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#Spencer reid drabbles
reidsaurora · 9 months
Note
Hi hi hi I’ll take one leo birthday cake because we are leo baby twins with the prompt “you bought me flowers?” And Spence as a character. But since we are leo babies can I add a sprinkle of enemies to lovers co-workers??
grecy love, i am so so sorry this took so long to post 😭 i had every intention of posting this on your birthday and then writer's block happened and depression happened and health problems happened and it was a whole thing 😭💔 but i hope you enjoyed what i whipped up!! 🫶🏻
"Birthday Bouquet" ~ S. Reid
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pairing: autistic!spencer reid x gn!reader
summary: "of two things you were certain: the first, you couldn't stand spencer reid; the second, he was the only person who remembered your birthday."
word count: 1,516
warnings: a lil angsty with a hint of miscommunication trope, mild swearing, i believe that's all!
genre: angst to fluff
extra notes: the end of this was rushed i won't lie, i pray you can all forgive me for that lol; the dividers in this post are from @anlian-aishang as always 🫶🏻
beta read by: @theghouligan and @dungeons-are-too-cold (love you both so so much 🥰)
birthday bash | masterlist | ask box
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🧁 Leo Baby Birthday Cake - send me a character + a prompt from this list and i'll write you a blurb!
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Of two things you were certain: the first, you couldn't stand Spencer Reid; the second, he was the only person who remembered your birthday.
You tried to cut your colleagues some slack. You were away on a case, after all. Everyone was probably busy dealing with their own shit, not to mention how rough it had been the past 48 hours working on the case. But still, not a single person had so much as wished you a happy birthday, and it wasn't until he caught you alone at the hotel that Spencer said anything.
After a long day of geographical profiling and visiting dump sites, all you wanted was to take a long shower and sleep as much as you could before another long day tomorrow.
At this point, you weren't sure if you even cared about your own birthday anymore. A full night's sleep was the only thing on your birthday wishlist currently. But when you walked into your hotel room and spotted that vase of red and white tulips, your jaw nearly dropped to the floor.
Clearly, someone had remembered, you just weren't sure who. So, naturally, you picked up the card, brows furrowing as you registered the all-too-recognizable chicken scratch handwriting on the back of it.
"These variegated flowers are one in a hundred thousand, but you are the only one of your kind. Happy birthday." - S. R.
Your heart flipped as you processed the words, a happy but surprised tear threatening to fall from your eye.
"Do you normally leave your door open for strangers?"
You turned to face Spencer, his signature sideways smile tugging at his lips. "You bought me flowers?" you asked in shock, your eyes meeting his.
He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. "I did," he admitted, eyes darting away shyly, "Happy birthday."
The exhaustion of the day must've had you unsure how to properly respond, because the next thing you knew, you were forcing back tears that were beginning to sting behind your eyes, and motioning him into your room. After he closed the door, you spoke again, your voice barely above a whisper. "You know, you're the only person who's told me that today."
His sideways smile quickly turned into a frown. "I'm sorry, Y/N." From what you could tell, he seemed sincere, which felt strange since he otherwise seemed to hate your guts.
You simply shrugged, deciding the pain was easy enough to deal with without his help. "I can't believe you remembered."
He gave a soft nod of his head. "Of course I remembered."
"I honestly thought you'd be the last person to remember. Although, you do have that eidetic memory, so-"
"I remembered," he corrected. "Actually remembered. I made a conscious effort to remember."
Your brows furrowed, confusion swirling around in your mind and muddling your thoughts. You wondered why Spencer, your sworn enemy, would take the time to remember your birthday? Why would he allow even the smallest of crevices in his brain to be consumed by thoughts of you?
"What? I thought you hated me…" your voice trailed off, your eyes darting to look at the flowers, the ground, anywhere but his gaze.
You could almost hear the hurt and confusion in his voice when he spoke again. "I never hated you. If anything, I always thought you hated me."
You sighed, figuring you might as well tell him the truth. "I did. I mean, you're always correcting me. You won't even look at me half the time. I don’t think you’ve ever accepted one of my hugs or even a handshake for that matter. And just last week, when I tried to offer you one of my crackers from the vending machine, you looked like you were gonna throw up. I mean -"
"Y/N," he said with a soft chuckle. Your gaze shot up to meet him and that familiar look of discomfort took over his expression.
"Why are you laughing?" you asked, confusion racing through your mind.
"Because," he laughed again, a little louder this time, "I never hated you, Y/N. I just… I'm autistic."
You looked away again with slow blinks, burying your face in your hands. Embarrassment and guilt filled your gut, and you were honestly unsure how you hadn't connected the dots sooner. "I'm such an ass."
He pulled your hands away from your face, and you were quite shocked, considering how much the man hated physical touch. "It's okay. You couldn't have known. I don't really tell anybody because some people think it'll slow them down on the field or in the office."
A pout formed on your lips at the thought. Sure, you were sworn enemies with the man—or so you'd thought—but you could never imagine someone being mean to him like that.
Your hands fidgeted as you thought about what to say next, but if you had to be truthful, you weren't really sure what you could say. You wanted to kick yourself for being an ass, for creating an environment where Spencer felt like he couldn’t be open with you. But mostly, you currently wanted to kick yourself for noticing how pretty he looked at that moment.
"You still there?" he chuckled, hands sliding into his pockets.
Your shoulders shrugged again as you brought yourself back to reality. "Yeah," you answered, probably a little too quickly. "Um, thank you for the flowers, they're lovely."
In a couple swift motions, you were all but shoving him out of your room. "Wait-" he began to protest as you started to close the door.
"It's late, we should sleep. Not together!" you panicked over your words. "I just mean we should both get some sleep before the flight home tomorrow. In our own respective rooms. Our respective rooms in this hotel, that is. Obviously you can't go home and rest in your bedroom. That's what the flight is for!" With every word that flew out of your mouth, you cringed harder. Finally, you settled on telling him, "Good night, Reid," before finally getting him out the door.
Your back rested against the now closed door, fingers sifting through your hair as you attempted to collect your thoughts.
Why would you think Spencer of all people was attractive all of a sudden? Up until two minutes ago, you thought he hated you. Up until two minutes ago, you hated him too.
Or maybe that's just what you'd been telling yourself…
A subtle tap against the door had you coming up for air yet again. You made a mental note to tell your therapist about your sudden bout of brain fog.
As he did before, Spencer stood on the other side of the door, hands fidgeting and eyes struggling to maintain contact with yours.
"Can I kiss you?" he all but blurted out.
Either this was a dream or your ears deceived you. There was no way Spencer Reid, the guy who wouldn't even shake hands with people, wanted to kiss you. Or wanted to kiss you. "What?"
"You just… you look really pretty and you seem nervous, and kissing actually produces endorphins, which help relax the body. Although, I guess hugging works the same way, but kissing spreads less pathogens than hugging, and- now I'm rambling, aren't I?"
He must've caught the nervous giggle you were struggling to hold back. "Yeah, you do that a lot. But it's okay. It's kind of endearing."
His face went fully red at your comment. "So… is that a yes?"
You gave him a nod, though you couldn't shake the anxiety in the pit of your stomach. Your hands moved to his cheeks, pulling him down for a slow kiss. It felt like electricity pumping through your veins, butterflies swirling around in your tummy, and just about every other cliche you could think of. His kiss was intoxicating, and if you hadn't needed to come up for air, so to speak, you probably would've stayed there like that all night.
He leaned his forehead against yours, his jaw nearly dropping to the floor. "Woah," he exhaled with all the amazement of a kid at an amusement park.
"Woah," you copied. You couldn't help the smile that appeared on your lips. "I can't believe that just happened."
"Me either," he admitted with a nervous shrug. "But… I wouldn't mind doing it again."
You let out a shaky exhale, resting your forehead against his. "Well, for future reference, you don't have to ask. That was… woah."
"So, I can just-"
Without warning, he pulled you in for another kiss, and the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach multiplied tenfold.
He pulled away, scratching at the back of his neck. "Sorry. I just really enjoyed that."
You gave him a soft smile as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer for a soft hug. "I did too."
"So I can just keep kissing you? Over and over? As much as I want?"
You nodded against his chest. "That's the plan now, I guess."
"Woah."
You giggled against him, warmth filling you from head to toe. "Woah, indeed."
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-> taglist: @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @kbakery @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @lunar-affection @givemeth @lavhoes @rhyanishere @cat-lockwood @danielle143 @marsmallow433 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @mente-sindescanso @reverieofmgg @spencer-reids-adventures @ah-blossom @encyclo-reid-ia @reidselle @thevisionthedream @dungeons-are-too-cold @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahalstead5021 @cwritesforfun @maelartasch @buckyyyismahhlife @cynbx @hellooitsrose @lover-of-books-and-tea @therealrazortai
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sweatervest-obsessed · 9 months
Text
Something Old, Something New
Spencer Reid used to know everything about Y/N Y/L/N. But what happens when ten years after they last saw each other, they just so happen to bump into one another.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Word Count: ~2.7k
TW: Brief mentions of domestic violence, the slightest implications of DV, mentions of guns, Spencer hating JJ, colorful language.
Notes: This is my first ever fan fiction and so I’d absolutely love some feedback! I really want to expand this into either a full sized fic, or a series. Would anyone be interested in that ???? This takes place during S7E1 in which the team is on Trial because of their actions with Ian Doyle, Declan Doyle, and the others. One of my fav Reid episodes, and just a good one overall. Side note, it’s barely edited, apologies in advance. 
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GIF not mine.
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“If you want to punish me for taking a risk, then I encourage you to do that, but do not put the rest of my team on trial for something I suggested.” The words flew out of his mouth. Some might think it was because he wasn’t thinking clearly. But he was. Senator Cramer was not amused. “Calm down Agent.”
“This is calm, and it’s doctor.”
“That’s all then, Doctor Reid.”  
“Thank you, Senator.” His chair scraped across the floor as he stood up. Spencer turned around and exited the jury room, door slamming behind him.
The team all stared as he stalked past them, and out towards the bathroom. JJ started to follow him before Derek put his hand up in front of her.
“Derek–”
“Let him go JJ.”
She sighed before turning around and walking the opposite direction. Just then, one of the clerks opened the door to the room and requested that Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia enter next.
As Spencer walked towards the bathroom, his mind was racing a million miles an hour. His anger was surely justified and the Senator was not listening to him, at all. Especially since the only thing the committee really even wants to do is have an excuse to transplant every one of his teammates—
“Shit!”
Spencer had collided with someone. Head on.
“O-oh, I’m..” He quickly bent down to help her pick up the various items now strewn across the floor, due to his negligence to his surroundings.
“I’m so sorry.” He managed to sputter out before actually managing to look up to the person he bumped into, holding out the remaining item on the floor–a small black binder, clearly heavier than it looked.
The woman he had run into smiled quickly, but kindly at him.
“It’s okay—thank you—don’t worry about it. Could’ve had a coffee or something in my hand and then we would have had a serious issue.” She placed the binder back into her bag, somehow already neatly organized despite being completely empty and on the floor a minute before. She laughed a little before smiling at him.
Reid smiled back at her.
