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iluvreid · 4 days
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I feel like a victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time.
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go on.. show us more MATTHEW.
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iluvreid · 6 days
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honestly so so good. Need him to buy me an anklet now 🤭🤭
hi hello yes i just read your post ab spencer buying the necklace and it was amazing and i was hoping to see a pt 2 with spencer buying an anklet with his initials for the reader? and at first you thought it was a bracelet but then he tells you it’s only for him so he can see it while y’all are fucking and your legs are on his shoulders 👀
A/N: You guys have to stop coming up with such good ideas :,). to anon, I am so glad you liked the first part to this, I hope this is everything you want it to be.
Summary: Spencer feels it's unfair that you don't have a piece of jewellery with his initials on it, and decided to make things right. But when you find out the reasoning him for picking an anklet over a bracelet, you can't wait to see if his idea matches reality.
Content: Smut 18+. Fluff. Dom!Spencer. Fem!reader. oral (F!receiving) No mentions of contraception. Penetration. Creampie. some aftercare mentioned. Possessive Spencer. Pet names (princess and my love).
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After Spencer had seen your reaction to his necklace with your initials, he thought it was only fair in getting you something. However, while Spencer enjoyed seeing how effective a little piece of jewellery was in stopping him from getting unwarranted interactions, he didn’t necessarily want that for you.
So, when you came home to see Spencer with a carefully gift-wrapped box you weren’t too surprised as he did love getting you gifts, but you had no idea what he had gotten you. 
“What’s this?” you asked, eyeing the box suspiciously. Spencer grinned mischievously, enjoying the anticipation written all over your face.
Open it and see," he urged, handing you the box.
You carefully peeled away the wrapping paper, revealing a sleek black velvet box. With a quick glance at Spencer, who was practically bouncing with anticipation, you lifted the lid to find a stunning silver bracelet nestled inside. As you looked closer you could see an S and R entwined in an elegant script, just like the necklace he had. You gasped, running your fingers over the delicate design as a smile spread across your face.
"It's beautiful, Spencer," you whispered, feeling touched by his thoughtful gesture. He beamed with pride, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Can you help me put it on?” 
“Of course I can, my love.” He paused for a brief second. “But I do have a confession to make about it.”  Spencer’s cheeks seemed to become a light shade of pink, his eyes twinkly with mischief. “It’s not.” He coughed slightly, one of the nervous ticks you had noticed about him when you two first started dating, “it’s not a bracelet. It’s an anklet.” 
You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "An anklet?" you echoed, pretending to be surprised. Spencer nodded, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. 
"I thought it would look perfect on you," he explained. With a chuckle, you sat down and lifted your leg for him to fasten the anklet around your ankle. “And, well this is for my eyes only.”
“For your eyes only, huh?” you raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eyes. Spencer's cheeks flushed even deeper as he nodded, his gaze locked on your ankle as he fastened the anklet securely in place. “I didn’t know you admired my ankles this much, Spencer.” 
Spencer let out a nervous laugh, feeling caught in his attempt to keep the anklet more of a private sentiment. “It’s not your ankles I’ll be admiring when I am looking at this.” Spencer moved a little closer to your ear. “It’s the fact they’ll be resting on my shoulders.” He stated in a whispered tone.
"Spencer," you began, your voice barely above a whisper as you reached out to cup his cheek, "you never cease to amaze me." His eyes sparkled with affection and a hint of something more as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips. “Should we test it out. Because I also want to know what it will look like on your shoulders.” You whispered, a playful twinkle in your eye.
Spencer was more than eager to test it out, he also loved knowing there was always going to be a reminder on you that you belong to him. With a shared grin, you both rose from the couch, your new anklet glinting in the soft light of the room. Spencer's hand found yours, his touch warm and reassuring as he led you to the bedroom.
As you reached the edge of the bed, Spencer gently turned you to face him. His eyes held a depth of emotion that took your breath away, a silent promise lingering in their depths. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly knelt before you, his fingers deftly tracing the delicate chain of the anklet around your ankle.
"Beautiful," Spencer murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But not as beautiful as you." The sincerity in his words made your heart flutter, a warmth spreading through you at his tender gesture. Silently, he rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving yours as he led you to the bed.
