#spencer reid x f!reader

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin]

@incognit0slut why is this 6 hours long?

Content Warning: Idek probs fluff to make up for the sinful things I’ve written lol

Summary: Spencer learns how much his voice and his hands affect you. 

A/N : hohoho nevermind this is short heat

“Yeah sure," Spencer's voice is low as he mumbles against your skin. His hands wrap tighter around you as he nuzzles into you. “Y/n?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, unable to think.

“Why did you stiffen up? Are you hurt? Are you okay?” Spencer is about to move his hands when you grip them tighter. 

“I’m perfect Spencer, especially when i’m in your arms".

Spencer leaves light kisses on your neck. 

“I love you y/n,” he starts muzzling you again. “I love you so much I can’t do or think about anything else except for you, and I’m perfectly content with that.” you giggle at his short declaration.

"I love you too Spence, I love you so much that you could be chewing my ear off about Reptilien behaviour and even though I probably wouldn’t understand half of it, I’d still listen with rapt attention,” you feel him smile against your skin.

“Fun fact…" you turn around and he stops. “You weren’t being serious about the reptilien behaviour were yo-”

“Spencer, when i hear a fun fact from you, I hear a moment to know what goes on in my lover’s head. That is something I’m always serious about."

Spencer blushes and you have to stop yourself from playing with his cheeks. He says he hates it but he doesn’t complain when you do. 

His fingers start to trace the inner of your thigh and you stiffen involuntarily. “Y/n?” his voice is right next to your ear. 

“Yeah," your response is a bit breathless. 

“How much of an effect do I have on you,” you feel your face heat up. You were caught. 

[buckyysdoll]

— 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 —

જ⁀➴ — • summary: off from work sick, you cancel your date — but that won’t stop spencer plans <3; • a/n: this scenario has been in my head for almost two years, and i finally wrote it !!; • cw: none, but themes of sickness (flu); • pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

MAIN MASTERLIST

Thirty minutes after your phone call, your apartment doorbell rang out with a buzz — thankfully not so obnoxiously loud as the shrill, high notes of the one you’d once owned.

You groaned, debating what to do, and the headache at your temples only throbbed ever harder. You’d only just managed to get comfortable, and would be well damned if you had to get up.

If you left it, you thought, perhaps whoever was there would just then leave. For all that they knew, you might’ve been out, and why not? You’d just let them believe it. Right now just the thought of leaving your couch had you mourning the loss of its warmth, already missing the relative comfort of where you’d been laying for most of the day.

It was just your luck to be sick on the first day off that you’d had in five months; life in the BAU had its stressors enough and now this? The world sure had its humour.

It seemed to be flu, or something similar — and now in November, it was hardly unlikely. After three bouts of nausea, those flushes of both hot and cold, you were truly fatigued. Somehow though, neither one of those bothered you more than one fact in particular:

You’d had to cancel your date with fellow agent turned close friend, Spencer Reid.

Your blanket and tissues and trashy tv was now all that tonight had in store.

When you’d spoken to him on the phone, he’d hidden his disappointment well; it was an undercurrent beneath the much greater worry for you, for how sick you were feeling. But then, what really did you expect? This was Spencer — of course he’d been understanding. He’d hoped you’d feel better as soon as you could, even offered to do “anything that might help.”

But you’d firmly insisted that after such a long shift working a case, the very last thing he needed was sickness from you if your influenza spread.

A knocking sounded at the door, just three short raps. Polite, uniform. It was enough to pull you out from your thoughts and resign yourself to opening the goddamn thing.

You hobbled up to your feet. Even just standing, your head spun, prickled; you waited until you regained your balance. When at last you did, you mumbled a quick “I’m coming” before with great effort, trudging to the door.

Your progress was slow, the blanket that had covered your legs now tossed over your shoulders. It was draped on each side so that it almost drowned out your whole form, and that was how you answered the door.

Hair a mess, dark circles in moon crescents just under your eyes, most likely snot clearly plain on the tissue that you clutched to your face — and on the doorstep, Spencer.

Shock registered dimly, followed by an immediate warmth. Whoever you’d expected it hadn’t been him, and yet just the sight of him spiked up your pulse.

“Spence? What are you doing here?” Acting on instinct, you opened up the door wider. There he stood, still in his smart suit, fresh from work with that wind-tousled hair. His eyes were concerned, and you knew that look well, saw it etched on each well-loved part of his face.

Spencer’s gaze swept over you, by no means brazen — uncertain, unsure. “Well you’re sick, so we obviously can’t go out anymore. But I grabbed some of your favourites, and just thought we could stay in …”

His voice was matter of fact, just like always, no nuance and only slight nerves. You hadn’t even noticed the brown paper bag that he clutched to his chest, but did now.

Your favourites.

It was something so simple, so endlessly thoughtful that your heart leapt with something unnamed. This was only the second ever date that you’d had since meeting some few months ago; you’d both taken time, seemed to waste it, hoping that the other one would ask first. And he did.

But you weren’t quite ready to name the soft feeling that had your chest aching inside you, couldn’t quite speak around the lump in your throat that could only be love, or close enough to it.

Spencer must’ve taken your silence for no, and when he next spoke, was less sure. “I was hoping that maybe … I could be here, tonight? You need your rest, and I know that you cancelled, but I guess I just thought I could be here to help —”

He was rambling. Actually rambling. That sense of heartache only ricocheted higher. You watched as one hand went up, streaked back through his hair, and he realised that he’d over-spoke.

His eyes gladly landed anywhere but on you, and you’d never felt more devastated.

You reached for his arm, and steadied it where it had reached for his hair once again; you knew him so well, each and every nervous habit, and his tells were second nature to you by now. It was only at your touch that his eyes at last stilled on your face. And this time, they didn’t leave.

“Spence, I was just gonna say that I really don’t wanna make you sick, too.” Your heart rate was spiking with affection for this boy who had a blush rising soft on his cheeks. His smile was quiet, eyes warm, as though he hadn’t just moved you with the sweetness of the gesture he’d made.

He’d come to your door with snacks, medicines — everything you’d need to feel better — just so he could be here, could take care of you, while you were too sick to go on your date.

“I’d really rather be sick with you than alright with anyone else.” And oh god. The crimson shade to his cheeks after that had your stomach going wild in flips — the way that he’d spoken the words so quickly as though they’d been instinct, as though he’d meant to just think them.

You couldn’t stop staring at him.

In this moment, he wasn’t Doctor Reid — unassuming, modest owner of three phds. He wasn’t just Spencer, so sweet and kind underneath the sure genius and practical skill.

No. Right here, he was Spence — and you, the only one who gave him that name. He was the boy on your doorstep that over the months that you’d known him — you’d now come to love.

His smile grew and so did yours; those thoughts were so plain on your face. Your plans for the night had just got that much brighter than you’d thought just ten minutes before.

[burstanddecay]

let it out (let it in)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F!Reader Summary: The lack of a tangible explanation for Spencer's migraines causes him to spiral. You're there to catch him when he's falling, whether he feels like he deserves that or not. Word count: 1.7k Contains: serious mental health talk. dismissal of mental health. hurt/comfort. brief conflict (non physical). consoling a distraught partner. A/N: Psychosomatic pain is not a joke and is definitely a very real issue. It's not always the correct explanation, but sometimes it is. That doesn't make the pain or the manifesting condition any less real.

“Hey,” you smile, turning your head towards the front door as it closes. Spencer drops his satchel on the floor next to the couch, his dark sunglasses firmly pressed against his face as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“Another migraine?” you ask with a soft frown.

“Still a migraine,” he corrects you, opening the fridge and reaching for the pitcher of water.

“You see that doctor you got referred to?” you ask, closing the book on your lap and turning towards him. He nods as he pours himself a glass, taking a sip before placing the glass back onto the counter.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

The word comes out clipped, something you rarely encounter with him. In the time you’ve been dating him, he’s never once lost his temper, or been rude with you. Not after coming home from a long assignment, from seeing the most gruesome things you can’t even begin to wrap your head around.

Instead, he’ll come home and watch over your shoulder as you grade papers, pointing out incorrectly formatted references, inaccuracies in quotes and smile as he does, as if the activity is something he enjoys doing with you. Like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Spencer is soft, gentle in a way that had been foreign to you for a very long time until you no longer knew any different.

But you’ve never known him to be curt.

Until now.

“Well,” you softly say, getting up off the couch and walking into the kitchen, where you light a candle and turn the overhead light off. “That’s… weirdly good though, right? That there wasn’t anything on the scans.”

He takes off the sunglasses and places them on the table with a sigh. “There has to be something wrong. You don’t just get migraines like this.”

“Did he say anything else? The doctor?”

“No.”

Even in the dim candlelight, you can tell he’s squinting against the flickering flame, the dark circles under his eyes prominent.

“Nothing you can do to try and control them?”

“Reduce stress,” he grimaces. “Less caffeine.”

“Should be easy, then,” you joke, knowing that if he could replace oxygen with caffeine, he would. “No biggie.”

He sighs again, tightly squeezing his eyes shut before he opens them again.

“It’s still just light, right? Not sounds? I can turn the music off,” you say, vaguely gesturing to the living room where there’s a record playing at a low volume.  

“It’s fine, dove. I’m fine.”

Spencer Reid is many things, and old fashioned is one of them. You never knew people used the word dove as an actual nickname, until he called you that for the first time. It had held nothing but tenderness before, but much like earlier, it felt clipped. Like he was angry and dismissing you, except you have no idea what you did.

You pause for a second, eyeing him up and down before speaking again. “I feel like I’m missing something here, Spence. Talk to me.”

“I said it’s fine.”

“Well, clearly it isn’t,” you say, throwing your hands up in frustration. “You’re being… not you. Something is off.”

“Would you stop babying me?” he snarls. “I said it’s fine. Back off.”

You stagger back a step in surprise, eyes wide. He immediately seems to regret himself.

“I’m sorry, dove. That’s unfair of me.”

“It is,” you agree quietly. “I just care about you. I want to help. That’s all.”

“I don’t need help,” he immediately shoots back. “I need another doctor, one that doesn’t imply I’m insane.”

“What?” you frown, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs. “I’m sure he didn’t tell you you’re insane, Spence.”

“He said there was nothing to see on the scans, and that the migraines are probably psychosomatic. That they’re made up.” He wipes a hand across his jaw, the tiredness etched deeply into his face.

“Spencer…” you softly say, eyeing him with worry. “You know that’s not what he meant.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks. “He read my file. They all do. They know the medical history, the fact that schizophrenia is hereditary. It’s the first thing they point to. I’m not like that, I’m not insane.”

“My love—” you start with a frown, but he cuts you off.

“There has to be a logical explanation. You don’t just get migraines.”

“Sometimes our brain just forces us to shut down, Spence. There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you softly say. “Nobody will be mad if you need to take a step back.”

“I don’t need to take a step back!” he exclaims in frustration. “I don’t need that, I’m fine.”

