been plaguing his mind.
Naturally, he doesn't tell him the full nature of his night terrors. But his friend doesn't need him to. Not with the way that his eyes try to find yours every chance he gets, focus going in and out of the conversation like an adjusting lens.
Spencer fears that one day, no matter how strong or smart or clever you are, it's his negligence that'll place you on the receiving end of a killer's weapon.
And that there's nothing that he can do to stop them from landing the finishing blow.
He knows that it's not rational, but he also knows that dreams are rarely, if not never, rational. Studies show that around seventy to eighty-percent of dreams contain bizarre or irrational elements. This included unusual settings, impossible scenarios, and illogical developments to be featured in the unconscious brain.
Doesn't mean that he's alright with seeing it so often, though.
What's worse is that he knows that it can very much happen during the BAU cases. And that he can't even prepare himself for that scenario.
He's practically deadweight on the field with his still erratic aim and bambi legs, he's surprised you aren't sick of him yet.
He laughs a bit at the thought. Clutching a portion of his scarf—the only thing that has been keeping the nightmares at bay— as he promises himself that he won't leave your side.
Especially not in the confounding forest of McAllister, Virginia.
Which is why he's stuck in his current position.
“Dr. Reid, I need you to check back downhill and see if the deputies have returned.” He looks at you incredulously.
“What? No! I can’t leave you here– ”
He doesn't know what exactly you found in the abandoned house, but he knew that it wasn't wise to leave you with no one but a high schooler.
You might think he's not all that different from the kid, but he's at least trained to be an FBI agent.
“We need the rest of the sheriffs and the crime scene team here.”
You looked dead into his eyes, yet he still didn't relent. No matter how reasonable your request was.
In any other situation, he might've thought you were cool. That you were handling the situation like a natural, and that you were very responsible for taking charge when he was there with his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.
But he didn't want to leave you. Not when you looked like you've just seen a ghost.
He grasped your shoulders, firmly but gently, and practically begged for you to come with him.
Stating that what you were feeling was a completely normal physiological response. That your body was sending neropinephrine to your brain to help regulate the stress and compensate for whatever was happening inside of you and that it would be safer to stay together––
But when he sees you ice him out– concealing all remaining traces of shock or fear or worry– he freezes.
His eyes raked across your features, biding his time. Committing every micro-reaction, every hair out of place, every faux-calm movement of your eyes before he had to let you go with a nod. Leaving hurriedly to find anyone that can help and constantly looking back at you to assure his consciousness that you were fine, and that you would be fine.
When he saw that the other sheriff wasn't there yet, much less anyone for that matter, he immediately went back. Running uphill fast to get to you.
To make sure that you were alright, that you were alive, and that no one was coming to hurt you.
Which is how he found himself here.
Gun held to his head by the very high schooler that, he thought, wouldn't have been of help if another dangerous person had shown up.
When you raised your hands and dropped your gun in surrender, he was scared of what would happen to you both if he didn't act quick.
But he was even more scared of what could happen to you if he doesn't talk his way out.
Fast.
So that's what he did.
––––––––––
He didn't get to check on you, he realizes.
He knew you were able to knock the kid out, he was there when he helped you distract him, but he must’ve been wheezing because he was the first one to get ushered out and checked on.
He wants to tell them to check on you. That you had landed pretty badly when the unsub was able to push you back, but he can hardly even hear his own thoughts.
The siren of the police car, the medic talking to him, the rest of the team discussing the case's outcome, and his own heart in his ears were simply too much for him.
By the time that things had settled down, he notices that you still aren't there with him. He worries and whips his head around wildly before his eyes find yours already looking at him.
Doing so with an expression of regret or grief etched onto your face.
He sighs in relief, and gives you the best smile he can give to assure you that he's okay despite having been worried sick.
He needed you to know that he was fine. That it wasn’t your fault. That he was glad you're okay too.
That he was so impressed with what you had done despite the circumstances, and that you had handled the situation way better than he knew anyone on the team ever could.
So when you seem to turn away from him, he briefly wonders if something was actually wrong.
He tries to look back on what might've happened. Wonders if there's something he didn't see when he came back, or when he was away––
And that's when he realizes something.
Could he have put you in more danger when he came back to check on you? That he had accidentally sabotaged your takedown?
He sighs. He must've looked so pathetic in front of you getting grabbed like that–– but he's not sorry.
He had been doing that for your safety and for his own peace of mind–– he wasn't going to apologize for caring about you.
He'll make it up to you somehow.
The next time you go on another case together, which you two inevitably will, he'll make it up to you.
That, he promises.
He actually doesn't get to work with you again. So he decides that he can make it up to you by narrowing down the unsub's identity.
In fact, he hasn't seen you at all since the team first arrived at the crime scene.
You had been working with Hotch and Morgan on more field operations, leaving him with Elle and Penelope doing background checks on possible suspects. And while he wasn't with you, he'd like to think that he's still enjoying the company.
Well, that's what he would like to think.
He has no problems working with Elle. She was a nice colleague that seemed to occasionally humor his rants and got the job done quickly. And Penelope was someone that the both of you really got along with. Occasionally having this back and forth unique to the three of you.
But they weren't you.
Still. What he thought about you can wait later. He still has to think about his escape route if the two break out into a fight.
Right now, the three of them had staked out one Michael Russo who they anticipated would call his hitman, the suspected Unsub. They were hoping to get a name from what they could pick up from his end of the call, and they did.
Problem was,
"Russo's got eleven associates named Vincent." Spencer raised his brows at that.
Vincent is a name of Latin origins. He shouldn't be surprised that the mob had a handful of people with that name, but it was kind of too on the nose at this point.
"Oh, make that ten. Vincent Cellito died last summer. But here's something––Vincent Sartori."
He really wants to find this guy, so he chooses to keep looking through the list. Ignoring the growing tension between the two girls.
"Currently doing six at Dannemora for racketeering."
Spencer then speaks up again, "How about this Perotta? There's not much on him."
Garcia makes quick work to pull up what seemed to be deleted records and that's where they find something interesting.
"Alcohol addiction at 14, violent outbursts, assaults,–– Once threw a Molotov cocktail at someone sitting in their car." She can't believe what she's reading.
"Several notations for aggression," He adds, but this is where he sees something truly wrong.
"He once scheduled a visit to an infirmary to gain access to a–– boy who looked at him for too long?"
He really didn't want to meet this guy.
"No fear, no remorse, quick temper. And he was smart enough to stay off the radar as an adult," Elle interprets. "Paranoid personality. Could be our guy."
And he really didn't want you to meet him either.
All the evidence is stacking up against him though, so you just might have to. He just wished that nothing bad would happen when you did.
––––––––––
While right now they weren't sure if he was the unsub, he was definitely someone who fit their profile. He saw some LEO's bring in a guy who had essentially been cuffed at every limb, accompanied by Hotch and Gideon, but he had yet to see the others.
He sees Morgan, who is walking alongside Elle (she went to see what all the commotion was about) but with who he sees next, he feels his stomach drop. Heart rate spiking in contrast to an all time high that he's practically sure he has tachycardia.
"What happened to you!?"
He got up from his seat to run over but you just shake your head.
You had come back with your clothes and hair in disarray, a bleeding nose, and a a busted lip. A complete disparity to the normally clean-cut and professional look that you had strived to maintain.
Even when you had been tackled to the ground a few cases back, the damage wasn't nearly as bad as this.
It's Derek that answers his question for him though.
"Perotta hit your girl up in the head, Reid." He chooses to ignore the joke. Too worried as he tries to check on your head but you just softly squeeze his hands to reassure him before you push them away.
Still not looking at him as you finally speak.
"It wasn't that bad. He hesitated. It could've been worse."
He doesn't like your answer.
If you had just been hit in the head and yet your nose is bleeding, that was a clear sign of a concussion. And the cut on your lip had to be from a fall. On asphalt or onto another material, it didn't matter to him since both are just as bad.
As he expresses that, you just tell him to drop it and then move away from him.
Before he can say more however, Hotch comes back into the room with his usually stern expression. A bit of worry lacing his tone, Spencer notes, as he orders you.
"Go home."
He's staring you down, but it seemed you had a lot more to say to that.
"Sir Hotchner, I would be of much more use in here. It is imperative that all available resources are focused on the retrieval of James Baker." He sighs because you're right, but that doesn't seem enough to satisfy you.
The boy-genius hates it when you use reason to get your way.
"Fine. Help Reid and the others with the evidence. We can narrow down his area of operation from there. They should be arriving soon."
You shake your head adamantly. "Sir, I can handle the interrogation--"
"No you can't!"
Spencer surprises himself with his outburst, but you don't even turn to look at him.
It's Hotch that gives him a very pointed stare though before continuing,
"Reid is right, agent. We'll handle the interrogation, so please busy yourself here." He says it with a finality that is indicative of his departure but you stop him one last time. Hand going up to rest on your mentor's collar.
He sees you gesture to your own, and Spencer hears an intention in your voice that he can't quite understand.
"Let's not give him a weapon, sir. He's pretty strong."