With a gentle hand on the small of your back, Spencer guided you to sit on the edge of the mattress. He moved closer, his breath mingling with yours as he leaned in to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The world seemed to fade away in that moment, leaving just the two of you lost in each other.
As the kiss deepened, Spencer's hands began to explore, his touch setting your skin ablaze with desire. You responded eagerly, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer. The anklet felt like a secret between the two of you, a symbol of your connection and the intimacy you shared.
Clothes were shed in a flurry of urgency, but there was a tenderness in each caress, a deep-seated love that transcended mere physical desire. But Spencer was not in a hurry to do anything else, he wanted to take his time with you, admire you.
As you lay in your shared bed with him, he couldn’t imagine been anywhere else. “I love you so much.” His voice husky and filled with lust. He started to kiss your neck, but he started moving down.
He peppered kisses down your neck and traced the curves of your skin with his lips, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Your breath hitched as he reached your collarbone, his touch igniting a passion that burned brightly between you. Spencer's hands roamed your body with reverence, mapping every dip and curve as if committing you to memory.
You closed your eyes, savouring the sensation of his lips on your skin, the love and desire mingling into a heady cocktail that enveloped you both. His movements were slow and deliberate.
Spencer's kisses trailed lower, his hands guiding the path as he worshipped every inch of you. When he finally reached the curve of your hip, he paused, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of adoration and hunger. Without a word, he pressed a soft kiss to your hipbone, a silent promise of all that was to come.
As his mouth finally meet your clit, almost by instinct, you wrapped your legs around his neck. You gasped at the sudden intimacy, the surge of desire overwhelming you. Your hips bucked instinctively, the need to feel him against you consuming you. He smiled against you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and began to move his tongue in a rhythmic pattern that made your body clench.
With each stroke of his tongue, your moans grew louder, each one a testament to the pleasure building within you. His fingers found their way to your throbbing core, sliding inside you with ease. The sensation was too much, too intense, and you cried out his name, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.
Spencer pulled himself away from you, and gently pulled you to the edge of the bed. He grabbed your legs and placed them above his shoulders, his eyes never leaving yours. As he began to line himself up, he couldn’t believe how lucky he is, seeing his initials dangle from your leg and how you react to every touch he gives you, he knew you would always be his.
As he entered you, slowly at first, your eyes locked in a passionate gaze with his own. Your breath hitched as he made his way deeper, claiming you fully. Your senses were heightened, the anticipation and longing that had built between you now manifesting in the most intimate of ways.
Spencer moved with purpose, his movements slow and deliberate, each one designed to bring you closer to the edge. He could feel your body responding to his, the perfectly synchronized dance of your hips and his thrusts.
“Spencer, you feel so good.” You basically moaned out. 
Spencer briefly moved his attention away from your eyes and turned it towards your ankle. Although this was Spencer’s favourite position before, because of how deep he could get, it had somehow become even better. 
Seeing the anklet on your ankle, with his initials, as he thrust into you was an erotic sight for him. And while Spencer was definitely more dominant than you, and he did sometimes like to act like that when it came to sex, what he said next seemed to be a bit of shock for you.
“You feel so good, princess. Especially now, knowing you belong to me and that no other man will ever get to look at you like this. Because these, are my initials.” Spencer stated, his eyes glinting with a mixture of possessiveness and love.
You moaned softly, your hips bucking against him in response. "You belong to me, always," Spencer promised, his voice low and husky with desire. "And I will make sure everyone knows it."
You knew Spencer was just stating a fact, but hearing it like that, it seemed so much more real than before.
Spencer's movements grew more urgent, his thrusts becoming harder and deeper. You could feel your climax growing near, the pleasure building up inside you.
"Spencer," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, I need you to...please, don't stop."
He smiled at you, a mix of tenderness and dominance in his eyes. "Don't worry, I won't. I'll give you whatever you need."
With that, he increased his pace, driving deeper into you. You could hear him moaning softly, his breath hot against your ear as he thrust into you.
Your body tensed, the pleasure overwhelming you as you felt the sensation of a climax building within you. Spencer knew the moment it hit you, his fingers digging into your hips as he matched your rhythm. As you cried out his name, he thrust harder, his own release not far off.