You clench your jaw, taking a deep breath through your nose. “Spencer, I swear to you, there is nothing to be ashamed of in this scenario. Not a single thing.”

“I’m not insane, okay? I don’t have those issues. I’m fine.”

His jaw matches yours, all tight muscles and unspoken words lingered behind clenched teeth.

You get back up, taking a step towards him, looking up to meet his gaze. It breaks your heart to see his eyes sunken back into his skull, lined with dark circles that indicate more than just migraines. You could feel him tossing at night when he’s with you, fighting with whatever it is that’s haunting him.

It breaks your heart to know that he will hold you, all of you when it gets to be too much, when your brain shuts down and decided its had enough for the time being, but he won’t allow you in to return that favour.

You know what follows is unfair, but the words tumble out before you can stop them.

“Do you ever look at me and go actually, she’s wholly unlovable, Spencer? Do you look at me and ever think that my issues, my struggles make me less deserving of love? Are you punishing yourself by picking someone that’s not fully stable? Is that it?”

“Of course not!” he retorts, voice raised to a near yell. “Why would I ever think that? Why would you say that?”

“Because that’s what you’re saying,” you shoot back, brushing your hair back with a laugh.

“I’m not— “

“It’s what you’re saying about yourself, Spencer. You’re saying that your issues, your mental health doesn’t deserve attention. You’re so willing to give everything to everyone else, but you don’t even want to look in the mirror and grant that kid, that 12-year-old that finished high school that’s right in there,” you say, poking his chest. “You don’t want to hold his hand and tell him he’ll be fine. You’re saying he should just… figure it out. That it can’t be true that his brain is telling him it’s enough, that you need to breathe.”

“I’m not insane.”

“No, you’re not,” you agree. “But you have a BA in psychology. You know psychosomatic issues aren’t fake, they’re the way our body forces us to shut down when we don’t want to listen, Spencer. Nobody is saying you’re insane.”

“I’m not like my mom, okay? I know what mental illness looks like. I know what the signs are!” he exclaims, tugging at his hair. “I know—I know what to look for. I’m not insane.”

“Having to slow down and take a break doesn’t make you insane, my love,” you exasperate. “It doesn’t make you insane it in the slightest, it just forces you to realise you’re only human.”

“I’m not insane,” he repeats, his voice breaking. “I’m not.”

“Oh, sweet boy,” you whisper as you rush forward, immediately wrapping your arms around his waist as a sob wracks through his body.

You feel him wobble, his knees buckling under both literal and metaphorical weight of himself, and you hold him as you carefully sink to the kitchen floor, where he buries his face in the crook of your neck, heavily sobbing.

It aches to see him like this, so completely distraught, and you know there’s nothing you can do but rub soothing circles across his back and gentle rock him side to side, the same way you would a child.

The person that’s crying isn’t as much the adult you got to know, it’s the child that carries too much on his shoulders. That didn’t have anyone to take the weight from him and was left to carry it around for years and years on end.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “It’s okay Spencer. Let it out. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

You don’t know how much time passes as you sit on your knees on the kitchen floor, cradling your boyfriend’s body close to your chest, keeping him safe from the world as he let out years of supressed tears.

Decades of keeping yourself standing eats away at you, and you often don’t realise it until there’s no foundation left to stand on.

You can only pray you’re there on time for him. For that foundation to still be salvageable with love and care, with taking a step back and allowing the time and space to restore it.

You hope, you think you are there on time. The migraines are the first warning signs to slow down. They’re not a final verdict.

His sobs die down, replaced by shuddering breaths.

Your shoulder is soaked, wet with tears and snot, and you couldn’t care less. Not when it’s Spencer.  

“Will you let me help you? Please?” you softly ask, your hand cupping the back of his head, nails gently scratching his scalp.

“I don’t know how,” he whispers back, voice hoarse. You huff out a soft laugh, and he does the same. “I don’t say that very often,” he admits. His embrace loosens, and he sits back on his heels, looking at you. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” you remind him with a soft smile. “All of you. Even the dark and scary corners you think I won’t. Even if there’s a hiccup along the road.”

“I love you too,” he replies. A beat passes before he speaks again. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

You shrug. “One day at a time.”

“One day at a time,” he agrees.

[kikis-writing-world]

51/49 - S. Reid

Summary: Set during s11e18, Spencer and Reader share a quiet moment pondering the next generation of the BAU Family as they watch over the newborn.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader, established relationship, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 1.3k

Rating: PG. All works on this blog are for 18+ consumption. Warnings include, but aren’t limited to: spoilers for/allusions of the events of s11e18 but no graphic details. Fluff. It is implied that reader is shorter than Spencer. Written as F!Reader, but there are no pronouns and could be read as GN!Reader. If I did miss anything, please let me know.

A/N: I am watching through Criminal Minds for the very first time and yeah, I fell down the rabbit hole. Writing a character like Spencer Reid is intimidating, but this little blurb of an idea was too cute to not attempt. Plus, it was a writing excercise to shake the rust. I hope I did him justice. Likes, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated &lt;3

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ’creator chooses not to use warnings’.

You watched from the hallway as Baby Boy Morgan wriggled away inside his incubator. Despite being introduced to the world before he was ready to debut, his big, curious eyes showed that he was ready to take on the world with as much gusto as his daddy. You fought the urge to press your face right up against the glass to get the best view possible. You felt like a kid outside a toy store window around Christmas, breath fogging up the glass as the magical displays danced and moved, enticing children to beg their parents for the toys.

You felt a presence next to you a moment before you felt the hand on your arm: long fingers with a familiar grip. Even if his shape hadn’t been faintly reflected in the window - the tall, lanky form topped with a tuft of messy hair that was holding out a to-go cup from one of the hospital’s vending machines - you still would have known it was Spencer approaching you.

“Hot cocoa.” He offered as the faint smell of chocolate wafted from the cup.

Your smile grew, not that you could take your eyes off of the precious newborn in the other room. You blindly reached for the cup, Spencer helpfully guiding it into your hand. “Thank you.” Your throat ached despite the soft volume you spoke at. It had been a long day and the exhaustion was starting to take over, shutting down your body. Still, you couldn’t bear to leave just yet.

“I doubt it’s very good,” Spencer continued as he joined your spectating. “The machine it came from doesn’t appear to have changed much since the early 80s, and even then it seems to be used mostly for coffee, but caffeine is the last thing any of us need right now.”

You nodded in agreement, leaning closer to his taller form. His hand slid from your arm to your back, letting you rest against him. “I’m sure you’re right. Like usual.” You hummed teasingly.  You felt Spencer laugh more than you heard it, a sharp jolt from his chest where it pressed against you. 

A comfortable silence fell, welcome after all the earlier chaos. You brought the cup to your lips, blowing gently before taking a sip. It barely tasted like anything, a mere suggestion of chocolate mixed in with the hot water, but the warmth felt nice on your sore throat. It warmed your insides, helping relief settle into your bones. It was over and everyone was safe.

“He sure knows how to make an entrance.” You mumbled softly, eyes still on the baby.

Spencer laughed again, this time the sound drifted down the nearly abandoned hallway. “He gets that from his dad.”

You giggled with him, letting your head fall against his shoulder as the silence returned. If you could bring yourself to stop watching the brand new life in the other room, to close your eyes even for a moment, you could have fallen asleep right there in the hallway while Spencer held you up.

“Is it wrong,” you mumble, surprising yourself. You hadn’t realized the thought you were having was on the verge of being spoken until you heard your voice. “Is it wrong that I kind of hoped they’d have a girl?”

Spencer didn’t answer right away but you were sure he was just processing. You could imagine the way he would blink as he took in the question, evaluating what had prompted you to say that and what line of thinking might have brought you there. “Depends on your reasoning, I suppose.” He decided.

“It’s such a boys club right now.” You huffed. “It’s all sports and trucks and bugs and mud. I love my nephews but I want a little princess to spoil. Tea parties and glitter and bows.” You trailed off, imagining having a tea party with a little girl with Savannah’s eyes, toy tiara perched atop her messy curls. Or playing barbies with a little blonde girl with JJ’s smile and Will’s drawl. You blink the thoughts away, remembering the baby boy in front of you. Who's to say he wouldn’t want to have tea parties and glitter when he grows up.

“It is statistically unlikely to have so many boys born to the team.” Spencer agreed. “According to the World Health Organization, for every 100 baby girls born there are 105 boys, meaning approximately 51% of babies born are male. The study didn’t account for outliers, such as those born with both sets of genitalia or other birth defects that may affect gender presentation, so it’s not a true 51/49 split.”

You were quiet as Spencer rambled. You knew it wasn’t something you were likely to remember and carry with you the way Spencer does, but he didn’t expect you to remember either. It was comforting to listen to him talk like it hadn’t been such a hectic day. Like everything was normal, or as normal as it ever got in your life. He continued talking about the varying factors that influence a fetus’ development as you listened, nodding along.

“Nevertheless, it’s interesting that the BAU’s next generation is all male so far. I guess it’s up to you and I to change that.” He finished.

You nearly dropped the to-go cup you had forgotten you were holding, your head snapping up as you blinked at Spencer. Your tired mind was spinning as you processed the words again and again, questioning what you had heard him say. Spencer looked away from the window as well, eyebrows furrowing as he studied your sudden reaction.

“Wh-what?” You stuttered, needing him to repeat himself. Surely you’d misheard…

“I don’t mean to assume,” He backpedaled, his cheeks tinting pink under the harsh fluorescent lighting. “I know we haven’t talked about it. About what you want from the future and where this is going…”

Spencer’s hand fell from your back as stumbled his way through an explanation, fidgeting nervously as he avoided eye contact. You set the cup of cocoa on the window ledge, barely making sure it wouldn’t fall before giving Spencer your undivided attention. You felt tears welling in your eyes as you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at you.

His eyes searched around the hall frantically before finally settling on you. You could see the worry and fear etched in his sweet, amber eyes, too soon after seeing it reflected for Derek, Savannah and their baby earlier in the day.

“Y-you want…” You swallowed around the lump in your through, threatening to steal the last of your voice. “With me?”

Spencer nodded, face open and earnest. “Of course I do.” He whispered, bashful but sure, as if it was as plain as the sky is blue.

You choked on the sob that tried to break free from your chest. There had been far too much crying today. You would have bet that there were no tears left in you to cry, but you would have lost that bet as a tear rolled down your cheek. You bit your lip hard to keep yourself together.

“Do you?” He asked, almost too quiet to hear. You could feel his jaw clenching under your touch, his lip trembling as his pulse jumped.

Unable to find your voice, you nodded.

Relief split Spencer’s face a split second before joy. You didn’t have time to take it in as he pulled you to him, wrapping his long arms around you and tucking his chin into the crook of your neck. Your own arms curled up under his as you clung to the soft cotton of the cardigan stretched across his back, his suit jacket long since left forgotten somewhere in one of the many waiting rooms.