He sees his boss nod, and he takes off his tie. Putting the cloth into your awaiting hand, and you grip it out of instinct.
Reid zones out as he sees this interaction in disbelief. Did you normally touch the others like this?
You had completely brushed off his concern, not even looking at him. And yet when it was your unit chief that told you to do so, you had simply followed?
He thought he was starting to become an exception to you, but had he been reading the signs wrong? It could very much be a possibility as he was never good at doing so.
Even later when he had been sifting through the bags from the suspect's van, you still didn't respond to him. Even going as far as to ignoring Penelope's offer to watch the tapes they had found in Perotta's van. Shaking your head, 'no' with a faraway look in your eyes.
Just what had exactly happened while he wasn't by your side?
At this point, Spencer’s convinced that you would never like him.
If not for you having eyes on literally anyone else but him, then definitely because he had disappointed you. Desecrated the honor that came with being an FBI agent.
Just because he had been distracted.
A whirlwind of emotions had been flurrying inside him since the very beginning of this case, but he swears that he had never meant for this.
He doesn't even remember how it happened. Which baffled him, given his memory. But he thinks it's because he couldn't have cared less about the past few hours.
He had been stuck babysitting Lila only because you had told him so. Entrusted him with her because you thought that he was the best person to guard her, to comfort her.
He didn’t know it was because you had a feeling he’d be safer by her side.
And some part of him was flattered that you had said all this about him. Especially when all Lila would hear from him were endless praises of your name, of your work, and your caring nature.
But another part of him felt ignored. Pushed aside.
He doesn't know when it had happened, but Hotch had stopped pairing you together some cases ago. Saying something about you needing physical training, though he sincerely doubted that.
He thought that things were going well between you two. He had just been trying to find the perfect window where you would see him in a good enough light.
A good enough light that would make you say 'yes' to going on a date with him.
He didn't even care that the pretty blonde was interested in him. He only agreed because you stressed her safety more than any other target thus far. But the attention that she was giving him?
That was all that he wanted from you.
All he'd been wanting for months.
And when he had kissed her, all he could think about was you. How it would've felt if it was you in his arms, how you would react if it had been you that he was touching.
But then immediately after, how you would react to him kissing another girl.
God, he was pathetic.
He knew that you had been having a hard time lately. And he also knew that it had a lot to do with your work, how he did his, and his safety. That was all you ever stressed about when you were with him.
If he was safe.
You'd think he'd learn that by now, but he hasn't. Which is why even when he knew all this, his heart still ached as he sees you cry into Morgan's arms. Sobbing like no tomorrow. All because of something he did.
All because he took all your hard work, that had been focused on keeping him alive, and essentially throwing it right back at your face.
His negligence did that.
And he supposes that now, he can't do anything to get into your good graces anymore. Not when Derek Morgan seemed to better at doing his job as a federal agent, and his job as your friend.
When he finally gets changed into dry clothes and enters Lila's house, he doesn't miss the way that you turn from him. He also doesn't miss the glare the other agent was giving him. Nor the careful hand that had been rubbing up and down your arm.
Something that he wished he could've been doing instead.
––––––––––
God, he wanted to be anywhere but here, considering this is where it all went downhill.
"Did you give Lila Archer a collage?" Gideon had started the interrogation, so even if he did want to leave, he couldn't.
"What?"
"There's a photographic collage above Lila Archer's sofa. She says you gave it to her."
But the faster that they could get this done, the faster he could apologize to you.
"So? I didn't make the damn thing." Parker had laughed out, clearly not comprehending the severity of the situation.
"So you just happened to give her a work of art containing most of her life in it?" Spencer pushed but was surprised to see his ex-classmate seemingly have no recollection of the situation at all.
Something was wrong.
If it wasn't him, then who––?
"I––no, no. Look, I lied. I just wanted her to like me. I met her here, and she was a fan of art. Someone gave me the piece to give to her, but I told her it was from me."
It can't be––
"I said I found it, and I thought she'd love it."
"And who gave it to you?" Morgan had finally asked.
"Her name's Maggie Lowe. She uh––She works on Lila's show."
When Spencer hears this, he immediately goes to call you on his phone. Maggie Lowe had gone to Juilliard with Lila and was the production assistant that he swore he saw go in and out of her trailer.
If he wasn't so distracted, he would've fucking noticed that.
But his phone doesn't even ring for a few moments before the call is declined.
What the fuck was happening?
Before he could ask anyone else, he heard Derek speak up.
“Sweet girl, listen to me. We have a name, and it’s ‘Maggie Lowe.’ We’re on our wa—" Spencer tries to talk to you through Morgan's phone, but is knocked off balance when the man turns around in shock.
"Christ man—we're on our way back over there, okay? Stay put and we’ll let Hotch and JJ know.”
"Let me talk to her!" He practically begs, but before anyone could even understand what he was saying, the call is ended from your side.
"Reid, what the hell were you trying to do?"
He's shocked at his own actions too, but that's not what's on his mind right now.
"She dropped my call but she answered yours? And since when did you start calling her that?"
He knew it wasn't fair, especially after what he had done, but just when did you and him happen?
"Since you started being a dumbass. Get over yourself, kid."
Everyone then started making their way to the two SUV's parked outside, but Spencer took the one that Morgan was driving.
He wasn't done with this conversation.
He tries to call you again, but this time, it looks like the line is busy. What was going on, where were you? He tries Lila's phone, even though he's sure she won't pick up and nothing either.
He has half a mind to ask Morgan to call you, in case you were just being petty and ignoring him, but he feels his phone vibrate. He suddenly hears his phone ring, and he hurriedly answers without checking the caller ID.
Hoping that it would be you on the other hand as he called out your name.
"Nope, sorry hon, it's me." It was Garcia's voice, but it sounded like she was shaking. Sensing the urgency in her voice, he instinctively puts his phone on speaker.
"Reid, I need you to listen to me very carefully— I've already alerted officials in the area, but your unsub? Is in Lila Archer's house."
You can't keep doing this, he thinks. You can't keep scaring him like this, because he's starting to feel so sick.
He looks to his friend in the driver's seat and sees him nod when they make eye contact. Speeding up as they thank Penelope before she ended the call.
At this point, he could care less with how pathetic he might've looked. No longer caring about how uncool you thought he was, or whatever might've been going on between you and Morgan, or if you still had a crush on your boss— none of that.
They had left you behind with Lila and no one else.
Spencer had always feared that one day, no matter how strong or smart or clever you are, it's his negligence that'll place you on the receiving end of a killer's weapon. And that there's nothing that he can do to stop them from landing the finishing blow.
If the reason you were alone and held captive by some psychotic shooter was because he had pissed you off enough to even dismiss his help?
He might never forgive himself for it.
When they arrive, he immediately gets out of the car. Ready to run in and ambush Maggie by himself if he has to when Lila runs into his arms. Holding a gun in her hand as if it were a bomb.
A Glock 19 that he's seen you use since his first official cases on the team.
He notices Morgan, Elle, and Gideon were already out, but Hotch and JJ have still yet to arrive.
He knows that he should wait until further instructions. That there wasn't a protocol for this specific situation. Or maybe there was, but his IQ of 187 had always been slashed down to 60 whenever you were involved.
When he hears a gun fire from inside the house, he's the first one that starts running.
He's thankful that he wasn't alone when he did though.
By the time that Maggie had been apprehended, you were already well on your way to the nearest hospital. According to the clock from inside your room, and the news report that had been playing, a full twelve hours at the very least had passed since then.
You tried to remember what had happened. Tried to remember how you screamed for help once you had subdued her. How she shot you when you tackled her.
Probably with the intention to kill you, then herself had you not talked her out of it.
You groan as you feel the blooming pain in your side. Probably from the GSW that you're going to have to note in your action report.
And then you remembered how you realized what you felt for Spencer and the rest of the team.
You shake your head despondently.
When you look back on every situation where you had essentially put yourself on the line for his sake, you notice that you had really been doing that out of your own volition.
That you had been doing it because you didn't want him getting hurt.
You just didn't like that the the team was turning it into some sort of responsibility.
And sure. Maybe the others were complicit in pairing you up, or guilty for giving you odd looks, but they probably wouldn't have done that if it wasn't something you were already going to do.
God, you felt so pathetic.
You don't think you can handle looking at Spencer now. Not after your existential crisis, and certainly not after what you said before he left.
But luck has a way, so it seems, to constantly elude you.
You note this as you see the very man that you had been thinking of slowly opening the door and perking up when he sees your eyes on him.
Well, as perked up as he could be. Given the circumstances.
"How uh—, How are you? A-Are you...okay?"
You take in how he looks when he asks. Dark rings encircling his eyes, (he had been up all night waiting for you), usually neat hair in a mess (he had been running his hands through them nonstop), and shirt all crumpled from being hunched over for so long (a different one, because he just couldn't stand the vague scent on chlorine in his old one.)
Your heart sinks at the sight and you beckon him closer with your strong hand. Echoing his question.
"Are you okay, Dr. Reid?"