“I-I really am sorry about all your….” He tapered off. “Y/N?”
Y/N really looked at him for a moment before her whole face shifted. “Spencer?”
Both stared at one another in the hallway until a voice called over to the two of them “Hey Pretty Boy, we’re getting called in.”
Y/N tilted her head, a small smirk making its way across her lips.
“...Pretty Boy?”
“Yeah—–Well. No. It’s his nickname for me, uh..”
“Reid!”
She smiled at him. “Go Spencer. I’m here all day. Maybe you should look for me downstairs in the library when you’re done testifying in…” she peered around him and looked at where Derek was standing. “Federal Court? Oh Spencer, didn’t know you had become such a rule breaker.”
“A lot’s happened in the past ten years Y/N.” He smiled at her before turning around and walking towards Derek who pushed his lips together, trying not to make a bigger scene than before.
“Are we going to talk about whoever that is?”
“Nope.” Spencer pushed past Derek and into the courtroom.
_________________________________________________________
Once the team, except for Prentiss, was released into the hallway, JJ tried to grab Spencer's hand.
“Spence—”
“Not now Jennifer.” Spencer quickly maneuvered himself away from JJ, and headed towards the double doors at the end of the hall.
“Reid…” JJ tried again, but Spencer just pushed past the doors and walked down the stairs. He walked down two flights before exiting the stairwell. He found himself in front of the library, next to a small local cafe that clearly catered to exhausted lawyers and their incessant clients. Reid walked past the little cafe and entered the library. He realized that he didn’t know what type of Law Y/N practiced so he wouldn’t know where in the library she would be, but it wouldn’t matter since she was sitting at one of the tables next to the windows, trying to soak up as much sun while she withered away in the library. She sat with her back to the doors, maybe because the glare was too blinding on the laptop in front of her, or maybe because she couldn’t stop looking up at the entrance hoping a certain Doctor would enter.
Spencer approached her and stood in front of the empty chair.
“This taken?”
Y/N looked up, smiled, and nodded.
“By you Doctor Reid. Please, have a seat.”
Spencer laughed lightly and sat down.
“I feel like I’m in a client meeting.”
Y/N shook her head and closed her laptop.
“Not unless you have something you need a divorce lawyer for Reid.”
Reid looked at the books scattered in front of her, noting what books she had, and what cases she had opened them to.
“Tough case?” He nodded towards the books that she was busy tidying and shoving off to the side. Y/N sighed and stacked the books on the side of the table near the window.
“Not necessarily anything I can’t deal with, it’s just brutal to see someone be repeatedly assaulted by their husband, and–I’m sorry. That’s so…That’s so grim, I didn’t mean to bring the mood, um, down.” She laughed nervously and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
“Believe it or not, that is probably a regular topic on a weekly basis for me.” Spencer gave her a sheepish smile.
“Wh-” She smiled and shook her head. A ray of sun was slowly stretched across her face, illuminating her eyes, and captivating Spencer. “Well, Doctor Reid. Tell me what a man like you is doing with three PhDs and multiple Bachelor's degrees these days in which you deal with such graphic topics and have to be on trial in Federal Court?”
Reid smiled at his folded hands. “I’m a–uh–profiler for the FBI’s BAU—Behavioural Analysis Unit. We, uh, look at the way an unsub–unknown subject–behaves, as well as the victims behavior, and create profiles based off of that information to help law enforcement agencies, at every level, across the country.” Spencer finished his ramble by biting his bottom lip, and smiling at her. “As for the trail…my team led an operation that was…not at all by the book.”
Y/n nodded, choosing, for Spencer’s sake, to not prod further into the reason he was at the courthouse.“So can you analyze people just by…looking at them?”
Spencer nodded at her. “Yeah, I mean that’s not all that we do. We make preliminary personality profiles yes, but I’ve also made linguistic profiles and geographical profiles–But, uh, y-yeah I can do that…”
“So profile me then Doctor Reid.”
Reid’s brain short circuited at that moment. “I-uh, you. Um. You want me to….”
“Profile me. Yes.” Y/N bit her lip. “Unless, you’re lying to me Spencer.”
Spencer took a breath before locking eyes with her.
“You’re wearing a tailor made dress for you, which means you have enough money to be able to buy nice clothes, and buy someone’s labor to make them for you. Since the dress is well made and uses an expensive material, the case today is really important to you–from the books I’m assuming a messy divorce involving domestic abuse since that is what all of your books are about, and it involves weapons of some type, most likely guns, because one of those books is dedicated entirely to United States versus Hayes, which deals with convicted domestic abusers not being allowed to purchase guns or have a gun license. When I sat down you also had one of the books open to District of Columbia versus Heller, which deals with an individual’s right to possess a firearm unless they’re a convicted felon or mentally ill. You’re not wearing any makeup which means you’re confident about this case, and your client, regardless of her current physical state. It also means you’re confident in yourself, and don't feel the need to hide your face in any way. You’re wearing shoes that add about three inches to your height so that you’ll appear taller in court to make yourself seem like a bigger presence, as well as assert your previously mentioned confidence in this case and your stance in it. The binder you carry is smaller in size, but heavier than expected meaning you probably have a tablet, maybe an IPad, in there for any paper you don’t actually need a physical copy of, which tells me you’re environmentally conscious, or you’re trying to be. Because you also had a plastic water bottle in your purse which means that you knew you had a long day today, but probably also had a long day and or night yesterday since your prep towards yourself was minimal—shall I keep going?”
Y/N was looking at him with that look he simply could not figure out. “If you want Spencer. I’m quite enjoying it.”
He licked his lips before nodding at the coffee cup on the table. “You’re exhausted. I can tell since you’re no longer wearing your shoes, and your hair is now up. You probably work better with your hair up, which stems from the fact that you danced as a child. Hair up means getting to work. You’re also exhausted since you needed espresso. That cup says you’re drinking four shots of espresso in your latte. But it’s probably because you’ve put a lot of thought and time into this case. Which is good for your clients since they need someone who is compassionate and empathizes—” Spencer stopped short. His realization did not go unnoticed by her.
“Did you figure something out, Doctor Reid?”
“You…..Was it….?”
“No.” She sighed before reaching across the table and putting her hand on top of Reid’s clasped ones. His entire body was immediately filled with static.
“No Spencer. But maybe that’s enough profiling for the day, yeah?”
Spencer nodded before darting his eyes around the library.
“Would you, uh, maybe want to go get lunch, um, with me?”
Y/N smiled at him and nodded. “I would love nothing more, Doctor. Shall we?”
Spencer nodded and stood up, watching as she quickly, yet efficiently packed away her laptop, the binder and the rest of her things. She stood up, grabbed all three of the books, her bag, and her coffee.
“At least let me carry one of those books y/n–”
“Spencer, thank you, but I got this. Remember? Strong, confident woman here.” She teased him before walking over and dropping them off at the librarians desk. Reid followed behind her, still trying to fully decode the woman he once knew everything about.
“Want to take the stairs? I have this irrational fear that I’ll get stuck or die in an elevator, or both.” she mused looking at Spencer.
“As someone who has gotten stuck in an elevator, I have to agree. Did you know that according to the National Elevator Industry, there are approximately 27 recorded elevator-related deaths a year, with over 10,000 related injuries?”
Y/N paused before she opened the door to the stairwell. Spencer thought she was going to cancel the lunch. He had spewed before they even made it out of the building. But instead, she laughed a little bit.
“There’s a National Elevator Industry Company?” Out of all the things to come out of her mouth, that was not what he had expected.
“Well, yes. They’re technically the National Elevator Industry Incorporated, but yeah.”
She made a sound surprise before nodding and heading into the stairwell. “Well I’m glad we’re not volunteering to be victims 28 and 29 then.”
Spencer smiled again, and let out a laugh of agreement.  
“I did want to ask you about that sweater vest though. It’s quite....something Spencer...”
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By the time the two had reached the main doors to the outside, both were giggling incessantly as Reid recalled the time he got stuck in an elevator with his coworker, Derek. Y/N paused their conversation to say a quick goodbye to the security guards working.
“You know all of their names?” Spencer was slightly astonished, knowing how quick the turnaround was for a job like that, barely even considering the sheer amount of security guards.
“It’s important to thank them since they have to stand there and deal with every single person who comes in or out of the Court. Might as well try to make their day a little better. Besides..” She opened the door for Reid to exit through. “When you’re nice, they’re a little more lenient about…oh I don’t know…plastic water bottles and other things that you’re not technically allowed to bring into a courthouse.”
Spencer smiled at her as they walked down the steps. “And you called me a rule breaker.”
“Well Pretty Boy, I can’t follow all the rules, what fun would that be?” Spencer became flustered as she smiled politely and waved to some of her colleagues as they finished walking down the steps.
“So Mr. Profiler, where are you taking me to lun–”
“Spence!”
Spencer outwardly rolled his eyes, his face steeling up at the sound of the heels coming towards them. Y/n was now profiling him as he excused himself and turned around to face JJ.
“What.”
“Wow–uh—Spence look, I–”
Spencer huffed in annoyance. “Is there something you want Jennifer?”
JJ gave Y/n an apologetic smile before turning towards Spencer. “Hotch and Strauss need us back at the office. We have to, uh, discuss next steps in case of reassignment.”
Y/n watched as Spencer managed to steel himself up tighter than before. “Yeah. Alright. I’ll meet you all there.”
“Well actually we—”
Spencer tried to cut her off again before Derek decided to interrupt, He had been watching the whole interaction. He moved over to the small group. “Reid, we have to leave now.”
Spencer huffed in annoyance and shot him a look but Serek didn’t notice. He had turned towards Y/n at that point, and turned on that classic Derek Morgan Charm. “Didn’t know Pretty Boy could even associate with such a beautiful woman. The name’s Derek.”
He held out his hand for Y/n to take. And she did, shaking it twice before retreating her hand.
Spencer turned to you, with the hint of a devious smile, and nodded in Derek’s direction. “That’s the Derek.”
Y/N’s eyes lit up with amusement, before turning back to Derek. A smile burst across her face. “Oh my god, Spence. This is him?”
Derek looked at Reid, and then back at Y/n, and then back at Reid. “Reid, what is she talking about…”
Spencer just shrugged before turning his back completely to JJ, who seemed more upset by the second at Spencer’s distantness than at Morgan’s blatant attempt to charm his way into Y/n’s heart.
“Yes! Doctor Reid here was just telling me about your adventures on the BAU.”
Derek smiled and nodded at Spencer. “All good things I hope.”
“Oh absolutely. It’s an honor to meet the person who got stuck in an elevator and freaked the fuck out with Spencer all those years ago.”
Derek’s jaw hit the floor, and JJ was pretty speechless herself. Spencer had the smirk of a lifetime written all over his face. Y/n took the opportunity to walk over, and give Spencer a quick kiss on the cheek.
“You still owe me lunch sometime, Doctor Reid.” She winked at him before pulling out her ringing phone, and answering.
Spencer, JJ, and Derek watched her walk away.
“Who the hell was that?” Derek eventually managed out before looking at Reid with a mixture of awe and proudness across his face.