You held each other as the two of you trembled, emotions running too high to contain in your mutual exhaustion. There was a lot more discussion that had to happen, and a lot more evil men to put away, but knowing that you had Spencer, and Spencer had you, and the both of you had the entire BAU - was more than enough for now.

[chvoswxtch]

spencer reid masterlist

»— anything marked with an astrik contains explicit content. minors dni.

»— all work is my own. please do not repost anywhere else without my consent.

☾ series/multiparts

→ slumber party.* / let's play.* (derek morgan & aaron hotchner & spencer reid)

[realangelahernandez]

When he’s written by Lana del Rey

[mggsv]

NIGHT GUARD

f!reader x Spencer Reid (18+)

summary : You were getting out of jail one way or another, you just needed a coat to ride in. Lucky for you, you fucked the night guard every chance you got.

warnings : manipulation, dom!spence, guard x prisoner, abuse of power, minor spanking, dirty talk, talks of impregnating, squirting

“Lights out!”

Being in prison was no joke. Doing the same things every single day drove you crazy. Not to mention the literal bullying of some inmates. You had a friend or two, they had your back. You mostly stood up for yourself though. You were quite intimidating once talked to. You stayed to yourself and watched out for yourself. You were sick of it.

And now this week you’re in solitary. “Y/N?” You hear your name being whispered from the other side of the door. A voice you knew all too well. “Pretty Boy.” You smile, “Get me out of here huh?”

“Not tonight.” He quickly shuts you down, but opens the door. Spencer Reid worked the night shift for the prison, being the night guard in your ward. Everyone wanted him- some people tried, many, many failed. But you? Tch. He leans in to kiss you softly on the lips, you moan into the kiss, tasting strawberry on his lips from his lip chap, your favorite. “Double Security tonight.” He murmurs.

His hands are on you in an instant, fumbling to undo the orange jumpsuit you made look so beautiful. You moan softly at Spencer’s lips on your neck, biting as he trailed down to your hardened perky nipples through the white tank top. “Fuck Spence-“ your body’s being pushed up against the wall, kicking out of the shoes and jumpsuit. He takes a moment to admire your frame, standing there in a tank top and underwear. “Well? I don’t have all night.” You breathe. He smiles softly and starts taking off his belt, walking towards you.

“You’re right.” Spencer looks over your body before you’re shoved against the wall. “You know what to do.” He says. Smirking, your body moves to bend over, touching your toes. Spencer moans at the sight of how wet your panties were. The spot only growing larger as he neared, cock hard and waiting….

“Have you heard the rumors going around?” thrust. “Guards are being fired, transferred for having sexual relations with the prisoners.” thrust. “It’s crazy out there- ah fuck..” Spencer’s cock was buried deep into your heat. Your eyes were shut tight, taking the large shaft with pride. You’d get out, you’d.. moaning quietly as he slapped your ass you felt yourself tighten around him. He curses lowly, speeding up. “Oh shit..oh fuck..f-fuck-“ you tremble, cunt squeezing around his thick cock. the grip around your ankles tightened as you held on. You felt dizzy, blood rushing to your head from the position.

“If you weren’t locked in here I wouldn’t have to be so-fuck- careful.” your eyes watered as your legs started to hurt. “How many times have I wanted to fill you up.. ah, how much I wanted to see you full with my cum until your belly’s all swollen.” Another smack to your ass brings you to a quivering halt. your cunt gushes against Spencer’s cock, juices running down your legs while he kept fucking you. “Mgonna cum- I’m gonna cum Spence- I’m..fuck fuck!” You cried out, not caring who heard. Spencer fucks your through your orgasm, his own cum coating your walls shortly afterwards. Slowly, he fucked his cum back into you, pulling out messily while it dripped down your wet cunt with your juices.

“Tsk, tsk.. You weren’t quiet at all angel. Now what if they transfer me hm? How are you gonna get out now?” Spencer daunting voice was loud in your ears, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of your heart beating before your eyes closed.

[cosmicblogs]

[milla984]

It's the Great Pumpkin, Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer and Reader get to spend some quality time together on Halloween

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader, virgin!Spencer Reid x plus size Reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, brief mention of an anxiety attack, body image insecurities (both parts)

Word Count: 5.4k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“I am officially traumatized,” Penelope blurted out when the end credits rolled on the screen, “remind me to never watch another Halloween movie with you, guys!!”

You could almost hear Spencer squeak in disbelief. “What?! This is a classic!”

She stood up to adjust her skirt, the one with jack-o’-lanterns and spiderwebs arranged in a casual pattern all over the dark fabric, and the bats standing on top of her fuzzy headband wiggled in different directions. 

“Uh–uh, La Dolce Vita is a classic. This is what goes on in the twisted mind of someone who desperately needed a hug and a large cup of hot cocoa with a ton of whipped cream and sprinkles as a child.”

You smiled as you finished loading the dishwasher, amused by the discussion unfolding in your living room; in your heart you were the greatest admirer of Spencer’s ability to conjure up any kind of random information on the spot but the exact moment you saw him open his mouth you knew he was about to make the situation worse.

“In fact, Barker’s grandmother had a fascination with the macabre. She would often tell gruesome stories which she presented as true tales so he grew up with the fear of being murdered in his own house.” 

Garcia gawked and raised a hand in his direction, simultaneously turning your way. “See?! Forgive me if I don’t think that having my entire body ripped apart by giant hooks is the ultimate frontier of pleasure!”

“And I’ll never look at a puzzle box the same way! What if it’s a brain teaser from Hell and there’s one of those chattering monsters inside?” she added and you had to hold back your laughter because Spencer’s perplexed frown was probably one of the cutest and funniest things in the whole world.

The mustache glued to his upper lip and the cravat he wore over a white shirt and black vest were only adding to it so you forced yourself to remain serious. “I’m sorry… pizza and a movie from my dvd collection were all I had to offer on such short notice,” you said, to which she replied by shaking her long, wavy hair.

“Oh no, sweet pea! You did great, I’m just too attached to the illusion that life is a rainbow to be into the traditional Halloween gore,” she sighed and wrapped herself in a colorful poncho. “Hey, Raven Man! Ready to leave?”

Spencer squirmed: an IQ of 187 and still he was unable to come up with a semi-plausible lie when it came to hiding the truth from his friends. Feeling the weight of her curious stare he swallowed nervously.

“I was kind of considering the possibility of going to the midnight screening of Nosferatu, at the Silver Theatre. It’s the 100th anniversary so the Silent Orchestra will play the entire score live, have you ever heard of them? They use contemporary musical idioms to convey the art of pre-talkies films to modern audiences, they’ve been widely acclaimed for their work.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Midnight screening, huh?! Which means you don’t need a ride home… what a coincidence,” she teased, leaning forward to squeeze you in a passionate hug. “I knew it! I saw it the minute I walked in!”

This time was your turn to shrug with a puzzled expression: Reid and Garcia should have been on the opposite side of D.C. for a relaxed dinner at the Morgans’ after a thorough raid of all the neighborhood porches. However, Derek had called just as they were getting in the car to inform them that Hank got unexpectedly sick and forty-five minutes later All Hallows’ Eve enthusiast Reid (dressed up as Edgar Allan Poe) plus a very concerned Penelope had showed up at your apartment, making you wonder why on earth wasn’t she already busy baking since she kept repeating chickenpox called for the best pumpkin pie ever.

“Well, there goes our plan to keep a low profile,” you groaned as you closed the door behind her, and Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“How…?! Is this what they call ‘female intuition’?”

“Call it whatever you want but I’m glad she’s not mad we didn’t tell her right away,” you replied, proceeding to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “and I can think of another person who’s probably very happy for you, now.”

Spencer got rid of the fake mustache with a pensive stare. When it finally dawned on him that Garcia’s phone buzzing during your impromptu horror-themed movie night had in fact started out as live updates on their godson’s health and most likely turned into a gossip session about you two as a couple he squinted.

“I almost bailed on going trick-or-treating with them. I didn’t because I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, but I also wanted to see you. It’s our first Halloween.”

You nodded. “Maybe we can still get tickets for Nosferatu. You’re a terrible liar, so I’m sure there really is a midnight screening at the Silver Theatre.”

Spencer stared at you, entranced, then pulled you closer and in a heartbeat your lips met his - a sweet caress, tender and soft, your breaths entwined and your noses rubbing against each other in delicate strokes. You gave him a gentle push and he plopped down on the couch as you placed one knee on either side of his legs to straddle him; one of his hands sneaked behind you, exploring you as if he was trying to blindly map your whole back. 

You felt his other hand on your waist, hesitant. 

Three months had passed since the day you both came to the conclusion you were not “just friends” - three months made of late night phone calls from six different States, of handwritten silly notes you hid in his leather bag each time you drove him to the airport to catch a flight for Houston, three months of you hoping things would eventually move past the PG rated phase.

Three months of your self-consciousness sowing the seed of doubt in your heart, encouraged by the notion of whom he got to share his workspace with: you were no Emily or JJ and even if Spencer wasn’t the type to pay attention to details he frequently referred to as ‘trivial’ you were growing less and less confident.

“It’s fine, you can touch me,” you whispered, guiding his palm to cup your breast. They were pretty difficult to ignore, nevertheless he always seemed to steer away from them as much as he could.

You ran your fingers through his hair until you grabbed a small chunk of his curls; Spencer gasped for air and you brushed your tongue over his lower lip, letting out a muffled moan when the heat between your legs became almost unbearable. You started grinding on his lap to adjust tightly against his body.

“Wait…” he whined, squirming under you.

A second moan escaped from your throat while the pressure of his stiff cock hit your thigh but he shoved you away to free himself and spring to his feet, shaking heavily as if he was experiencing a full blown anxiety attack. 

His cheeks were flustered and his hair stuck to his dampened forehead so that he couldn’t even look at you straight - which gave him the perfect excuse to avoid doing it altogether. “I– I’m sorry…”

“No, no, I am…” you muttered, because the guilt building up in your chest felt so heavy you find it difficult to breathe.

Spencer was standing there, fumbling nervously with the cravat around his neck; his body language was screaming discomfort and he was clearly thinking of an excuse to remove himself from the situation. It was then that the hidden and irrational side of you, the one that desperately feared he would have disappeared forever if you’d let him go, kicked in and a rush of adrenaline came running down your spine.

“Please…” you continued, placing a hand over his, “it’s okay, really… there’s no way to control it, you should know better than anyone—”

“Why? Because I’m a man and men are supposed to have zero impulse regulation?!”

The embarrassment and shame in his voice broke you: you had sworn a thousand times in your mind to do your best to be his solace, yet now it seemed you were hurting him like no-one had ever done before.

“No,” you replied, “because you’re the genius, here, and you should know it’s a perfectly healthy and natural reaction.”

He huffed, visibly irritated at what he must have perceived as a patronizing tone. A different sort of emotion crawled under your skin, sparked by the amount of tension stagnating in the air.

You offered him a cushion and glanced at him with your usual no-nonsense attitude. “Sit down, so we can have a proper conversation? You know, like… functioning adults.”