He lets out a shaky breath when he finally hears your soft voice again, slowly approaching you as he does. He was so worried that the last words he would hear from you would be your disappointment, but he persists.
"Can you please answer the question? I don't like it when you pretend like you're okay when you're obviously not."
His hand finds its way to trace little patterns on the back of yours. Occasionally looking up at to see if he was hurting you, before continuing when he sees that he isn't. Feeling too shy to do anything more.
You roll your eyes at the gesture. Flipping his hand to rest on the hospital bed and slipping yours on top of his. Giving it a soft squeeze.
"I could be better." You then squeeze his hand again. "Is this what you were trying to do?"
He thinks for a while, as if not really understanding your question, before nodding vigorously.
You smile at the sight but then feel your regret from a few hours ago come rushing back.
"I'm really sorry. For...everything." You don't think he knows what you're apologizing for, but you do it anyway.
If not now, when?
Spencer laughs a little at that but shakes his head. "Morgan told me about what you said. Back at Lila's. Well, more like he told everyone while we were waiting for you to wake up."
You nod. Suddenly feeling guilty for trying to make contact so you try to let go, but he only entangles your fingers once more. Intertwining them as much as he can since this is the closest that he can afford to have you right now.
He feels his lips tightening into a thin smile before he says what's been haunting him for the past few hours.
"I'm sorry that you had to deal with me for so long. I never meant to burden you like that or make your job harder."
"No, Spencer please," you start, rubbing the only part of his hand that you could reach with your thumb.
"You were never a burden. I was just—caught up in a bunch of things."
He doesn't miss how your usual eloquence evades you. Which gives him a bit of an idea as to how unscripted and vulnerable you were being with him right now.
And as much as he should hate this for you, he'd love it if you would learn to be a bit more vulnerable in front of him. Even if it was a departure from your usually starched blazers, pressed blouses, and clean-cut exterior.
He still thought you were cool just like this.
"Have I ever told you that I thought you were really cool?" You weakly snort at that.
"If by 'cool,' you mean constantly worrying about how everything could go wrong, then yeah. I'm super cool."
He shakes his head at that, but it looked like you weren't done.
"I think you looked cooler, though. Especially when you were next to the pool trying to dry your gun. You looked like a wet rat."
He groans at the mention but you continue to tease him.
"Hey, you were a handsome wet rat. Still a rat, but... you know. From Vegas. Arguably not as bad as the ones from New York. Now though, you're a handsome dry rat."
Now that, he just wines at. You weren't being fair.
How could you make him go through all this and then say that?
Did you know what kind of effect you have on him?
The two of you continue to sling back jokes at the other, a common thing you used to do before things went south. And just enjoying each other's presence.
Holding his hand as you absentmindedly started massaging it. He didn't even notice how his hand had been shaking since the moment you first held onto it.
He was so so glad you were alive. That you were still here, with him. And there's no place he would rather be than where you were.
"So. How about you start telling me what you've been up to while I've been knocked out, hm? What have you learned, genius?"
He's learned a quite a lot, while you were away.
He learned that he should probably encourage you to have more breaks. Learned that you should both talk to each other, and everyone, a bit more. And he learned that you two weren't so different after all.
He's also learned how much he really liked your smile, your laugh, your soft touch, and the way that his name fell from your lips.
He doesn't tell you any of this, however.
Opting to instead tell you about the numerous facts he's picked up during the case, and how much he hated Hollywood.
[a/n] And with that, this marks the end of this specific timeline! I've honestly loved writing with this reader's specific personality in mind, and I'm looking forward to how she'll mellow out when she learns to be more honest.
I have a few ideas for one shots regarding this specific dynamic, but if you enjoyed it as much as I did, please tell me what you thought about this short series! And if you have any idea on what you'd like to see next from these dumbasses, send an ask my way!
Thank you so much for liking them thus far.
Like my work? Consider tipping me!!
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid angst#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x mentored by hotch! reader#dr. spencer reid#criminal minds imagine
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Glowing (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)
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Author Masterlist
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.
Summary: The team has been out on a case for about ten days now. You're not with them this time due to your 21st-week pregnancy and doctor's order not to go to the field, and you miss your husband, Spencer, like crazy. When they come back, Spencer can't stop looking at you and your recent baby bump. To say it makes him feral is an understatement, and he wants to show you how marvelous you are despite your insecurities about your changing body.
Word Count: 5.8k
Warnings: SMUT/18+/MDNI. Spencer and Reader are horny AF. There is a lot of teasing, heated kissing, heavy making out, oral sex, PIV sex, and breeding kink (a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy). Reader has some insecurities about her body.
A/N: This idea was requested a while ago. I'm so sorry it took me so long to get it done. But here it is! Someone asked for horny!future!dad!Spencer? Well, you’re welcome.
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You can't say you are thrilled about staying in Virginia when all of your team is fighting crime on the other side of the country. Not when it has been ten days since they are gone. Not when you haven't seen your husband that long because he happens to work on the same team.
It's not that you had another option, though. Considering you are almost in your 21st week of pregnancy, your doctor advised you to take it slow on the job. That means being on the field miles away from home became a big no, and this time, you had to settle for nightly phone calls and daily texts with Spencer.
So it doesn't surprise anyone to see the happiness on your face when Hotch calls around midday, announcing that the case is over and they are flying home.
Penelope, always the joyful human being on Earth, immediately got on board with Rossi to host a gathering in his mansion once they were back tonight. Of course, Rossi agreed. Virtually no one can say no to Penelope.
"Okay, mama-genius," she says after ending the call with David. "We have a party tonight and a lot of things to do."
You may be worried about what 'a lot' can imply, but it is just a saying. Penelope will do most of it anyway, claiming you can't do any strenuous task so as not to bother baby-genius. Since the moment you and Spencer told the team about the baby's coming, Garcia baptized you all: papa-genius, mama-genius, and baby-genius. You find it the cutest thing in the world.
Walking through the supermarket aisles, you get everything you'll need: snacks, alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, and all the stuff. And with the cart full, Penelope sends you home to get ready.
"But Pen, you need help to set all this up."
"Don't worry, honey. I already have Anderson waiting for me at Rossi's. The benefits of having a spare key," she proudly says, dangling her keychain full of keys. "Now go! Go to get ready for your man. I know you have been missing him like crazy."
She is not wrong in the slightest, so you don't fight her. A bath sounds nice right now, and with all the pregnancy going on, you'll need the extra time to get ready.
-
Ten days have been torture for Spencer Reid. It's the longest he has been apart from you since you guys discovered you are pregnant. Sure, phone calls and texts help, but it's not enough. Not to the overprotective Spencer, anyway. It's not that he doesn't trust you; he does. But his mind always works in overdrive, and he worries more than he should. Not to mention, he has missed you like he hasn't seen you in months.
When Rossi tells the team the plans for the night once they arrive, Spencer is a bit disappointed. He would have preferred to go straight home to be with you. But when JJ assures him you will be there, his apprehensions change to anticipation.
The kind of anticipation that keeps him anxious until everyone arrives at Rossi's past 8 p.m. They were a little bit late for the estimated time, but the traffic was hell today.
A happy Penelope opens the door before Rossi can reach his key.
"Welcome home, mon amis."
"My home, you say?" the old man corrects, no real annoyance in his voice.
"Share is care, so our home is," Garcia retorts, effusively hugging every team member crossing the threshold. The last one is Spencer. "Your woman is waiting for you," she whispers to him after almost crushing him in her embrace.
Spencer practically runs to the living room, where you are greeting everyone. His eyes nearly can't give credit to what he sees. Of course, he knows how you look. He has known you for years and has memorized every detail of you: your height, the way your head leans when you're listening to someone, the color of your eyes, the way you smile, your expressive hands, and every curve of your body. But today? Something looks different, alluring, magnetic, and so entrancing.
His brain has a suitable explanation for it. Sure, when you haven't seen your partner in days, you tend to enhance every detail you love about them. 'Love hormones,' others would say. But no, this is more than psychology and chemistry.
Pregnancy has made changes in you. It was expected, and Spencer knows that, but reading it in a book is way different than seeing it for himself. Sure, there were the headaches and the morning sickness in the early stages. Adding the mood swings and fatigue. But nothing prepared him for the body changes. And not in the bad way people must think, all the opposite. To Spencer, pregnancy has made you the most sexy woman in the world. And after ten days of being deprived of those changes, to him, all come at once. Your breasts got bigger, and you definitely started to show more. The sundress you're wearing just enhances those details, and Spencer feels like he can faint right there.
When your eyes meet across the room, his breath hitches; those eyes he loves so much are glowing and chanting a spell Spencer won't escape from. Not that he wants to, anyway.
Shameless, you leave your conversation with Prentiss and Luke and run to your husband, throwing your arms around his neck.
"I missed you," you murmur into his neck. Spencer hugs you back and closes his eyes, relishing how good you smell and how good it is to have you in his arms again. "We missed you," you add.
The mention of your unborn child melts Spencer on the spot. "I missed you both, too," he manages to say, reluctantly parting from your embrace to look at you and get lost in your eyes again. "I love you," he whispers, leaning to capture your lips with his. And just like that, the anti-PDA, Spencer Reid, indulges himself in kissing you in front of everyone.
