#spencer reid x reader fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

voiddrop · 2 years

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Chances (2)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single Mom! Reader

Tags: 18+, First date, Spencer being cute, museum date, Spencer’s info dumping, fluff and smut, NSFW, dominant Spencer, post-prison Reid, nipple play, cum swallowing, begging, mutual masturbation, no use of gender specific pronouns, Reader is AFAB.

Summary:

Spencer and Reader's date at the Smithsonian leads them back to her front door where they must tackle the age-old question: Do you kiss them goodnight on the first date?

Word Count: Around 3k

Gif from smurphyse

Chapter Two: On a quiet night, what are the odds? (SMUT)

Spencer didn't take you straight to the museum, his first stop was actually a small coffee shop. It was a small place, independently run, and it seemed a little pricier but a neon sign proudly proclaimed that it was 'open 24/7' which you imagined was part of the appeal to Spencer. The inside was very hipster chic, with exposed brick walls, a menu written in coloured chalk hung on the wall behind the counter, small cosy booths that hugged the walls and a few round tables in the centre of the room. The scent of perfectly roasted coffee beans hung in the air, warm and inviting, greeting you the second Spencer pushed open the door and led you inside. Along with that you could pick up the sugary sweet scent of a few baked goods and noticed that the glass display showed cookies, donuts and muffins as well.

Spencer insisted on paying for you both and wouldn't take no for an answer, managing to coax your preferred coffee order out of you first before he ordered his own drink - which was more sugar than coffee - and (after asking if you wanted anything else) a chocolate donut with rainbow sprinkles to go with it. You waited by the counter as your drinks were made. "How did you find this place?" You asked softly, watching as Spencer turned to you with a comfortable smile.

"By chance. I had just got back from a job out of state and it was really late, I couldn't sleep and didn't have any coffee at home, so I went for a walk and...happened upon it," He answered simply enough and you nodded as your drinks and Spencer's donut was set in front of you. You watched, totally bemused, as Spencer grabbed five more sugar packets to add to his drink, slowly stirring it in with a wooden stir-stick as he went. He caught you looking and managed to look a little timid, chuckling to himself as he brought his sweetened drink to his lips and took a sip. Pleased with its sweetness, he grabbed his donut and you both stepped out of the coffee shop and back out onto the street.

"So," You started as Spencer began to lead the way down the street, "you like your coffee sweet?" Your tone was teasing but there was still a genuine curiosity there, something that Spencer did pick up on even as he ducked his head with slight embarrassment.

"Well, I- uh, I started drinking coffee when I went to college, but I was twelve and I couldn't stand how bitter it was. I think- you know I think the people that owned the coffee stands hated me because I used to use half of the sugar in the pot whenever I ordered," He laughed as he spoke and you couldn't help but laugh with him, even if the reveal that he went to college when he was twelve was a bit of a surprise - you'd gathered that he was smart, but that smart? He really was something else entirely. "Actually, did you know that of the total number of coffee drinkers in the US, forty percent of them drink whitened or sweetened coffee?" He asked, the fact flowing from his tongue before he could even really stop it. You didn't look bothered though, you just smiled at him.

"Yeah? Do you know any other coffee-related facts?" You asked, bringing your own drink to your lips to sip it.

Spencer looked surprised, "I, uh, yes? Do you- do you want to hear them?" When you nodded, looking genuinely curious and eager, he couldn't help but stare at you in awe for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and began to list off the other statistics he knew relating to coffee, which somehow turned into him discussing the original creation of coffee and its uses in different cultures, all of which you listened to eagerly and made no attempt to stop him. You nodded along eagerly, seeming to actually listen. You weren't just humouring like his friends so often did, you seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, only speaking up to ask for clarification on something he said but never to stop him. The conversation lasted right up until you made it to the museum, and your smile never once strained or wavered.

"Hello, Dr. Reid," The nightguard that Spencer had called said in greeting, "it's good to see you again."

Spencer snapped out of his stupor and straightened up, lifting a hand in an awkward wave before he said, "You too, Mr.- uh, Clifford." Clifford was an older black gentleman who'd worked nighttime security at the Smithsonian Natural History Museum for as long as Spencer had lived in DC. He was kind, with deep smile lines and greying hair and beard.

"You know the rules, kid. Don't make any mess and be out of here before sunrise, if you need anything you can find me here," Clifford told him warmly, "now go on you two, enjoy your date, go!" There was no sticking around to chat, the older man waved you both off and laughed warmly at your shared shy smiles. Spencer nodded and made sure to thank Clifford again before he lead you further into the museum. Spencer guided you through the halls with practised ease, gesturing to the many skeletons and displays that you passed.

Seeing him surrounded by so much history, it was clear that Spencer was in his element. He could rattle off facts that didn't show up on the many plaques that listed information about the exhibits they were connected to. The fossil hall might have just been your absolute favourite if only because you got to listen to Spencer say all of the scientific names for the different species of dinosaurs with ease. The posed skeletons of the tyrannosaurus and triceratops was incredibly interesting, and you loved listening to Spencer ramble about the reveal that dinosaurs were feathered. You never interrupted him, only engaged. Why would you interrupt him when he was telling you so many interesting facts?

You must have walked around for about three hours before you'd seen everything and learnt everything there was to know. "This was... this was pretty amazing, Spencer," You told him genuinely as you both walked down the steps that lead to the Museum of Natural History. "I had a really fun time today, and- well, and yesterday too, technically," You said with a chuckle, smiling when Spencer chuckled and nodded as well. "And you know, I didn't know that homo sapiens and neanderthals actually crossbred, and- well, pretty much everything you told me in the fossil hall was new information."

"Well, I'm glad to have been of service," Spencer replied as you both came to a stop at the bottom of the steps, turning to face each other, "I had a really good time today as well." It was said so genuinely that you couldn't help but grin up at Spencer.

You really didn't want this night to come to an end, but you knew that you had to get home. You took a deep breath before you spoke, "Would you... um..."

"Yes?" Spencer sucked his lips into his mouth, wetting them as he looked at you with those big, brown doe eyes. Silently pleading for something you couldn't guess - or wouldn't guess, for fear of complicating things.

"Would you be okay... walking me home?" You asked softly, "I should really get going but I don't really want things to end... quite yet." Spencer didn't need to be asked twice, he nodded eagerly and the two of you began walking. You stuffed your hands in your pockets, staring down at your feet with a smile as you made your way through the lit streets of Washington. You walked in silence but it was comfortable, both of you just soaking in the presence of the other as you led the way to your street, and then your apartment building. Spencer held the door open for you and gestured for you to go through first before he followed you through. A simple polite gesture, but one that made your heart soar regardless.

"Well, this is me," You said as you stopped in front of your apartment door, turning to face Spencer. You clasped your hands together in front of you as Spencer stopped in front of you. "I meant what I said, I've had a really good time with you, Spencer. It's been a long time since I've been on a date, and... an even longer time since I've been as comfortable with a man as I am with you. So thank you..."

"You don't have to thank me for that," Spencer replied quickly, looking down at you as his eyebrows furrowed together. You pursed your lips and then nodded, pausing as you realised what kind of situation you were in. The date had come to an end, you were standing outside your apartment, Spencer was right in front of you, and now you just had to ask yourself the age-old question: Did you kiss at the end of the first date?

The thought of kissing Spencer had crossed your mind many times during your time at the museum. He had a habit of licking his lips, or sucking them into his mouth, and it made them look so plump and kissable. Without realising, your eyes had dropped to Spencer's mouth as you thought about this, and he noticed. Spencer sucked in a breath, his gaze darkening as his own gaze landed on your lips in return. You crept forward, pushing yourself up onto your tiptoes, as you did this your hand came up slowly, so slowly, giving Spencer any chance to pull back or stop you. He didn't, he just watched with soulful eyes. Your fingers curled around his chin and he swallowed softly, lips parting with a quiet puff of air.

Still holding his chin, you leaned in and pressed your lips to the apple of his cheek. His light stubble tickled the sensitive skin of your lips before you pulled back, meeting his eyes as you settled back on your feet. Spencer watched you, pupils blown wide open, blackness nearly taking over the brown and gold of his irises. There was a heavy beat of silence before both of you were pulled together like magnets. Spencer wrapped an arm around your waist, a large hand coming up to cradle your face as his lips found yours. You threw your arms around his neck, falling into the curious and slightly clumsy embrace of a first kiss.

You were both eager, lips moving together as you tried to learn each other. He tasted like caramel and sugar, being so close meant you could smell the vanilla and parchment scent that clung to his skin. You broke apart briefly, just enough for Spencer to tilt his head before he reconnected his lips to yours. He did that frequently, pulling back to adjust the angle slightly, trying to kiss you every way he could while you grew dizzy from the taste, touch and smell of him. His overwhelming presence made your head spin. When you finally pulled away, both panting, you knew immediately what you wanted. Heat twisted in your stomach. Spencer looked so beautiful with his lips slick and puffy, hair wild and just begging for your fingers to pull at the curls.

"Do you... want to come in?" You asked, panting to try and catch your breath.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Then yes." You smiled at his answer and Spencer's lips curled into a matching grin.

The second your apartment door shut, Spencer had you pushed back against it once more. He couldn't wait any longer and you didn't want him to, sighing happily when his mouth found yours again. His hands were big and warm as they cradled your face, you gripped at the front of his hoodie, then moved your hands up to curl in his hair. Curiously, you tugged at the brunette curls and Spencer groaned against you, a deep, rich sound that crawled right up from his toes. You immediately knew that you wanted him to make that noise again a lot more. You pulled again, sneaking your tongue past his lips when they opened with another pleased sound.