“My former ‘girl next door’.” Spencer smiled, before walking off towards Hotch, Rossi, Garcia, and Emily, ready to head back to the BAU with a newfound determination. The first was to get this god forsaken meeting over with. And the second was to find out everything he could about Y/F/N, Y/L/N.
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hornyhornyhimbos · 1 year
Text
pov: spencer is absolutely in love with you, but he loves your pussy almost as much ♡
18+ duh, 1.4K words whoopsies, sub!spencer reid x dom!afab!reader, mommy kink bc i said so, oral fem!receiving, cowgirl activities, nicknames (mommy; baby/good boy), probably more oops, inspired by this post by @radiant-reid
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no one would have ever suspected spencer reid—the innocent one, the one who never had time for relationships—to be so pussy-drunk he can't even form words. rarely forms thoughts, other than when he's thinking about your pussy.
and yet...
the second most people walked in the front door after a long day at work, they'd find themselves tossing off their shoes and sprawling out on the couch with a glass of wine. but not spencer.
spencer was practically throwing off his shoes, most likely missing the bin, and slipping off his jacket, placing it somewhere in the general vicinity of the coat rack.
you found yourself in the kitchen, finishing up the last of dinner, thinking about the freshly chilled champagne in the fridge. two hands slithered around your waist, catching you off guard, while a pair of lips met the crook of your neck.
a smirk appeared on your lips. "i don't remember leaving the door open for pedro pascal."
he let out a chuckle. "har har, very funny," he mumbled into your exposed shoulder.
his hands traveled from your hips, up your stomach, and you already knew where this was going. still, you allowed him to continue, his lips sucking softly on your bare skin and his hands moving from your belly to your breasts.
"spencer," you started, "dinner."
"i was thinking," he said, pausing to rub his thumbs over your tank top covered nipples, "we could do things backwards tonight. dessert first, then dinner."
a smirk appeared on your lips. how could you say no to that?
most nights were like this. after he found you, spencer was like a horny teenager—lived off the feeling and taste of your pussy. he'd trudge through the front door, practically attacking your cunt with kisses before he ever even said hello to you.
the two of you stumbled down the hall to your bedroom, his hand slipping inside your underwear before you'd even opened the bedroom door. "so wet already," he teased.
you tossed him back on the bed, fumbling to undo his pants and pull him out of his boxers. you went glassy-eyed as you looked at his cock, your mouth nearly watering at how pretty and pink it was. "not like you can say anything, hmm?" you teased back, swiping a finger over the pre-cum that had gathered on the end of it.
he let out a sigh, your hands soft and mesmerizing as they slid up and down his cock, just the way he needed it.
"not so fast, i want my fair share first," he practically begged, pushing your lounge shorts and panties down to your ankles.
you rolled your eyes, cocking an eyebrow upward. "that's not how good boys ask for things, now is it?"
he forced himself to look away from your puffy cunt, licking his lips at the mere thought of your essence. "can i please taste you first?"
"you can if you're a good boy and use your manners," you instructed.
he cleared his throat, crawling onto his knees and looking up at you through innocent, brown, doe eyes. "can i please taste you first, mommy?"
a smirk appeared on your lips as you leaned down to kiss him, a soft peck that only lasted long enough to have him craving more. "good boy. you may taste me first."
he gripped your waist and flipped you around, pushing you down lightly on the california king. he stood before kneeling in front of you, immediately diving into your pussy. "mmm," he hummed, like he'd just eaten the tastiest meal in the world.
you let out a hot breath as he suckled on your clit, your hands slipping into his curls and tugging at them lightly. "so good, baby," you sighed, your chest heaving up and down in that little black tank top, your bare nipples poking through the material.
"tastes so good, mommy," he said after pulling away for a split second. but as soon as his sentence was finished, he went right back in, spit dripping from his lips into your hole.
his tongue worked at all the places you needed it most, your legs already struggling to stay spread open as your first orgasm came closer. "s-spence!" you shouted out, your grip on his hair tightening.
he didn't say anything, just quizzically looked up at you through dark eyelashes, his eyes filled with slight worry that he'd done something wrong.
"oh, fuck!" you screamed, your veins burning as your pleasure approached. "don't stop, pleasepleaseplease!"
he slipped a finger inside you as his tongue went back to focusing on your bud, kitten licks attacking your cunt just the way you needed them.
"hnnnnggg, God, spencer!" you cried out as bliss overtook your body, your essence spilling all over his tongue.
his mouth didn't leave your core once as you rode out your high, your hips practically humping his face. he didn't care though, all he was focused on was tasting every last drop you had to offer him. he slipped a second finger inside you, working at your spongy spot, which only made you moan that much more.
you weren't the least bit surprised when you had to physically pull him away from your cunt, his mouth turned downward as you did so. "please, baby, i need you this time. ok?"
he didn't say anything, just nodded before moving to his usual spot on the bed. a good relationship is all about compromise—he gets to eat your pussy, you get to ride his dick. simple enough.
you pulled his boxers out of the way, watching how his thick cock slapped against his stomach. you leaned down, opening your mouth, watching as your drool mixed with his, sliding your hand down to cover him with a mix of spit and pre-cum.
the only he could manage to get out was a short, "please," before you sank down onto him, slowly easing yourself down until his balls rested against your ass. "you ready, baby?" you asked, slowly moving yourself around on him.
he shook his head quickly before opening his mouth, sliding the two fingers that previously sat deep inside you into his mouth, sucking hard on them before nodding.
you rode him like your life depended on it, moaning obscenities every time his balls would slam against you, suddenly regretting your decision to not suck him off first instead. his mushroom head pounded into you, brushing your g-spot every time. "oh, God, baby!" you screamed out, your head thrown back in that pure euphoria only spencer could provide you with.
he groaned around his own fingers, a filthy sight you could bask in all day. he whimpered, and you weren't so sure those weren't tears forming in his eyes.
"that's it, baby, right-fuck-right there!" you screamed out and he brushed against your sensitive spot again. his opposite hand reached under your shirt for your boob, pinching your nipple in just the right way.
his cum shot through you, and just like it always did, it took you off guard. spencer came more than anyone else you'd ever met, taking at least twice as long to empty all of his seed into you. so much so that it overflowed, dripping down your thighs.
you came not long after, feeling his dick twitch inside you as your walls pulsed around him. "oh, baby, feels s-so good!" you screamed, riding him for all he's worth.
you slowly pulled yourself off of him, lying down beside him and attempting to catch your breath. but, you should've known he wasn't quite finished yet, as he moved down to your core again, drinking up every last bit of your cum and his cum that had mixed together.
a third and final orgasm washed over you as he worked his tongue in and out of your greedy hole. you couldn't form words yourself this time, just deep gasps as your hands tugged at his curls.
he pulled you in for a silent kiss, an absolutely pornographic scene as cum trailed from his mouth into yours, the taste of mixed juices tasting absolutely wonderful and vulgar as your tongues molded together.
you pulled away first, a pout sitting tightly on his lips. he pulled your shirt over your head before trailing kisses from your lips, down your neck, and ending on your previously neglected nipple, sucking it much in the same fashion as he had your cunt not ten minutes prior.
"ohhh," you breathed out, running your fingers through his now sweat matted hair. "go again, baby?"
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-> taglist: @rupsmorge @writer-in-theory @broken-stardust @reidselle
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ihavemanyhusbands · 1 year
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I am once again asking for some Spencer Reid x Latina!Reader drabble requests bc i want to put him in some situations ™️
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luveline · 2 months
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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❤️
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ddejavvu · 2 months
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Can you do a spencer reid with a bau reader who is younger and very atractive and when the bau are coming to see him at his apartment for whatever reason and use the key (derek probably has one ngl) they just find a mess of clothes everywhere and them just asleep together
When they wake up they are like:👀😶
Bau: 😏😏
They're not snooping, per se, but the BAU are profilers by nature, and it's not hard to spot the neon pink bra that's abandoned by the side of Spencer's recliner.
"Uh, I think pretty boy's mom has kinda aged outta stuff like this," Derek holds up the bra by one single strap, indicating the lacy cutouts that leave very little to the imagination, "Unless she's got a boyfriend we don't know about, and Spence let her have his place for the night?"
"Oh, come on, is it so hard to believe Spence has a woman here?" JJ pleads, but when she gets several 'subtle' glances from the rest of her team, she relents with a sigh, "Oh, fine. Maybe it accidentally fell into his basket at the laundromat."
"Spencer doesn't go to the laundromat," Emily recites, "Because he has 'no way to realistically verify that their machines are sanitized within proper health regulations'."
"Oh, dude, that man is a wet blanket," Derek scoffs, "But don't tell him I said that- he'll probably start on a tangent about mildew."
"We should leave," Hotch proposes, standing by the door where he'd been trying to keep up an air of polite disinterest despite his intent glances around the apartment, "His keys are hung up by the door, so I'm sure we're just not getting a response from him because he's sleeping. And if he woke up he'd kill you all for wearing shoes on his carpet, so it's in everyone's best interest to leave."
"Hold on!" Penelope gushes, "I just want to check!"
She creeps towards Spencer's bedroom, but at JJ's insistent, 'Shoes!', she chucks her heels back towards the door. One hits its intended blonde target, but the other whacks Derek in the arm, and Hotch is surprised that the dramatics that ensue don't wake Spencer from where he's presumably sleeping. He's sure Penelope will offer to kiss it better.
Penelope tiptoes towards the bedroom door, peering inside the small gap that he'd left before laying down, and finding a Spencer-sized lump under the covers. She nearly turns when she notices that it's larger than just Spencer-sized, and-
"Ooooh, guys," She rushes back to the living room, voice barely hushed enough not to wake you, "He's got a girl in there!"
Derek's victory fist-pump is accompanied by a whispered, 'My man!', but Emily reaches for a pen that's resting in the breast pocket of her blazer. She takes the bra from where Derek had set it on the arm of the couch, rooting around for a post-it in Spencer's drawer and finding a stack of them neatly tucked into the front-right corner. Typical. Just the way he does it at work.
While Penelope describes how close the two of you were sleeping beside each other- 'not an inch apart, guys, they were totally spooning!' - Emily scrawls a neat message on the post-it, dotting the I with a heart.
'Congratulations, Spencer and Mystery Girl!' She writes, leaving the sticky note over the lingerie that she sets on his countertop, 'Tell him to bring you around the office sometime soon - your bra is gorgeous, I need to know where you got it ~ Prentiss <3'
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tinyluvs · 10 months
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imagine dating spencer and you come to visit or something and make him so distracted that he literally can’t info dump on something and the rest of the team is just shocked
yes yes, a hundred times yes 🤭 thank you so much!