The teasing from the team around is only background noise, and neither Spencer nor you are very concerned about it. Not until you involuntarily tug his hair, and Spencer needs to do everything in his power to stop the groan threatening to escape his lips.
Parting and clearing your throats, you both try to regain composure. All the team's eyes are on you, but the only one who dares to point out the obvious is Rossi.
"I have a guest room upstairs, at the second door down the hall."
The comment causes the team to laugh and you to be mortified.
"Sorry," you both mumble, a deep shade of crimson adorning your cheeks. Grabbing your hand, Spencer pulls you to a corner. You're still in sight of the people but far enough to talk and not be listened to.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He points to your baby's belly. It's not an accusatory question, more like an excited one.
"I wanted it to be a surprise. I would have liked to be in a more private setting, but I wasn't going to miss being here and waiting for you at home to show you."
Spencer's hand rests over your now prominent belly and rubs soothing patterns there. "It's amazing," he admits. "How are you feeling?"
You let out a content sigh, feeling the warmth emanating from your husband's palm to your lower stomach.
"Much better now you're here."
"They haven't done much trouble, have they?"
"Nah. Behaves like an angel." And it's the truth. The second trimester has been much better than the previous one: no morning sickness, less fatigue, and it has been great.
There are other 'issues' though. The boost of energy has been paired with an increase in your libido that sometimes is very hard to control. The times Spencer is around, having sex can be enough, but with days passing and with the tenderness and care Spencer has been touching you, it's getting hard to satiate your most primal needs. You know he does it because he doesn't want to hurt you, but even if you have assured him you won't break, he hesitates nonetheless.
And now, after all these days without him, you are sure another touch from him, even the most innocent, will set your body on fire. You are sure this night will be excessively long.
Spencer's thoughts are not very different from yours. The moment he sees you in your sundress walking to him was enough to make his mind wander.
"OK, mister. Enough lovebirds' moment for now. The girls need their time, too." Without warning, Penelope grabs your hand to lead you to the group where Tara, Emily, and JJ are.
You can only shrug to Spencer as Penelope drags you from him. Spencer gives you a reassuring smile. It's fine; you are both adults, he reminds himself. How can it be so difficult to keep his hands to himself for a couple of hours?
Easier said than done, he'll realize.
Neither of you can't help the stolen glances across the room or the subtle smiles you share as you talk to the team at different spots in the house.
Spencer doesn't know if he can control himself much longer. You look stunning and tempting, and his mind starts to fill with unholy things he wants to do to you.
"Reid?" Luke's worried voice gets him out of his mental predicament.
"I - uh. I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"Are you alright, man? You seem distracted."
If alright means extremely horny and with an incipient boner tightening his pants, then yes, he's more than alright.
"Yes. Yeah. Uh - I'll grab some water. Excuse me, I'll be right back."
The trip to the bathroom is quick and mildly effective: Splashing cold water on his face and reciting the Declaration of Independence in his mind, Spencer regains some composure and gets back to where the people—and you—are.
The night continues in the same way. It's not like you are openly teasing him, but Spencer can't help himself.
The last straw comes when you're in the backyard talking to JJ and Emily, and you're laughing so hard that your body jolts, making your breasts bounce a bit, exposing more of your cleavage. It's not that evident to anyone, but for Spencer, who has been gawking at you all night, it is clear as day.
He wants you, and he wants you now.
Spencer sets his glass of water on the table and strolls where you are. Giving JJ and Emily a tight-lip smile, he leans to whisper something in your ear. The girls can't hear what it is, but the flush in your cheeks should give them an idea.
"Yeah, it's kind of late. And yeah, I'm feeling a bit tired," you tell Spencer, now looking at the girls, not wanting to disclose what Spencer actually said.
"Sure, carrying a baby Reid must be exhausting," Emily teases, gaining a roll of eyes from Spencer.
"Go, guys. Don't worry; I think I'll leave soon, too," JJ says, and you nod gratefully to avoid making more uncomfortable the moment.
With a tight grip on your hand, Spencer walks with you to say goodbye to everybody. Then, no later than that, you hop on the Uber, already waiting outside Rossi's.
-
All the ride home, Spencer's hand rests firmly on your tigh. His eyes can't peel off of you. All of you. It's like he hasn't seen you in months and wants to memorize each feature. You look back at him with a mix of amusement and self-consciousness. The lust is all written on his gaze, but there is something more, too. Love, longing, reverence. It's like there isn't anything else in the world but you.
The thought only fuels how much you love him and, of course, how horny you feel. Is it hot in this car, or is that just your idea? Why is the ride taking longer than you would like? You're about to huff in protest when the vehicle stops at your destination. Thanks God!
Spencer never falters his grip on you all the time. You can feel him everywhere: on your hand as you take the stairs, on your lower back walking down the hall, on your shoulder when you fish the key in your purse.
As the door shuts behind you, Spencer's lips are on yours in an instant. Kissing you hard. Like he's a drowning man, and you are the air he needs.
"God, you don't know how hard it was to control myself," Spencer mumbles, now peppering wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone.
"Hard, uh? Well, I guess I have an idea," you say, palming him over his slacks, making him hiss.
"Don't tease me, please," Spencer growls between kisses as he walks you both through the apartment to your bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in your path.
"I'm not, baby. I promise I'm not. I'm as desperate as you are." You're not lying. Your body has been on fire the whole night. You want him as much as he wants you right now.
When your legs hit the bed, you're both only in your underwear.
Spencer breaks the kiss to look at you. The bedroom is only lit by the hallway lights. He reaches for the nightstand to switch the lamp on, but before he does, you stop him.
"Can we just-" You don't finish the sentence, but Spencer understands what you're asking for.
"Yeah. We can, of course. But what's wrong?"
It's not the first time you have sex with the room's lights off, but those times, neither of you has explicitly requested it. You usually don't have trouble with Spencer seeing you naked, but since you got pregnant and your body started to change, you don't feel sexy, and it is mining your confidence. Spencer's suspicion goes in that same direction.
"Nothing," you say, pulling him to kiss him again with the same passion as before. Spencer almost surrenders at your doing, but he stops.
"Hey," he whispers. "Talk to me."
You sit on the mattress, knowing you have to tell him what's bothering you. He sits by your side, patiently waiting for you to collect your thoughts and choose your words.
After some seconds of deliberation, it is you who switches the lamp on. Standing from the bed, you plant yourself in front of Spencer.
"What do you see?" you ask, with your hands on your hips.
Spencer's eyes rack your body from head to toe, especially double-taking your lower stomach, where your pregnant belly is. The answer is obvious to him.
"My perfect and sexy wife, standing almost naked in front of me, trying to kill me because I can't touch her yet."
You roll your eyes, huffing. "Spencer, be serious, please."
"I am! Baby, I don't know why you could think I'm not being honest with you."
There is a scold on the tip of your tongue, but you relent, changing it for a deep sigh.
"But look at me! These-" you say, eyes darting between your breast and the skin of your stomach. "There is no chance this is sexy. I'm bloated half of the time; my skin feels gross, and the stretch marks are more every day. And my tits! God, if I unhook my bra, they are going to fall to the floor!"
It's true, your body isn't the same as it was a couple of months ago, and it'll probably continue to change as the weeks go by, but for Spencer, that doesn't make you any less attractive or desirable—quite the opposite.
"Hey, look at me, please," Spencer asks in a soft voice. You do as he says, now feeling more exposed in front of him. Spencer notices and takes your hands to bring you closer to him.
"You know you're carrying a human being in your womb, right?" he asks, tracing soft patterns with his finger over the skin of your arms. "That makes your body not look or feel the way it usually does. But it's perfectly natural, and I'm sure you know that." Spencer stops to kiss your stomach. "What you don't seem to know is that every change makes you more perfect than you already are. Love, you are perfect for who you are, and your body is perfect because it's yours—stretch marks or not, breasts enlarged or not, swollen or not."
"You have to say that," you complain with an adorable pout, and Spencer chuckles.
“I have to say that because it's true. Did I lie to you before?” You shake your head no. “Exactly.”
He pulls you to him so you can sit on his lap. Your arms rest loosely around his neck. He looks up at you with only adoration in his eyes.
“Love. You look amazing. Gorgeous. And so so sexy. I have been craving to touch you all night, renegaded to only see you from afar. That's torture,” Spencer says, lips hovering over your jaw before trailing down loving kisses—the feel of his wet lips pushing your heart rate to go up.
“You don't know what you do to me, do you? All these days thinking about you, what it's like to have you in my arms, what it's like to be able to kiss you, to smell you.” Spencer says, his fingers dancing over the patch of exposed skin of your breasts still clad in your bra. His lips sucking on that special spot on your neck. You can't help the nasty moan that leaves your mouth.
His eyes search yours for permission when one of his hands rests on the clasp of your bra. You nod, and he unclasps it, revealing your full breasts to him. You swear you hear him whimper at the sight, just as you feel him twitch beneath your thighs.