He pulled you away from the door and you turned, stumbling backwards through your apartment, both of you kicking off your shoes, you giggled against Spencer's mouth at your shared unwillingness to break the kiss. At least until you banged your hip off of a wall and spat out a curse, finally breaking the kiss. Spencer's eyes glowed with mirth and you pouted at him, taking his hands in yours to lead him through your home and into the bedroom. "Yeah, laugh it up, Doctor." The impact of his honorific was immediate. Spencer's expression turned hungry and he pressed closer, backing you across your room until the backs of your knees met your bed.

His mouth covered yours again and his hands landed on your hips, guiding you down onto your bed before he crawled over you. Large hands trailed up from your hips, feeling along your sides. "You're beautiful," Spencer whispered against your lips, fingertips skimming down and then back up your arms, before shifting towards your chest.

He pulled back enough to look at your face, his expression a silent question for permission. When you nodded, he leant back down for you as he began to palm at your chest, cupping your tits in his hands. It didn't take long for his hands to slip under your shirt as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

You kissed almost lazily as he pushed the cups of your bra up, fingers tweaking your nipples and swallowing your pleased sighs and whimpers. Not wanting him to be left out any longer, your own hands began to wander. You ran them down his back, pushing them under his thick hoodie the first change you got so you could feel up along his sides. Spencer was still pretty lean, but he'd filled out more after prison. You curled your fingers into the trail of hair that ran down his soft stomach, feeling his breath shudder against your lips as you teased the hem of his pants. You pushed your hand into his trousers, pressing your palm to his growing bulge through his boxers.

Spencer sucked in a breath immediately. "Fuck." The single word was whispered against your skin, wrapped in a groan as he dropped his head to mouth at your neck. His hands kept playing with your tits as you began to rub him through his boxers, both of you gasping and sighing.

His hands moved down, following your lead as they found the button of your jeans and began to open them. As you pushed your hand into his boxers, his hand slipped into your underwear. He groaned as your fingers wrapped around the base of his warm cock, then against when you felt just how wet you were already. “You’re already this wet?” He asked breathlessly, chuckling when you nodded with a needy little sound.

He ran his index finger through your lips slowly as you began to curiously drag your hand up and down his length. While he ran his thumb over your clit and pushed a finger into you, you swiped your thumb across the head of his weeping cock, both of you whining against the other at the feeling. Spencer pressed his mouth against your neck, stubble tickling the skin as he curled his finger inside of you. He rubbed small circles against your clit. "Did you know the clitoris has eight-thousand nerves?" He asked you, in a low voice. Before you could even think to answer, her crooked his finger again and pushed a second inside of you, leaving you already feeling so full - his fingers were so much bigger than yours, long enough that every time he curled them you could feel them pushing against a part of you that made your hips jerk.

In reply, you teased the underside of his head with your thumb and watched as his eyes shut and his lips fell open. "You're cute when you talk statistics, Spencer," You told him softly, dipping your head until your nose nudged his, "but you're cuter like this." He groaned, rocking his hips into your hand before putting his focus back on his hand. He rocked his arm up, fucking you slowly on his fingers.

"I think you'll find that you're the cute one," He told you, sighing your name before he nipped at your jaw. He pressed kisses against your fluttering pulse point, sucking the skin into his mouth as he shifted his hand, grinding the heel of his palm into your clit. He fucked you slow and deep with his fingers, encouraging you to rock your hips into him. You could feel that tell-tale tightening in your lower stomach and your breathing quickened as you reached your climax slowly. The warmth stretched out from your core, curling and licking your insides like a slow-burning fire.

Spencer pulled his fingers out of you slowly and you kept stroking him. "Do you have a condom?" Spencer asked, voice husky and strained against his own increasing pleasure. You froze at the question, lips opening and closing as you realised that you most definitely did not have any condoms. You hadn't dated in years and this had been very last minute. Spencer recognised the look on your face and nodded. "That's okay, we don't have to-"

"I want to," You told him softly, cutting him off as you looked up at him with big, pleading eyes, "I want you to fuck me, Spencer. I want to feel you, I'm- I'm clean, are you...?" He nodded, surprised at your admission. "Okay, just... pull out?"

"Are you- are you sure?" Spencer asked, watching as you nodded, watching him softly.

"I trust you." He sucked in a breath, dick twitching in your hand at the admission before he surged down, lips finding yours once more. You gasped into his mouth, whimpering as Spencer started to pull your body. You let go of him as he rolled you over, pulling you into his lap where both of you fell into the slightly frantic ritual of undressing each other, only breaking your kiss to pull shirts and hoodies up and off of you. The fabrics were quickly tossed aside to be forgotten in some obscure corner of your room. Your trousers joined them shortly and you finally pulled back from the kiss, Spencer leaning back on his elbows and watching as you shed your bra and underwear.

He licked his bottom lip, one hand settling on your hip as he used his other to pull his boxers down, freeing his cock which sprang up to rest against his belly. You had felt him, but actually seeing him made your stomach turn to water, bubbling in anticipation at the thought of how well he'd fill you. Spencer was to proportion, long and decently thick, with a head that was flushed such a gorgeous shade of red, shiny with pre-cum. His hands settled on your waist, guiding you over him. "You ready?" He asked, still waiting for your consent before he did anything.

It was sweet, but you were tired of waiting. "Please just fuck me, Spencer," You begged, watching as he groaned at the sound of your desperation. He didn't make you wait any longer, Spencer pulled you down onto him, filling you up in one motion. Both of you moaned at the feeling and you fell against his chest, gasping as you adjusted to how full you felt. Spencer was good, waiting for you to adjust to him. He didn't move until you whimpered and started to rock your hips, then he started thrusting up into you.

Every movement made your tits bounce and Spencer couldn't help himself, leaning down to mouth and kiss your chest as he guided you to bounce on his cock, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. You whined at the feeling, head falling back with a gasp as he continued to bounce you, your pace steadily increasing. Your room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your soft keening, and Spencer's muffled groans as he lost himself in your tight, wet warmth. Your cunt hugging him so tightly he could just lose himself in the feeling.

Your speed increased, hips rolling against him with a growing need that told Spencer you were getting close, desperately chasing your release on his cock. One of his hands dipped between your bodies, rubbing tight circles against your clit as he kept your tit in his mouth until you collapsed against him with a loud cry of his name.

He groaned as your walls tightened around him, pulsing and gripping him, hips still twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm. He waited a few seconds longer before he carefully pulled you off of him, dropping a hand to curl it around his cock and begin frantically stroking it, chasing his own release which was so close.

But you stopped him.

Still trying to catch your breath, you set your hand over his, looking down at him with a needy look. "Let me," You asked softly, sliding out of his lap until you were crouched on your bed between his knees, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock as you leant down. Spencer sucked in a breath, eyebrows shooting up into his hairline as he watched you.

"Are you sure?" He asked quickly. You answered him by wrapping your lips around the head of his cock and twirling your tongue around it, smirking when Spencer immediately groaned and fought to keep his hips still. The taste was strong but strangely addictive, a mix of his and your arousal that was odd, but not disgusting. You sunk down on him slowly, groaning as his musky scent filled your nose, his hot and heavy cock resting on your tongue until you could focus on nothing but him. You started to bob up and down slowly, stroking what you couldn't fit in your mouth and losing yourself in the feeling of his cock filling your throat.

Spencer curled his hands into your hair, tugging on the strands as he carefully rocked his hips into you. When you opened your watery eyes, you could see his expression as he watched up: eyebrows scrunched together, biting on his bottom lip, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from you. You picked up speed gradually, listening as Spencer's volume increased, whining as you sucked on the head and teased his prominent vein with your tongue. It didn't take long for him to start tugging at your hair. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," He warned you, trying to guide you off of him. Only to gasp when you moaned around him and sank deeper, desperate for him to cum in your mouth.

That was enough to knock him over the edge, moaning your name as you felt his cum spurt over your tongue. You swallowed everything you could before slowly pulling off of him, wiping your chin to get rid of the drool that had trickled down it. Spencer cupped your face, still panting as he recovered from his orgasm. "Was that decent?" You asked after catching your breath, smiling up at him teasingly. Spencer chuckled, pulling you up into his arms which you made no attempt to fight.

"That was incredible," Spencer told you genuinely, laying back on your bed, sighing as your tucked yourself into his side. You rest your head on his chest, listening to his heart as it raced inside his chest. You couldn't help but agree, it was definitely pretty incredible.

"Yeah, I think this might have been the best first date I've ever had," You told Spencer, tilting your head back to smile up at him, "stay?" You asked then, watching as Spencer nodded immediately, eyes already heavy with the urge to sleep. You didn't want to move, but you knew you had to. The pair of you pulled apart slowly, you going to clean up in the bathroom and then lock your front door. Spencer pulled on his boxers and DC shirt to sleep, while you pulled on an actual pair of nightclothes from your closet. You turned off all the lights and then crawled into bed, sighing happily when Spencer climbed in next to you.

He pulled you into his side, letting you rest against his chest - which you did, happily. You were already dozing off, but a thought occurred to you and you had to ask before you could forget. "I'm taking Viola to the aquarium on Wednesday," You began, tilting your head to look up at his face, "you should come with us."

It was dark, but you could still make out the smile that immediately spread across Spencer's face in response. "I would love to," He told you, and you didn't doubt it. Happy and comfortable, you let your eyes flutter shut, smiling when you felt his lips brush against your forehead before you drifted off into a comfortable sleep.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid headcanon #x reader #gender neutral pronouns #Not gender specific #reader is afab #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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moonflower-31 · 2 years

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Pen Pals - Spencer Reid x Reader

Part 1

Part 2!

Ongoing! (But slow updates, srry)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Talk of being used for free labor? If that's anything?