Spencer pouted for a second, evaluating numbers and statistics about two years and a half’s worth of interactions. The truth was, intellectual affinity was such a familiar concept for the two of you that talking your way through an issue was indeed a synonym for a positive outcome. 

He grabbed the cushion and held it onto his stomach to shield himself from your gaze, though it was purposely focused on his face; you thought it was best to put some distance between your bodies when he sat on the couch again so you folded your legs underneath you, shivering like a cold draft had found its way inside the room.

“Listen, we can both agree this is not your regular, everyday casual topic of conversation… which is why we’ve never discussed premarital sex—”

“I’m not against it,” Spencer rushed to declare, “I’ve assumed it was the same for—”

“Sure, no! Ditto,” you confirmed.

His furrowed brows relaxed while his mouth curved in a timid smile. “Did you know that every person’s intimate relationships follow a script that has been written according to their own individual attitude towards all –uhm, sexual experiences?”

“I did not,” you admitted, and Spencer’s hands started dancing to the sound of his own words. 

“There are sets of guidelines for appropriate behavior, each partner in consensual encounters acts as if they are an actor following a script rather than acting on impulse alone. Researches indicate that women are more likely to initiate contact in well established relationships, negotiating sexual activity in developing relationships can be difficult 'cause both parts have multiple goals to deal with, such as providing relational definitions or following specific standards or morals.”

“Yeah, speaking about relationships… I think we’ve been in one since Christmas, we were just too dumb to say it out loud. And to each other,” you explained. “Sounds like a well-established to me but what’s your take on us?”

He curled into himself. “Every time we’re together I know there’s no other place I’d rather be. I’ve never even imagined it could be possible, I want to feel you even closer… and I’m so afraid I’m forcing this on you—”

“You’re not, I want it too,” you reassured him, “but to be honest I was starting to worry you were not into… me.”

Spencer’s beautiful eyes roamed over you and what you could see was all but repulsion. “Actually it’s the complete opposite.”

“So, what if my script says I’m ready to take things further?” you inquired, inching towards him to tug at the cravat of his costume. 

Spencer cupped your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Mine is on the same page,” he whispered.

Your fingers immediately went to the vest he was wearing and trailed the line of buttons in a slow movement; you undid them one by one, the hems eventually coming apart to reveal the white shirt underneath.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” you purred while you loosened the cravat to uncover his Adam’s apple. The way his muscles tensed as it bobbed up and down drove you crazy, so you teased him with the tip of your tongue - your lips grazing over the short stubble. 

Damn him and his impeccable bone structure: the scruffy look suited him so well it always sparked in you the urge to pin him to a wall and sink your teeth into his tender flesh. You loved how he could sport a smooth, professional style when the situation required it still wasn’t concerned with shaving each morning, almost as if it was an impractical activity which took energy away from whatever he considered to be a priority at that moment. 

You heard something flop on the floor and stopped your ministrations: the cushion he’d been holding over his stomach wasn’t there anymore, meaning you got to notice his trousers were becoming increasingly tight.

You squeezed his knee to make sure he was prepared for a more intimate contact then you slid it even further on his leg, giving him a couple of minutes to adjust to your gentle strokes before you felt confident enough to move the action to his inner thigh.

Spencer gasped, surprised rather than shocked or disturbed by how close you were now to where he was aching, and he leaned back to ease the pressure of the fabric but kept his eyes on you. 

He gave a silent nod in response to your interrogative stare, so you finally traced the outline of his hard cock between your thumb and index.

He jolted this time and muttered under his breath, a deep rasp in his voice you didn’t expect: you were unprepared to hear your name spoken as it was the quintessence of pure desire and you quivered, the throbbing in your ears rolling to your core.

You kissed his temple as you pointed at the waistband of his trousers. “Can I…?”

“Y– yes…” he muttered.

His clothes didn’t have any space left to accommodate his bulge. You palmed over it and felt an impatient twitch, which nearly had Spencer cursing; it was becoming torture for him so you reached for the zipper. 

For a split second the historical inaccuracy of a Victorian era costume featuring a device first introduced years after Edgar Allan Poe’s death hit you - a remark Reid himself would have been very appreciative of, which showed how much you could relate to the way his brain worked. Then you shook out of it and peeled his slacks open.

You crumpled the shirt over his stomach and marveled at the sight of his soft belly, the flawless navel, the dark fuzz pointing directly to his raging erection. With a cautious approach you freed it from any restraint, chewing on your lower lip as you often did when you were entirely focused on a challenging task. 

You couldn’t exactly say you had many options in your mind to compare him to but you had done a lot of fantasizing: now that he was in front of you, undressed and defenseless, you were downright mesmerized by—

“What’s wrong?!” Spencer screeched, interrupting your train of thought. “Is it odd? Does it look odd?!”

You shook your head, taken aback. “... odd?! No, why?!” you asked. “It’s just…” you petted the roundness to demonstrate, “I like your tummy so much.”

The way it pressed against his belt whenever he sat next to you on your couch or his was overly inviting and in the past weeks you had to fight the temptation to sneak a hand inside his shirt to squish it, because you didn’t know how he would’ve reacted. 

“Really?!” he marveled, confirming he wasn’t even aware you had a thing for soft tummies. His soft tummy, to be specific.

You smiled and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. “Are you okay with me doing this?”

Spencer nodded, his eyelids half-closed, so you let your fingertips follow the trail of hair below his belly button; his hardness twitched again when you got near, then you wrapped your hand around it. 

You both moaned in unison, a harmony of pleasure that filled the silence of your living room. You moved along his entire length, feeling the satiny skin sliding over the shaft, and he threw his hair back in a movement that left his jugular exposed: his neck was too inviting and you sucked on it, the groans vibrating in his throat reverberating on your lips.

You gripped tighter when he got used to your caresses. As soon as his muffled whimpers seemed to increase in frequency you circled your thumb over the tip, spreading his leaking precum over the sensitive head. Spencer was at loss for words, a good indication that he was definitely enjoying the moment.

You were enjoying it too; you started to rub your legs together, your imagination running wild and picturing all sorts of scenarios. The mere thought of having him inside of you made you want to touch yourself but you resisted: Spencer was undoubtedly new to this and deserved someone in his life to love him and shower him with attention, so you decided to put his release before your own.

When you twisted your hand at the base of his cock he jumped, missing the bridge of your nose by a few inches.

“Too much?!” you cooed, and he seemed to come out of a sort of drunken stupor.

“No, no… it’s good, I like it…”

You sighed. “Spence, you have to tell me if—”

“It’s really good,” he replied, the urgency sensible in his tone. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, low-key ashamed of how needy he’d sounded.

You pecked him on the nose as a reassurance you accepted and cherished this version of him: he wasn’t the kind of man to be interested in the crude physical aspect of sex, he’d made it clear. He wasn’t desperate for just anyone to satisfy him - he trusted you to do it, because he knew you were safe in each other’s arms.

You shifted to adjust at his side and returned to your previous occupation; you let your other hand wander over his thigh as a forewarning, then you sheepishly cupped his balls so you could provide additional stimulation and send him over the edge.

He bucked his hips, a loud “Oh, God!!!” escaping from his mouth before he grasped a fistful of your hair. He was hungry for you, his tongue sliding lustfully against yours and his breathing so ragged you were sure he was getting close. 

Kissing him was your drug of choice but you also wanted to watch him come undone, thanks to you, so you turned your head while he tensed: he arched his back and bucked his hips once more, nipping at your earlobe. He became harder as he spilled himself over your fingers, wrist and his own stomach with a feral growl.

You didn’t let go of him, not even when his whole body finally slumped down.

The well-defined jaw and unruly curls falling on his face, now so serene, made him appear like a Botticellian masterpiece. Botticelli would have never painted one of his subjects in such a disheveled state, for sure, but the contrast between his angelic aura and the fact he was sprawled on the couch with his trousers unzipped and his softening cock still in your hand was a vision to behold.

“Hey,” you hummed as he re-opened his eyes and found you looking at him, “you’re too cute to be real, you know that?!”

Embarrassed - yet adorably proud - Spencer lowered his gaze, only to grimace at the stickiness on his belly. And on you. “I made a mess, I’m s—”

“We made a mess. Besides, it’s nothing a towel can’t fix, don’t be sorry,” you said, patting his tummy.

You were almost tempted to ask him how long he’d been saving it for, in a clumsy attempt to remind him you’d fallen so head over heels for him you were not at all grossed out; at the last moment you ruled the joke out, though, stretching your legs to get up instead. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

He flashed you the most awkward smile and you forced your feet to move towards the bathroom. 

You washed your hands under the hot running water and silently watched a part of Spencer swirling down the drain; the floral scent of the soap was now in the air but you could still feel his - coffee and cologne, accentuated by the faint traces of sweat on his skin. 

You had just discovered something new: Spencer was often oblivious of how good he looked (despite the dark circles under his eyes) and that was no mystery, but the idea he might have been insecure about different parts of his body was something you’d never taken into account. If being a couple was the natural consequence of the emotional bond between you - rather than a result of some physical infatuation alone - why was he so preoccupied with your reaction to his half-naked self?

Your brain was going in severe overdrive. 

You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, your fingers gripping on the honed marble of the countertop, then you dried your hands with a towel, grabbed a fresh one and returned to the living room; the instant you approached your couch you realized Spencer had been doing a lot of thinking of his own, and your heart sank into your stomach.

“Wunderkind, are you alright?” you questioned as you offered him the towel so that he could clean himself up. “What’s going on in here?” you added, tapping lightly on his temple.

He shrugged and proceeded to meticulously remove any trace of his seed from his belly and clothes before tucking the shirt into the waistband of his trousers. “Nothing special.”

His left eyebrow raised, due to an involuntary movement of his facial muscles: it was a flash, a glimpse, the undeniable proof he was hiding something. The sound of your intrusive thoughts and fears got so loud you wanted to scream to cover their noise.

“Your microexpressions say otherwise,” you retorted.

Spencer lifted his head to meet your eyes, mouth agape, and you couldn’t decipher the meaning of such a bewildered reaction. You had always been able to recognize his lying frown, his anxious smile, the suspicious squint and a hundred more variations: you were not a member of the BAU but you were an expert on detecting and classifying his emotions, yet you’d never seen that one before. 

“It’s… uhm, I’m wondering if it was good for you.”

Your heart leaped and bounced back where it belonged. His job required him to be the one calling people out on their behavior, not the other way round; your presence in his life forced him to face a situation in which his skills as a profiler couldn’t shield him from his own vulnerability, so he was in serious need of some consolation.

You bent over to whisper in his ear. “It was.”

“But you didn’t...” he nervously licked his lips, “and I want you to. Just tell me how.”

In the back of your mind you were 100% sure it would have been the right moment to confess you’d been harboring a few insecurities of your own but your fight-flight-freeze response was already answering on your behalf, making you freeze on the spot.