“Fuck, darling. They are so perfect. So round, so full, so soft,” Spencer praises as his mouth latches to one of your nipples and, with one hand, squeezes the flesh of your other breast. “I couldn’t stop all night thinking about doing this. Claiming these perfect tits.”
“Spencer, fuck!” you moan when he sucks harder. “Yes!”
“So sensitive. These tits are all mine,” Spencer mumbles as he switches his mouth from one nipple to the other.
He keeps lapping, swirling his tongue, sucking. It's like he can't have enough of it. And you can feel it in your bones.
'Extasis' keeps it short to explain how you feel right now. Just with the use of his mouth, Spencer is already pushing you close to the edge. In the back of your mind, you can hear his voice explaining how nipple stimulation can produce orgasms. You didn't think it would be possible at the time, but now you're nearing experiencing it.
"Spence, please. Just -"
One of his hands travels south, leaving goosebumps in its wake until it reaches the waistband of your panties.
“Tell me what you need, baby. And I’ll give it to you.”
“I need you to touch me,” you mewl, your voice cracking with desire.
“Here?” Spencer teases, trailing feather touches across your inner thigh. His mouth marks your neck, his favorite spot on you.
“More. Please, don’t make beg,” you plead. Spencer’s smirk could tell he was not done with the teasing. But in all honesty, he doesn't know how much he can contain himself.
“My baby is desperate already. Let's see how much.” A hand sneaks under your panties, and the slick pooling there tells Spencer everything he needs to know.
“Fuck, you’re soaked. It’s all for me?” He cockily asks as his fingers tease your folds. You gasp at the contact of his fingers on you.
“For you only. Spencer, I’m yours. Always.”
“And I am yours. No matter what. I love you so much,” Spencer says, now claiming your mouth with a searing kiss. It's like he wants to devour you whole, beyond the physics laws, if it's possible.
You let yourself go, kissing him urgently, your fingers tangled in his hair, giving experimental tugs, which Spencer rewards with grunts of pleasure.
You don't realize when you start rocking on his lap, seeking more friction from his fingers.
Spencer continues his assault on your center, alternating the thrusting of his fingers in and out with rubbing against your clit.
"Oh, God!" You whine, not fully believing how good it feels.
“So good, my love. So so good,” Spencer chants. His free hand on your back, maneuvering to lay you down on the mattress without stopping his ministrations in your pussy, and latching his lips to the crook of your neck. The new position allows him to reach deeper inside you with his fingers, massaging that spongy spot that makes you see stars.
“Right there! Oh, please.” You are on the verge of falling, your body surrending to Spencer’s experimented touch. He knows your body better than you.
Your moans go straight to Spencer’s cock, twitching inside his boxers, rock-hard and screaming for attention, but he has a mission before ever thinking of his pleasure. He needs you to come on his fingers first.
“Are you going to come for me, baby?”
“Yes! I’m so - so close,” you cry.
“I can feel you clenching on my fingers. That's it. Let go, my love. Cum for me; let me feel you,” Spencer encourages, and it's the last push you need. Your vision goes white, and your body starts to shake. The coil snaps and flows your body with waves of pleasure.
“Fuck! Yes!” You cry as your orgasm travels through your body. “Spencer! Yes!”
Spencer doesn’t stop the in and out of his fingers, still rubbing your clit, at a slower pace, helping you to ride it out. His breath is hot on your neck, mumbling praises of how good you are, how much he has missed you, and how good you feel around his fingers.
When the aftershocks subside, Spencer carefully retracts his fingers, sucking them clean before passionately kissing you. You can taste yourself on his lips, fueling the desire to have more of him.
“I missed you,” you say, still breathless. Spencer lies on the mattress by your side, stroking your cheek.
“And I missed you. Both of you,” he says, now rubbing a hand over your belly. You let out a content sigh. “We don’t have to do anything else tonight. We can just prepare to go to bed.”
Your head snaps up in an instant.
“Are you fucking kidding me? No! We’re not done, mister. We have a lot of days apart to make it up to.”
Spencer laughs. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Start with those boxers. Get them off,” you command, kneeling on the mattress and suddenly feeling a rush of adrenaline. Spencer pulls his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of the fabric. It's hard, red, and already leaking precum. And your mouth waters.
“Like the view?” He teases.
“Very,” you shamelessly reply, gawking at the way his cock twitches under your gaze. You position between his legs. He is at your level sight with his elbows on the mattress. You wrap a hand around his shaft, giving a light squeeze, as your other hand looks purchase on his thigh. Spencer hisses at the contact.
“Baby, you don’t have to,” he reminds you, knowing this position could be uncomfortable for you.
“Oh, yes, I have to,” you counter. “I have been thinking about sucking you off for weeks, Spencer. Weeks!”
Spencer laughs at your dramatics, but still, he reaches for your chin to tilt up so you can look at him.
“Just let me know if it's too much, and we can stop, okay?”
Did you mention before about how careful he has been treating you since you discovered you were pregnant? Yes, you did. And here is a reminder.
“Okay,” you reassure him, giving an experimental lick at the tip. The salty taste just encourages you to lick the underside, from base to tip and back and forth. Spencer’s moans are music for your ears. You lower yourself now, taking him in your mouth—inch by glorious inch.
There is something special about giving Spencer head, and it’s beyond the sexual component of pushing him to orgasm. It's about the way he surrenders to your touch, the way he is splayed over the bed at your mercy. The way he trusts you in such a vulnerable position. He doesn't rush you; he’s pliant at your pace because he knows you know how to pleasure him.
“Fuck!” he groans when you go deeper. “So good, baby. You take it so good.”
As him with yours, you relish on his praises. He never stops complimenting you and vocalizing the way you make him feel. Evidence of how much you like it is the pool of wetness forming in your center just hearing him moan and talk.
With renewed vigor, you keep bobbing your head up and down, swirling your tongue, and extracting the more nasty and sexy noises from Spencer’s lips.
“Just - just like that. You are doing amazing.” His hands rest over your head, but he doesn’t push or pull; he just grounds himself in the midst of the pleasure cloud he is in.
But when that knowing coil is forming on him, Spencer knows he needs you to stop, or he won’t last much.
Gently, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you back. You understand the signal and release him with a pop.
“What is it? You don’t want to?” You ask, licking your lips full of fluids of both of you. Spencer is panting, shaking his head no.
“You were amazing, but I don’t want to cum yet. And I want to cum inside of you.” The admission makes the heat in your body rise.
His hand caresses lovingly your cheek as you’re sitting on your haunches on the mattress. Spencer sits with his back on the headboard, raking your entire naked body from head to toe. His eyes are full of adoration.
Leave it to Spencer to look at you like you were Afrodite's incarnation, even with your grown breasts and bloated body.
“What?” You ask, giggling out of nervousness. Years with him, and that piercing gaze still makes your heart flutter.
"Marvelous. So beautiful. The most gorgeous. Perfect.”
Before you can protest the overflowing compliments, Spencer's hands cup your face to pull you into a deep kiss. You kiss him back with urgency, straddling him. Spencer’s hands go to your waist to keep you in place, where you belong, on top of him. From that position, you can feel his cock twitching with want.
"Spencer-" you mumble in his lips, almost like a whisper.
"Yes, sweetheart?" he asks, focusing on how you start swaying your hips, making contact with his hardness, and settling him on fire.
“I need to ride you, now,” you plead, and Spencer can’t say no to you even if he tried.
“Then ride me. Take everything you need from me,” Spencer says, leaving the grasp of your hips so you can lift yourself to position his cock at your entrance. You start to sink and you both are gasping for air. It feels so good. You feel so full with every pull and push of your core into Spencer’s cock. It's a sensation that never gets old.
“That's it. You are doing so well. Take your time,” Spencer reminds you, but you have been craving him so much that you don’t have patience anymore. Spencer's hands come back to your hips, and yours rest on his shoulders for balance. With a last bounce, you’re full to the hilt.
“Fuck!” You hiss. The stretching is a mix of pain and pleasure that’s driving you insane. Spencer’s concerned eyes seek yours.
“You okay?” He asks, his gaze now raking your body, looking for something that can tell him about your discomfort.
“Yes! I’m okay—more than okay,” you assure him. Then you remember there is something he needs to know, something you need from him.
"Spencer, look at me," you demand, and he does what you ask.
"Yeah?" he pants, eyes mapping your face for any sign of what you want to say.
"I want something. Better said, I need something,” you pant, feeling already the urge to move.
"Okay, whatever you need. I'll give it to you."
"I need to feel you. All of you.” Spencer nods.
“You are feeling me now, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Spencer. I’m talking about being rough. I need it hard. Please, baby, don't hold back."
“Oh.” Realization hits him at the same time you clench around him. “Fuck. But I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Love, I promise you, you won’t break me.”
Spencer looks still hesitant.
“Please, don’t deprive me of you. I need to be consumed by you. I need to feel you everywhere; I need to be reminded I'm yours, and you're mine. Remind me you’re the only one who can have me like this. Remind me who put this baby in me.”