A/N: Okay, guys, I got randomly inspired for this thing. Idk for sure about updates just yet, but I promise to get working on the next one for this and for IWFY. When inspo hits, it's gonna hit hard. So enjoy this! It's a bit longer than the last, but still. You'll get Spencer's next letter reply in the next installment. I'm also gonna start putting dates on their letters so we can follow along with the passage of time. Toodles!

Tags: @thatsonezesty13, @egg-boy03, @idjitlili, @meowiemari, @meganskane, @lonelyran, @rainsong01, let me know if I missed you or if you wanna be added to the list!

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“I remained too much inside my own head and ended up losing my mind.” - Edgar Allen Poe

The sun was blisteringly hot, as Ohio summers always were. This one was no different. Of course today of all days had to be the day your father had picked to start work on the farm. Leaving you no time to prepare for your incoming day of departure.

The past week or so had been…eventful, to say the least. After you’d graduated, you had hoped that maybe your parents would let up on some of their rules on studying. You had been right, but they were hellbent on you returning to school. Med school. Despite all the preparation you’d made for it, you weren’t quite sure you wanted to go through with your original plan. After all, it was your parent's dream. Not yours.

No matter the circumstance, the conversations you had with your parents always ended with them discussing when you would be applying for med school. Scratch that, the conversations you had with your mother, while your father just stared at you. His conversations only ever composed of farm work and how you should listen to your mother.

Now that you’d graduated, you didn’t know what to do. You were only 23. The sky’s the limit, as your bio-lab teacher, Mr. Underwood, would say. You just have to know when to jump.

Your only problem? You had absolutely no idea.

You reach up to your forehead, wiping off the sheen of sweat that had accumulated there. With a grunt, you forced yourself to lift the crate of feed bags your father had tasked you with carrying to the chicken coop. All morning you’d been working. From the minute Ronny, one of your family’s roosters, had woken you at dawn, you’d been hard at work with no breaks. Your father wouldn’t allow it even if you tried to ask.

“(Y/N)! Enough wastin’ around! That feed ain’t gonna move itself!” Abraham, your father, shouted from off in the distance. He was probably headed to his tractor to start the harvest. You internally groaned, the annoyance multiplied by the rare breeze blowing your hair into your face. This was why you usually wore your hair back, whatever the length. Your mother always insisted on having it long, though. The idea of cutting it was never up for debate. The longer your hair, the happier your mother was. Though you did dream of the day you’d escape the farm life and chop it all off. The look on your mother's face would be priceless.

“I’m not as strong as you dad! It’s gonna take me a bit.” You call back, grimacing as some of the wooden crate dug into your palms. You rearranged your hold, hoping to carry the weight in your legs if that made any sense.

Whatever it was you did, it helped. The burden of the crate’s weight was soon not as much an issue, and the crate was put beside the coop. The roar of the tractor made you internally wish you were something else. A fish or a bird, anything to get out of having to help your father carry the harvest to the barn where it would be put into more crates and then shipped out to be properly cleaned and made ready for people to buy at the grocery store. When the harvest day comes, you know to make yourself busy with a study group, or something. But school was not in session.

But then, as if the universe had heard your childish plea, you heard the backdoor swing open, and your mother call out to you. “(Y/N)! Could you go get the mail for me sweetheart?”

The task, simple and much easier than the task you knew was coming, you jumped at the chance to do something else. “Yeah! Sure Mom!” You called before your father could cry out in protest that your mother was taking away his free labor. He was already suggesting you go to med school online, so you didn’t have to move. More like he wanted you to stay so he didn’t have to cough up the money to hire farmhands.

Considering the amount of harvest your father’s farm produced every year, you and your father managed to get it all done somehow. Your family was well off in a way only a farmer’s family could be. But you knew that was only because they didn’t have to budget in a salary for helpers. Your father had wanted a son, as all men in your small town did, but unfortunately for him, you were the one and only child he was given. His brother, on the otherhand, had at least 6 boys. You’d lost count of how many facebook posts your aunt had made announcing another new ‘bundle of joy’. At least your mother’s sister knew her worth, and had decided to travel rather than to settle down and let a man control her life. You idolized her, and her gifts of international novels and special editions were everything.

You raced towards the mailbox, your mind soon travelling to the idea of a new package from said aunt. It had only been a month or two since her last parcel, but you could still dream!

Then you remembered your penpal letter you’d sent a few weeks prior. You wondered if it even got to it’s destination. People moved locations all the time. You hadn’t even stopped to consider that when you’d sent the damn thing. The thought that you could have a reply hadn’t crossed your mind at all since you’d graduated. Excitement quickly filled your bones and you raced faster down the hill towards the mailbox in the front of your family’s property closest to the road. You slowed your racing feet to a halt as you approached your family’s mailbox. The red flag was up!

An excited giggle erupted from your throat before you could catch it, making yourself pause and take a deep breath. There was no reason to get this excited over a response. Or over a present from your aunt. But the childish voice in your head quickly convinced you otherwise. You reached out with a grin, opening the box almost dramatically. To your triumph, there was indeed mail! But unfortunately, no package.

Only slightly disheartened, you grabbed the small stack of letters and started to look at the names of to whom they were addressed to. As you began to look, you started to head back up the hill towards your house, almost forgetting to close the mailbox.

The first envelope you looked at seemed to be an advertisement for a cruise. As if. It was addressed to your mother. Of course. She loved to dream. You put that one behind the rest and looked at the second. This one was addressed to your father, unfortunately. You then placed that one behind the previous and continued through the rest of the mail, almost losing hope that you’d be getting a response at all. Then, when all hope felt lost, and you had grabbed the handle to your front screen door, you glanced down at the last envelope. It was addressed to you!

With a dart of your eyes you checked the sender’s name, and your heart flipped as you read the name back as Dr. Spencer Reid.

Withholding the full extent of your excitement, you quickly opened the front door and grabbed your letter before dropping the rest on the dining room table.

“Thank you darling-” Your mother says sweetly, blinking in bewilderment as you run up the stairs to your room with an envelope in your hand. She raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

You close your door once you manage to slide into your room, racing over to your desk to open the small envelope. You pick up the letter opener your aunt had sent with the stationary and quite literally rip the thing open. At this action you take a brief pause. Maybe it was best that you calmed down a bit. You didn’t want your mother to get too curious.

After a deep breath, you open your eyes and pull the neatly folded paper from the now opened envelope. You place the envelope aside and open the letter. You read happily, entirely thrilled by the contents. So he was a doctor! Not a medical one, but neither were you! Your eyes continue to scale the letter up and down, your smile growing with each new fact. His IQ was impressive! And so was his reading speed. Not mention he was extremely well educated. Three PhDs? He really earned his right to be called a doctor.

So his address had changed. You were right. But it had somehow made it to him.

What fascinated you even more was his similar love for reading. Especially in another language. It was like you were meeting another version of you but, genderbent. Kinda.

Your eyes turned to the list of books the good doctor had left at the end of his letter. Your smile grew even wider, even though you already had over half of these books on your shelf already.

Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - (One of my personal favorites)

Beyond Good and Evil - Friedrich Nietzsche

The Illiad - Homer

The Raven and the Monkey’s Paw - Edgar Allen Poe

The Happiness Hypothesis - Jonathan Haidt

You smiled, happy to see your penpal enjoyed many of the same books and stories that you did. You read it over just once more before you decided it was time to put it away before your mother came in with the news that your father was asking for you. You searched your room for a moment, unsure of where to put the letter for safe keeping. Who knows? You may want to look back on them someday.

“I’ve gotta have something…” You mumble to yourself.

“(Y/N)? Honey? Did you get any mail?” You heard your mother’s voice suddenly call through the door to your room while accompanying a knock. A brief jolt of nervousness runs through you, worried if your mother found out about the letter she’d forbid you from sending another reply. Then you sighed with relief. You could just say it was a copy of your diploma.

“Yeah, just a copy of my diploma, mom.” You called back. Your mother seemed to accept it, not immediately doubting you.

“Mind if I come in?” Your mother asked suddenly. You felt your throat grow dry as your nerves rose again. It’s fine. You can hide the letter, you tell yourself. But where?

“Honey?” Your mother asks again, the doorknob slowly turning. In a panic, you open your nightstand drawer and shoved the letter inside along with the envelope. You turned back towards your mother, who now stood in your doorway facing you who stood in front of your nightstand. She blinked a few times, confused. There was no way she wasn’t suspicious now.

“Hey uh... Sorry. I was putting my diploma away. D-don’t need two versions of the same thing out and displayed, right?” You reply, mentally cursing your stutter. Again, your mother seems to buy your excuse, shaking her head and approaching you.

“I was just checking on you, honey. Did you need anything? I know you’ve been outside all day.” Your mother offered, reassuring you that she was merely curious. You hold back your sigh of relief, beginning to shake your head.

“No I don’t think there’s…” You begin, before you remember. “Wait, mom, do you still have that old jewelry box you wanted to give me a few years ago? The one with the hidden slots?” You begin. Your mother ponders your question for a moment, probably bewildered that of all things to ask for after a day in the hot sun, you ask for a family heirloom.

“I think so… why? Did you want it?” She asked, a slight tone of hope making your mother’s pitch rise. You quickly nodded, watching as your mother smiled and nodded back to you. “Alright, then I’ll go find it. Let me know if there’s anything else, okay?” Your mother walked back towards your bedroom door, making sure you knew you could ask her for anything you needed. Despite her shortcomings, she was your mother, and you loved her. Even if her views were slightly skewed.

“I know, Mom. I’ll be sure to ask if I need anything else.” You assure her, Almost pushing her out the door via the actual door. She sighed and stepped away from the doorway, smiling back at you tiredly.