His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity and passion etched across his face. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "You're so beautiful, so perfect, and all mine."
With a final thrust, Spencer groaned out your name, his pleasure intertwined with your own. Your bodies pressed together, sweating, and gasping for air, as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, the evidence of his love for you, and vice versa.
“Let’s get you all cleaned up.” Spencer whispered softly, a hint of possession in his voice. He gently pulled out of you, admiring the wetness that had pooled between your legs. You watched as he stood up and walked over to the bathroom, his body still glistening with sweat.
He turned on the water and adjusting the temperature to warm, he walked back into the bedroom, as he knew it would be almost impossible for you to walk and carried you into the shower.
He gently placed you under the cascading water, his hands caressing your body as he washed you clean. The water was warm and soothing, but the real heat came from the look in his eyes as he admired your naked body.
"You are mine," he said softly, his fingers tracing the wet skin of your back. "And I will never let you go."
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iluvreid · 9 days
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The Charlie Puth mention was RANDOM. Love a name drop though, not complaining
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iluvreid · 10 days
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THIS MAN
This scene makes me feral…
The watch, the jaw, the wrist flick, the VEST….🤤
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iluvreid · 22 days
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The stance is giving committed to the cause 😭
bad bitch
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with a ✨baddie friend✨
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iluvreid · 28 days
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love love love
I like the way you kiss me| Spencer Reid
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A/N: So, I haven’t written smut in a good while, but I hope this okay. It’s defo romantic, but I promise soon there will be some good angst.
Summary: Spencer is nervous about being in a relationship with you, because of what his friends would think and the age gap you two had. But when it comes down to it, all that matters to him, is you.
Content: Smut 18+. Fluff. Fem!reader. Use of nicknames (just princess). oral(R!receiving). PinV.
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Spencer Reid knew dating you was playing with fire. You were younger, and you had never been in a serious relationship. Spencer knew if his friends found out about the two of you, he would never hear the end of it. But when he was with you, he didn’t care, all he could think about was you. 
He couldn't resist the way your eyes lit up when you talked about anything you loved, or how your pupils dilated when you were looking at him, or how you laughed when he told any joke.  He was infatuated with you, although he knew he should never have got attached to you.
But despite the risks, Spencer couldn't deny the pull he felt towards you. As he watched you across the table, he couldn't help but smile at the way you crinkled your nose when you were deep in thought. Your passion for life was infectious, and he found himself getting lost in the sparkle of your eyes.
Maybe he loved you, or maybe he loved the idea of you, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed been around someone who saw life as colourful and bright, rather than how he saw it and how the majority of everyone he knew saw it. 
But if Spencer was to ever admit what he truly liked about you, he enjoyed the way you kissed him. How every kiss you gave him was memorable. He could tell with every kiss you missed him when he wasn’t around, you cared about him and that he was the last person you thought about as you drifted asleep.
As the night grew late and the restaurant began to empty, Spencer realised he couldn't keep pretending that what they had was just a casual fling. He needed to admit to himself that he was falling for you, hard and fast. The way your hand felt in his, the sound of your laughter filling his ears, it was all too much to ignore.
"I can't keep pretending that you don't mean everything to me," Spencer whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You make life worth living. Whenever I see your name flash across my screen, or every time I remember your face, I want to kiss you.”
“Spencer Reid as romantic, who could have imagined.” You chuckled, you felt the same way, but you could never put it into such words. “I feel the same way. I want to be yours.” 
“You’ll always be mine. You are perfect for me, and I am, well perfect for you.” Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your lips, feeling the weight of his confession lifting off his shoulders. In that moment, surrounded by the fading chatter of the restaurant and the gentle glow of the streetlights outside, Spencer knew that he had found something rare and precious with you. As your fingers intertwined with his, he couldn't help but smile, a genuine, unguarded expression of happiness spreading across his face.