The way Spencer’s cock twitches inside of you and the groan escaping his lips is enough for you to know he got the memo.
His eyes darkened even more, and you could swear you saw a smirk on his face.
“You don’t know what you’re asking, do you?” he says, thrusting up so you can feel him deeper.
“Ah! Show me! Give me what you think I deserve, please,” you beg, and for Spencer is the last straw. With both hands on your hips, he starts to bounce you up and down. Your hands rest on his stomach as you try to catch a rhythm. It starts messy and frantic, and you can’t care less. You’re riding Spencer, and that's what matters.
“So tight. I don’t know how I can fit here. Feels amazing.” Spencer's voice is strained, breathless.
As you gain more control over your movements, the grinding intensifies. Every part of your body is on fire. The bounce of your breasts makes Spencer feral.
“These tits. Are mine. All mine,” Spencer chants, hands squeezing them. “You’re mine.”
Damn right, you think. You are his. Every part of you is his, in the same way you are claiming him as yours right now.
Not fully satisfied with touching, Spencer leans forward and captures one of your nipples with his mouth, one arm around your waist to help you as you keep riding him.
“Fuck! Spencer!” You cry when he sucks harder. Tugging his hair, you speed your rhythm, feeling the coil forming, a new orgasm approaching.
At some point your legs start to falter, the exertion making them cramp, but you don’t want to stop. Spencer notices, though.
“I’ve got you,” he says, maneuvering you on your back without pulling out. Now he’s on top, and your legs over his shoulders. “That’s better, uh?”
You nod eagerly. “But don’t stop, please.”
“I won’t.”
With this new angle, Spencer thrusts deeper and harder. It's all you have wanted for weeks. The sinful sound of skin hitting skin fills the room, and you can respire the smell of sweat and sex.
“Yes! Just like that!”
“Oh, so you wanted it harder, uh? My sweet, dirty thing,” Spencer coos, head nestled in the crook of your neck. You feel his hot breath, how he’s panting while giving you precise and deliberate thrusts, in and out, in and out.
“Spence, I’m close,” you warn, and Spencer doesn't halt his movements, leaning a bit back to look at you.
“Me too, baby.”
You are a sight to behold. Your messy hair, sweat sparkling on your skin, eyes full of lust, the moans leaving your lips, tits bouncing with every thrust, and that bump, where your baby is. Spencer still can’t believe it's real.
“You’re so gorgeous. You look so good, pregnant with my baby. Everyone knows you’re mine.”
“Yours, always,” you half-sob, half-moan. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can feel it in your bones. Spencer knows exactly how to get you there. He’s almost there too.
“That’s what you want? That I keep you nice a knocked up all the time? Do you want my cum, don’t you?”
“Yes! All the time. Please.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you nice and full.” Spencer vows, kissing your calf and sneaking down his fingers to rub your clit in tight circles.
“Oh, God.”
You’re on the verge of falling. The wet sounds your bodies are making, the panting and moans, Spencer’s words, everything is pushing you to the edge.
“Come for me, come on my cock,” Spencer demands, and it is like your body has to comply because as the words leave his mouth, your orgasm hits you like a freight train.
“Fucking shit! Yes!” You scream, feeling your body trembling with pleasure. Spencer’s pace keeps, now chasing his own end.
“That’s my girl,” he praises, losing some rhythm. “So good for me.”
You can feel him twitching inside with each thrust as you clench your walls, still riding your high.
“Spencer, please. Cum inside. Fill me up, baby. I need it so bad,” you plead, and Spencer loses it. After a deep thrust, he grunts and stills inside, spilling everything he has. You feel his warmth filling you up, a content sigh leaving your lips.
For a few seconds, you both remain still, panting and trying to catch your breath. Spencer is the first to react. Not pulling out, he lowers your legs from his shoulders, massaging them gently while he peppers your neck with kisses. You giggle, still drunk of post-orgasmic hormones.
“You did so good, my love,” he praises. Your hands cup his face so he can look at you.
“I love you, Spencer. I missed you so much,” you declare as you lean in to kiss his lips. Spencer reciprocates immediately. This kiss is sweet, not rushed, but takes your breath away as all Spencer’s kisses do.
“I love you, too,” he mumbles on your lips. “And it was torture being away from you for so many days. But I’m here right now; I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good, because tonight I’m not done with you yet.”
With the whimper that escapes Spencer’s lips and the twitch of his cock still inside of you, it’s clear he knows exactly how the night will go from here.
------------------
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid smut#glowing#amanda perry williams#aperrywilliams
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HIIII OMGGMG i love ur theme its sauurr cutesie i love it!1!1 i wasnt sure if you take requests or not so feel free to ignore this erm.💔💔
i was wonderign if u could write for spencer reid (PLEASEPLEASPLESE) like definitelt domestic fluff and like it's the two of them baking and uh it goes wrong but reader and spence just giggle like idiots at the mess they made
SWEET ON U!
pairing: s2! spencer x reader
summary: spencer and you both excel in many things in life– just... not baking.
tw/cw: if you're scared of fluff then back off /j LITERALLY NOTHING TO ADD AS A TRIGGER, if smth does count as a trigger here though please tell me.. probably innacuracies in the baking, sorry bakers i had google and a dream
shayli's ted talk: guys i swear i've been writing since my casey oneshot it's just that i'm... i'm employed now🙁.. also I LOVE YEW ANON, guys request things plz... im going through a writer's slump . we dont mention the dilauded here he's happy okay
Today was one of the days that God– or whatever being that resided in the clouds, gave Spencer a day off.
Well, it was more like the day off was forced on him. If you knew Spencer Reid, you knew he didn't take vacations, didn't use up sick days, and would probably win an award for perfect attendance if it existed for the FBI. He had denied himself of a freedom office workers would love to have, up until this very moment.
Hotch has made his words clear, and easy to understand.
"Take a day off, Reid."
Said in that same poker face Hotch always wore, the one that was burned into his eyes with how often he saw it. It was rare for the Unit chief to ever smile, and when he did, no one would be there to see it.
Getting back on track though...
You had a much more positive reaction to his day off, it may only be one day of freedom from case files and coffee mugs that were filled with a caffeine that bordered nowhere near luxury. But you would take it, you just didn't know what to do with it.
When he had first informed you of his day off, you had been overjoyed at the fact you'd finally have your boyfriend to yourself instead of playing a never ending tug of war between the job and you.
The excitement quickly faded when you realized.
You had no idea what to do with him.
I mean, you could just cuddle up all day and sleep the entire day away. But, that wasted alot of time, time that you and Spencer rarely had together.
You then wondered if you should ask him what he wanted to do, but unfortunately, ever since the two of you had begun this relationship– Spencer follows behind you everytime.
Literally and figuratively.
His half awake mind had once followed you to the kitchen when you woke up to go get a glass of water, and let me tell you. Seeing a 6' foot man behind you at 2:00 AM does things to you, and not the good type. You screamed and he screamed back, both in fear.
You knew that he'd go along with whatever shenanigans you had in mind for your couple bonding time, so you brainstorm, maybe not as fast as your boyfriend but you think.
You sit on the couch, criss cross applesauce, while looking down onto the floor. Eyebrows furrowed in deep thought as you scour the files of your mind for an idea on how to spend this rare Saturday.
"You look like me" Spencer tries to joke, it falls flat and slams face first into the floor when you don't respond. Too lost in the rabbit hole you've created to try and say something witty back.
Spencer furrows his eyebrows too, and approaches you warily– slowly, like you were some sort of threat he had to neutralize before sitting down next to you on the couch. "... Are you okay..?" He probes, trying to see if his profiling mind can do him any good in guessing what's up with you.
Then, as if the electrons– or atoms, whatever. Lined up in your brain to form the first idea that would suffice, you sat back up straight. A peaceful glint in your now not squinted eyes as you turn your head to face Spencer.
He looks confused, like... really really confused.
".. Love...?" He tries the pet name as if it would snap you back into reality, and you simply grab his hand before smiling at him.
"We are going to bake."
"... 'Kay."
As you had planned he had agreed to the idea without much second thought. Which was funny since he's so meticulous with the things in his life, maybe he's just gotten used to you bringing chaos into it.
You two had spent maybe about 30 minutes or so wondering what you should bake, you thankfully didn't need a search engine for ideas this time because Spencer was on board with being the recipe holder.
"How about chocolate chip cookies?"
"We don't have chocolate chips."
He responds curtly and you snort before rolling your eyes at him.
"I wonder who's fault is that.." You reply back, and he opens his mouth in protest, but he never actually says anything back knowing that you're right. Giving him a smug grin that said "Exactly."
"How about a Pie?"
"Well... I suppose we do have the ingredients for a normal pie, but we'll also need a variety of fruits, maybe more chocolate, and–"
"SPENCER."
"Okay, let's make a pie."
The two of you retire to your kitchen, getting all the baking necessities and tools out. You didn't even know he had all this stuff in his apartment, and when you asked he said they came with the place when he moved in.
You two learn alot of things about each other through small talk while trying not to get shells in the mixture when cracking the eggs.