“Alright sweetie. Just know your father is asking for you. I’ll leave the jewelry box on your desk.” Your mother informs and it takes every fiber of your being not to groan in frustration. Not getting out of it this time.

Without another word, your mother closes your door, and you’re left in your own excitement and annoyance. At least something good came of today.

—---

“Hey, pretty boy.”

Spencer lifted his head from his desk of reports, a little annoyed that his focus had been interrupted. His hazel eyes met the brown ones of Derek Morgan, a playful grin on his face. He didn’t reply, knowing Derek would soon tell him what he wanted anyway.

“Why don’t you come with Garcia, Prentiss, and me tonight? We’re celebrating a win.” Derek suggests. Spencer raises an eyebrow and shakes his head, a smile quickly finding its place on his face. As a side note, he did notice the lack of hair swinging into his face now that he’d gotten his hair cut. He didn’t hate it.

“I’ve worked with the three of you long enough to know that an ‘outing’ always leads to trouble. Largely, because it more than likely involves copious amounts of alcohol.” Reid replies, turning his focus back to his reports. He’d already almost finished them, as was his usual. Derek still had at least half the stack Reid had started with to get done. It gave Spencer a small twinge of pride.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. You never wanna go out with us. Are we no fun for you?” Derek teased.

“No, it’s actually the fact that I have done the research and calculated the statistics to know that when alcohol is involved alongside you, the night will more than likely end with me in a back alley with sharpie on my face.” Spencer, without looking up from his reports, quickly fired back.

“Woah, when did this happen?” Emily’s voice suddenly entered the conversation, her figure taking a seat at her desk. Her voice hinted with amusement, alerting Reid to the fact that she was also teasing. He wasn’t going to risk misunderstanding verbal and nonverbal cues again.

Spencer lifted his head, himself slightly amused. “October 23rd of last year Morgan had the brilliant idea to take me out as a ‘birthday present’ rather than just buying a book as he’d done before. I woke up in the middle of the night with sharpie drawn on my face and ditched in the back alley behind the bar. Morgan had already gone home!” Spencer regaled, pulling a smile from the man in question as he slightly spun in his chair while twirling his pen. Emily widened her eyes and huffed out a laugh.

“Okay, that’s a pretty valid reason,” Emily says, laughing as she turns to her reports to begin working. “Though we should hang out sometime soon. Even if it isn’t a bar to make sure our resident genius doesn’t have to scrub his face raw.” Emily’s smile grows as she jokes. Spencer rolls his eyes as Morgan lets out an extended ‘Ooohh’.

“See I didn’t ask for this abuse? Okay? Someone tell me it’s 8 o’clock.” Spencer retorted in protest, pulling a laugh from both of his co-workers. His smile is obvious though, amused by his co-workers and their teasing after years of growing used to it.

“What's the rush? You got a date waiting for you?” Morgan teased. Spencer rolled his eyes again.

“Not everyone is as entertained by the thought of a relationship as you, Morgan.” Spencer insisted. “No, I do not have a date. I actually have a ‘date’ with coffee and my bed. See, I can do metaphors.” Spencer insisted, turning again to his reports and writing a few lines.

“That…I’m not even gonna attempt it.” Emily spoke, laughing with Morgan at Spencer’s lack of understanding of references and sayings.

Unfortunately, that was where the conversation quickly died down and the three were left in silence. It irked Spencer greatly, especially since these ‘abandoned’ conversations had been a frequent occurrence since JJ had been whisked away to the Pentagon. It was like there was a piece of them missing. The team had run so smoothly that to take away one of their members was like taking away the main power source of a machine. Leaving him and the remaining members scrambling to figure out how to compensate.

Finally, a few minutes later, Spencer finished his last report and closed it triumphantly. He briefly checked his watch, happy to see the shorthand pointing at the 8. “See you guys tomorrow.” He says as he stands up and picks up his messenger bag and slings it on his left shoulder to rest against his right hip, waving goodbye to Morgan and to Emily.

“Don’t party too hard.” Derek called, pulling a smile back onto Spencer’s face as he carried his reports to Hotch’s desk.

—----

Exhaustion was starting to feel heavy as Spencer stepped into his apartment, the dim lights certainly not helping his case. He yawned tiredly, placing his go bag by the door as usual. He opened his messenger bag, remembering he’d grabbed his mail before heading upstairs. He places his messenger bag on his dining table, taking a seat to look at his probably over-due bills and mail.

Unsurprisingly, Spencer found his water and electric bill in the stack, setting them aside to get done tomorrow morning before he heads into work. Then, what catches his eye, is the slightly smaller envelope with the hesitant and light penmanship. He chuckles to himself, happy to see he hadn’t scared his pen pal away with his detailed account of his academic achievements. However, upon second glance at the sender’s name and address, Spencer is slightly taken aback at the new addition beside the name. Dr. (Y/N) (L/N).

Spencer smiles wider. So she’s graduated?

Spencer turns the envelope over, laughing to himself as he sees the envelope had not been sealed, and the seal had been folded into the envelope once again. He pulls the seal out and then the letter on the familiar blue stationary. Spencer then turns the delicate paper over, and began to read.

18/09/2010

Hello again, Dr. Reid! (How old are you by the way?)

It is so good to hear from you! I was almost sure you were going to throw my letter away. Like, who uses Penpalsrus.com anymore besides ten-year-olds? I’m glad I got you though. You seem interesting! I love Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, by the way. I’ve read more things than you could probably guess. Though with your Eidetic memory you might.

I love poetry too. I have a whole book of Edgar Allen Poe’s poems on my bookshelf. My aunt sends me all kinds of books from her library every few months. I think I have a Greek version of the Illiad somewhere. I could loan it to you if you wanted. Though my mother might not like the amount of money I’d be spending to send it.

So, you could probably read it already, but I finally graduated and I have my doctorate. I’m supposed to apply for med school this fall. My dad wants me to do it online so I can stay here on our family farm. Like I don’t do enough work already! I guess I don’t know what I want to do. My parents were the ones wanting me to go to med school. If I had any say I’d probably stick with biology and work in a lab. Or go back to school for Chem. Not that I don’t wanna learn about human behavior. It still fascinates me how people work. I study the brain in my free time for goodness sake!

What would you do? If you were in my shoes? I wanna make them happy, but this is my life. I can’t cater to them for the rest of my existence.

You don’t have to give me an answer, by the way. I guess I’m just venting? It’s not like you could somehow tell my parents that I’m secretly planning to move out when I go back to college.

What do you do for work, if you don’t mind my asking? A job that requires you to read people sounds amazing. Though I’d probably be happier in a lab.

What are your PhDs and BAs? Maybe you can help me with my next doctorate.

I should probably close this here. It’s getting kinda late. I hope to hear from you soon!

Sincerely,

(Y/N) (L/N)

Spencer found himself smiling warmly at the letter, not at all annoyed as he had been the first time he’d found out about his mother’s attempt to get him to socialize as a child. He felt he already knew (Y/N) better just from this one letter. The feelings she’d put into it were all over the blue paper. Not just in the words, but the lettering itself. The graphite wasn’t as light as it was the first time, however, it was still delicately written. The upper left hand corner had drops of wax on it, indicating she’d been writing by candlelight.

Spencer folded the letter back up, leaving the rest of his mail on the table, forgotten. He headed to his bedroom, placing the letter among the first in his nightstand. He reached up and loosened his tie, shedding his sweater vest as his mind swarmed with ideas on how he wanted to reply. He didn’t at first think he’d find a friend in this little endeavor. But he’d clearly been wrong.

She was into the books that he was. At the very least, Spencer had found a friend that he could discuss his favorite books with. But, secretly he hoped to create something he hadn’t had in some time outside the team or his childhood friend and rival, Ethan; a friend. Someone outside the team he could talk to without risk of putting anyone in danger as well as having an excuse to forget his current predicaments to talk with someone out of the loop.

Spencer sighed to himself, wandering to his desk and taking his seat once again. His mind was too active to rest. He couldn’t recall when he’d last felt as excited as a child to simply write to someone.

So, once he’d picked up a sheet of notebook paper and a pen, he began to write. And before long, he’d finished with a smile on his face and an ache in his wrist. Spencer yawned, stretching his arms out and rotating his wrist to soothe the ache. He stood up from his chair, resolving to make sure he put his reply in an envelope and mail it in the morning, along with sending his bill payments.

Finally, Spencer felt his mind begin to rest, and with it, the rest of his body. He slowly removed his work clothes and climbed into bed, reminding himself of the poem left at the end of (Y/N)’s reply. He said it aloud to himself as he felt sleep quickly reach him, carrying the poem with him into sleep.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To know that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

-Robert Frost

68 notes · View notes

mcntsee · 12 days

Text

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

21K notes · View notes

luveline · 2 months

Text

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky.

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely.

Total quiet.

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?”

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?”

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?”

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…”

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?”

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.”

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.”

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh.

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated.

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry.

“Spencer?” you ask quietly.

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?”

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?”

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups.

“Where are you?”

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him.

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.”

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?”

“Where was I?”

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed.

“Still where?”

“Did you hit your head?”

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.”

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk.

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.”

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.”

“…What?”

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.”

“I annoy people.”

“You don’t annoy me.”

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here.

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?”

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection.

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?”

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly.

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?”

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.”

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says.

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room.

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark.

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly.

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!”

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer.

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask.

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again.

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.”

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath.

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers.

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year.

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.”

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.”

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.”

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!”

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity.

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek.

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.”

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly.

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says.

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway.

“I don’t want to be alone forever.”

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates?

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess.

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.”

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol.

“She kind of looked like you.”

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.”

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.”

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Is that why you make all your jokes?”

“What jokes, babe?”

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.”

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?”