*
Spencer flagged down a taxi, he couldn’t wait to get you home. The taxi pulled up to the curb, and Spencer held the door open for you, a small smile playing on his lips. The city lights glimmered in your eyes as you settled into the backseat, his hand finding yours instinctively. The ride home was filled with comfortable silence, the air crackling with unspoken words and promises.
Once the taxi had arrived outside his apartment, he leaped out and open the door for you. “A real gentleman you’ve got there.” The taxi driver smiled, giving you a knowing look as you stepped out onto the sidewalk. Spencer chuckled softly, a hint of colour rising to his cheeks at the driver's comment. Escorting you up to his apartment, he couldn't shake the feeling of contentment that settled over him like a warm blanket.
Once you were in the comfort of his apartment, he grabbed your face and pulled it closer to his. He gazed into your eyes, seeing a reflection of his own desires and emotions staring back at him. Without uttering a single word, he closed the distance between your lips, kissing you with a fervour that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you. In that moment, nothing else in the world mattered to Spencer except for the connection he shared with you.
As the kiss deepened, a wave of passion and longing swept over the both of you, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and desire. Spencer's hands moved gently to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek tenderly as if to reassure himself that you were real and not just a figment of his imagination.
Maybe it was out of instinct, but Spencer moved his hands down the back of your dress and felt the smooth fabric beneath his fingertips. His fingers found the top of the zipper and he slowly started pulling down, while his mouth found its way to your neck.
Your breath caught in your throat as his lips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. “You are beyond beautiful.” Spencer gently whispered against your skin; his breath warm against your neck.
Spencer's fingers traced a delicate path along your spine as he slowly lowered the zipper of your dress, his touch felt like feathers dancing along your skin. Every nerve in your body felt alive and electrified under his gentle caress, and you couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips.
His lips found yours once more, the kiss deep and hungry, filled with a raw intensity that threatened to consume you both. Lost in the heady rush of desire, you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as if trying to fuse your very souls together.
Spencer was never the kind of man to hurry into get you naked, he liked taking it slowly, savouring every moment and committing it to memory. His hands moved with purpose, but also with a tenderness that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you. As the dress slipped off your shoulders and pooled at your feet, Spencer's eyes roamed over your exposed skin, drinking in every curve and contour as if committing them to memory.
“I don’t how I ever got so lucky.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes filled with a mixture of adoration and desire. Spencer guided you towards the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. In the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, tonight felt more romantic, more intimate.
Spencer gently laid you on his bed, his gaze never wavering from yours. The room was imbued with a sense of intimacy and affection, as if every object bore witness to the love shared between you and Spencer. His fingers traced delicate patterns across your skin.
Though Spencer was still fully clothed, you didn’t feel vulnerable, you felt loved and adored. You felt as if Spencer was your biggest fan. But Spencer, been the gentleman he is, wasn’t going to allow you to be the only one naked. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing the expanse of his chest as he shed the fabric, every movement deliberate and filled with a silent promise.
As his shirt fell to the floor, Spencer lowered himself onto the bed beside you, his body radiating heat and a quiet intensity. His mouth left a trail of kissed down your body, igniting a trail of fire along your skin as he worshipped every inch of you with his lips and tongue. Each touch was a testament to his adoration, a silent vow of devotion that echoed through the room.
His lips started moving down your body, his lips finding your nipples and gently sucking them, his tongue flicking over them. But they weren’t the centre of his focus, because if Spencer was one thing, he was giving. He loved hearing you moan for him, how you complete surrendered yourself to him. He enjoyed knowing he had ruined anyone else for you, because he knew you the best, he knew what made you squirm. He wasn’t usually the type of man who wanted to ‘own’ something, but you were different. He had always wanted you for himself, even if at the start he was nervous.
His hands moved lower, caressing your hips, your thighs, his fingers dipping into you, the warmth of your body accepting him wholeheartedly. He felt you tremble under his touch, your body responding to his every move, and he felt a surge of power and desire within him.