You learn that Spencer has a sweet tooth, but you figured that out when you caught him putting 4 packets of sugar into his morning coffee.
Spencer learns that you almost broke your jaw on a jawbreaker once when you were 16, he furrowed his eyebrows and asked why you did it knowing it was called a jawbreaker.
You learn that Spencer has read your favourite book approximately 143 times and counting. You nearly teared up and almost got your salty tears in the melted chocolate.
And Spencer learns that you had a pet chameleon who ran away. He suggested it could still be in the house but just camoflauged, and you threw the cupful of flour at him.
You both stand there in silence, unmoving, like a showdown between 2 cowboys with only flour and sugar at their hands.
Spencer stands there, ruffled in the white powder that now adorns his pyjamas like snow, his face covered in so much of it he nearly looked like a ghost. He only reacts when you start laughing.
You don't laugh gently, or chuckle at the sight. No you laugh like you've just seen the most funniest thing in your life, and in a way... it kind of was. You hold onto the counter and hunch over, laughing like you were hysterical.
He looks over to his back, trying to find a weapon to launch back at you until he lands on the melted chocolate sauce, he glances back at you. Completely unaware of his plans before reaching his finger towards it, ew.. but it'll be worth it.
Once his finger is coated in the gooey sweet treat, he smudges it on your cheek, not carefully nor affectionately, he rubs it on your cheek– shamelessly.
You look up at him and pause your laughter, a look of faux offense swirling in your eyes as you try and find something to retaliate against him.
The innocent unbaked pie crust on the pan lay there, unaware of it's fate to come as you peel it off ready to lunge it at him. Spencer reacts just as fast though and gets his own piece of the pie crust
"Uh uh, don't you dare." Spencer says, raising his piece of pie crust like it was a shield against yours. You squint your eyes as if in focus before flicking your share of the pie crust at him.
He dodges, barely, before trying to swat you with his own. You jump back and almost bump into the kitchen island before grinning and reaching for an egg.
"I have a weapon and I am not afraid to use it!" You reply, holding the egg at him as if it was a knife, Spencer plays along and drops his pie crust onto the floor and raises his hands into the air "Ok! Ok! I surrender!" He says, his voice squeaky in defeat.
You two eventually agree to a ceasefire before getting to work on recreating the pie crust that you two had used in your food fight.
This time you work in silence, a comfortable one that came easy after the little playful banter you just had, you worked better this time since you both had gotten used on how to start and how to use all the baking tools.
After the pie crust had been filled with the melted chocolate and had been sent away to the oven, you two both fall back onto the couch.
Or it's more like you land on the couch and Spencer lands on you.
"Ah– hey!"
You shout when you feel his body weight practically jump on you, he grins toothily in his little victory when you let him stay ontop of you, knowing that you really didn't mind.
The two of you sit there in silence, waiting for the timer above the stove to ding so you both can try out your creation, there isn't much conversation.
But you didn't need to talk, your touches on his carefully done hair, and his head buried into your neck spoke enough of the love that blossomed nicely between you two. It got you thinking.
It had you imagining what you would be doing if you never met Spencer, if you never had a sudden surge of confidence to ask the pretty boy at the library out, or if he had rejected you. It had you wondering what fate held for you, the idea of fate itself.
DING! DING! DING!
You nearly push Spencer off of you when you hear the alarm's call, apologizing hurriedly before rushing along to the oven, with Spencer following right behind you, even if he was in the middle of having a very good nap.
He grabs you the oven mittens and urges you to be the one to get the pie, you don't question it, he was clumsy with his hands– half awake or not.
The oven door opens like the gates to heaven, in it's wake an aroma of chocolate and sweetness follows, sending you and Spencer into a momentary trance before you finally get it out of the heated space.
You both try to reach for it until you remember the thing is still... extremely hot.
Neither of you have the patience to wait for the sweet treat, so you leave it out on the fire exit, hoping that the windy breeze of the night cools it down enough, and that there aren't any pie swipers nearby.
The two of you giggle like little kids waiting for the smoke of the pie to dissipate and the heat to finally turn cool. When Spencer announces it's been 15 minutes, you finally grab it back into the safety of your home.
The sound of plates being taken from the dish rack and a knife being taken fills the kitchen alongside your giddiness, you bring it onto the counter with an eagerly waiting Spencer with a knife.
"You sure you can cut it?"
"I'm not 6."
He replies stubbornly before squinting his eyes and focusing on the slice he's about to cut, you look away to pass time as he cuts his own slice, but then look back when you see that he's taking... forever.
"Spence?" You ask when you see he hasn't even made an indent on the pie, raising an eyebrow when you see the focused glint in his eyes usually reserved for crime scenes and cases– not for cutting a pie.
"Shh..." He hushes you with a raised finger before finally making the cut, clean and simple, before handing it to you.
"I cut the pie for you in pi." He says proudly, as the joke flies over your head, which is usually supposed to happen to Spencer, not to you.
"... What?"
"You just don't get it." He shoos you away from the thought with a gesture of his hands.
extra:
"Hey, Spence.. about your joke earlier." You bring it up as the two of you lay in bed, social battery well drained after the events of today.
He only hums in acknowledgement of your conversation starter before allowing you to continue.
"Did you try cutting it for me.. in the size of pi or something? Like... pi as in the number..?"
"ты никогда не узнаешь."
"STOP DOING THAT."
shayli's ted talk: i used google translate for the russian so don't judge me... heh.. ok bye i'm gonna disappear and not write for another month.. maybe..
written by @ssareiids
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#doctor spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid criminal minds#dr spencer reid#criminal minds fan fiction#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds fanfic#written by shayliᥫ᭡
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Between letters.
↳ When reader has been acting weird lately, Reid thinks she's going to break up with him but she's actually terrified because she has to give him some life-changing news.
main masterlist | complementary part
who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
category: angst/fluff
warnings: Reid is hopeless, reader is a little mean because she doesn't know how to deal with the stress of her secret. Both must work on their communication. English is not my first language (if i forget something let me know, this is my first time doing this)
word count: 2.6K
a/n: Hello! Thank you to everyone who took the time to read what i wrote with so much love. I have written books, stories, poems but never a fanfic and i must admit that i enjoyed this a lot. Well, without further ado i hope you enjoy this and let me know if you liked it.
It is said that we should wait for good things. But it is so difficult to wait for them when we find ourselves in such a deep abyss, where we believe that the only thing we need is that warm ray of joy to get us out of the pond, to save us from dying in agony.
Spencer needed that warm ray of joy after Maeve's death. He desperately needed to feel alive again, but he had to wait what seemed like an eternity for you to come into his life.
Yet every devastating event like that leaves wounds that bleed into scars, some take perhaps too long and as the blood pours out, it destroys hope.
That's what happened to Reid. Because the day Maeve died, his hopes of having a wife and children, of having a family, died with her…
You came along a couple of years later. You admit that winning Spencer over was something that took time, it was slow but it was worth every second.
You were also thankful that he wasn't like the other jerks you dated before, who thought you would die for them just because you were the one who made the first move.
And that was the difference between you and Spencer. You never let that get you down, you kept trying until you found the one. Who knew it would be someone with three PhDs? Your trusted tarot reader, duh. But you didn't believe it, the guy seemed too perfect to be real.
But there he was, spinning around in his swivel chair when you first walked into the BAU bullpen.
"Who is he?" you asked with a curiosity you hadn't experienced in years.
"Oh, that's Spencer. One of our resident geniuses." The sweet Penelope Garcia cleared up your doubts.
Spencer.
The name tasted so sweet on your lips, it sounded so right. That was the day you decided he would be for you.
Of course you needed some extra help. You were trying to win over someone who hadn't dated in a long time and was also a bit reserved. Luckily for you, Morgan's advice scared him off so you followed JJ's, although it also helped that he was definitely mhm curious? about you.
Well no, he actually thought you were a little crazy for staring at him so intently from a distance. And he thought you were weird, but he was too so it just made both fit together like puzzle pieces.
The relationship seemed to be going great, both loved each other and he couldn't imagine his life without you. But if Spencer Reid had learned something in his life, it was that happiness lasts much less time than pain.
You were acting a little weird around him lately, you were irritable and he definitely knew you were hiding something.
"I think she's going to break up with me." One day he decided to confess his feelings to Morgan, when they were alone in the conference room.
Morgan frowned and dropped the current case file onto the table. “You’re kidding, right?” But with no response, Morgan knew otherwise. "Reid. She loves you so much it makes me a little sick.”
Reid remained with his worried expression. "She's slow to respond to my texts, she avoids me, and there's definitely something she's not telling me.” He counted your recent actions on his fingers before crossing his arms.
Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're profiling her."
Reid frowned. "What? Of course not." Yeah, that means of course yes.
Morgan shrugged. "Just talk to her or ask the girls, they should know something." This time he gave some good advice, not like the ones he used to give you.
Reid did as Morgan told him, but absolutely no one knew what was going on with you. Although everyone agreed that you were definitely hiding something.