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.”

“Spencer, you remember everything.”

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.”

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him.

You’re happy to.

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled.

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse.

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully.

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally.

“Can I come home with you?” he asks.

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.”

— —

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.”

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.”

“So you want three?”

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.”

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time.

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?”

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him.

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory.

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that.

The avocado is making him feel sick.

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?”

“I think I'm gonna throw up.”

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes.

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button.

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.”

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.”

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.”

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now.

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said.

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say.

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again.

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.”

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do.

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask.

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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street-smarts00 · 1 month

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Clingy

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WC: 3.7k

Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited.

Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort

A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.

You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you.

After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love.

At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.

Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically.

It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders.

Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope.

You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact.

When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs.

Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm.

He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind.

You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane.

He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk.

“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started.

He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk.

“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”

“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.

“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair.

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it.

“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen.

His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face.

“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.”

“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.”

“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.”

“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked.

Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.”

Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive.

Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.”

“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships.

“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.”

Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.”

Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought.

He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him.

The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings.

Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name.

He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him.

Something about you.

His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to.

Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home.

The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.

Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door.

“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath.

“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.

He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly.

“Oh.”

“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips.

You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled.

“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was.

The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms.

You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head.

He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need.

He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache.

“You feel tired,” he almost whispered.

“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck.

“Do you wanna lie down?”

You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute

“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.”

His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend.

“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile.

You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him.

You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …”

“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers.

You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had.

He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg.

So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm.

He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did.

He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms.

“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice.

“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you.

You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured.

This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold.

“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?”

He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“

“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.”

You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response.

“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze.

He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.

“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.”

You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank.

“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch.

“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were.”

“Y/N please,” he begged.

“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.”

He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it.

“I was freaking out,” he blurted.

“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now.

“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable”

You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good.

“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?”

He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Here we go. Flood gates.

“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ”

“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence.

The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach.

“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”

He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss.

Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning.

He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him.

When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears.

Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.”

The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”

“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased.

“That too,” he chuckles.

After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes.

“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,”

Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.

“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added.

He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”

His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh.

There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours.

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Tag Requests: @nomajdetective

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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mandarinmoons · 15 days

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It’s well past midnight and the only sound that can be heard in the house is the sound of the clock ticking. Normally it would be accompanied by the sound of your boyfriend Spencer’s light breathing and occasional mumbling in his sleep, but sadly he was not home as he was away on a case.

You had just snuggled into your covers only minutes ago and as soon as you closed your eyes to get some snooze you heard the front door open and close in a very gentle manner. Hearing that only made you smile because you knew who would be coming here at this time of night.

You stayed still in bed and kept on listening as you heard someone slip off their shoes and shuffle through the hallways until the bedroom door creaked open and a moment later the bed dipped, which was followed by ruffling of bedsheet and arms being wrapped around you.

“Hey,” you turned your head and were met with Spencer’s surprised face, he expected you to be fast asleep, but here you were, awake as ever.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I just turned in about 10 minutes ago, I wasn’t tired but I knew I couldn’t stay up for much longer without it turning into a problem for you.”

Spencer chuckled and brushed the hair out of your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, while mumbling an “I missed you,” into your skin.

“I missed you too, so much.”

Spencer hummed and leaned down as he pecked your lips, which turned into another kiss and another one, and deeper one, after that.

“Spence, please, I have work in the morning.”

“Didn’t you say you weren’t tired?”

“Well, yeah…”

“Then how about I kiss you for a bit so I can help tire you out a bit,” Spencer took your face into his hands gently as he continued his attack of kisses which only made you laugh.

Time spent apart from one another was both grueling for both of you, especially for Spencer because of the horrors of his job and when he needed to go away for a case that was halfway across the country, he just didn’t sleep well without your comforting presence.

Now that he is finally home with you, who were you to deny him of spending a little bit more one on one time? After all it was benefitting for the both of you as Spencer had you caress his head in a loving manner while he was dozing off and your worries were put to rest because you knew that your lover was right next to you and safe from any harm.

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal

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You can find my masterlist here!

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ddejavvu · 4 months

Note

Hi Mei!! ♡ How about Reid dating a sunshine!reader who tells obviously wrong facts when he is in earsight, just to mess with him? Bc I think it would be so funny 😭😭 Anyway, have a nice day, and thank you so much for all your quality content, you're saving lives <333

"Oh my god Emily, you're never gonna believe this," You lean in towards the brunette grinning at you, but your voice stays loud enough for Spencer to hear across the desk, "I just found out that bowling is more dangerous than dinosaurs are."

Her brow dips but her lips quirk up, "Alright, you've hooked me. What's the punchline?"

"No punchline," You shake your head, feeling Reid's curious stare on the back of it, "In 2019 someone died at a bowling alley after slipping on the floor and splitting his head open. But in that same year, there wasn't a single death by dinosaur. Isn't that insane?"

Spencer is already piping up before Emily can properly laugh, but you can still hear her beneath his frantic, "Uh, honey, that's not- that's not exactly right. I mean, dinosaurs would be incredibly dangerous, if any of them were still alive. Which, in 2019- uh, they were not."

"Statistically speaking, Spence," You use his favorite phrase against him, but you're not sure he picks up on the teasing grin set on your face beyond the concern he's stewing in, "You can't argue with the numbers."

"Well- you can't, but in 2019, the number of dinosaurs alive was zero, so that's- that's the only number that really matters, baby, but if you wanted to read more about the risks associated with communal sports venues, I'd be happy to share some articles I've looked into on-"

"Ah, leave it to Reid to turn a sick-ass discussion about dinosaurs about the dangers of fun," Morgan scoffs. He wasn't in on your plan from the beginning, but he's happy to jump on the bandwagon, "Besides, the last Jurassic Park movie was made in 2022, so there were dinosaurs alive, duh."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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reiderwriter · 15 days

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Isn't She Pretty, Daddy?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Teacher f!Reader

Summary: You're a little bit worried about one of your brightest students recently, so you call her Dad to come in for a meeting. Her absolutely adorable - and single - Dad.

Warnings: the birds and the bees as explained by a kindergardener. Some angst about being a single parent.

A/N: Here's another entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic Challenge! Dad Spencer has my heart, and I've been in a really fluff forward mood this weekend, evidently! I think I have one more Kid Fic left to go before the end of the challenge, but we'll see what the will of the fanfiction gods is...

Masterlist

If you were to be asked what the hardest part of being a teacher was, you would, without question or even a second to think, have an answer. Parents. The worst part of teaching is talking to parents.

Little kids were easy to talk to. They asked questions if they didn't understand things clearly, and they didn't typically say things they didn't mean. Adults were the opposite, and it just so happened that all of your kids' parents were adults.

Including your most recent problem child.

You were used to the kids in your class having some behavior issues - for one, they were kids, it was to be expected that their little bodies couldn't quite handle all of the emotions they were feeling at once. But you were doubly struck by your school area being close to Quantico, meaning half the kids in your care had families with law enforcement backgrounds.

Absent parents plus growing bodies plus normal kid stress equalled attachment issues, and your problem child Harper Reid was one of your more worrying cases.

You really hoped everything was okay in the Reid household, so you'd called the little girls parents. She was lovely - honest to god - one of the sweetest little kids you'd ever met.

Every day she came to school with some older kids and their mom, carpooling on the way in, so you had yet to meet her parents, but you thought that anyone who could produce something that sweet and cute and brilliant couldn't possibly be a bad person.

You didn't know what to expect, so when her little pigtails peaked around the corner and she came running in, you were momentarily filled with anxiety.

“MOMMY!” The little girl yelled, launching herself into your arms as soon as she spotted you behind your desk.

“Hi, Harper! Hi, you must be, Mr. Reid-”

“Doctor, actually, um, but that doesn't really matter. I'm so sorry about this, Harper doesn't usually tackle people.”

The 3ft tall ball of energy had managed to crawl into your lap and wrap her arms around your neck, so you had to pick her up when you stood to greet her dad.

“Will your wife be joining us for the meeting today?” You asked, already used to Harper's hugs and general closeness.

“Oh, no. No, she's not coming. She, uh, doesn't exist. Single father.”

“Oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume, it's just not on my files-”

“It's okay, it's a …bit complicated.”

You took your seat at the desk and gestured to the man to do the same. Finally, looking at him for the first time now that some of your anxiety had died down, you couldn't help but think that Doctor Reid was incredibly attractive. It wasn't one part of his face that stuck out to you as being particularly pretty, just the entire ensemble of it together that took your breath away. Either that of Harper was gripping you so tight she was restricting your ability to breathe, and considering a five year old is not a boa constrictor, this was all dad's fault.

“So, you said on the phone Harper's been having some problems at school?”

You snapped your attention back to the issue at hand, searching for the relevant files and pictures you wanted to show the man. Harper turned herself around in your lap and looped her arms around your arm, pulling it in close to use as a pillow.

“Isn't Miss Y/N so pretty, Daddy?” You froze and flushed in an instant, suddenly so aware of the man's eyes on you. You weren't sure if you were thankful or even more embarrassed that Harper's dad seemed to be even more flushed than you.

“Daddy? Isn't she pretty?” Harper insisted, and you realized that you both weren't going to get out of this without him answering.

“Yes, angel. Miss Y/N is very pretty.” The little girl smiled in triumph and nuzzled into your arm even more, happily curled up into your lap like a cat.

“Hey, Harper. We got a new puzzle delivered yesterday. It's got My Melody and Cinnamaroll on it. They're your favorites, right?”

The little girl nodded in glee, eyes shining as she hung on your every word.

“How about you go over to the play area and get it started, and then me and your daddy will come over and help you finish it?”