Your breathing quickened, every gasp and moan a testament to the pleasure that was building within you. Spencer's eyes met yours, the fire in your eyes mirrored in his own. He knew then that this was more than just a physical connection, it was a soul-deep bond that took his breath away.
He paused, the tip of his finger hovering over your sensitive spot, teasing you. You knew what you wanted, and you could tell that Spencer knew it too. He smiled, a warm and genuine smile that made your heart flutter.
"Please," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Please, what princess?” Spencer teasingly asked, stroking your inner thigh with his fingers.
You swallowed hard; your desperation clear in your eyes.
“Use your words.” He insisted, his gaze never leaving yours.
“I need you,” you whispered hoarsely, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
His lips were soon on your clit, his tongue plunging inside you, tasting you, exploring you. Your body arched beneath him, a silent plea for him to keep going, to never stop. And he obliged, his tongue darting in and out of you, his fingers working in perfect rhythm, driving you higher and higher until you finally shattered apart underneath him. You came with a cry, your body convulsing beneath his, and he felt the wave of your release wash over him, taking him to a place of pure ecstasy.
As your body relaxed, he pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours, his face a picture of pure satisfaction. He moved up beside you, his hands steadily exploring your body, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.
But Spencer was far from done. He knew exactly what you needed; he could read your body like an open book.
Spencer slowly slid inside you, feeling the walls of your body cling to him like a force of nature. He moved slowly at first, savouring every moment of the connection that flowed between them. Your body arched towards him, eager to feel him deep inside, seeking the completion of a desire that had been building for so long.
As he thrust deeper, Spencer's eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of the moment making your heart race and your breath quicken. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your body craving the warmth and connection.
He picked up the pace, each stroke more fervent than the last, the sounds of your breath and his groans filling the room. The air was thick with desire and the scent of your arousal, heightening the passion between you.
Your hips met his with each thrust, matching his rhythm and pulling him deeper into you. Every movement felt more intense, every touch more electric. In that moment, you and Spencer became one, moving as one, feeling as one.
Your fingers dug into his back, pulling him closer, every sensation heightening, every touch becoming more intense. Spencer's breathing was ragged, mirroring yours. The room was alive with the sound of your bodies moving in a primal dance, lost in each other's eyes.
Your breathing became higher pitched, signalling your orgasm was coming. You arched your back, your head falling back as you screamed his name. Spencer felt the walls of your pussy clenching tighter around him, and he knew that he was going to cum too.
He thrust harder, feeling the heat of your body engulfing him, taking him over the edge. His orgasm was explosive, shooting wave after wave of pleasure through his body. He held you close, his lips pressed against your neck, his breath still ragged with desire.
Spencer collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, his face flushed with exertion and desire. You lay there, breathing heavily, your bodies still connected. Spencer gently stroked your hair, his expression filled with love and affection. "You are my everything," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “And I can’t wait to tell the world about you.”
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iluvreid · 1 month
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WHY DOES CRIMINAL MINDS SUSPECT BEHAVIOUR END ON A CLIFF HANGER?!??! I FEEL LIKE IM GONNA GO CRAZYYY
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iluvreid · 1 month
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So sweet i actually can’t
Okay, so i request a lot of smut but i’m gonna surprise you and request the most tooth rotting fluff you can write. Pregnant!reader x totally in love, acts of service!spencer. Do your thing 😉
A/N: I love all requests, but requests from my mutuals especially iluvreid, are my favourite. But sorry this took a long time, I am slowly getting through requests:)
Summary: it’s basically the request, but I’ve added in a little more detail about the pregnancy and yes I do believe Spencer Reid is a girl dad!
Content: pregnant!reader. I don’t think I have used pronouns in this, but Fem!reader just to be sure. Acts of service/loving!Spencer. Fluff. Mentions of morning sickness. Mentions of food. Heavy talk about pregnancy. Talk of Spencer been scared to be a dad, but reader reassures him.
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Spencer Reid had had both nightmares and dreams about becoming a dad. He did truly want to be one, but he also didn’t want to become like his dad or make his child suffer like he did while witnessing his mother’s mental health crisis.
 