“Spencer…”

“You don’t think I can?!” he inquired, still convinced his lack of experience was the motivation behind any episode of miscommunication. 

“NO! It’s not about you,” you responded in a hurry, hugging him as he was still seated on the couch. “Or maybe it is… ” you gestured to your whole figure, “I guess I’m a bit worried this isn’t what—”

Spencer wrapped you in an equally sweet hug, his chin dimple pressed on your abdomen. “This is soft,” his hands ran to the back of your knees, trailing up, “it’s so soft I’ve got only one thing in mind every time you hug me and I have to stop myself…”

He stopped talking mid-sentence when you guided his palms over your chest and he finally laughed, fascinated by the feeling of your breasts through the shirt.

If he was so happy at the idea you were starving for his touch and was clearly eager to reciprocate it was time to consider the strong possibility he wasn’t just settling for less. “Do you really—”

“Yes!” he replied, enthusiastically. “But I could use a few hints, you know.”

You knew. “May I sit on your lap, kind sir?”

The ‘are you even serious?’ pout on his face deserved an award; now you were both allowed to act silly without the slightest concern one of you was making fun of the other, high on the intoxicating concept of true intimacy.

You positioned yourself so that you were seated on his groin, your back flat on his chest and your head nestled in the crook of his neck, thanking Mother Nature for the existence of refractory periods. Not that it was necessary, but Spencer hooked his left forearm around your waist to secure you as his tongue glided over the soft skin behind your ear. “How do I start?”

“Step one: make some space,” you tipped him.

He gulped loudly and began to caress your knee, ghosting his fingers along the thigh-bone. You shivered in anticipation and when he tried to reach for your inner thigh you spread your legs apart; he flattened his palm, gripping on your muscles and rubbing back and forth - still keeping some distance from your most delicate spots. 

You turned to offer him your lips. “Tease me… up and down, light touches.”

He did as he was told. When he ran the back of his hand over your mound you whimpered, the oversensitivity being too much to bear combined with the mind-blowing taste of his mouth over yours.

“Isn’t it frustrating for you?” he managed to articulate in between kisses and you rocked your hips against him.

You could already feel the familiar and insistent throbbing, accentuated by the fact that delayed gratification was a real pain; you were dying for him to placate the fire his hard cock had sparked in you, so you grabbed his wrist and guided it over your stomach, down the front of your panties.

He gasped at the feeling of your tender flesh, the curly hair, the dampness - too many sensory inputs to process all at once. “You’re so… warm?”

“Core body temperature is higher than the temperature of the skin,” you reminded him. 

“So warm,” he kept repeating, basic biology facts lost on him because his brain seemed to have switched off. 

His palm grazed over your folds and your legs fell further open to give him better access; you stroked his left forearm and tilted your head back. “Only two fingers now, Spence… up and down. But don’t go straight for—”

You tensed when his fingertips danced on your clit and he gripped you even tighter. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but the sensation was so good you could only smile.

“If you plan to go there it’s left and right. And draw a few circles around, big and small...” you explained before words turned into muffled moans as he put your suggestions into actions.

You were still grinding on his lap, your back glued to his chest, and he took advantage of the proximity to trap your earlobe between his teeth, sucking lightly at each change of the pattern he was tracing.

You squeezed his wrist when the flame inside of you grew fiercer. “You can slip your finger in if you want.”

Spencer let go of your earlobe and paused. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks,” you admitted, the weight of your secret vanishing in the air like a puff of smoke.

He sighed and shifted underneath you; just as you were ready to tell him he didn’t have to if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea he slid his middle finger past your entrance and you shuddered in his embrace. His hands were elegant, veiny, and his slender digits made for playing piano or reaching your hidden crevices - you had no doubts about it, but judging by how he was sitting still he had more than one question regarding what to do with them.

“How do I feel? Spence...?”

Even if you couldn’t really see his face, you knew he had a confused-slash-excited look on. “Hot… and wet, I never thought—”  

“You like it?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?!” he asked in the cutest high-pitched tone and you laughed, making you both wince at the sudden movement. 

All the words in any existent language put together couldn’t describe the amount of affection you had for him. “I like it, Spence,” you hummed, “and it would be even better if you tried curling your fin— FUCK!” 

Spencer wasn’t one to waste time once he was given a specific instruction.

He pushed his finger forward and curled it as you said, gliding in and out to slowly familiarize himself with the different textures of your inner walls. He adopted a very empirical approach, experimenting several techniques based on what he’d learned not so long before, while you whimpered and moaned his name; he was moaning, too, and so prettily you couldn’t control yourself.

“Spence, I need more…” 

He nipped at your jaw, his long hair tickling your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I promise”, you panted, almost out of breath.

When he slipped a second finger in you realized that his arm wrapped around your waist was the only thing still keeping you in place: your legs were giving up on you, your hips swayed to let Spencer’s fingers plunge deeper as your back arched and your fists closed around his clothes. He was pumping relentlessly, overwhelmed by your wetness and the way you were taking him inside like he was a missing part of your own body; he tried to reach for your mouth and you turned to grasp the nape of his neck.

“Your hands are perfect,” you whined, “you are perfect…”

He huffed, his heart pounding fast. “Are you…?”

“Please... make me come, Spence,” you begged him in a whisper.

He pressed his thumb on your clit and started alternating between rough circling motions and the upward movement of his fingers, as you bucked your hips at a frantic pace; your thighs muscles contracted, you clenched around him and you ears plugged as you climaxed - something that had never happened to you before.

You tugged at his hair and screamed his name, before settling against his body once the tension faded. 

He kept his fingers inside and he cuddled you throughout the aftermath of your orgasm, planting butterfly kisses wherever his mouth could reach and cradling you like his only mission in life was making you feel safe and protected. 

Your self-consciousness awoke first, despite the rush of feel-good hormones flowing in your bloodstream.

“Am I crushing you…?” you mumbled, and he grunted as you wriggled free to lean forward and pick up the towel from the floor. 

He stared at his wet fingers with a pensive frown, then he wiped them clean and turned to face you - now seated on the couch with your legs across his and your forearm rested on his shoulder, so that you could play with his curls. 

“Doctor, you deserve a gold star for your performance.”

He smiled and lowered his gaze for a second. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“You’re not bad at improvising, either,” you pointed out, “the thing you did with your thumb…?”

“I figured it was only a matter of combining the exact pressure and the right angle. Technically speaking—”

“Spencer?!” you cut him off, before he could lose himself in his own rambling. “Thank you,” you added, kissing him lightly on his lips before you stood up to fix your panties and trousers. “You can tell me all about the mechanics behind one of the best orgasms of my life on our way.”

“Nosferatu. First Halloween together…?” you elaborated when he looked at you in total confusion. “You’ve changed your mind.”

He shifted on the couch, his hazel eyes fixed on you. “Is that okay?”

This time you looked at him with your best ‘is ice cream cold?’ frown: you wanted to spend eternity with him, not just an hour or two more. You climbed into his lap and tangled your fingers in his hair while he cupped your breasts.

“What if I get…? I mean... again?!”

“Well, it’s not going to happen right now, Professor!!" you snorted, and his giggle sounded like celestial music. "But don’t worry, we’ve got the whole night."

NB: I'm not using my regular taglist for Spencer Reid smut fics but I'm obviously tagging only the users who sent a request. If you wish to be added you can send me an ask or leave a comment below with the request to be added.

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin]

Would u write smut for mgg himself? Also do u take requests???

Well ofcourse in my delulu mind MGG and Spencer Reid are the same person also Requests are always open (greenlight) and i will do my best to attend to them in the same month and if i am attending to it i will post a short notice if i am writing your request

~Alex <3

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Shall I Count the Ways: XLVII

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer are best friends. You’re in love with him and he’s in love with you, but neither of you know it nor decide to tell the other about their feelings. All the love is there, just hidden in the things you say and the things you do with one another.

Series Masterlist

A/N: ...hi. i know it's been a while but i'm back on my criminal minds/spencer reid shit. so i'm going to FINALLY finish this series!

47. "You've rendered me speechless."

You sigh over the phone, "I don't think this is a good idea, Spencer. Cat Adams-"

"I know, I know. But this'll be the last time I deal with her. After this, she can't hurt me or anyone ever again. This is the last time."

"If you're sure."

"I am. In the meantime, keep your phone on you at all times just in case I need to get a hold of you ASAP. You never know what Cat will try to pull."

"Alright. Be safe."

"Always," Spencer ends the call, pocketing his phone, and entering the interrogation room.

_______________________

Spencer was getting impatient. He was tired of Cat's games but he knew had to do this. He knew that he was the only one that could beat her in the end. So he had to play the game.

Which led him to here and now. He's fervently kissing Cat Adams against his apartment door when the door swings open...to reveal you.

Your heart immediately drops to your stomach. This has to be a dream. Spencer wouldn't do this to you. He'd never-

"Why're you here?"

"You texted me to meet you here," you pull up your phone to show him the text. But he didn't text you that all.

"I didn't send that," he looks back at Cat, "Why did you bring her here?"

"To chat. Obviously, I want talk to your girlfriend here," and glances back at Spencer, "about you." The woman gives a dark chuckle, "I'm Cat. The woman that Spencer can't seem to stop thinking about," her hand rakes up his arm and he pulls away. She rolls her eyes and looks back at you, "She's a little cutie."

"What do you need to tell me about Spencer that I don't already know? We've known each other for decades."

"Yeah?" Cat smirks and tilts her head at you, "Did you know he likes to throw women against a wall and threaten to kill them?"

"That-No. I-"

"Tell the story, Spencey. Don't skip out on the details." Cat plops into one of Spencer's chairs and watches with a maniacal grin on her face.

"Cat was pregnant at the time and I knew that and-"

"The next day, I miscarried," she stands, placing her hands over her belly.

"Wh-What? That's not true," Spencer looks at her in disbelief.

"It is. Check my medical records."

"Why am I here?" you ask, pacing around Spencer's living room, "Whatever sick bullshit the two of you have going on, I don't want any part of it!"

Cat playfully pouts at you, "Aw honey. You had a part in it as soon as you started dating."

You sit at the couch and look up at her, "Why?"

"To show you he's not the person you think he is. You may have known him for over a decade, but you don't really know him. Not like me."

You look down at your lap, hands clasped together tightly and knee starting to bounce. Spencer knows this happens when you get anxious and his heart clenches at the situation he's pulled you in.

"Maybe you're right. I-Honestly, I never understood how he ended up with me when there's other women, smarter women out there for him. I-I can't compare."

Spencer immediately sits by your side, "No, don't-don't say that."

You look up at him with teary eyes, "No matter what I do, Spencer. I don't think I'll ever be good enough for you. And Cat's right. I guess I don't really know you like I thought I did." you stand up and grab your things, "We're done."

You run out of his apartment and Spencer tries to you, but Cat steps in front of him with a big smile on her face, "I win."

_______________________

You're back at the BAU waiting for Spencer. He steps off the elevator dejectedly and you immediately wrap your arms around him.