In a flash, she'd hopped up out of your lap and wriggled away, shouting a quick “You promised, right?” behind her as she went.

“I'm so sorry about that, I don't know what's gotten into her, she's usually very shy and-”

“Doctor Reid, it's fine. That's just why I called you in today. Teachers and parents are a team, right, we work together to make sure the kids grow up well, you don't need to apologize to me for that.”

The man seemed to take a deep breath and nod, to regain his wits about him for a second.

“Is she… this attached in her regular classes?”

“Well honestly, she was a bit like that at the beginning of the semester, but she grew out of it after a while. In the last week or so, she fell back into it, and now she's calling me ‘Mommy,’ too. I was wondering if anything happened recently at home that could've led her in this direction, or…”

The man looked a little bashful, but there was a twinge of sadness in his expression that you recognised all too well.

“Harper, uh, doesn't have a Mom. I adopted her, and it's a long story, but... She's been asking me to get her one recently, because she doesn't really understand all that well? I'm sorry, I didn't know she'd do something like this. I should've done a better job at home-”

“Doctor Reid, raising a child is hard. It's so hard that humans usually do it in communities, or at least in couples. You're doing it alone, and Harper is already one of the smartest and most empathetic little girls I know. You're doing your job as Dad just fine.”

The man smiled at you and looked down, quickly wiping away a tear as you gave him a moment of privacy.

“So. If nothing at home set Harper off, we should probably go and ask her why she's calling me mommy, right?”

You stood, and he stood with you, leaving his satchel next to his chair and unbuttoning his jacket.

“Great. Sure, let's go see.”

Walking to the back of the room, you both smiled quietly, looking at the small girl. The 100 piece puzzle you'd guided her to was neatly arranged on the desk, pieces split into edges and centre pieces as she slowly looked at each one with a quietly focused face. Each time she found the piece she was looking for, her smile was bright as she connected it to the small part she was working on.

“Mommy! Daddy! I can't find the melody's face, can you help me?”

“Sure, Harper, we'll help you.” You moved to sit beside her at the tiny desks, giggling when the older Reid on Harper's other side struggled to fit himself in the toddler sized chairs.

Harper assigned you roles, and you all started quietly doing your jobs, waiting for Harper to focus again so you could ask her questions without agitating her.

“Harper, can you tell your Daddy why you call me Mommy?”

“Sure! You're Mommy because I want you to marry with Daddy.”

If you weren't already still flushed from her earlier comments, you certainly were lightheaded with embarrassment now.

“Harper, that's not how it works-”

“Yes, it is, Daddy! Henry said so. He said his mommy and daddy were sad one day, but then they were together again and they had a big party called a wedding and now they're happy, and that's why we have Michael.” You didn't quite follow from all the names and the story events, but it was evident that Reid did, so you waited quietly for his explanation.

“My friend. Her son was at her wedding a few years back. They have another son who is a couple years older than Harper, they come to school together?”

Your mouth made a small ‘o’ as you slowly filled in the blanks.

“Harper, you want daddy to have a wedding so he isn't sad anymore?”

The little girl gave a big nod and a smile, like she was so happy that she was finally being understood.

“Miss Y/N should marry daddy because he thinks she's pretty. Henry said that was important for a wedding, your mommy has to look beautiful.” You made eye contact with Doctor Reid awkwardly as she spoke, both of you looking away for fear of seeing the embarrassment on each others faces.

“And Miss Y/N wants a baby. So I will be Miss Y/N's baby, so everyone can be happy!” Harper's kid logic was a little hard to find fault with, but you still had to push back a little.

“Harper, why do you think I want a baby?”

“Angie asked you, and you said," the girl pouted, almost frustrated woth habing to answer all these silly questions.

"She asked you why you don't have a baby, and you said that you can only have a baby if you're married and that you wanted to have a baby when you were married. So marry my dad, and I'll be your baby!”

Harper's smile was so happy and content that you really didn't want to spoil her dream just yet. You continued putting the puzzle together for a few minutes in silence, the full picture nearly being complete now. Harper seemed to fidget a little in her seat next to you, pushing closer and closer to you before tugging on your sleeve.

You leaned down and she whispered in your ear - though you didn't doubt that her dad heard every word.

“If you really want, I'm sure we can get another baby like Henry got Michael. I'll ask my dad, but I think it's allowed.”

The poor man on the other side of the desk had to cover his face with his hands to stop the blush from showing, devolving to just straight up resting his head on the desk when his daughter kept going.

“A boy is okay, but my dad doesn't really know about boy stuff. Uncle Derek says that my daddy is just a pretty boy with a book brain. We should get another girl, so daddy can be not worry.”

The more you listened to Harper's adorable family plan, the more you just wanted to squeeze her tight and say yes and give her everything she wanted.

“Miss Y/N, once again, I'm so sorry for everything, I'll talk with Harper at home about this.”

“It's okay, I actually find it all very sweet,” you laughed a little and smiled back at him.

“No, I'm sure your boyfriend would be so uncomfortable if he knew that she was trying to marry you off-”

“Doctor Reid, are you trying to ask me if I'm single?”

The small grin that quirked his lips up was nothing if not unfair. He really was a very pretty boy.

“It was that obvious?”

“Yep.” You made sure the ‘p’ popped a lot as you both shared a small laugh. Harper looked up between you and smiled, too.

“So, can you get married now? Henry said you can do it really quickly, like in Grandpa Rossi's garden, and then you can go and do the secret part at home while Auntie Penny looks after me.”

“Secret part?”

“To make the other baby, silly!”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid kid fic

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incognit0slut · 2 months

Text

Beyond the limit

>> Part two: the breaking point

Spencer is hesitant when you ask him to be rough, but when he realizes how much you enjoy it, he wonders just how far he can push your limit.

warnings: (MDNI, 18+) dom spence, guided/mutual masturbation, dirty talk, degradation (use of slut), orgasm control, hairpulling, choking, overstimulation, creampie, cumplay, squirting, rough sex, so many body fluids

a/n: 4k words for 4k followers! Thank you all so much, consider this as a token of my appreciation. This one is for you, I love you all ♡

Spencer considered himself as someone with a strong sense of self-control... until he found himself on top of you, right between your legs. How could he resist when your body felt so soft against his? When all his restraint seemed to vanish into thin air?

He had you pinned against the bed, his palms tracing your hips before moving to your breast. You moaned out his name as your nipples hardened against the thin material of your shirt—his shirt, to be exact. After all, it was how it all started.

The moment he was greeted by the view of your perfect ass when he came home from work, barely covered by his shirt you were wearing, something in him snapped. You looked so damn good, so damn tempting, practically begging to be touched.

It didn’t take long for him to discard his bag onto the floor before scooping you in his arms. You simply giggled, amused at his sudden urgency yet eagerly welcoming it as he led you into your shared bedroom.

Now he was right between your thighs, pressing his hard erection right against your panties. You could feel yourself getting wet by the friction and you found yourself parting your legs even further, grinding your hips along with his as his mouth continued to suck on the spot right below your ear.

Anytime you whimpered, he gripped you tighter, and your shaky hands clutched onto button-down shirt. There was something about him still dressed in his work clothes while you were nearly half-naked, his shirt bunched around your waist, leaving your lower half exposed. And you liked it. It made you feel vulnerable being pressed under him like this, sparking a strange desire to submit to him completely.

And now you craved more. You wanted to surrender to him, to let him take the lead. But to your dismay, his movements suddenly slowed down, leaving you momentarily confused because you could feel the way he was holding back. His hands were trembling against your body as if he was consciously avoiding being rough.

You slid your hands up to his chest, lightly pushing him away and he quickly drew back. His brows furrowed as he gazed down at you. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

Shaking your head, you reassured him. "No," you replied softly. "But... you don't have to hold yourself back for my sake, you know.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "I mean, I know you're trying to be careful, but... I want you to take control, without holding back. I want... more.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his features. "You want me to... be rough?" he asked cautiously.

You nodded, a flush creeping up your cheeks. "I do."

"But I- I don't want to hurt you."

You reached out, cupping his cheek tenderly. "I trust you, Spence. I trust us. And I want you to trust yourself too."

His expression softened under your touch. You took it as enough of a sign to push forward as your thumb swept back and forth across his jaw.

"If it's too much I'll tell you," you assured him.

He searched your eyes for a moment, uncertainty flickering within his gaze. "What if I hurt you?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You bit your lip, studying his face for a moment before responding. "I think I'll like it if you do," you confessed, your cheeks flushing slightly. "But we don't have to do anything crazy you're not comfortable with. We don't necessarily have to do something you don't want to."

Spencer swallowed hard, processing your words. "So what do you want then?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand slid up the length of his jaw until your fingers slipped into his hair. Very carefully you gripped a handful of his curly strands in your fist. "Do whatever you want, baby," you answered. "Mark my skin. Pull my hair. Talk me through it."

You noticed the way his lips twitched at your words and you smiled.

"Fuck me hard," you demanded boldly.

His breath hitched as he searched your eyes. He definitely wanted to do those things, too. When he finally relaxed into your touch, a rush of anticipation surged through you, your heart beating rapidly.

"Are you sure?" he asked slowly.

You nodded, gripping his hair a bit harder, enjoying the way his breathing grew shallower. "Please," you whispered, your voice filled with desire.

With a barely audible groan, Spencer gave in to your request, his resolve melting away as his lips crashed against yours. Your pulse sped up excitedly in your chest in response—this was exactly what you wanted. That pure, raw desire that was too strong for him to contain. When he finally pulled away, he was breathing even heavier now, his shoulders heaving with each audible inhale.

"If we're going to do this, we'll do it my way," he declared firmly. "You will listen to me, understood?"