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catching a glimpse of yourself in the elevator mirror was the last thing you needed right now. you were covered in paint, your dungarees showing up every coloured streak and hand print against the light denim. you're sure there's paint in your hair but you don't have time to dwell on it, you're late
you'd got stressed, painting your boyfriends apartment on your own, lost track of time and then didn't have the time to change before running out of the apartment, just about managing to remember to grab yours and spencer's lunch on the way
"i'm so sorry i'm late," you sigh and frown as you rush through the bullpen to the collection of desks you're oh so familiar with, "please excuse the state of me,"
spencer turns at the sound of your voice, "hi sweetheart," he hums, looking up at you just as you dip to kiss him quickly before pushing the bag of food onto his lap
"hey," you smile softly at your boyfriend before turning to his colleagues, "hey guys, how are we all?" you ask, getting a mixed bunch of replies back
"how's painting?" derek laughs, looking at your appearance and the state of your clothes
you slide onto spencer's desk, pulling your legs up to sit cross legged, "standing six feet up a ladder trying to hold a tray of paint and a brush is hard, i've nearly fallen off twice," you huff,
spencer hands you the sandwich he knows is yours and then seemingly looks at you properly for the first time since you've been there, "hey," he says, almost breathlessly
"hello?" you question, head tilting slightly, "you've already said hi," you say, looking at emily and jj who just snicker and shrug their shoulders but spencer doesn't reply, "oh before i forget!"
your boyfriend watches you carefully as you produce a piece of paper from the tiny pocket on the front of your dungarees, flapping it around to unfold it, your other hand busy clutching your food
"the living room is next, i need to know how much paint to buy," you explain, handing the paper to him, "the cans are one litre or five litres, i can't figure it out"
truth be told you hadn't bothered to try and work it out, knowing spencer would be able to reel off the answer like it's nothing, naturally, he knew the exact measurements of every wall in his house
the boy stares up at you blankly, big brown eyes soft and sparkly. your cheeks heat up under his gaze, your eyebrows raising slightly, "spence?" you nudge him with your knee
he jumps ever so slightly, his head shaking a bit, "hmm?" he asks before only just registering you've handed him something, his eyes scan over it, "oh!" he blushes, turning his chair to face his desk
"what colour are you doing the living room?" jj asks while she stabs at her salad like it's offending her. you'd consulted the girls with all of the decorating developments.
"a light brown i think, we have so much to hang on the walls," you pause to swallow, "so something neutral," you finish with a slight nod
a door opening to your side grabs your attention, aaron coming out of his office with his lunch. he comes down into the bullpen, sitting on the edge of emily's desk, "the paint fighting back?" he asks you, slight smile creeping over his face
you roll your eyes at him, playfully, while the other laugh at your expense, "very funny but i don't see any of you offering to help"
penelope scoffs, "actually, i did" and she was right, however her idea of getting wine drunk and decorating had been quickly shut down by spencer, the only input he's actually offered up in the whole process
giggling, you turn back to your boyfriend who's been far too quiet, "boy wonder?" you say gently, pushing your fingers through his hair, "got an answer for me?"
usually he would have an answer within seconds, his minutes of silence making you frown, he turns to you with the same frown painted across his face, "i don't know," he says
people around you gasp, loudly too, "what do you mean, you don't know?" emily almost chokes on her lunch, sitting forward to gawp at the boy
"i do not know how much paint we need" he confirms
derek scrambles, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "say it again, i need record of this moment" he pleads while garcia smacks him
"well there's a first," david says, wandering over after hearing spencer say i don't know for possibly the first time, ever
your boy stares at the paper in his hand and then up at you, confused, "i have to go and work it out, excuse me" he says, rushed, as he stands and takes off towards circle table room
after a moment of shocked silence you turn to the team who are all staring directly at you, "i'll go check on him, i wonder what's wrong?" you say to no one in particular as you hop off of the desk
"i think i know," jj sing songs and the others hum in agreement as you hop up the stairs and along the walkway into the room.
when you get into the room spencer is stood in front of the biggest whiteboard you've possibly ever seen, marker in hand though the board is still empty of his handwriting
"spence? angel?" you say quietly, staring at his back as he starts to write the measurements of the walls in his living room, "everything alright?"
he hums, not turning to look at you as he continues to work through the problem, "yeah, fine, just can't think properly when you're around," he admits, "not when you look like that," he turns slightly to look at you
"oh, do you want me to leave?" you're sad, its obvious in your voice. nervously you start fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt
your boyfriend gasps, "no, no, honey that's not what i meant!" he says, holding his arm out. you slide into the space, head resting on his shoulder, "you're so beautiful and i love you so much, so so much, my brain just switches off when you’re around"
"really?" you giggle, looking up at him. he hums and nods his head, a light blush rushes up his neck before taking over his cheeks, "i love you too,"
he's taller than you, forcing you onto your tip toes to kiss him, not caring when someone, emily, whoops from the bullpen. gentle hands squeeze at your waist, while you hold his face with one hand, the other resting on his shoulder
"three litres," spencer mumbles against your mouth, you pull away with a sight hum, forgetting what you'd asked of him, "you need three but it's cheaper to just buy five and have left over, now come back" he huffs, his arm wrapping tighter around you to pull you back in for another kiss
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thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!
❥ spencer reid masterlist !!
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inkdrinkerworld · 19 days
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post!prison Spencer realizing you’re not always sunshiny and happy when one day he spots you crying in the hall before wiping your eyes and walking into the bullpen with your usual megawatt smile like you hadn’t been balling your eyes out five minutes before
It’s a call with your brother that really gets you started.
Spencer watches you take the phone call that starts off pleasant, you’re all smiles and then you frown, dark and full of an anger Spencer hasn’t ever seen on you.
He knows humans are capable of all emotional spectrums but it’s so foreign on your face and in your body language that he’s shocked a little still.
You walk to a secluded part of the office, hushed, rushed, heated words that Spencer feels horrible for straining his ear to listen to but it’s a strange sight.
He’s never seen you like this.
“How is that my fault? I can’t drop everything and take a plane over there every time shit hits the fan. They’re big kids now.”
What’s worse is your voice cracks and he wants desperately to rush to you, comfort you but he forces himself to stay where he is.
He strains his ear and hears you whisper,
“I’m not doing this again. I can’t be that person anymore. They’re 20, I can’t move back home just to baby them again. I’m not going to be walked all over by them anymore.”
You’re not together, you’re just friends- not super close but closer than anyone else on the team. Spencer feels like he should be comforting you when he moves to the kitchen and watches the first tear tumble down your cheek.
“Hey have you seen, Y/N?” Emily asks and Spencer turns his body to block you from view.
“She went to the bathroom, do we have a case?” He asks, stirring a pound of sugar into his coffee.
“Yeah, when she comes out tell her meet us at the jet.” She hands off a file to him and Spencer glances through the pages quickly.
Spencer watches you compose yourself, swiping at your face, fixing your hair and rolling your shoulders back.
Then he watches almost sadly, as you plaster a smile back on your face.
“Hey, Spence. Where’s everybody?” You open the fridge like you usually do and reach for the canister of whipped cream you keep tucked away.
“We have a case,” Spencer watches you shake it and spray some into your palm, connecting the dots over the many times he’s seen you do that in the last couple of months.
You’d always said it was just a, ‘pick me up’ and Spencer hadn’t thought twice about. You all have little things you do to keep you going in the job, but he realises now it’s less to do with work and more to do with your upset.
“Oh shit,” you spray another heap of cream in your palm. “I’ll get my go bag, can you fill me in while we walk, Spence?” You’re already turning to your desk, fiddling about the last draw for your go bag.
Your eyes are still a little red, and he watches you switch your contacts for glasses as soon as you get hold of the bag. “They burn a little right now,” you supply when you catch him looking and he nods like he doesn’t know the truth.
“Alright, let’s go,” he opens the case file Emily handed to him and starts, “So the unsub seems to be a woman hater? I’m not sure how no one figured him out before this is his sixth victim.”
You frown as you tuck your go-bag over your shoulder, “And the geography is all the same? No crossing state lines?”
Spencer admires how easily you slip back into work mode, but as soon as the case is over he needs to find a way to have you talk to him.
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secretlovezz · 6 months
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Spencer Reid wakes you up with kisses as often as he can.
His slightly chapped, perfectly pink lips drag across the heated skin of your neck. The kisses are sickeningly sweet and so impressively gentle that goosebumps spread themselves along your arms and butterflies erupt in your stomach making your eyes flutter softly as you start to wake yourself.
You grumble sleepily when his hands move to wrap around your waist tighter. Your hands grab and lace your fingers with his.
When your eyes finally will themselves open, they crack only slightly, your eyesight blurs, and you're pretty sure your eyes are crusted in the corners. Spencer's cheek smooshes roughly against yours and you groan in pretend annoyance. He smooshes harder in response.
"Spencer..." You groan again.
He presses a wet kiss to your cheek and you try to fight against the smile that began growing on your face.
"I just love you," Spencer whispers to you, you feel his breath against the shell of your ear.
"What time is it?" You ignore him on purpose.
He squeezes the skin of your waist, "Say it back... please."
You want to hold out just to tease him but the way his voice sounds when he pleads with you makes you give in instantly.
"I love you, Spence"
You feel a grin grow against your cheek, he snuggles closer to you almost like no matter what he can't be close enough like he needs to be attached to you completely, apart of you.
"Love you," He sighs, gives you one more sloppy kiss, and let's you fall back asleep once and for all.
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incognit0slut · 14 days
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Just the sloppiest head ever, that’s it. Choking, gagging, etc
Spencer finally lets you go down on him after you convince him that you're ready.
Warnings: (18+) soft dom spence x inexperienced fem reader. Oral sex (male receiving while he talks you through it?), female masturbation because reader can’t help herself lol. 1.8k words a/n: this is very much self-indulgent because I need him so bad. Ty anon for requesting
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"No."
You pulled away from him, shifting your weight on his lap as you peered down at him, a furrow forming on your brow. "No?"
He gently shook his head, his hands tracing up your thighs. "You're not ready yet."
You leaned back, creating some space between you, though it wasn't much given the way you were straddling him. "Wait a minute," you protested. "Since when do you get to decide if I'm ready or not? And why aren't you into it when most guys would be jumping at the chance?"
A faint smile danced on his lips. "I thought I’m the first guy you've ever been with."
"That's not the point!"
He laughed, his hands finding a firm grip on your waist. "It's not that I don’t enjoy the idea..."
"Then what's holding you back?"
He paused for a moment, his expression softening as he looked into your eyes. "Because I care about you," he confessed, his thumb tracing circles on your hip. "And I don't want you to feel pressured or rushed for anything we do together."
"That's what I've been trying to say," you replied. "I don't feel pressured. I want to."
He studied you, and when the silence went on, you knew you had to do something to reassure him. With a gentle sigh, you shifted closer, nestling against him, and allowed your lips to graze the sensitive curve of his neck. It was a spot you knew well, one that never failed to draw out a reaction from him. You felt the subtle hitch in his breath and smiled.
"You already went down on me yesterday and I really, really liked it," you murmured between kisses, your lips trailing further down. "Let me do the same for you."
Feeling the warmth of your breath against his skin, he let out a soft sigh, his resolve weakening.
"I..." he began, his voice catching as he struggled to find the right words.
You lifted your head to meet his gaze. "Trust me," you whispered, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his chest. "Let me show you how much I want this."
His eyelids drooped slightly as your hands moved down. When you paused, fingers poised right above the evident bulge in his pants, you realized you had him right where you wanted him to be.
"Come on, Spencer," you whispered, gripping him over the material of his pants, working your hand up and down his thickness. "Let me suck your cock."