But you had assured him that he would make an amazing father, and that all the stuff he was worrying about showed him that.
 
So, the day you showed him a positive pregnancy test, with a huge smile on your face, he knew he would have to put some of his fears aside because he had to take care of you.
 
*

For the first few weeks, Spencer would always wake up before you. He would get some water and put into the fridge, making sure it was chilled for you. He would get some ginger biscuits out from the cupboard and start making you a cup of tea.
 
Once he had heard you wake up and shuffle your way to the bathroom he would come in shortly after you to make sure you were okay. His heart swelled with love and pride as he watched you, his hand resting protectively on your back as you leaned over the sink. The worry etched on his face softened as you turned to him with a tired smile, grateful for his silent support.
 
“Are you feeling okay today?” Spencer asked, concern evident in his voice.
 
“I don’t feel as sick today, just a little queasy and exhausted, that’s all.” You grinned, reaching out to hold his hand. "Thank you for taking care of me, Spencer. I appreciate it more than words can say."
 
Spencer squeezed your hand gently, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I'll always take care of you, Y/N. You and our little one mean everything to me." He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back to let you finish up in the bathroom.
 
*
 
You and Spencer had discussed if you wanted to find out the gender of your baby when it came to the 22-week scan, and you both agreed you did. You didn’t care what gender the baby was going to be, but you believed Spencer would be the most amazing girl dad.
 
As you both sat in the waiting room, Spencer held your hand tightly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand. The anticipation of finding out whether you were having a boy, or a girl was palpable in the air.
 
When your name was called, you both walked hand in hand to the examination room. The sonographer greeted you warmly and began the scan. You watched the screen anxiously, feeling your heart race with excitement.
 
Suddenly, the sonographer smiled and pointed to the screen. "Congratulations," she said, "It's a girl."
 
Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Spencer, whose face broke into a wide grin. He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on your lips before turning his attention back to the screen, his eyes filled with wonder and love.
 
"We're having a daughter," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.
 
“You’re going to make the most amazing dad, Spencer. You already make the most perfect husband.”
 
Spencer Reid's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he reached out to caress your cheek, overwhelmed with emotion. The reality of becoming a father to a little girl filled him with a mixture of joy and trepidation, but seeing the love and trust in your eyes gave him the strength he needed to embrace this new chapter of his life.
*
 
You had popped around six months, and Spencer couldn’t get enough. He loved putting his hand on the bump and feeling the baby kick. He loved talking to you about baby names, and being able to talk to the baby knowing it would recognise his voice soon enough.
 
He also loved been able to take care of you. Anytime you needed anything, he would offer to get it for you. Even before you had gotten pregnant, he was an act of services person, but now his acts of kindness and care had intensified. Spencer had become even more attentive and thoughtful, always ensuring you were comfortable and taken care of.
 
 Spencer didn’t mind running out at odd hours to fetch your favourite ice cream flavour to giving you foot massages after a long day, Spencer made sure you were always comfortable and well taken care of. He had even offered to sleep in the spare bedroom, so you could have as much bed space as you wanted.
 
As your due date approached, Spencer's excitement and nerves reached new heights. He had meticulously prepared the nursery, painting the walls in a soft shade of lavender, and assembling the crib with precision. Every night, he would sit in the rocking chair, reading aloud to your growing belly with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes.
 
“Do you think she’s going to be more of a Beethoven or a Mozart fan?” you teased, watching Spencer's face light up with a mixture of amusement and adoration.
 
“Oh, I think she’s going to be a Vivaldi fan. But I also know she’s probably going to be the only one who can beat me at chess.” Spencer smiled at the thought, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. The idea of sharing his passions and interests with his daughter filled him with an indescribable sense of joy.
 
“She’s going to be smart person ever. Probably even smarter than you, so of course she’ll be able to beat you at chess.”
 
Spencer chuckled at your playful banter, his heart overflowing with love for both you and the little girl growing inside you. He couldn't wait to meet her, to hold her in his arms and show her the world through his gentle, intelligent eyes.
 