"Wh-What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry!"

Spencer looks around at his colleagues, "What's going on?"

"We figured out that it wasn't a coincidence that Cat decided to do all this as soon as you and Y/N started dating. So we brought Y/N and let her know our plan."

He looks at you in disbelief, "You've rendered me speechless. I thought-"

You shake your head, "I told you, Speedy, I won't let anything break us apart."

His arms around you tighten, "I thought I really lost you."

You softly smile up at him, "I'm here to stay, Spence," you lean in and peck his lips, and it makes everyone around him smile.

[swirllgirl]

Love and Passion

--- IMAGES IN MOODBOARD DO NOT REPRESENT READER --

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Wordcount: 500+

Warnings: female anatomy (no pronouns used), no use of y/n, oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected oral sex, slight insecure reader

Summary: Spencer begs you to finally sit on his face

Spencer snakes his hand around your waist whilst lying behind you in bed.

“Please love?” he begs

“No Spence, I’m gonna crush you.” you state

“You won’t. I promise.”

“How do you know?”

“It doesn’t matter; Come on baby please, I’ve been dreaming about it forever.”

“Oh, do you dream about me often Dr. Reid?”

Spencer ignores your comment and starts kissing your neck. He rests his head in the crook of your neck. “Please baby,” he whispers.

“Fine.” you say, finally agreeing.

“Thank God '' he exclaims as he turns you onto your back and starts to kiss your neck again. He makes his way back up and kisses your lips with a passion you never thought you’d experience. It was obvious in that moment that he really loved you. He tries to pull away but you quickly pull him back in, deepening the kiss. You snake your tongue into his mouth, you feel as if this is the only way you can express how much love you have for him.

He kisses his way down your exposed abdomen and makes his way to your panties. He slowly kisses your thighs. You sigh in admiration. He slowly slides your panties down your legs and off your ankles. He sits there for a minute admiring you. “So beautiful,” he says.

He climbs back up onto the bed and lays on his back. “C’mere love,” You turn over and straddle his abdomen.

“Are you sure baby?” you say still a little scared you’ll crush the poor man.

“I’m sure baby.”

“Okay.” You raise onto your knees and climb up to his face and slowly lower yourself down. He starts to slowly lick your pussy. You moan in pleasure and he sneaks his arms around your thighs pulling you down so that your full weight is resting on his. He continues to lap up and down your pussy, occasionally stopping to suckle at your clit. You can’t help but moan loudly in pleasure. The combination of the passion and love that fuels the sex makes it even more pleasurable. 

He sticks his tongue inside of your pussy and you start to slowly ride his face. Eventually he lets you take control. You grind down on his face, his tongue still out, until he makes you stop by gripping your thighs tighter so he can suck on your clit. You moan loudly at this gesture.

“A-ahh. Spence…”

He can tell you're getting close by the way your thighs are shaking around his face. He moans into your clit, sending you off the edge.

“Oh God, Spence!”

You stay seated on his face as you come down from your high until Spencer taps on your thighs needing to come up for air. You immediately jump off moving to sit next to him. “Oh God, sorry Spence.” “That. Was. Amazing.” he says looking up at you.

“Really? I almost suffocated you there for a second.”

“Yeah but you still got over your fear and did it. I might even say enjoyed it.” “I definitely enjoyed it.” You kiss him still being able to taste yourself on his tongue eliciting a moan from you. You lean up, “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” 

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Right Person, Wrong Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader, Sam Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: angst, marrying someone you're not in love with, feeling sad at your wedding

Summary: Spencer had half a decade to confess his feelings for you but never did. You moved on to someone who loves you for you, who treats you like a queen, and who takes care of you. Spencer has one more chance to tell you how he feels before you're married, but does he take it?

Square Filled: sam winchester (spnxcm crossover) for @fandombingo

Author’s Note: this is a supernatural x criminal minds crossover

x

This should be the happiest day of your life. You should be celebrating with your bridesmaids, drinking champagne, and having a good time together. They are, you aren’t. You’re standing on the small platform in front of the three-piece mirror staring at yourself in your wedding dress while your bridesmaids are sitting in the middle of the room having a good time.

JJ, Penelope, Emily, Charlie, Jo, and Eileen have no clue what you’re feeling right now. They expect happiness, happy tears, and being jittery for your upcoming wedding. Instead, you’re thinking about how you got here and if there was anything you could have done differently.

The man you’re marrying today isn’t the one you truly want to marry.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” JJ asks when she notices you staring into the void.

“Nothing,” you snap out of it. “Is everyone here?”

Since JJ is your maid of honor, she is in charge of making sure everything goes smoothly for you. She grabs the clipboard and looks over the roster.

“Spencer hasn’t checked in.”

That makes your heart twist painfully.

“Well, we can’t wait for him to show up. The show must go on!” Charlie declares, earning agreement from the other women. 

Someone knocks on the door and Derek pops his head in.

“The music is starting. Time to go.”

All of your bridesmaids have one of your fiance’s groomsmen to walk down the aisle with. JJ is with Will, Penelope is with Kevin, Charlie is with Dean, Eileen is with Castiel, Jo is with Spencer, and Emily is with Derek. Spencer isn’t here to walk Jo down the aisle but she doesn’t seem all that worried.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go find Rossi,” she says and leaves the room.

Everyone shuffles out of the room to get ready but you stay where you are by the mirror. You’re marrying such an amazing man who loves you for you. You should be happy right now. Derek closes the door behind him and walks up behind you so he can look at you through the reflection.

“Are you doing okay?”

You bite your lower lip to keep yourself from crying. If there is anyone who knows how you’re feeling, it’s Derek. He’s your best friend. You tell him everything.

“Spencer isn’t here,” you whisper.

“No, no tears. You’re marrying Sam.”

“I know,” you nod.

You’d rather be marrying Spencer instead. For years, you’ve pined after Spencer. It started when you first got hired into the BAU and he showed you around for a whole week. He knew you had a thing for him even though you never outright told him you did. It was all in the little things you did for him like you’d make his coffee every morning, you’d compliment him more than the other ladies, you’d do anything to keep a smile on his face, and you’d bring him presents whenever you were thinking about him.

He never did anything with that information. He knew you had a thing for him but never made a move.

One day, you were working a case and ran into Sam and Dean Winchester who were on the same case but as hunters. Sam was the perfect gentleman and treated you with nothing but respect. He never did this before, but he asked for your number because he had to keep in touch with you even when he and Dean left for another case. At first, you were skeptical because you were so hung up on Spencer.

After the first date with Sam, you saw him as someone you could have feelings for. The more you went on dates with him, the more you started to like who he was as a person. Spencer still hadn’t made a move on you so what is the harm in moving forward with your relationship with such an amazing man?

After the first year, you allowed yourself to really love Sam. When Sam asked you to marry him, you had to say yes. Spencer was nowhere near confessing his feelings for you and you’re sick and tired of waiting for something that might happen. He loves you, he treats you like a queen, and you really do love him.

You’re just not in love with him. You’re in love with Spencer but the last thing you’re gonna do is tell him and Sam about this. If Spencer loved you in the way you did, he would have confessed to you a long time ago.

So, here you are on your wedding day and Spencer isn’t even here.

You prepare yourself and head to the double doors where your dad is patiently waiting for you. The bridesmaids and groomsmen have already walked down the aisle so now they’re all eagerly waiting for you.

“Are you ready?” your dad asks.

“More than ever.”

Your smile doesn’t quite reach your ears. The music starts and your dad walks you down the aisle. Sam smiles widely when he sees you, and his eyes hold so much love for you. It’s really unfair how you’re feeling. Sam is such an amazing man who loves you and you should be happy to marry him. You are but knowing Spencer isn’t here makes this less than what it is.

You meet Sam at the front of the altar and smile up at him. The minister begins the ceremony. It goes as smoothly as possible until he gets to the part where people can object.

“Speak now if you object, or forever hold your peace.”

You scan the room at all of your guests. All of them are happy you’re marrying someone you absolutely love. There in the back is Spencer who must have come in after the ceremony started. He’s watching you with red eyes like he’d been crying. You lock eyes with him and question if he’s going to say anything. 

He doesn’t.

The minister moves on and finishes the ceremony quickly.

“Sam Winchester, you may now kiss the bride.”

Sam pulls you in and kisses you just as the entire room erupts in cheers. Everyone but Spencer claps happily for the newlywed couple. Everyone moves to the reception area to enjoy good food, good music, and each other’s company.

“Everyone, may I present to you, Sam and Y/N Winchester. Make way for the first dance.”

Everyone clears the dancefloor so you and Sam can have this special moment to yourselves. Sam pulls you in close and slow dances to the song you picked as “Your Song”. Sam twirls you in his arms and pulls you in close to his chest. You look up at him and smile widely to show him how happy you are with him.

You put your head on his chest and look by the snack table to see Spencer standing there watching you and Sam dance with such sad eyes. You quickly look away from him and enjoy the moment you’re in.

There’s a soulmate for everyone but sometimes not everyone gets to be with them.

x

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[chvoswxtch]

let's play

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader x derek morgan x spencer reid

summary: sharing is caring, afterall.

warnings: once again, every single one of them. swearing, spencer whimpering, daddy hotch, derek morgan's blinding charming ass smile, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: the highly requested and anticipated sequel to slumber party has arrived. once again, there is no plot, bc none of you came here for that. you don't have to read part one to understand this installment, but it is highly encouraged. please enjoy this lil valentine's treat from me to you. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

Before Hotch or Derek even had a chance to step foot into Spencer’s hotel room, Spencer had kicked it shut behind himself after ushering you inside. The two men exchanged looks of confusion, glancing between each other and the closed door in front of them. Derek held his bag by the handles over his shoulder in one hand, and when he went to twist the knob on the door, it was locked. He raised his fist to lightly knock against the door.

“Hey Reid-”

“Come back in an hour.”

Derek’s ebony brows instantly pinched together, and he tossed Hotch an incredulous look over his shoulder.

“What’d he just say?”

Hotch’s permanent scowl abruptly returned to his sharp features as he stepped forward, raising his fist to pound harshly against the door.

“Reid, open this door, now.”

“In an hour.”

Derek let out a scoff, dropping his bag onto the floor with a loud thud.

“What happened to sharing, pretty boy?”

“We will, in fifty-nine minutes.”

Spencer’s voice was somewhat muffled through the thickness of the door, and it sounded far away, like he was deeper inside the room. Before either of them could say another word, a loud moan suddenly sounded from inside that clearly belonged to you. Hotch clenched his jaw while Derek stepped forward with an expression of pure irritation.

“Reid, either you open this door, or I’m kicking it down so help me-”

Hotch placed his palm against Derek’s chest and gave a slight shake of his head. Without another word, Hotch reached into his pocket and produced a room key, and in one swipe, a click followed by a flashing green light signaled that the door was unlocked. Hotch twisted the knob and pushed the door open, stepping into the room with Derek hot on his heels. 