He sucked in a sharp breath, his grip tightening on your waist as he met your gaze. What kind of man would he be to deny you? To say no to you as you looked at him with those glossy eyes, your lips running along your lips? With a low groan, he finally gave in, his resolve crumbling as he nodded in silent agreement. 
"Okay," he breathed out, his voice heavy with need. "Okay, just... only if you're sure."
With a reassuring smile, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I'm sure," you whispered against his skin.
As if a switch had been flipped, you felt the tension in him dissipate entirely. His touch on your waist was firm, sending a shiver down your spine, and the look in his eyes had you already feeling a flush of heat between your legs.
"Get on your knees."
Your breath caught in your throat at his tone, a thrill coursing through you at the sheer dominance in his demeanor. Without hesitation, you obeyed, slipping off the couch and sinking to your knees before him. The intensity of his gaze sent a delicious shiver down your spine, and you looked up at him, meeting his eyes as he reached for his belt.
As he undid his belt, the anticipation between you intensified, and you could feel the heat building between your thighs. With a slow, deliberate motion, he freed himself from the confines of his pants. Your pulse quickened as your gaze lingered on him, drinking in every detail, every inch of him, the veins pulsing on the underside of his cock.
Unable to resist any longer, you reached out, your fingers trailing lightly over his length, feeling the heat emanating from him. "I..." you started, your voice wavering slightly. "I might be bad at this."
His hand reached out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "Do you want me to talk you through it?"
Your heart skipped a beat at his offer. "Yes, please," you replied. "I want to make this good for you."
A soft smile tugged at his lips. "You already make it good just by being here," he murmured. "But I'll guide you, okay?"
His words melted away your nerves. "Okay," you whispered. "What do I do first?"
"Start with gentle kisses," he instructed, his voice low and soothing. "Explore the tip with your lips."
Following his guidance, you leaned in, pressing soft kisses along his length, feeling the tension in him building with each tender touch. You focused on every sensation, savoring the moment as you allowed yourself to immerse in the way he pulsed underneath your touch.
"Good," he murmured, his breath hitching as he looked down at the way you were gripping his cock, your mouth exploring every inch of him. "Now, use your tongue. Start with light strokes."
Encouraged by his words, you followed his guidance. With gentle strokes, you explored the sensitive skin with your tongue. His reaction was immediate—a sharp intake of breath followed by a low groan that sent a shiver down your spine. 
His reaction spurred you on as you increased the pressure of your strokes. His hands found their way into your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he held you close. "That's it," he whispered, his voice thick with need. "Just like that."
A sense of power washed over you as you continued to tease him with your tongue, relishing in the way he squirmed beneath you. You marveled at the effect you had on him, and with a boldness you didn't know you possessed, you licked him from the base to the tip, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.
His reaction was immediate, a low groan escaping his lips as he arched into your touch. "You're driving me crazy," he breathed out. "Do you think you can handle more?"
Your heart raced at the question, excitement coursing through your veins. "Yes," you replied.  "Please."
He guided your lips over to his tip. "Now take me in your mouth."
You leaned in, allowing him to slide into your parted lips. The sensation was intoxicating, the taste of him filling your senses as you eagerly accepted him into your mouth. His hands gently guided you, encouraging you to find a rhythm that worked for both of you and before you knew it, your head was bopping up and down his length.
With your hand already gripping him, you began pumping up and down as you sucked him, eliciting deep groans and breathy moans from him in return. "God, your mouth feels so good," he hissed, his voice thick with desire. "Look up at me."
Obeying his command, you lifted your gaze to meet his, locking eyes with him. He looked down at you with his cock buried deep inside your mouth, your cheeks flushed, and lips stretched wide around his girth. Driven by the desire to give him more pleasure, you sank your mouth further, keeping your eyes locked on his as his tip hit the back of your throat. 
The sensation made you gag, your throat burning with the effort, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. But you pushed through before finally pulling back, a string of saliva trailing from your lips as you gasped for air, and despite the discomfort, the look of satisfaction on his face made it all worth it.
His head fell back against the couch, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "I don't think I can last much longer," he admitted, his voice strained.
Feeling a surge of pride at the effect you had on him, you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his cock again, "Then let go. I want to taste you."
"Yeah?" he breathed, looking down at you. "You'd let me come in your mouth?"
Your tongue flickered over his tip, one right over his slit, and you felt his hips buck underneath you. "I think I'd let you do anything to me by now."
He let out a sound of pleasure, and without hesitation, you took him into your mouth again. You set a steady pace, moaning around his shaft as spit dribbled past the corners of your lips and down your chin. It wasn't long until the room was filled with obscene lewd noises as you took as much of him down your throat.
With each throb of him in your mouth and every intoxicating sound he made, the ache between your thighs intensified until it became unbearable. Unable to resist any longer, you let your free hand slide between your thighs, slipping underneath your skirt.
Surprised at how wet your panties were, you wasted no time in spreading your arousal everywhere, your fingers finding your clit with ease. You spread your legs further on the floor, arching your back as you pleasured yourself, your movements synchronized with the rhythm of your mouth along his cock.
Spencer's breath hitched as he noticed your dainty hand between your legs, the sight of you touching yourself while eagerly sucking and bobbing your head up and down his length sending him to the edge. He couldn't hold back any longer. 
He tightened his grip on your hair, his hips instinctively thrusting into your mouth as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation. His release finally washed over him in waves, his body trembling with the force of it as he emptied himself into your waiting mouth, and you swallowed the hot spurts down your throat eagerly, savoring the taste of him.
It didn't take long for you to feel the familiar coil of pleasure building within you. With his release still fresh on your tongue, you shifted your focus to your own pleasure, your fingers picking up the pace as you sought your own climax. And then, with a sharp gasp, you felt the wave of pleasure crashing over you.
You finally released him when your orgasm subsided, slumping over his lap. He was quick to bring you up on the couch, a tender smile on his lips as he looked down at you. "Did you make yourself come?"
Feeling a warm flush spread across your cheeks, you nodded breathlessly, unable to meet his gaze. "Yeah..."
His smile softened further, his fingers gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze.
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he assured you. But before you could respond, you felt his other hand slipping inside your skirt, tugging down your panties.
Your eyes went wide. "What are you doing?"
"I think it's only fair," he replied as he pulled your panties down your legs. Then, to your surprise, he got to his knees, positioning himself between your thighs as he pushed your legs apart. "I want to taste you too."
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claypgeons · 11 days
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hii idk if you’ve done this already but can u make a ff about the team finding out that spencer reid has a girlfriend - idm if it’s at his house where they visit him and find you answer or if you go to his workplace , i wanna see their reactions tysm !!
summary: the bau team meets spencers secret girlfriend
cw: secret gf, fluff, awkwardness, fem!reader
notes: thank you so so much for requesting, hope you enjoy!!!
Spencer Reid wasn’t answering his phone, that was a bad sign. While Reid wasn’t a big phone guy, he always made sure to call back, or at least text back if he missed a phone call. So when Penelope called him, to let me know that she, and the rest of the team, were downstairs, waiting for him so they could drive up to the beach, as they had planned a couple days earlier; and he didnt answer, or call back, she got worried.
“What if he’s hurt?” was all she had to say before she and the rest of the team were making their way up Spencer’s apartment complex stairs and up to his door.
Derek knocked on the door, Aaron couldn’t help but reach up to where the gun would usually be placed, only to wince when he realized it wasn’t there.
“Shit!” Derek hissed, jumping back in shock. He turned around to everyone’s concerned faces, “There was someone there!” he pointed to the peephole.
Emily stepped forward to peek into the peephole, only to stop midstep when she heard the sound of multiple locks being unlocked.
The door opened to a woman standing awkwardly in a Hello Kitty pajama set. The team stared at the woman confused, she stared back. “I..” JJ tried, “I think we’re at the wrong apartment?”
“Oh.” the woman muttered, awkwardly taking a step back before slowly closing the door.
The team stood in silence for a couple of seconds, confused and disoriented. “What…” Emily sighed, looking at Hotch for directions, but he was just as lost.
That was until he heard the sound of his name being called behind him. Turning around, he was faced with the sight of Spencer Reid walking toward him, his arms full of grocery bags, his face concerned.
“Is there a case?” he questioned, pulling out the key from his back pocket, and opening the door that a couple of seconds ago had gotten shut in their faces.
“No?” Derek managed out, his eyebrows furrowed, he peaked behind the door, where he got sight of the woman who had then awkwardly crept back into the apartment. She was behind Spencer, peeking over his shoulder.
“Beach day,” Emily mumbled, walking into the apartment, now with Spencer’s permission. She watched Spencer whisper something into the woman’s ear, whose eyes widened in immense shock. “Remember?” she and the others sat around Spencer’s living room, shamelessly watching the woman.
Spencer looked back and forth between his found family and the woman he loved. With a hand on her back, he presented her like a prize. “I forgot about the beach. I’m sorry.” he didn't seem sorry, “But this is my girlfriend.” he gifted them your name, smiling once you spoke up, “I’m sorry for not introducing her sooner.” again, he didn’t seem sorry.
“I’m um, sorry,” you started with a frown, “For shutting the door in your face.”’ you pointed at the door with an awkward smile.
After a moment of silence, Derek spoke up with a chuckle, “Pretty boy doesn’t talk to his girlfriend about us?”
You smile at Spencer’s deep blush, “No he does.” you laugh, “But he’s very adamant about me not opening the door to strangers.”
Anyone would be in our line of work, Aaron thought but he decided not to ruin the mood, so he kept it to himself.
“And I didnt know what you guys looked like, so…” you trailed off, hoping you didnt just ruin your first impressions with Spencer’s closest friends.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetie!” Penelope took the lead, “It’s great to be cautious, do you want to join us at the beach?”
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cerisereids · 14 days
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𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂- 𝘀.𝗿.
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pairing- s1!spencer reid x bau!reader
w.c.- 3.9k (wtf omg)
summary- spencer reid is your best friend. you’re in love with him, he wants someone else.
warnings- the jeid narrative in s14 pissed me off so bad i wrote this, miscommunication trope, reader obsesses over his hair (same), idiots in love, wingwoman!penelope
a/n- to be clear i am not a jj hater, i love her. i just don’t like what the writers tried to make happen between her and spencer
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
the soft glow of the morning sun floats through the window, coating the bullpen of the behavioral analysis unit in a peaceful golden light. you bask in the soft start of your morning, a rarity in your line of work, sipping your coffee as your fingers clack against the computer keys. the peace of your morning is ripped from you suddenly, though, when gideon and hotch barge from their offices in quick pursuit of the conference room. the team immediately follows suit, scurrying after one another to follow the two men.
hotch stands at the head of the room, sternly describing the case file he’s just received. there is a serial killer in the d.c. area, obsessed with leaving texts of ancient egyptian script at the crime scenes. as an analyst for the bau, you’re assigned to stay in the conference room with spencer in order to help decipher what the killer is trying to tell authorities. you share a smile with the boy next to you, both eager to tackle yet another assignment together.
you were hired to the bau as a young academic fresh out of graduate school, the same year as spencer. you two initially bonded over your shared love of reading, of analyzing text. it’s this skill that’s made you an asset to the team. you can decipher handwriting left by criminals in order to profile them; you can understand and analyze complex documents left for you at crime scenes, just like in today’s case. you found a partner in spencer very early on. you two were assigned those kinds of analytical tasks often, and proved to be very good at it, good at working together, at being together.
it wasn’t long before the mere sight of him started to give you butterflies, your chest constricting with affection. you cherish the late nights you’ve spent with him, in and outside of the office, inspecting documents and handwriting samples, the times where you’ve reached for the same file and your fingers brush together. movie nights at his place on the weekends, when you get so tired you allow yourself to curl into him, to let him wrap his arms around you, to pretend you’re something more. something in your stomach grows hot, and your palms start to sweat. you barely even notice that everyone else has gone off on their own assignments, leaving you and spencer alone in the conference room together. he sends you a million dollar smile and you get to work.
after a few hours of hard work, you suggest taking a lunch break. your lungs rejuvenate from the fresh air as you eat in the courtyard. you close your eyes and tilt your head up, feeling the glow of the sun warm your face, sighing as the vitamin d floats through your body. you can feel spencer’s eyes on you, and your heart kicks against your chest. how much longer you can take without confessing to him, you’re not sure. the limbo of being in love with your best friend is a torturous predicament to be in, especially when you work with him.