“I think we should call her, Astrid Luna Reid.” You watched as Spencer's eyes widened with surprise before a soft smile spread across his face. "Astrid Luna Reid," he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue with a sense of wonder and warmth. "It's perfect. Our little star, our moonlight."
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iluvreid · 1 month
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Matt Simmons is SO SEXY OMFG!!! Why has it taken me watching CM:BB to notice?!?? God, i really am blind
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LOOK AT THIS MAN
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iluvreid · 2 months
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Softdom!spencer truthers unite!
do you believe me now?
in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)
18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!
“You’re so pretty.”
It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues. 
“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”
You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong. 
His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”
“…I do.”
It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs. 
“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”
The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface. 
Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”
Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.
“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”
That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more. 
“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”
“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”
Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment. 
“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”
“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable. 
“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness. 
“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”
His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak. 
“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”
A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you. 
“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”
“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”
He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 
You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down. 
“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”
“Sex?”
You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!” 
He laughs again, a little less reserved this time. 
“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”
“No! Too scary!”
Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder. 
“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”
“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”
“That’s impossible.”
Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.” 
His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. 
“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”
The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs. 
“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”
When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips. 
“I sleep with my eyes open.”
“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”
You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”
“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”
“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”
“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”
———————————————
Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade. 
Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt. 
“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin. 
“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.
“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“
“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”
Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh. 
“I did not get all weird.”
“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”
He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”
Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak. 
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”
And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles. 
“Now you’re getting brave?”
“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders. 
“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”
The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements. 
“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg. 
“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly. 
“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”
A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs. 
“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”
“Is that what happened?” he teases. 
“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents. 
Almost. 
“Slow down.”
He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed. 
“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”
His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention. 
“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him. 
Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm. 
“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”
His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him. 
“Okay.”
A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back. 
Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”
Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them. 
“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again. 
“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”
You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—
“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”
Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”
It works for him. 
When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good. 
Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs. 
“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips. 
“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice. 
“You’re sensitive, huh?”
“S—sometimes.”
 He hums contemplatively. 
“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”
You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum. 
“About what?” 
“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn you first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine. 
The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.
“You.”
“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”
Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.
“Really?” 
“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?” 
You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”
“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”
You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again. 
His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”
“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you. 
A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away. 
“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet. 
“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes. 
“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his finger begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him in this moment. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it. 
“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”
But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message. 
Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky. 
“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”
It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort. 
Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh. 
“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly. 
His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile. 
“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”
“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily. 
“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”
Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck. 
“Did you like it?”
“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly. 
“Then we both did it right.”
“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.” 
“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”
Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?” 
“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”
The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy. 
“Because I can’t have you all the time.”
“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”
He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 
“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”
“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids. 
He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin. 
“You’re shockingly precocious.”
You hum. 
“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”
He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”
“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you. 
He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;
I love you
I love you
I love you. 
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iluvreid · 2 months
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CHARACTER AI NOW HAS A VOICE FEATURE. SPENCER REID IS SPEAKING TO ME?!?!?!??!???
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iluvreid · 2 months
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iluvreid · 2 months