You took a sip of coffee. "I watched that movie last night. People said it was really funny but I found it boring, although I admit the plot twist made me cry.” Yes, lately many things made you cry and it wasn't because of your moon in Pisces.
Anderson nodded. "Exactly! I couldn't even finish watching. I fell asleep."
“Anderson, would you excuse us for a minute?" Reid's appearance was a surprise, his insistence on talking to you wasn't.
"Of course, see you later." Then once Anderson left, Reid stood in front of you.
"What's wrong?" He got straight to the point, not like the previous times.
"Me? Nothing's wrong, I'm perfectly fine." But the drumming of your fingers on your coffee glass gave you away.
"Oh, of course." He crossed his arms, oh no, it seems his infinite patience turned out to be finite.
You immediately took a defensive stance. "Yes. I was perfectly fine before you came to interrupt my conversation with Anderson."
"About movies?" He didn't say it, but you knew he thought it was a nonsense, at least now that he was definitely irritated.
“Yes!" Your outburst earned you a few glances from the other agents. But both were too wrapped up in the tense conversation to deal with them.
"Sure, you have time to talk to other people about movies, but you don't even say a damn good morning to me.” You had to be careful what you said, you were in unfamiliar territory now, as Reid didn't usually swear.
"You're overreacting." Yeah... That probably wasn't the most brilliant thing you've ever said, but you were trying not to give away your secret, at least not yet.
“Overacting?” He was offended by your words. “You talk to everyone in the building except me. You used to spend as much time with me as possible, did I do something wrong?” A hint of fear and insecurity crept into his annoyed tone.
You shook your head. “Of course not.”
He put his hand on your shoulder. “Then tell me what’s wrong.” His tone was firm, but not harsh. Although it was obvious that he wasn't making a request of you.
"Spencer, I already told you that nothing is wrong with me." You emphasized the nothing.
He exhaled in frustration, he was 90% sure that this would work. "Fine! Then don't tell me anything." His patience had run out and he wasn't going to beg you anymore. It had been a week like this and he couldn't take it anymore, so he let go of your shoulder and walked away without even looking at you or giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek.
∗⋅✧⋅∗
Everything was dark, you reached for the light switch and then the spotlight illuminated your apartment. It was a less warm space without Spencer there.
You sighed before throwing your bag on the couch and closed the door.
You stood there for a couple of minutes staring at the lonely space. Well since you became Spencer Reid's girlfriend there weren't many lonely nights, mornings or afternoons.
You would definitely prefer him to be here right now, rambling or mumbling a foreign language movie to you. But for now you had to keep your secret, and that meant keeping Reid away.
The growl of your stomach snapped you out of your mind, so you headed straight for the fridge. But the smell of something made you nauseous, so you immediately ran to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach on the toilet.
Yes. You had to hurry to sweeten this horrible memory with a concerned Spencer who would hold your hair and rub your back while you threw up.
After dinner and take a warm shower, you were tired enough to do anything else, so you settled into bed to sleep. But your brain had other plans…
"You look... not very awake." Tara commented as soon as you dropped your coat on the back of your chair.
"I only slept three damn hours," you nearly growled before throwing yourself into the chair and running your hands over your face. You needed a liter of coffee.
Tara stopped typing on her computer and looked at you. "Is this something to do with your strange behavior the last week?" When she got no response, she said your name seriously.
You pulled your hands away from your face. “I…” you began to fiddle with the rings on your fingers, the burden of unspoken words beginning to weigh on your shoulders. "God, why does everyone suddenly care about my fucking life?" You opted for annoyance as the perfect disguise for your vulnerability.
"Hey. None of us want to bother you, but we care about your life because we are your friends and we love you." Tara used a serious tone, like a scolding, but there was genuine affection behind her words. "Besides, Reid is suffering because of your attitude."
A pang of guilt hit your chest. “I don’t want to hurt him.” You whispered.
“I know.” She walked over to your desk. “But you’re hurting him, even if you don’t mean to.”
You swallowed before looking up. "It's just that there's something..." You took a deep breath, this was harder than you thought. "Things are changing, things are definitely going to change if I say this, it's going to be real and I don't know how to feel about it. I need someone to tell me what to do, because I feel so lost."
Tara placed one of her hands over yours. "Well, if I'm going to help you, I need you to tell me what's wrong." Her voice was warm.
"I want Spencer to know first." But your half-hearted answer was enough for her to know.
"In that case you should tell him, because none of his PhDs include mind reading." She made a little joke that actually made you smile.
"Yeah, I know. He'll probably solve everything out like he always does." Then you looked straight at his empty desk, at the nameplate: Spencer Reid. "But I want to give him a surprise, something that will make him happy. I can't just walk up and say hey…” Then you forced yourself to close your mouth when you realized you were going to say more than necessary, although in reality Tara already had her suspicions.
"Okay, I'll help you." She sounded very determined and you really appreciated her help and that she wouldn't question you as much as the others.
∗⋅✧⋅∗
You spun around in your chair and then had an epiphany, but not like the Taylor Swift song. "Crossword!" Your excitement got you the looks of several agents in the bullpen, luckily one of them was Tara.
"With a secret message?"
"Yes. It's literally the best way." You said excitedly.
But in your mind everything was easier than it really was.
You ruffled your hair as you forced yourself to think more, giving you a splitting headache. "When did I think this would be a good idea? Doing a crossword puzzle for the average person is easy, but not for a genius with an IQ of 187." You dropped your head onto your desk.
"You need help."
"But who's as smart as Spencer?" You muttered defeated, still with your head hidden between your arms and the wood of the desk.
Someone ruffled your hair. “Mhm. Tesla? Einstein?”
You immediately raised your head, only to see the famous Derek Morgan. “They’re dead.” You snorted.
Morgan raised his hands in peace. "Hey, what's the bad mood, baby girl? I just answered your question." He let out one of his signature laughs.
You rolled your eyes. You wished you could turn off some damn switch that was responsible for making you so easily angry. God, WHY? You were starting to get desperate.
"Blake!" Another epiphany, you were really on top of it. You didn't even explain it to Tara, you just ran to the parking lot to get your phone which you had forgotten in the car.
Alex Blake was happy to help you put together a crossword puzzle for Spencer. Although she warned you that he once solved one in about five minutes.
Yeah, well, you were going to take the risk.
Once the crossword puzzle with the secret message was ready, you set out to find Reid.
As you were leaving Garcia's office he was getting out of the elevator, but he didn't even notice you. He continued on his way and god, why did he look so attractive?
"Spencer." You caught up to him as he walked up the stairs.
"Not now, I'm busy." He replied with a seriousness not typical of him.
"With what?" You frowned.
"I said I'm busy." I didn't even look at you as he continued walking to the conference room.
You called out to him, but he ignored you. “We need to talk.” You said seriously, raising your voice.
He stopped in his tracks immediately, freezing halfway. He had never experienced anything like this before, but he knew well what we need to talk meant.
He turned to look at you, with an expression that betrayed nothing of what he truly felt. "I said I'm busy, we'll talk later." That didn't convince you. “I have to do a geographic profile and you have to work on victimology like Hotch asked you to.”
The end was near? You were beginning to doubt and he was very sure, only that he would delay it as much as he could.
∗⋅✧⋅∗
You were about to give up, but you really needed him to know. So you resorted to plan B.
"Derek Morgan, my favorite person in the world." You appeared in front of him, with a big smile.
Morgan let out a light laugh. "Yeah sure, what can I do for you, gorgeous?"
"I think Spencer is upset with me."
"He definitely is." He said it without hesitation and it definitely didn't help the state of your aching heart.
"Okay..." You handed him the crossword puzzle. "Could you please give him this for me?"
He picked up the crossword puzzle. "If you think he's going to forgive you for avoiding him for a week just by giving him a crossword puzzle that he'll finish in two seconds, you might be right."
"Just give it to her, okay?"
"Of course. But in exchange for Penelope being the godmother.”
You immediately frowned, but you reacted a little late because Morgan had already left to deliver your order.
From your desk you watched everything. From how Morgan entered the conference room to give Spencer the crossword puzzle to how the bastard answered it in five minutes. When it took you like three hours to do.
But the best part was when he realized the secret message and ran out of the conference room.
But when he saw you, his quickened steps took on a much, much slower pace.
"Tell me what's true." His low tone sounded like a plea.
A slight smile appeared on your face. "Yeah. That's why I've been acting weird, you know I can't keep secre-"
Your words were cut off when his lips met yours. In a kiss so sweet and soft that it was enough to dispel every single one of your doubts.
A few seconds later, he pulled away from the kiss, leaving you wanting more.
He caressed your cheek with his thumb. "You didn't have to do a crossword puzzle to tell me you were pregnant."
"I wanted to surprise you." You whispered.
A smile that could light up this whole town formed on his lips. "I love you so much." He then kissed you warmly again.
And so it was that the foundations that had crumbled with Maeve's death slowly re-emerged. They began to build themselves again with your arrival and now with this news, their foundations were stronger than ever, because at last he was going to have the family he had dreamed of for a tortuous time.
🏷️ @floraisunwell
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