“hey, i need to ask you something,” spencer mumbles, and you see him pull out two tickets to a cowboys football game.
your heart now hammers against you, like a boulder spasming in your chest. your hands are sweating, shaking; is this it? could he be doing the hard part for you?
“gideon gave me these on my birthday. i don’t know if you knew this, but it’s j.j.’s favorite team. i was thinking of asking her on a date with them, but i haven’t watched a football game in over ten years,” he chuckles sheepishly, squinting his eyes down from the sun. “do you think it’s a good idea? i thought i should come to you since you’re my best friend, you wouldn’t steer me wrong.”
best friend. those words pierce through your gut like you’ve been shot with an arrow. you’re thankful his eyes are turned away from you, so he can’t see the infliction of those two fateful words.
“um-yeah,” you breathe out, barely audible, “i think it’s a great idea. it doesn’t matter if you don’t really watch football. if she likes you she’ll want to spend time with you, no matter what,” you fake a smile and pray to anyone that would listen to please convey the true message of your words, what you’re really saying. you know it falls on deaf ears, though, as you turn to throw your half eaten lunch in the trash, returning inside 30 minutes earlier than agreed upon.
“woah-where are you going?” spencer hastily cleans his things and jogs to catch up with you.
“i just think we need to get back to work. this case isn’t going to solve itself,” you shoot him a bitter smile, opening the door and not holding it open for him behind you, like you always do.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
j.j.? you think to yourself as you now delegate your portion of the work at your desk. the thought of being trapped in that conference room alone with him after your conversation at lunch unzips a shiver down your spine. your forehead is resting in your palm as your brain fights to focus on the case, and not drift back to spencer.
you were in complete and utter disbelief that the object of his affections has been j.j. this whole time.
j.j. is your friend, and you’re not mad at her. it’s not her fault that she’s the one spencer’s developed feelings for. you’re just completely caught off guard, utter shock clinging to every nerve in your body. you thought, after all of those shy smiles you’ve shared alone in conference rooms, the late night conversations on the jet, the nights you’ve spent at his place, that they meant something more. you’re just shocked none of it did, and that you’ve completely misread your entire relationship with him.
if gideon gave him the tickets, that means he sees what’s going on between them, too. you furrow your brows, squeezing your eyes closed at this revelation. god, you feel so stupid. how could you have let your own feelings blindside you from what your best friend actually wants? you have no future in profiling, that’s for certain.
you see a shadow looming over your desk from your peripheral vision, and you know who it is merely from the outline of his hair. you look up to find a sheepish spencer reid, seemingly nervous to even be approaching you. you hate that. you hate the idea of him on a date with j.j. even more, though.
“what’s up?” you try to sound interested, but you can both hear the restraint lacing your tone.
“i think i found something. we, uh-we need to gather the rest of the team,” he states.
his voice is quiet, small, his big brown eyes are boring into yours. you nod. the tension grows thicker the longer you stare at each other, eyes desperate to convey everything your mouths are too afraid to say. the file spencer was holding slips through his fingers, falling on your desk with a crisp clack. the noise cuts through the trance you find yourselves in, and you go red as a tomato, looking in your lap to avoid those lethal eyes.
“let’s go,” you mutter, walking past him without so much as a glance.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
over the course of the next week, you spend many work hours nursing your bruised ego in penelope’s batcave of an office. as the two analysts of the team, a lot of your work overlaps, so hotch didn’t raise a brow at the sudden change in your routine, not working with spencer so much. you’re able to tell her about everything going on with him during your brief moments of down time, when you’re filing paperwork or doing light research.
“oh. my. god.” she gasps, aware of your feelings of him from the start, “babe. no way,” she swivels her chair so she’s fully facing you, “i’m sorry! i thought he was into you, too,” she frowns, handing you a unicorn plushie from her desk drawer, “here, take mr. unicorn. he’s the best man on the planet.”
you chuckle sadly and squeeze the soft animal, utilizing its comfort as much as you can. “thanks, pen,” you settle your cheek on the squishy animal’s head and look at her sadly, eyes glassy and big, “i think it was too good to be true. he’s almost too perfect, maybe this is a sign.”
you see her deflate at your defeated tone, her hand reaching out to grab yours, running her thumb over your skin. you stay like that for a moment, allowing yourself to feel the complex emotions you’ve suppressed throughout the week. you’ve only spoken to spencer two or three times this week, about work things only, and it’s wednesday. each day that passes like this weighs heavy, like an anvil on your heart. the feeling is so overwhelming you have no choice but to suppress it until you get home, lest the floodgates are unleashed in the same vicinity as the perpetrator.
paperwork it is.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
that following monday, you sit, stewing at your desk, desperate to blend in to the background. you think back to one week ago, one week since you’ve had that fateful conversation with spencer. you nearly have whiplash from how fast things have changed in only a week. you yearn for the softness of that morning, of the blissful ignorance in thinking that you actually had a chance with spencer reid. your heart aches, the vulnerable throb in your chest paralyzing you. you rest your chin in your hands as your eyes mindlessly drift over emails you missed from the weekend, willing your brain to not work so hard unless absolutely necessary.
you’re snapped out of your pity party by the click of a door unlatching, the soft patter of converse on tile filling the bullpen. your eyes involuntarily follow spencer as he barges in. he’s impossible to ignore, clad in the most adorable button up/sweater vest combo you have ever seen in your life, walking full speed ahead with a scowl planted firmly on his face. the look on his face is so wholly unfamiliar, a look of hurt masking his usually soft features, the light in his eyes gone. the contrast is enough to shock you back to life once more, now registering a flustered penelope hot on his tail. the click of her heels echo through the bullpen in a desperate attempt to keep up with a man who is nearly a foot taller.
“spencer-wait! ugh!“ penelope grunts as spencer falls into his desk chair, immediately using work as a means to deflect. his back is to her as he sifts through the files littering his desk.
you study him from where you sit, his brows furrowed, his shoulders slumped, and lips in a tiny pout that pokes and prods at your heart. penelope gives up quick, turning away with a grunt and a look on her face that read ‘don’t ask’. on her way past your desk, though, she leans in and whispers, “meet me in my office after our meeting,” making your eyes go wide and your heart pick up in speed.
you use the new case to distract your mind from what could possibly be going on with spencer, and opt to stay back with penelope during this case. when you make your decision known in the conference room, spencer flinches. you just barely catch it out of your peripheral, you’re not sure you would have even registered it had garcia not smacked you in the thigh immediately after it happened. hotchner’s eyes flit from you, to penelope, then to reid. morgan coughs. the team is then dismissed.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“she brought you to the date?!” you can’t believe what you’re hearing.
“yes! i had no idea it was the date,” penelope gushes. you’re setting up materials for the case, waiting for the team to land for more information. in the meantime, she fills you in on the weekend, “i’d just assumed it was a separate event. it never occurred to me that she would invite another person to that. poor spencer’s never been so disappointed to see me,” her tone turns a bit guilty at that, and now it’s your turn to flinch at his name.
“that’s insane, why would she do that?” you ask, bewildered.
“to be honest with you, i have a few ideas…” penelope teases, setting up her computer for the day.
your eyes narrow into slits as she files her nail, feet up and resting on the desk as the rest of her equipment loads.
“what?” you breathe out, even though you both knew.
“come on,” she kicks her feet off the desk and swivels to face you, frozen in front of a box of files, stricken by what you both know is coming next, “it’s you. he has feelings for you, for sure. j.j. knows it too, everyone does. we all see it.”
“really?” you once again can’t believe your ears. relief floods your veins, the rush too sweet to pay attention to your conscious, desperate to sprinkle some guilt in there. you don’t care, though, not after the pure and utter agony of the past week.
“yes, of course! he likes you, i have no doubt about it,” penelope states matter of factly.
you round the corner of the desk and come to sit on a chair opposite her, “what makes you say that?” you’re unintentionally severe, palms resting flat on your thighs, leaning into her as to not miss a word. luckily for you, though, penelope is just as intense.
“it became clear to me when i saw them interact at the game. yes his ego was bruised a little, but he was light, airy. almost relieved. nothing like how he came in today,” she remarks, and your brows knit together in confusion.
“so you’re saying he was at ease with her, but nervous and grumpy when he had to be around me. that doesn’t make any sense,” penelope rolls her eyes at your denial, but you’re quick at the defense with a new argument, “and he told me gideon gave him those tickets to ask her out on a date. it’s her favorite team.”
you cross your arms across your chest and lean back, “i appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, penelope, but if the best profiler on the team could tell he likes her, then he likes her. not me.”
just saying it causes the crack in your chest to reappear, callusing your heart once more.
“ugh, no!” she exclaims, “you two are the most stubborn people i’ve ever met in my life, i swear!” she rolls her eyes and turns back to her now fully loaded equipment as your jaw hangs open in shock.
“what is that supposed to mean?” you lightly scoff.
“all i’m saying is that he was relieved that j.j. brought me, that he was being rejected. after the initial disappointment passed, that is. you’re going to have to get the rest of the information from spencer himself,” she decides, just as her phone starts to ring. saved by the bell, damn her. “talk to each other. you miss each other. everybody can tell and it’s getting sad, like watching two lost puppies roam aimlessly without each other.”
before you can give an answer to her crazy analogy, she turns away from you and flips open her cell phone, “talk to me!” she chirps, and hotch’s stern voice brings you back to the task at hand. you’ll simply have to talk to spencer later. great.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
the team was able to land back at home that same night, luckily closing a quick case. after penelope says goodbye to you and spencer, you’re both the last ones in the bullpen. you two anxiously glance around, desperate for anybody else to be there, to break the suffocating tension between you two, thick and heavy with unanswered questions, words unsaid.
as you walk past spencer’s desk, he goes to walk with you, next to you. you haven’t been this close in proximity to him in a week, and the smell of his cologne, his aftershave, makes you heady. you both stop at the elevator, unsure who should go first. you decide on impulse that it has to be you, you can’t take this any longer. you turn to face him, and say the first thing that comes to your mind,
“she brought penelope?”
had it been anybody else, you may have kicked yourself for shoving your foot squarely into your mouth, but it’s spencer, so he laughs. it’s an eye creasing, cheeks bunched up, teeth showing kind of laugh, and you have no choice but to laugh, too. there’s a pang in your heart as this familiarity dawns upon the two of you once again. you’re desperate to keep it, so much so that you don’t move when the elevator dings and the doors open. neither of you do. you stand there, taking each other in, cheeks warm and breathing heavy, as the doors slide close once again.