Spencer’s head perked up from between your thighs at the abrupt intrusion, his lips and chin already glistening with your arousal, and a concoction of puzzlement and vexation knit his brows together.

“How-”

Hotch held up his right hand with the key card nestled between his index and middle finger, arching one of his thick brows in a pointed expression.

“You think I don’t have a master key to each of my agent’s rooms for emergency purposes?”

While on his knees in front of the bed with his hands clamped firmly around your soft thighs, Spencer stared at the key in Hotch’s hand as if it had personally wronged him. He hadn’t planned for that. He had planned on having you all to himself for an hour before he had to share.

“Son of a bitch.”

Derek’s mouth instantly parted into an amused tooth bearing grin at Spencer’s outburst of realization, and he chuckled while crossing his arms over his chest, causing his light gray t-shirt to stretch over his firm chest and large biceps.

“Nothing like a pretty girl to slice that genius IQ right in half. Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

Raising up on your elbows on the bed, you glanced over at Derek with a faint smirk as you arched one of your brows in a teasing gesture.

“I don’t know what you’re getting cocky about. He’s the one with the eidetic memory of the female anatomy and what I like.”

“Oh it’s like that, huh? Do I need to remind you who in this room has the most practice with female anatomy? Cause I seem to remember you feeling pretty satisfied on the jet earlier.”

Slipping your hand down into the mess of light brown curls on top of Spencer’s head, you gave his hair a gentle tug to guide his mouth back to where you wanted it, a silent command he happily obliged. Feeling the warmth of Spencer’s wet tongue starting to glide slowly over your clit again, you laid back against the mattress once more and closed your eyes while a soft sigh emitted from your parted lips.

“A little refresher course never hurt anyone. Take a seat, boys. Dr. Reid is giving an oral presentation.”

Whatever argument Hotch or Derek had quickly died on their tongues as they became entranced watching Spencer sensually and slowly eat your pussy from his spot on his knees at the edge of the bed. The four of you had spent the past twelve hours since the jet landed making your rounds at the police station, visiting the scene of the crime, and the medical examiner’s office before Hotch finally decided it was time to check into the hotel. All of you were beyond exhausted, but none of you could stop thinking about what was going to happen the second the four of you were finally alone together.

There had been a buzzing energy surrounding the four of you since you stepped off the jet with the promise of more in the back of everyone’s minds.

As much as their hands were itching to touch you, Hotch and Derek couldn’t tear their eyes away from the enticing show taking place in front of them. The way your body writhed gently against the mattress, the rhythm of your hips rolling back and forth against Spencer’s face like a delicate ocean tide, the soft and hedonistic noises of pleasure that rose in volume and pitch as Spencer devoured you like a man on death row savoring his last meal.

“At least we found a way to shut him up.”

Hotch softly grinned at Derek’s quiet quip while reaching up to loosen the knot on his tie completely, slipping it from around his neck. 

“Silver lining. Help her get more comfortable, would you?”

Derek grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it carelessly behind himself. As soon as his belt was unbuckled, he kicked off his shoes and pushed his jeans down to his ankles to step out of them, leaving him in a white pair of briefs that were already bulging from his half hard cock.

“Way ahead of you.”

Taking a few steps over towards the large bed, Derek moved to sit on his knees right behind your head and leaned forward to grab the bottom of your dress that was bunched up around your hips. He pulled it upwards to slip it off of you, leaving you completely exposed. The cool temperature in the room quickly had your nipples rising to stiff peaks, and you shivered when Derek’s large and warm hands began to squeeze your breasts firmly. Letting your eyes flutter open, you stared up into Derek’s deep and warm chocolate brown eyes as he flashed you that charming grin that never failed to make you weak in the knees.

“Reid putting his mouth to good use?”

Sinking your top teeth into your bottom lip, you arched your back slightly off the mattress and moaned in response as Spencer trapped your clit between his soft lips and began to suck fervently. In return, you gave his hair a rough tug which had a moan of his own vibrating against your soaked cunt. The vibrations echoed throughout your trembling thighs, and your stomach felt tight with anticipation for what was coming, and what would follow afterwards.

Derek toyed with your sensitive nipples, alternating between flicking his thumbs over them, rolling them between his thumb and index finger, and pinching gently. He leaned over you, teasingly gliding his tongue in a languid circle around your hardened nub before sucking it into his mouth and biting down gently, causing you to tug harder at Spencer’s unruly roots. The combination of the stimulation from Derek and Spencer was almost too much, and it had you barreling towards euphoria quickly.

Opening your eyes, you were immediately drawn to the sight of Hotch sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, watching intently while a haze of lust darkened his eyes to the deepest shade you had ever seen them. He was still fully dressed in his suit, but he held his tie tightly in his right hand, and a jolt of excitement rushed through your nervous system.

“Who’s that for?”

Hotch lifted his gaze from Spencer’s head between your thighs to meet your eyes, and a wicked smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth.

“Now if I told you, that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”

Oh.

Hotch was in the mood to play. 

The more comfortable the four of you got with your little arrangement, the more everyone started to see the real version of one another in the bedroom. Out of the three men, Hotch was by far the most dominant, and enjoyed being in complete control, which wasn’t really a surprise to anyone. But the fetishes that lurked beneath the surface did catch you off guard from time to time. 

Derek wasn’t too keen on being tied up, unless you talked him into it on rare occasions, so you and Spencer were usually the object of Hotch’s bondage fantasies. You didn’t realize you would enjoy being completely at someone else’s mercy so much, but with Hotch, you found it incredibly erotic. Everything he did was to maximize your pleasure. He may have liked being in control, but out of the three of them, he definitely took the cake for being a giver.

The second Spencer gently grazed his teeth over your sensitive clit, your orgasm unexpectedly crashed over you without warning, and your body seized up while repetitive cries of pleasure tore through your chest. Gripping the sheets so hard in your fists your knuckles turned stark white, you tried to weakly pull away from Spencer’s delectable assault on your overstimulated clit, but Derek held your hips down firmly so that Spencer could continue to ravenously collect every drop you had to offer. 

The line between pleasure and pain was beginning to blur, and relief only came when Hotch grabbed Spencer by his hair and tugged his head backwards before pulling him up to his feet. Spencer’s pupils were completely blown open with lust, and his lips were somewhat swollen as they glistened with the burst of gratification he had wrung from you. He was lightly panting trying to catch his own breath.

“That’s enough.”

“But I-”

“You get to fuck her when I say you can. Understood?”

Spencer’s hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, one of his physical tells that he was aroused and trying to contain himself. He swallowed thickly and nodded his head in silent obedience. The deep and calm tone of Hotch’s voice was laced with a delicate warning, letting all three of you know that there was no room for debate regarding who was in control tonight.

You didn’t call him “Daddy of the BAU” for nothing.

“Yes sir.”

Releasing his grip on Spencer’s hair, Hotch grabbed onto the back of his neck instead and pulled him in to kiss him deeply, swiping his tongue along Spencer’s bottom lip and biting it roughly while humming in appreciation at the taste of you that lingered. A low growl sounded from deep within Hotch’s chest as he let go of Spencer.

“Good boy. Get undressed and switch places with Morgan.”

While Derek and Spencer swapped places, you moved to sit up on wobbly knees, and Hotch stepped forward to capture your jaw in his large hand, his ring and pinky finger resting along your neck against your pulse point to feel the thrum of your pounding heartbeat. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip lightly, and a flash of pure lust eclipsed over his darkened eyes when you wrapped your lips around it and pressed your tongue firmly against the pad of his thumb. He bent down to where your noses were just barely an inch apart.

“Do you think you could handle two of us at once, sweetheart?”

Your eyes instantly lit up at the question. Normally they all took turns with you, or one fucked you while you sucked another off. You had only taken two of them at once twice before, and while it caused a lingering ache for the following days after, it was absolutely worth it. Nodding your head eagerly, Hotch let out a dark chuckle as a crooked grin split across his lips.

“Good girl.”

Tearing his gaze away, Hotch looked at Derek and tossed him the tie that was in his hand, gesturing with his head towards Spencer’s direction.

“I want his hands tied to the bed.”

Derek turned to look down at Spencer with an amused smirk, taking a step closer towards the edge of the bed as he straightened out the tie in his hands.

“You heard ‘em, pretty boy. Lemme see those hands.”

Spencer let out a whine of protest, turning his head to look at Hotch with a pleading expression, but Hotch gave a firm shake of his head while slipping his jacket off of his broad shoulders and down his arms. 

“You follow the rules, you get what you want. You act like a brat, you get treated like one. Next time, you open the door when I tell you to. Give Morgan your hands.”

While Derek slipped the fabric around Spencer’s wrists in an intricate labyrinth to bind them together and tied them to the headboard with Hotch’s tie, Hotch took his time unbuttoning his dress shirt. You watched over your shoulder as Derek expertly weaved the tie around Spencer’s wrists with a soft pout on your lips.

“Don’t think I forgot about you.”

Before you had a moment to process the sound of Hotch unbuckling his belt, he grabbed your hips and twisted your body around to face Spencer, and just as quickly pulled your arms behind your back. Grabbing your wrists in one of his large hands, Hotch slipped the leather of his belt around them to secure your wrists together tightly. Your lips parted in surprise while you gazed down at Spencer below you. His arms were raised above his head, wrists crossed one over the other and bound to the headboard by Hotch’s black tie, the pupils of his eyes blown so wide they nearly obscured the hazel ring of his irises.

Your eyes fell to the sight of his hard cock, fully erect and standing proud to attention, the swollen tip a deep shade of rose and glossed over with weeping arousal. You could see the muscles in his lower abdomen tighten as you noticed him very tenuously flexing his hips upwards against nothing in search of friction. 

“He looks pretty like this, doesn’t he?”

Hotch whispered lowly in your ear, the warmth of his breath against your delicate skin causing you to shudder in response and arch your back subtly. 

“Yes.”

“Tell him.”

Staring down directly into Spencer’s eyes, a soft whimper caught in your throat while a fresh tide of arousal leaked between your thighs.

“You look so pretty like this, Spence.”

Hotch’s rough hands firmly gripped onto your hips as he pressed his bare chest flush against your back. You could feel his hard cock pressing against your lower back, and you instinctively pushed your ass back against him which caused him to dig his blunt nails into your soft flesh.

“Behave.”

Hotch quietly hissed between clenched teeth. Brushing your hair off your bare shoulder, he nuzzled his nose against the column of your neck and took your earlobe between his teeth, biting down roughly before gliding his tongue along the shell of your ear. A quiet shuddering breath slipped past your lips, and you could feel Hotch grin against your neck.

“Now, listen closely. I want you to ride Spencer while I fuck you from behind, and I want you to open that pretty mouth nice and wide to take Derek’s cock. Understood?”

Derek reached out to cradle your jaw in his large hand, gently tugging your bottom lip down with his thumb as he leaned in and pressed a teasing kiss right beneath your ear, whispering in a sultry voice.