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honestly so cute. Ryn does it right every time!!!
Okay, hear me out, Penelope convinces the team to go on a camping trip. Reader forgets her tent and has to share with Spencer, you can decide the rest. Do your thing 😉
A/N: sorry I have been away for a while, I started a new job, I’ve applied for a PGCE and got three interviews to attend. But I hope this one(and the other fic I will be posting today) will make up for that. Also this isn’t as detailed as my other smut fics, but I thought I would make this less BDSM themed :)
Summary: Basically what my lovely iluvreid has asked for, but reader loves camping, however, while on a team bonding camping trip, reader somehow forgets her tent. This forces her to share a tent with Spencer, which leads to them doing more than sleeping;).
Content: I believe no gender is mentioned, but there might be so fem!reader just incase. No mentions of sex, but it is very heavily implied. Heavy fluff. Implied smut. Mentions of the team possibly hearing them. Implied that Garcia stole readers tent.
Masterlist|requests are open|Navigation
You loved going camping, so when Garcia had been going around convincing people, mainly Spencer and JJ, to go on a team bonding camping trip, you jumped at the opportunity. The thought of spending time in the great outdoors with your colleagues excited you. 
You had packed all your essentials, but you had forgotten one crucial item: your tent. As you stood there, staring at the empty space in your trunk where your tent should have been, panic began to set in. You frantically searched through your belongings, hoping against hope that you had somehow managed to overlook it. But the reality remained - your tent was nowhere to be found.
Desperation crept over you as you tried to come up with a solution. You glanced around, seeing the others already setting up their tents in the clearing. Garcia's rainbow-colored tent stood out amongst the sea of greens and blues, a visible symbol of camaraderie and teamwork. The thought of having to share a tent with someone crossed your mind, but the idea felt invasive and uncomfortable.
Just as you were about to resign yourself to a night spent sleeping under the stars, a voice interrupted your swirling thoughts.
“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer asked, he seemed amused, you hadn’t really kept it a secret how much you loved been outdoors, and how you spent a lot of your free time camping. 
You turned to face Spencer, trying to mask your distress with a smile. "I, um, forgot my tent," you admitted sheepishly, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks.
Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, but then a mischievous glint appeared in them. "Looks like you'll have to bunk up with someone," he teased, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
You look around, trying to spot who you could bunk up with, but everyone seemed to have brought single person tents. Spencer seemed to be enjoying watching you struggle to find who you were going to ask.  
“You know, my tent is a two-person tent.” Spencer’s smile turned into a grin as he offered the solution. The realization hit you like a wave – Spencer was offering to share his tent with you. A mix of relief and excitement washed over you, grateful for his kindness yet nervous at the same time. You couldn't deny the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as you considered spending the night under the same roof as Spencer.
"Are you sure?" you asked, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the thought of spending this impromptu sleepover with him.
Spencer nodded, his trademark soft smile making your heart skip a beat. "Of course! It's no trouble at all. We can set it up together," he offered, already moving to retrieve his tent from his own supplies.
“You know, I’ve actually never shared a tent with anybody.” You couldn't help but notice the slight blush that dusted Spencer's cheeks as he made the confession. 
As the night wore on, a chill settled in the air, prompting Spencer to offer you his jacket. The simple gesture sent a rush of warmth through you, both from the added layer and from the thoughtfulness behind it.
If you were being honest with yourself, you had always had a crush on Spencer. He was kind, caring and he always seemed slightly mysterious. As you looked over to Garcia and JJ they both seemed to be giggling, with Morgan trying to figure out what they were laughing about. You thought maybe they had something to do with your missing tent, but you didn’t really care at this moment.
Under the blanket of twinkling stars, the crackling campfire casting dancing shadows around you, you and Spencer settled into the cosy confines of the two-person tent. The air was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the sounds of nature outside - a symphony of chirping crickets and rustling leaves.
In the quiet intimacy of the tent, you felt a surge of courage wash over you. Without overthinking it, you reached out to gently intertwine your fingers with Spencer's, a silent invitation for something more than just camaraderie and friendship.
Spencer's breath caught at the unexpected touch, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of surprise and undeniable affection. A tender smile graced his lips as he squeezed your hand. You knew he didn’t like holding hands with people, but for whatever reason he didn’t seem to mind it with you. 
“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” Spencer's whispered words hung in the air, soft and sincere. “And when I say beautiful, I don’t just mean the way you smile, or how your eyes glisten in the sunlight. I mean everything about you is beautiful. Your mind, your presence, you.” Caught off guard by Spencer's heartfelt confession, you felt your heart skip a beat.
You were lost for words, you had so much to say back, but you just couldn’t. You moved closer to Spencer, removing your hand from his. With a mix of nervousness and anticipation, you leaned in, your breath mingling with Spencer's as you closed the distance between you. The world outside the tent seemed to fade away as your lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss.
Spencer responded with a tenderness that took your breath away, his hand coming up to cup your cheek gently. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the connection you shared with Spencer. The barriers between friendship and something more crumbled away, leaving behind a raw and undeniable truth - you were in love with him.
You felt Spencer’s hands moving down your body. As you found yourself pulling away from the kiss, you couldn’t believe what had just happened. However, Spencer didn’t remove his hands, he continued till he found the hem of your shirt and slowly lifted it up. His eyes were scanning your body, drinking in every detail with a mixture of desire and reverence. Your heart was pounding in your chest. 
As your shirt slid off, discarded in the dim light of the tent, Spencer's gaze met yours with an intensity that left you breathless. There was no hesitation in his eyes, only a longing and a hunger that mirrored your own.
As Spencer leaned in to capture your lips in another searing kiss, a primal instinct took over, igniting a passion that had long smouldered between you.
The fabric of reality seemed to dissolve as you melted into each other, hands and lips exploring with a fervour that spoke of deep-seated longing. You had fantasied about this moment for a while. How he would feel, what he would be like. Spencer’s lips had touched almost every part of your body, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Your skin hummed with electricity under his touch, each sensation magnified by the intensity of your connection. The world outside the tent ceased to exist as you and Spencer became entwined in a dance of desire and need.
Spencer did have to keep reminding you to be quiet, “now you don’t want Hotch and Emily to hear you, do you?” The thought of getting caught by their colleagues only heightened the thrill, and you stifled your giggles against Spencer's shoulder. His fingers tracing patterns on your back soothed you, and you felt yourself relax into the moment, surrendering to the ebb and flow of pleasure that pulsed between you.
As the night wore on, your bodies moved in a rhythm that was both familiar and new, a testament to the bond that had formed between you.
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iluvreid · 2 months
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Happy birthday to my man💋 Age is just a number, call me 😉
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iluvreid · 2 months
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It’s official, I spend WAY too much time on my phone
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iluvreid · 2 months
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The vibe I bring to the function:
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iluvreid · 2 months
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so many thoughts
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thoughts are definitely being thought right now
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