“yeah. yeah, she brought penelope,” he remarks, red ears hiding behind his slickened hair. your eyes focus on one particular lock that’s fallen over his forehead, nearly in his eye. a sense of longing pierces your heart like cupid’s arrow, you fall in love with him all over again.
“you should wear your hair curly more,” you croak. spencer is unphased at your sudden change of topic, and sends you a small smile.
you��re the only one on the team that’s seen him with his hair curly. you revel in it any time you’re lucky enough to get a glimpse, when you’re sharing a hotel room or his couch on movie night. a strange nostalgia seizes you as you take in his hair, not realizing how much you’ve missed it, missed him until you’re standing there, taking all of him in.
“maybe i’ll start,” he says back gently, another silence falling between the two of you.
“l-listen, i have something i need you to know,” he says, turning to face you, tone growing more confident as he speaks, “gideon told me to ask out j.j. because i’ve been heartbroken over you for weeks.”
time stops.
“heartbroken?” you’re incredulous. “why? what did i do?” you’re nearly panicking, racking your brain for what you could have done to your best friend.
“n-nothing really. i think i heard you talking to penelope about me one day, about how you don’t see me in that way,” he stutters a bit, his head turned down to hide his flushed cheeks, “i thought there was something between us, but after hearing that-i-i just assumed you didn’t feel the same. it made sense, girls like you don't typically go for guys like me.”
your heart cracks in your chest, “spencer,” you whisper out, “don’t say that,” it’s all you can muster. he’s the most beautiful man on the planet. you’ve never been so sure of anything.
he rolls his eyes and you want to shake him until he believes it, “well, he gave me the tickets to try and put myself out there with someone else. j.j. is great, don’t get me wrong, but she’s not you. no one is,” he says, eyes boring into yours.
you take in every word falling from his lips, your brows marrying together. your brain is flying at a mile a minute trying to remember the conversation he’s talking about. suddenly, you stop. your gaze turns to him, eyes wide as the memory comes to you. it had to have been two months since then, but you knew that wasn’t a problem for spencer. if he overheard, he remembers every word out of your mouth.
you were chatting with penelope in the empty conference room. it was a monday, and you had gone out on a date the weekend before. he was the topic of conversation right before spencer came in, how he was ‘so cute’ with his ‘brown eyes and curly brown hair’, how he was ‘the perfect height- like 6’1-6’2’. and yet, you only liked him as a friend. the reality was, you were searching for spencer in every man you pursued, and none of them ever measured up to him. how could they?
“spencer,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands, “i went on a date that weekend. that’s who i was talking about. not you,” the last part comes out in a whisper as realization dawns on spencer’s face, uncertainty dancing through his big brown eyes.
“why didn’t you tell me you had a date?” he asks, puzzled, “is that why you couldn’t come over for movie night that weekend?”
your heart breaks even more, if that’s possible at this point, you wanted to be there. you wanted to be there so badly.
“i had convinced myself that it would never happen. you and me,” you start, and his eyes grow even wider than before, “i was looking for you every time. in every date. that’s why i never told you. it would never work out anyway, because they weren’t you. i wasn’t brave enough to admit that to myself until just now, i guess,” you grow a bit sheepish as you finish your explanation, your eyes glossy. your gaze finds the floor to avoid his piercing gaze. those eyes will kill you one day.
“what does that mean?” he says, so gentle, so spencer.
“it means i’m in love with you. i have been for years, since we started together,” you gush, tears finally falling over your lash line at your confession.
his eyes shut too, a gentle flutter of lashes against his cheek. you see a tear escape down his cheek, too.
“i love you, too. god, i love you too,” he whispers, moving immediately to scoop you up in his arms. he presses the elevator button again, finally getting you two out of there. he keeps you in his arms, carrying you into the elevator, refusing to let go as he squeezes you tight, legs wrapped around his waist as the doors close shut behind you.
as you descend, you reluctantly put your shaky legs on the floor, pulling away slightly to find his gaze.
“hi,” you whisper, biting your lip to try and suppress the cheesy smile taking over. you fail, grinning so wide and so bright, you’re afraid you might blind him.
“hi, beautiful,” he whispers back, brushing your hair back softly with his hand. he then cradles your jaw in his palm, pressing his soft lips against yours.
it’s a gentle kiss, but a passionate one. you both wish desperately to convey every single time you wanted each other, how long you’ve loved each other.
spencer pulls away from you for a brief moment to ask, “do you want to be my girlfriend? i think maybe we should try dating each other,” his sarcasm has you grinning from ear to ear.
“i think that’s the most genius idea you’ve had yet, doctor,” you lean in to kiss him again. he groans at the title, lips surrendering back into yours.
the ding of the elevator breaks your kiss, and you can’t hide your cheesy grins as you walk into the parking garage, your pinkies linked together.
“do you wanna come back to my apartment tonight? we can watch a movie?” spencer suggests nervously, like you’d say no. god, you love him.
“that sounds perfect,” you smile, pulling him in for another kiss. you can tell he’s expecting a light peck, but you deepen it, your hand finding the nape of his neck. your lips softly click together as you move against each other, your tongue just barely slipping into his mouth.
“see you at home,” you wink and get into your own car, leaving a flustered spencer reid in your wake.
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pathologicalreid · 22 days
Text
hair care
spencer reid x gn!reader, fluff
w/c: 481
this is based on a tiktok i saw where someone's bf bought the stuff they use in the shower and i thought! spencer would do that!
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“Where are you going?” Spencer asked you groggily from where he had been sleeping in his bed. He was blinking at you while he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of his bedroom.
You were hobbling around his room, trying to pull socks on over your feet. In all honesty, they were probably Spencer’s socks, but you hadn’t wanted to turn the light on. “I have to go home before work,” you told him, keeping your voice low, “I need to wash my hair.”
In the darkness, you saw your boyfriend narrow his eyes at you, “I bought your hair stuff for you.”
Stilling your movements, you dropped your half-socked foot to the ground, “You bought my hair stuff?” It had caused problems since you started spending the night at Spencer’s, you tended to be very particular about your hair products, and you didn’t like to stray from your routine.
“I wanted you to be able to wash your hair here,” Spencer offered, wiping a hand down his face.
Suspicious, you went into the ensuite and opened the shower door. Your sleuthing uncovered the fact that he had in fact purchased all of your haircare supplies – even the things you used once you got out of the shower. “Babe,” you said, still minding your volume, “some of this stuff is expensive.”
You heard him shuffling around on the sheets, but you couldn’t totally see him in the dark, “I know - when I told Morgan he told me I was whipped.”
Rolling your eyes, you sat down on the ledge of the bed. Derek didn’t have any hair to wash, so in your mind, his opinion on the subject didn’t matter. “You have to let me pay you back,” you insisted. Really, some of the products were getting out of hand expensive.
Spencer reached out and pulled you further onto the bed, “I don’t have to let you do anything,” he chided softly. “Besides, now you don’t have to leave at four in the morning to go wash your hair across town.” As usual, his reasoning was sound. You lived on the other side of D.C., and even further from Quantico, making it no surprise that the two of you had been ending up at his place at an increasing frequency.
“But you don’t get anything out of it,” you said, pouting slightly, despite the fact that he couldn’t see your expression in the dark.
Dragging you back down to the bed with him, Spencer corrected you, “Now you don’t have to wake me up when you get up at four in the morning to go wash your hair on the other side of town.”
You sighed, “I always try to be really quiet,” you insisted. You would never purposefully wake him up at four in the morning.
He hummed sleepily, “and yet, you’re really bad at it.”
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hornyhornyhimbos · 10 months
Note
i’d very much love and appreciate reader w/ a hand kink!! i’d be happy with spencer, eddie, or steve. you can choose:)
happy friday, fellow freaks! went with dom daddy spencer since he's the one who made me realize i have a hand kink <3
i'm not saying spencer reid is a sugar daddy... but i'm also not saying he isn't one ♡
18+ as always, mean dom!spencer x slightly bratty!afab!reader, use of a toy i sorta forgot how loud vibrators are oops, semi-public sex (in a dressing room), choking, slight spanking, reader is called good/bad girl and baby, spencer is called daddy, explicit language, and also spencer is rich in this fic because he's unit chief, 1.7K words, color-coded speaker tags, beta read by @broken-stardust!
filthy fridays | ask box
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it started as a small gesture, nothing to think about really.
the two of you had found yourselves wandering from store to store, spencer having decided that it had been too long since he'd spoiled you. his paycheck was anything but small, having finally achieved the position of unit chief, and in celebration, it was only fair he spoiled the girl who'd been by his side on his way up the bau food chain.
his hands had made their way into your back pockets as the two of you walked into the lingerie store, his personal favorite store in the whole mall.
it was a small gesture, just a simple way he could have his hands on you while remaining inconspicuous. but somewhere in the mix of the sexy energy radiating throughout the lingerie store and your slight hand kink, this tiny action had you nearly weak in the knees. spencer had clearly noticed the way your breath was hitching in your throat—not to mention the flush that had spread across your nose and cheeks—but had decided against addressing it. probably just to make you even more needy, you reckoned. instead, his hands parted from your waist, a tiny kiss meeting the exposed skin of your neck.
if you hadn't been blushing before, you would've turned the color of a freshly-picked tomato after that.
"hey, baby?" he asked, innocence coating his words when he spoke. "i'm gonna go look at something really fast but you pick out whatever you want, yeah?"
without giving you time to respond, he parted from you, heading toward another section of the store. your mind wondered where he'd needed to go by himself, but you shrugged it off, turning back to the lacy pink set you'd been eyeing moments before.
you grabbed three different sets before making your way to the dressing room, catching a glimpse of spencer at the checkout counter. your brows furrowed as you thought about what he might be buying without your knowledge, but you couldn't deny you loved the idea of a surprise.
you pulled the curtain closed behind you before starting to slide off your clothes, first trying on the prettiest black satin bra you'd ever seen.
spencer's deep voice startled you as he slid behind the curtain, his body all but melding to yours due to the confined space. his breath was hot on your shoulders as he whispered, "didn't mean to scare you."
your breath hitched again. "no, it's okay, love," you reassured him.
he kissed the crook of your neck as his hands wandered up your body, palms stopping at your bra-clad breasts and cupping them like they were made to do exactly that. "just needed to get a sneak peak at all the pretty things my baby's getting for us."
your eyes met his in the mirror. "do you like this one?" you managed to ask, your chest clearly breathing harder than normal.