“Think you can handle that, baby girl?”

“She can handle it. She’s a good girl.”

Despite being bound to the bed, Spencer’s voice had a rough and somewhat dominant cadence to it as he spoke matter of factly. All three men shared a knowing look between each other before Hotch smacked his palm against your ass, drawing your attention back to the present with a soft gasp tearing from your lips, reminding you that he expected an answer. Swallowing thickly, you nodded eagerly in a breathless voice.

“Yes.”

Derek arched one of his onyx brows as he slipped his hand down from your jaw down to your throat, giving it a faint squeeze.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes sir.”

Derek’s lips parted into a dazzling proud grin. He slipped his hand down between your thighs, his index and middle finger experimentally slipping inside your soaked cunt while his thumb teasingly brushed over your sensitive clit. A sharp moan tore from your chest while you clamped your thighs around Derek’s hand, and his dark brown eyes flickered over your shoulder to give Hotch a slight nod of his head.

“Oh she’s more than ready.”

A whimper escaped your lips when Derek retracted his hand and lifted his fingers to his lips to lick them clean. Hotch lifted you up slightly to move you forward, causing you to straddle Spencer’s hips. Both of you let out a piercing whine as the head of his throbbing cock brushed against your pulsing clit, and as a deep chuckle rumbled in Hotch’s chest, you felt it vibrating against your back.

“Good. Then let’s play.”

Reaching down between you and Spencer, Derek wrapped his hands around the base of Spencer’s hard cock, which had Spencer hissing softly and lightly shifting his hips upwards. As Hotch gripped onto your hips and guided you forward, Derek assisted in aligning your body to help you slowly sink down on Spencer’s cock. Spencer had been watching earnestly, but as soon as your welcoming heat enveloped him completely and he bottomed out inside of you, his head fell back against the pillows as he let out a strangled moan, his jaw going slack and his eyes screwed shut. 

“Oh f-fuck…”

Spencer was by far the most vocal out of the three of them, and it always filled you with a rush of excitement being able to tear such alluring noises from his pretty mouth.

Giving you only a few seconds to adjust, Hotch placed his palm between your shoulder blades and pushed you forwards, causing you to lean over Spencer completely while Derek moved your hair away from your face. The only reason you hadn’t fallen over was because Hotch had a tight hold on the belt that was bound around your wrists, keeping you suspended in the exact position he wanted you in. Spitting into his palm, Hotch used his saliva as a lubricant to coat the length of his cock as he positioned himself behind you, lifting your hips slightly to make you arch your back and align your ass further up into the air.

“Take a deep breath for me, baby.”

Sucking in a sharp inhale, you dug your nails deeply into the skin of your palms in anticipation. Hotch reached around your body to strum his index and middle finger in quick circles over your clit, ripping a surprised moan from deep within your chest. Thanks to the orgasm Spencer had given you, your body was more relaxed, and your pussy was still slick with your release which made it easier for Hotch to join Spencer inside you. When you felt the blunt head of Hotch’s cock nudging against Spencer’s and slowly stretching you out inch by divine inch, your jaw became fully unhinged and your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head.

“Ohmygod-”

The voice that echoed from your throat didn’t even sound like it belonged to you. It was depleted of oxygen and came out in such a rush that your own ears had trouble unscrambling the words. The sound of Hotch letting out a guttural moan behind you sounded like thunder booming right in your ears. The serrated sting between your thighs was impossible to ignore as your spongy walls were stretched to accommodate them both, but the discomfort paled in comparison to the succulent fullness that you felt. Hotch continued to stimulate jolts of pleasure by strumming your clit with his index and middle fingers, trying to help your body to relax and adjust to the new and overwhelming intrusion. 

“Shh…there you go. Just breathe, baby girl.”

Derek was lovingly stroking his fingers through your hair while reminding you to perform such a basic subconscious action. As you struggled to suck in deep breaths, Spencer was impatiently thrusting his hips upwards in a slow rhythm, his biceps flexing while he tugged at the restraints on his wrist. Hotch gripped onto your hips tightly to keep you from falling on top of Spencer, his blunt nails leaving crescent shaped indentations on your soft hips. Once he felt the tension evaporate and your muscles loosening, he started to flex his hips forward to match Spencer’s delicate rhythm.

The composition of their conduction had your body swaying to the idle tempo they had silently established. Spencer and Hotch held you securely between their thighs, gliding back and forth over your delicate strings, coaxing legato notes of pleasure from your lips. 

Once Derek could see that you were completely relaxed and ready for more, he moved in closer and brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, a silent signal you instantly obeyed by parting your lips eagerly. A deep sigh of appreciation sounded from Derek’s chest when he slowly slipped his cock past your lips, and he gently traced his thumb along your cheekbone while you moaned at the feeling of his velvet weight caressing your tongue. 

This was the first time you had ever taken all three of them at once like this, and it was almost entirely too overwhelming. Every single one of your senses was overstimulated. 

Despite the three of them wearing starkly unique colognes, it was impossible to discern which smell belonged to who. Each of their scents perfectly mixed in with your own, creating one indistinguishable fragrance that enveloped you entirely and left you feeling intoxicated and light headed. Your skin was overheated already from the intensity of the moment, but also from the warmth that radiated naturally from each one of them; Hotch’s chest flush against your back, Derek’s palms caressing your cheeks, and Spencer’s thighs lightly smacking against your own. 

Even though your heart was pounding in your ears to the point of being deafening, you could hear the heavenly noises escaping each of them. Spencer was whimpering beneath you, begging for you to ride him harder. Derek was panting breathlessly above you, whispering softly how good you felt. Hotch was letting out deep growls and grunts as he moved behind you, demanding lowly in your ear that you take everything he was giving you.

The salty tang of Derek’s leaking arousal coated your tongue, but you could also still taste the roasted blonde espresso from Spencer’s lips and the fresh wintergreen mint that lingered on Hotch’s tongue. The pleasure was getting to be too much, and you couldn’t hardly keep your eyes open. You weren’t even on the brink of another orgasm yet, but there was already a firework show happening behind your eyelids. 

Something about this moment was so incredibly perfect, like this was where you all belonged. 

Together.

This wasn’t just about sex. It never had been. A piece of you had always belonged to each of them, and vice versa, ever since that first night in Vegas. There was just something about the four of you together that couldn’t be explained, but you all felt it every time you were with each other like this.

A single reaction from one of you set off a chain reaction for the rest of you. Hotch started to snap his hips in more powerful and precise thrusts, causing you to grind down harder on Spencer’s cock, and the vibrations of you moaning around Derek’s cock caused his own rhythm to become sloppy and falter when he began to fuck your face. 

The air in the hotel room was thick with heat and sweat like a sauna, and a cacophony of intermingled moans and grunts of satisfaction grew louder and louder the closer you all got to reaching a peak as grand as Everest. The second one of you jumped off the top to free fall, the rest of you would follow.

Spencer was the first to break. He was so far gone he couldn’t even get a warning out, but the second he released inside of you with a loud shout of your name, his spasming hips caused his pubic bone to bump against your clit repeatedly just right to set off your own orgasm. Hotch was fucking you relentlessly from behind as he chased his own high, and the contraction of your walls combined with the flood of yours and Spencer’s release made him double over as he grunted loudly, resting his forehead against your middle back while pumping his seed deeper and deeper within you. Derek was the last to fall apart. He let his head fall back while closing his eyes, his beautiful features twisted up in pure ecstasy as he let out a sensual moan while spilling down your throat.

The four of you were stuck together in a sweaty pile on the bed and no one wanted to move. Derek slowly slipped his softened cock from your lips so you could gasp for air, and he gently ran his fingers through your hair to help you calm down. Hotch did his best to carefully pull out, but the sudden movement had you crying out and tensing up. Hotch peppered gentle kisses along your shoulder blades, shushing you quietly while removing the leather restraint of his belt from your wrists and massaging them gently. Without him holding you up by your hips, you collapsed face first into Spencer’s chest.

When Derek freed Spencer’s wrists from the headboard, Spencer immediately wrapped his arms securely around your trembling frame and cradled your head against his chest. He didn’t dare move, letting himself soften inside of you as he held you there, pressing his lips to your forehead in a soft kiss and delicately carding his fingers through your hair.

Each one of you were panting hard, trying to regain your bearings from such an intense experience, but they had catapulted you so far up into the clouds, you weren’t sure you could ever make it down. It felt as if you had stuck your finger into an outlet, sending an intense shock throughout your entire body, the lingering electricity still crackling with the faintest jolts of motion. Their voices were distant and muffled, like your head was underwater, and you couldn’t focus on anything except the blackness that pulled over the entire horizon behind your eyelids.

Moments later, something cold and wet was pressed against the back of your neck, causing a shiver to spread throughout your body. When your eyes lazily fluttered open, you were met with the dim light of the hotel room, and as you slowly lifted your head, Spencer began to come into focus in front of you. He was laying back against the pillows watching you, holding a washcloth soaked in cold water against the back of your neck while still slipping his fingers through your hair with his other hand. He gently wiped the washcloth over both of your heated cheeks and flashed you a dopey grin.

“Welcome back to Earth, pretty girl.”

A faint blush tinted your cheeks as you looked at him with a tired smile, humming softly while nuzzling into the warmth of his body as you hugged him. “Hi.”

Hearing the sweet and sleepy mumble from your lips, Spencer leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Hotch and Morgan went to grab us some dinner. They’ll be back in a bit. How are you feeling?”

“Sticky.”

Spencer erupted in laughter at the adorable pout on your lips, nodding as he brushed a strand of your hair out of your face.

“There were a lot of bodily fluids being exchanged.”

“Okay, it sounds gross when you say it like that.”

“Is ‘you did have three guys come inside you at once’ better?”

Scrunching up your nose, you weakly lifted your hand to press your index finger against Spencer’s soft lips with a quiet laugh.

“Please shut up.”

Spencer chuckled as he pressed a soft kiss to your finger, tossing the wet washcloth onto the nightstand by the bed.

“Fine. How about a shower?”

“Too much standing.”

“A bath?”

Pretending to think it over, you eventually let out a soft exhale while gazing into Spencer’s hazel eyes with a teasing grin.

“Spencer Reid, you’re a genius.”

The edge of Spencer’s lips tugged upwards into a playful smirk, and he rolled his eyes at your lame joke. He moved to sit up, slipping one of his arms underneath your knees and his other around your waist so he could lift you up into his embrace to carry you towards the bathroom.

“So I’ve been told.”

tags: @mars-rants-a-lot @ninejloveb0t @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @viscade @starsm00n @kenseverything @storiesofsvu @sabage101 @spiritofthewriter  @geeksareunique @urlocalgeek @avencol

[starrykites]

imagine your f/o bringing you flowers and chocolates when you’re having a bad day.

[avada-kedavra-bitch-187]

Does anyone have any recommendations for the reader having a really toxic family

The whole family doesn’t have to be toxic but i at least want 1 toxic family member

the romantic relationship can be with anyone