You nodded, feeling a shiver of anticipation run down your spine at the commanding tone of his voice. "Yes," you replied breathlessly.

And just when you thought he was about to delve into another kiss, he surprised you by pulling away. He sat back, his eyes narrowing as he focused on you. "Sit up and lean back on the pillow," he commanded.

Your heart raced as you complied, eagerly following his lead.

"Take off the shirt... leave your panties on."

You followed, leaning forward, your fingers grabbing the hem of your shirt before pulling it off your body, revealing your soft-looking skin to his eyes. His predatory gaze was locked on your breasts, noticing the way your nipples hardened as the cold air brushed your skin. When you leaned back again, he dragged the tips of his fingers up your thighs, gripping your waist for a moment before another demand left his lips.

"Spread your pretty legs," his soothing voice told you, staring intently between your thighs. You did as you were told, parting your knees, your feet propped up on the bed as you waited with bated breath for his next instruction, feeling yourself throb behind the drenched fabric.

"Now touch yourself." You gulped at his tone, sliding your fingers inside your panties. He suddenly called out your name in a warning, his voice alone stopping your hand in its tracks. "Over your panties, I'll tell you when to touch yourself directly."

You nodded, letting your fingers hover over the fabric of your panties. You let out a gasp when you felt how drenched you were before you found your clit. You were hyperaware of every movement you were making, you realized, and it turned you on way more than it should. You choked on your next moan, squeezing your eyes shut as felt the sensation growing along your body.

You suddenly felt a hand gripping your jaw and you quickly opened your eyes, greeted by him staring down at you. "Keep your eyes on me."

There was nothing else for you to do but to oblige. Your fingers continued to press down your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud desperately as he released his hold on your jaw before trailing down your chest, teasing your aching nipples. You whimpered and watched as his eyes traveled down your body.

Spencer hungrily took in the way your legs were spread apart before him, the way you were touching yourself so eagerly. Your fingers moved rapidly over your panties, the material now too drenched as it slipped between your folds every time you moved. Your pussy was barely covered and he could see your arousal dripping down your legs.

"Look at you," he mused, his hand traveling down your body, resting slightly at the inner part of your thigh. "You like putting on a little show, don't you?"

Your breaths came out in shallow, eager gasps, but when you attempted to increase your pace, he quickly shook his head. "Slower. We don't want to rush."

You complied, adjusting your movements to match his pace, and he rewarded you with a smile. "That's it. Nice and slow," he praised, his gaze locked on yours with intensity.

Through hooded eyes, you watched as he began to undress, each deliberate movement teasingly slow. His tie came first, followed by his shirt which he discarded carelessly onto the floor. His pants followed suit, and when he was completely naked, your eyes hungrily drank in the sight of his exposed body.

Your fingers on your own body slowed down as you took in the sight before you, the way he slowly gripped the base of his cock before squeezing it hard.

"Don't you stop, I didn't tell you to stop," he reminded you, his voice firm.

With a sharp inhale, you resumed your movements, the urgency returning as you focused on pleasuring yourself under his watchful gaze. Then as if to taunt you, he began pumping his length slow and steady as your eyes focused in on the motions.

"S-Spence," you whined, pushing your hips faster against your hand, trying to keep your rhythm in check though the sight of him pleasuring himself had you so weak in the moment. "I- I wanna take my panties off."

He gripped his cock tighter, working his fist quicker along the length as his breaths deepened. "Yeah? You wanna see how wet you are?"

His words sent a surge of warmth through your body, spreading from between your thighs to your cheeks as your fingers quickened in pace and your legs spread further for him to see. "Yes-yes- please," you begged.

"Such a desperate slut," he muttered. His crude words shouldn't have brought you pleasure, but they did, and your tight walls clenched around nothing. He noticed the effect it had on you and smiled. "You liked that, huh? You liked being called a slut?"

You gulped, your fingers moving faster. "Y-Yes."

He simply hummed in response, snaking his hands between you, finally slipping off your panties down your legs. His fingers then gripped the soft plush of your thigh, spreading you open for him, exposing your cunt to the open air as he massaged soothing shapes into your skin.

He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, taking in the mess between your legs. His gaze traveled your stomach, up to your perky breasts, before meeting your half-lidded eyes. He then slowly took your hand and your jaw slacked open when he abruptly sucked your fingers into his mouth.

His tongue felt hot, searingly so, as he laves over the pads of your middle and ring fingers, then dipped between them to caress your knuckles down to where they meet. A wave of heat traveled through you as he held your gaze, licking off your fingers one last time before guiding them back between your thighs.

"Keep going," he instructed, and you wasted no time in rubbing your clit feverishly. Your face twisted with pleasure, brow wrinkled, body tense, and each circle around your sensitive flesh brought you closer to the edge. The bedroom was filled with the sounds of crisp, rustling sheets underneath you and the slick motions of your fingers roaming your folds.

"Do you hear that? You're getting so loud. So wet," he gritted out. His eyes flickered up to your face, observing the delicate scrunch of your nose and your parted lips. "You're close, aren't you?"

You looked over to him. The view of his hand gripping his cock drew you so close to the edge you were balancing on, all the while attempting to feign control to give him the show he requested.

"Y- Yes," you admitted breathlessly, your body trembling with need.

He hummed a reply, soothing your thigh with his other hand. "Be a good girl and beg for it."

A choked whine escaped your lips.

"P-Please, let me come," you pleaded, the desperation evident in your voice as you sought his permission to release the tension coiling in your stomach.

"Ask nicely," he said, his tone firm yet encouraging. "Can I what?"

"Can I... I-I come?" you stammered, your eyes fluttering close, fingers moving rapidly on your clit.

"Look at me. Ask again."

Your eyes flickered open, meeting his intense gaze. "Can I-I come?" you begged, the desperation in your voice echoing your urgent desire.

"I can't hear you."

A moan ripped out of you, your body shaking uncontrollably under his gaze. Tears threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes as you struggled to hold on. "P-Please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. "Please let me come, I-I can't hold on much longer..."

"Louder," he demanded, his voice cutting through the haze of your desire, and that was when everything snapped. It was no longer a plea; instead, you were babbling incoherent words, unable to contain the overwhelming need coursing through your body.

"I-I'm s-sorry, I-I can't—" you cried, your voice strained with the effort of holding back.

But it was too late. Your resolve shattered, overwhelmed by the intensity of your desire. With a tear falling down your cheek, you locked eyes with him desperately as your climax crashed over you, consuming you entirely in its wave of ecstasy. It crept up on you, a gentle crescendo that abruptly peaked before slamming right into you.

Something in him snapped. Spencer never imagined he would enjoy having this much control over your body, but in this moment, he did. It was twisted, and although a hint of remorse flickered within him, his desire overpowered any sense of guilt.

Even as your body trembled uncontrollably from the intensity of your orgasm, he acted on impulse, flipping you over to lie on your stomach. The shift in position only fueled his desire further, igniting a primal need to dominate and possess you completely.

A moment later his hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack that drew a gasp out of you. He then crawled over you as his knees landed on either side of your thighs, the mattress bowing under his weight. Both of his hands dropped roughly down onto your ass, kneading the soft flesh.

You felt him lining his cock up with your entrance, your eyes closing in anticipation of him filling you. And then he plunged himself into you in one swift, sharp thrust which had your head dropping down into your pillow, burying your face in it as you tried to muffle the cry of pleasure that flew out of you.

He began pumping into you, his pace was slow at first, long strokes of drawing his cock out and back in earning quiet whimpers from you against the pillow. One of his hands released your hip before you felt him grabbing a fistful of your hair, just at the base of your skull, and sharply pulling.

"Stop burying yourself," he grunted. "Let me hear those pretty sounds."

You let out a moan, body shaking with every thrust of his hips, the room spinning as he picked up his pace. You felt the slow withdrawal of his cock as his hips drew back from you, but you weren't prepared for the way he rammed himself swiftly forward into you seconds after while tightening his grip on your hair.

A high-pitched, breathy noise of pleasure tore out of you at the feel of it. Encouraged, he repeated the gesture, the tug on your hair even rougher. You moaned loudly in response, your hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as he brutally fucked you into the mattress.

"That's my girl," he praised. "Just like that, let me hear how good my cock makes you feel."

Your eyelids grew heavy under the weight of his words, your mouth going slack. Spencer was as loud as you as he repeatedly buried his cock in you over and over again. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had your eyes rolling back behind closed lids, your mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

He then lowered onto his left forearm as his front molded over your back. The hard, solid feel of him behind you had you pressing back up into him, teeth gritting together as his cock buried itself somehow further inside of you. He released his grip on your hair, his hand swiftly moving to encircle your throat.

A moan escaped your lips as you felt the slight pressure of his grip, a surge of arousal coursing through you. His hand slid up further, encircling the bottom of your jaw as he carefully pulled your head backward, drawing it towards his shoulder until his mouth was beside your ear.

"Is this what you wanted?" Your breath hitched at his proximity, the heat of his body searing against your back as you struggled to form a coherent response. You could only manage a breathless nod in response.

"Let's see how far I can ruin you," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a thrill through you despite the underlying threat in his words.

As his grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly, you couldn't suppress the moan that escaped your lips, surrendering completely as he picked up his pace, his hips rocking more rapidly into you. You were panting hard, your head tilted back against his shoulder.

His lips pressed onto the sensitive spot just between your shoulder and your neck, sucking on the skin while he mercilessly fucked you, his sweat-slicked body still flush to the back of you as he continued his fast, relentless pace. You were vaguely aware of his ragged, drawn-out groan and you could tell he was close.

It was evident in the way he was starting to lose control, his grip tightening around your throat as his breath grew hot and heavy against you. He was on the brink of spiraling, and you welcomed it, giving yourself over completely to please him.