"'s very pretty," he answered, lips meeting your neck again. "it'll look even prettier on our bedroom floor, though."
you were convinced he'd stolen all the breath from your lungs when he moved one hand from your breast to the fastening, unhooking it with barely two flicks of his index finger. and when his lips grazed your ear and he whispered, "i got you a surprise. you wanna see?" your head was spinning so hard, it felt like you'd just stepped off the tilt-a-whirl.
after you managed to respond, he reached into the little white bag he'd brought along, pulling out a pretty, little clit sucker that you may or may not have been hinting you wanted. your eyes flickered from the toy up to his gaze, his normal honey-colored eyes now bordering on jet black. "spencer-" your protest got caught in your throat, and you cursed your body for giving away your hidden motive. of course you wanted him to use that on you right there in the dressing room, but he couldn't know that.
he began opening the package, internally thanking the maker of the toy for deciding on easy-to-open packaging. "just wanna see if it's charged," he reassured you. "might let you try it out on the car ride home if you feel up to it."
you were extremely grateful you hadn't tried on any panties yet, or else you might've ruined them before even buying them. you felt dizzy, and when spencer spun you around in one swift motion, the feeling increased tenfold.
he clicked the 'on' button, and the toy immediately came to life, so to speak. "let there be light," he smirked when the buttons glowed.
spencer's lips connected to the pulse point of your neck, like the perfect lock and key. "do you want me to use this on you?" he asked, his one hand palming at you through the satin.
"please," you said, though it was closer to a whimper.
his fingers crooked under the waistband of your now soaked panties, beginning to tug them down your body. "good girl."
your mouth fell into an open 'o' as the toy connected to your clit, a sensation you weren't quite used to but couldn't deny you were enjoying already. your head lolled back, your eyes falling closed as you settled into the vibration. spencer, however, didn't seem as pleased when he met you with a low, "who said you were finished trying on your new outfits?"
glassy eyes met dark ones as your gazes connected again. "how am i supposed to-"
"just because you can't try on the panties doesn't mean you can't try on the top pieces," he argued. and with that, he reached around you and grabbed another one of the lingerie tops. "here you go, baby."
just as you reached for the lacy fabric in his hand, the vibration of the toy increased, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips. "fuck," you whimpered, "how am i supposed to try things on when you do stuff like that?"
he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "now, that's no way to talk to your daddy, especially not when he's taking such good care of you and spoiling you today."
your eyes darted away, but his free hand met your chin, pulling your face up to meet his. "do i need to punish you? show everyone in this store what a bad girl you're being right now?"
you shook your head, even though you secretly wanted exactly what he was talking about. reluctantly, you tugged on the lacy bralette, the sheer fabric not leaving anything to the imagination.
he pulled your face towards his once again, meeting you with a kiss so hard, you knew your lips would be swollen afterward. "i like this one," he said against your mouth, his tongue dipping inside it at the end of his statement. you were almost positive there were tiny crescent moons dug into your cheeks when he pulled away, glancing down to the bra you'd just tried on. "ok, next one."
and just as you suspected, the second you tried to pull the bralette off, he increased the vibrations a second time.
"fuck, how do expect me to-"
you immediately regretted the tone you'd just used. "baby, you know what happens when you cop an attitude with me," he reminded you. yes, you did know, and maybe somewhere in the back of your mind, that's why you'd copped the attitude in the first place. "bad girls have to be punished."
his hand met your throat, wrapping around it with delicious pressure. "now, take. it. off."
you managed to get the bra off, his hand releasing just long enough for you to remove the fabric, but meeting you with harder force when it reconnected. his nails dug into your skin, and you moaned at the contact.
his eyes darted to the last piece you hadn't tried on yet, a demanding expression settling on his face. "go ahead. put it on. that one's daddy's favorite."
forget the air being knocked out of your lungs. when he spoke to you like that and gave you that look, you'd just as soon assume you didn't have lungs in the first place. your orgasm was close, but you knew it wouldn't be that easy. and maybe that's why your lips decided to betray you by taunting, "i can't."
"can't or don't want to?" he rebutted, an eyebrow cocking. you knew you'd stayed quiet a beat too long when that eyebrow came down and met the other in an angry furrow.
he scoffed, moving his hand from your neck to your wrist, manhandling you in the way you usually dreamed of. "you're being an ungrateful brat, you know that?" of course you did. "now i have to punish you when all i wanted was to pamper you."
he forced your hand around the handle of the toy, shooting you a look that said, no touching. in swift motions he turned the vibrations up to the highest setting, met your neck with even harder force, and somehow managed to put on the last bra with one hand.
"are you gonna be a good girl now?" he growled, so low you barely heard it.
you somehow nodded, but you should've known that wasn't good enough. spencer repeated his question, slightly louder. loud enough to have you worried the person in the next dressing room over could hear him. you managed a breathy, "yes," as just as you did your orgasm started to hit.
spencer must've noticed your blissed-out eyes, pulling the toy away from your clit immediately. "bad girls don't get to cum," he reminded you, releasing his hold on your neck.
the lack of pressure had you dizzy, falling into his chest as you tried to catch your breath. his lips planted a soft kiss on your hair, his hands grabbing hold of your waist. "aww, is my baby all worn out after doing so much work?" he teased, palm landing on the curve of your ass with a firm slap.
you met him with soft, glassy eyes when your bottom lip puckered out. "can you help me get dressed?" you said sweetly, like you hadn't been the biggest brat to him not three minutes ago.
"well," he said, smacking your ass again, "i suppose, since you asked nicely."
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-> taglist: @rupsmorge @writer-in-theory @broken-stardust @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold
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eternalizms · 2 months
Text
18+ mdni.
SWEATY WHITE SHEETS pooled around your body as spencer's eager hips snap against yours, fast and irregular. a string of strained moans fell from his parted lips. through half lidded eyes, you watched him throw his head back with a low groan. god, the veins in his neck protruded, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed back another moan.
"oh fuck- yes baby, just like that." he cooed, praising you for taking his cock so well. his lip nestled tightly between his teeth as you let out a whine. sweaty hair stuck to your forehead in a beautiful mess, red hot cheeks perfectly accompanying the delicious look of desperation in your eyes that were pleading at him, fuck. the headboard clunked against the wall with every stroke, his cock aching to be buried deeper inside you.
you were practically begging for him to cum, with they way your walls clenched oh-so perfectly around him. you felt your skin burning as spencer's hands glide up the back of your thighs, his fingers dug into your flesh as he opened up your legs further apart, perfectly slotting in to the new space he just made. his cock bottomed out in you, earning generous moans from you both.
"thaats it angel, just a bit more for me now, hm?" with a heavy pant, his eyes never left you writhing beneath him, feeling that familiar knot in your stomach build more and more every time that spencer drove himself deeper inside of you. your skin was sticky as it moulded together, clammy from a mixture of sweat and your wetness.
you adored spencer's hands, that much more when one started snaking between your thighs. a gasp leaves you as his long, skinny, fingers begin to toy with your clit. yearning to finally cum, lewd noises leave you - that make spencer so glad he has an eidetic memory. your hand reaches up towards his face, thumb nestling his cheek.
your gorgeous noise doesn't stop as you make eye contact with him, whimpering out in the smallest voice, " 'm gonna cum spence." his fingers toy circles faster now against your swollen clit, feeling your shaky legs pull him in further.
your eyes squeeze shut, orgasm taking over you completely. the pleasure blinded you, the mixture of spencer's cock stretching you open and deep, the desperate, animalistic sounds that left his mouth sending you over the edge. nails rake down spencer's back as you gasp out a string of profanities, begging as you came all over his cock. "oh- shit baby, spence, please."
that was all it took for him, a guttural moan announcing his orgasm. ropes of warm cum fill you up as his arms shake under his own weight. his breath was shaking more with every stroke. his cock pumps into you slowly as he rides out the high of his orgasm, the odd whimper escaping his lips as he recovered his own breath.
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luveline · 9 months
Note
i NEED anything with glasses reid or munch reid i’m literally frothing at the mouth 🙏
ty for ur request :D fem!reader
"Emily," you say weakly. "What is that?" 
Emily looks up from her desk, clearly desperate for a distraction, the lip of her coffee mug against painted lips. "What's what?" 
"That." You point. You feel sick to your stomach. "That right there." 
"Oh," Emily says happily. "You finally noticed. Yeah, Spence forgot to renew his contact prescription. He has to wear glasses for two weeks." 
Spencer stands by the photocopier with a perturbed frown, clicking a button, then another. His brow is furrowed and his hair is falling into his eyes. He has the stupidest, dorkiest, prettiest face, and practically every expression he makes has you weak in the knees.
"That long?" you ask. 
Derek looks up in concern at your pained tone, following the line of your eyes. When he realises what it is that's hurt you so, he skirts around the desk to shake your shoulder. "You could always tell him how you feel. I'm sure he'd keep the lenses forever if he knew you liked them." 
"I don't like them," you say. You sound faraway to your own ears. You hate them. They're gonna be your demise. 
Spencer runs a fingertip across the photocopier's screen, in his own world as the machine finally begins to chug out whatever it is he'd been wanting a duplicate of. The frames of his glasses sit snug on his nose. You can tell from even this distance that the lenses make his eyes look a tiny bit smaller. You could probably point out a misplaced freckle if he asked you to.
"Don't be cruel, he looks cute," Emily teases. 
Spencer collects his papers, shuffling them into a straight line as he makes his way back to the bullpen. You pretend to take interest in Emily's things. She sips her coffee too nonchalantly. Derek doesn't even bother pretending. 
"What?" Spencer asks, swift to spot your suspicious behaviours. "Is it the glasses?" 
You wince. "Of course not. You look… you look really nice, Spence." 
"You know he used to wear 'em every day?" Derek asks.
You would've died. "Before I joined?" 
"For a few years," Spencer says, looking you over. "You're unhappy. Is something wrong?" 
He looks to Derek and Emily for confirmation. Emily stutters for an answer while Derek laughs in the background, "She– you know. She just– She missed breakfast!" 
Spencer pushes his glasses up his nose by the leg and drops his copies onto the desk. "I have dried apricot in my bag. Two seconds." 
He bends over his chair to retrieve his bag from under the desk. Your eyes blow wide at his position, the sudden demonstration of well-fitted pants. Derek's laugh echoes up to the eaves. 
"And he has that twenty four seven," Emily says against the rim of her coffee. 
You scrunch your eyes closed and tilt your head back. After a few seconds, a hand touches your elbow gently, a hesitance that comes with only one member of the BAU. "You okay?" Spencer asks. 
"I'm okay. Headache," you lie. 
Spencer presses the apricot into your hands. "Maybe you should see an optician. You know they can tell if you have a brain tumour from one photo of your sclera?" He smiles morbidly, his glasses slipping down his nose. "They measure the size of your optic disk. It takes less than a minute. I can give you the name of my doctor, if you want. She's nice. Not as nice as you." 
Your throat is so dry you can't form words to answer him. He doesn't judge your rigid nodding. 
"I'll write down the number for you. And, Y/N?" 
"Yeah?" you choke out. 
"You look really nice today, too." 
Emily has to kick you in the leg to bring you back to earth. Stupid Spencer. Stupid lovely glasses. 
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