"T-That's it, baby," you moaned. "You fuck me so good."

It was enough to make him come undone. He released inside of you, panting and huffing as he gave into the bliss. His motions slowed but he continued spilling inside your drenched walls, sweat beading against his forehead, lips parted, and face flushed. You squeezed yourself around him just to hear him suck in a sharp breath, gulping and exhaling with his brow wrinkled before he pulled out.

But when you thought he was done with you, he flipped you onto your back again. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release. He ran his fingers over your outer lips, spreading you open to have a better view of the white liquid trickling down your ass. He was quick to collect it with his fingers, tracing it up your folds so he could messily rub it over your clit.

"S-Spence..."

Spencer was known for his aversion to getting dirty, yet he didn't mind the mess he made between your legs. "You should see yourself," he muttered. "You're so pretty like this."

And then to your surprise, he positioned the tip of his cock right at your entrance again. You gasped, prompting yourself on your elbows as you looked down between your legs, wondering how on earth he was still so hard. Then a moan left your lips as you watched him slowly sinking into you again.

"Look at how I'm stretching you," he murmured, pushing his hips further. Both of your eyes were locked on the way your pussy stretched so wide around his girth. His previous release slipped back inside you every time his cock disappeared into your wet cunt, white cream coating around his length.

He moaned when your walls clenched around him, his eyes flickering between your face and the way his cock was stretching you. Spencer should have stopped. You were both too tired and too sensitive to continue further. Even his body ached with exhaustion, but he couldn't stop himself from thrusting forward as your walls swallowed his cock eagerly, practically begging for more.

The rational part of his brain urged him to pause, but the primal, carnal desire within him overrode any sense of restraint. Ignoring the way your body shook with exhaustion and the tension in his own muscles, he focused solely on the intense heat between your legs. So he continued to fuck you.

He was fucking you to the point where you couldn't even moan anymore, your voice caught in your throat with each thrust. He was fucking you so good there were tears in your eyes but you couldn't whimper or blink, you were just staring up at him, wordless and in awe, nails digging in his arms while your knees brushed up close to your shoulders.

He was fucking you roughly, dipping down every so often to press his lips to yours, the times he was not whispering encouragement, telling you how pretty you look, how wet you were, how much of a slut you were, and good you felt wrapped around him. And you could feel it, you could feel how good you were as your walls clamped down, sucking him in.

He thrust into you ruthlessly, consumed by a primal need to push you to your limits, to explore just how much you could take of him. Then when you felt that coil spreading along your limbs, you finally came without saying a word. But he didn't stop, continuing to fuck you into your next orgasm, and even when the sensation began to feel too overwhelming, he abused your clit with his thumb.

That was when everything blurred. The overwhelming pleasure finally consumed you entirely, rendering rational thought as a surge of liquid gushed out between your legs. He moaned in surprise at the sensation, his desire only fueled further by your response.

"Do that again," he begged, his voice husky with need as he continued to roll his hips into you. And you did, another wave of pleasure crashing over you as you drenched everything around you—his body, the sheets, every surface within reach. He moaned again, acutely aware of the mess you created.

Your grip on him slowly loosened and a pang of guilt hit him as he realized your body was already exhausted. Yet he couldn't resist the urge to use you once more. Your silence urged him to continue, thrusting into you relentlessly, your slicked-sweat skin sliding against his as he chased his second orgasm of the night.

He finally came with a grunt, his hips pumping into you with desperation, once, twice, before finally stilling. You cried out at the sensation, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all—the quickening of his breath, the hard grip of his hand on your skin, the throbbing ache between your legs.

Your vision suddenly became a hazy blur, and you gasped for breath, struggling to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. Despite your shaking form, Spencer managed to pull you into his embrace.

“I-I got you," he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of emotions as the rush of dominance that had driven him moments ago was replaced by a wave of panic. He continued to hold you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively as he whispered soothing words into your ear.

You focused on controlling your breathing, inhaling and exhaling slowly as you sought to regain your composure. Gradually, the haze began to lift, and after a moment passed, you found yourself able to see clearly once again. Your eyes traveled to him, and with a tired and sleepy smile, you leaned into his touch.

Spencer released a breath he wasn't aware of holding. "We are never doing that again."

"What? Why?" you asked, confusion evident in your voice.

"You scared me!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with both relief and exasperation. "What if you passed out? What if I had to take you to the hospital and—and explain that—"

"That I passed out because your dick was too good?"

He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're impossible," he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You grinned up at him, feeling a warmth spread through you at his affectionate gesture. "But you love me anyway."

His smile softened as he gazed down at you. "I do."

"And I love you," you assured him. "Don't worry, I'm alright. And be honest with me, you seriously don't want to do that again? Wasn't that hot?"

His cheeks flushed slightly at your question, and he hesitated for a moment before meeting your gaze. "It was..." he began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words. "Intense," he finally admitted, a hint of uncertainty in his tone. "But maybe we should take it slow next time."

"Spencer, you were the one that kept going."

He gave you a sheepish smile. "I guess I got carried away a little," he admitted, a touch of embarrassment coloring his tone.

“A little?”

“Fine, more than a little,” he confessed. “But you didn't stop me either."

"That's because I was enjoying myself."

His embarrassment faded into amusement. "You're going to be the death of me one day, you know that?"

You grinned playfully at his remark. "Only if you're lucky," you teased, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head fondly as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. He studied you, taking in the warmth in your eyes and the happy but serene smile that graced your lips as a surge of affection washed over him. "Then I must be the luckiest man alive."

#gifwriting #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencerreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #Fanfiction

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deceasedream69 · 2 years

Text

Couple fight

Summary: after a tough case y/n tries to comfort Spencer but he's too on edge and takes out everything on her, but then regrets it.

Category: angst with fluffy ending.

We arrived at the apartment, this case was specially hard on Spence for some reason. He claimed he could've done something to save the last victim but everyone reassured him that it was impossible, the killer did an impulsive murder that no one could've predicted.

We entered the house, I forced Spence to change his clothes for something more comfortable and then we crawled into our warm bed.

He ran to my arms, I hold him tight while I stroked his hair.

- "shhhh, it's ok. Take it all out", I said while I felt his tears falling on my shirt. "Shhhhh", I said softly to relax him a little. "It's ok, Spence, there's nothing we could do. Besides, is not our fault when a killer does terrible things, it's their own fault, that's why he's locked up and not us"

- "you wouldn't get it", he said dryly.

- "I know... But if you have to cry, go ahead, take it all out"

- "no!", He yelled startling me. "I could've saved her but no! And you telling me all this lies are NOT helping!", he got off my arms and turned his back to me. I turned to the other side in complete shock.

I didn't even noticed the tears falling from my eyes. Spencer never did something like this in our relationship.

An involuntary little sound scaped my mouth, so I quickly covered it with my hand.

- "are you ok?", I could feel he turned around.

- "yeah, don't worry, I'm fine", I said getting up and running to the bathroom.

I didn't want to make him think that I wanted the attention now, and didn't want to upset him again. I felt this heavy weight on my chest and I just couldn't stop crying.

Everything was horrible but to make it worse my breathing was going over the roof and I couldn't make it go slower, maybe not completely normal but at least not so quick.

I put my hands on the sink for stability but started to feel dizzy and sat on the floor. What I didn't see was a can of (those cans you find in bathrooms to make them smell good like Lysol and shit like that lol). It fell to the ground along side with me, making a big noise.

But I was dealing with my own shit at the moment.

- "y/n?", I heard at the other side of the door. I'm not going to lie, I felt a little scared. I didn't said anything. My chest and throat hurting a lot.

The knob started to move, I didn't even lock it.

<<fuck>> i thought running behind the shower curtain.

- "y/n, love, are you okay? Please", he said kneeling in front of me.

I hid my face between my knees.

- "mhm", I said quickly.

- "love, breath with me"

- "no, I don't want to make this about *hiccup* me", I said not moving my face from between my knees.

- "I'm sorry for reacting like that, you were right, I just... Felt like I could've done something, like you said, impossible...."

*hiccup*

- "baby, please"

- "stop! I can't sit here watching you try to make me feel better when I can't do the same for you, I just... I'm sorry ok, I'm not good with words, or finding the best way to make you feel better or comforting you, and I'm... I'm sorry", I said finally showing my face. "This isn't about me, and it shouldn't", I said looking at the floor.

He put his hand on my cheek.

- "I highly appreciate the things you said to me, I was a fool who couldn't accept the truth", his eyes started to water a little. "I'm sorry I made you feel like this, I'm deeply sorry. Now let's get back to bed, ok?"

I couldn't even make eye contact with him, and my breathing was still unsteady.

- "it's ok, love, let's breath", he said putting his hands on my shoulders. "Breath...", I finally looked at his eyes, he smiled at me and I weekly smiled at him. I tried to match my breathing with his, until I was calmed and the hiccups were gone.

- "I'm sorry", I said shyly.

- "no, I'm sorry", he said kissing my forehead.

We got on the bed, he pulled me on top of him and started to rub my back.

- "you're the best partner, y/n, you did comfort me perfectly, I was just not willing to listen. And we know what we are going to deal with everyday, and this happens everyday, I should know the way killers behave by now. And that's sometimes so impulsive not even them expect to do those things"

I only stayed silent, I knew that if I even tried to say anything I'd start crying again. And my voice was probably very raspy too.

- "so, I'm sorry for being so tough", he said moving the hair from my face and kissing my lips sweetly.

- "I- whoa, raspy voice", I said laughing, making him laugh too. "I love you", I said smiling softly.

- "I love you too", he said kissing me again.

- "but if you yell at me again, I'm warning you, I will cry", I said hugging him.

- "never again", he said returning the hug.

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