#criminal minds smut
Myth or Movie
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Summary: Unbeknownst to the two of them, Y/N and Spencer's children have worked up a plan to get them to meet...
Category: SMUT (18+)
Content: Strong language, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative/unprotected sex, someone is misgendered (nothing too bad, it’s very brief, and it’s sincerely apologized for by the person who misgenders)
Word Count: 4.2k
NOTE: This is my 2nd entry for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) Enemies To Lover’s Writing Challenge! This one was one of the prompts she provided: You and (Character)'s kids don't get along, so you have to have a talk. Turns out you... really really get along... and I couldn’t wait to tackle it! I believe my exact words were: “I’m gonna Parent Trap these bitches”... So do with that what you will lol
"I'm so sorry I'm late!"
Two heads turn to stare at me as I burst through the doors. I'm out of breath from running through the building, something the staff really didn't seem to appreciate, though their shouts and annoyed glances were the last thing on my mind.
As I try to catch my breath, the two heads stand, and suddenly I feel a lot smaller.
One of them I recognize— Principal Anteros. I'd met with her before over some of Sky's academic achievements, all positive things, which is why today's circumstances make being in this office rather uncomfortable.
It's also why I seem to shrink with embarrassment at my tardiness— and appearance. Waitressing has its benefits, but today's whirlwind of phone calls and a mention at meeting another parent are not any of them.
Speaking of, the other person in the room is one I've never seen before. He's taller than both Anteros and I, extremely well dressed, and probably the most intimidatingly beautiful human being I'd ever met. I can barely meet his eyes, and so I try not to think about what he's doing here—to think about having to talk to him.
I shrink even further.
"Ms. Y/L/N," Principal Anteros greets. Thankfully she doesn't sound too upset given the circumstances. "Please, have a seat."
I do, brushing off my uniform as if that will somehow help my appearance. The soft leather of the chairs, however comfortable they might be, fail to bring me any comfort at all.
"As I'm sure you've guessed already, this is Doctor Reid, Vivian's father."
Great, he's a fucking doctor? This already bodes well for me...
Regardless of my reservations, I turn to him and give a faint smile. He waves in turn, and for the time being I'm extremely glad he doesn't insist on shaking my hand.
"It's nice to meet you," he says, surely nothing but a formality.
"You, too," I say quickly, then turn back to Principal Anteros. "Your phone call sounded urgent... Is everything alright?"
As soon as I say it, I feel kind of dumb. Because of course everything isn't alright. My child's principal called a meeting with another parent, and that can never mean anything good, not to mention the fucking intimidation and awkwardness in the room right now. I almost apologize, trying to explain that that wasn't exactly what I meant to get across, but then I would have just been talking for way too long, embarrassing myself further.
Once again, I'm thankful for Anteros's ability to move the conversation along. "I'm not sure, but it doesn't seem so. I only bring this to attention because Sky and Vivian are both stellar students. They've never had any disciplinary issues or difficulties with other students..."
"No one's hurt, right?" Mr. Reid asks. I know he's just concerned for his child, but for some reason it feels like an attack on me, like he assumes my kid had something to do with it.
"No, no one's hurt. Thankfully there weren't any physical altercations. But it seems your girls are quite... loud."
The doctor looks like he wants to say something, but I'm quick to jump in before he can. "Sorry... Sky is non-binary. They use they/them pronouns."
I half expect one or either of them to make a big deal or just roll their eyes at me, as most people seem to do when I correct them on the matter, but Anteros gives a sincere apology and Reid probably couldn't have cared any less.
I still can't tell if I like him or not...
But that doesn't matter right now.
"What do you mean by loud?" I continue.
Anteros sighs. "Well, while there hasn't been any physical violence, your kids seem to have very heated arguments, usually during lunch or in the hallway in passing... We thought maybe we could resolve it here since, like I said, they're both excellent students, but then it started escalating to classroom arguments... It's a lot of screaming..."
I have never known Sky to raise their voice at anyone, not even in a situation where I probably would have. Lord knows I'm thankful they don't have my impatience and tendency to get pissed off easily...
So what happened that was so bad, it made them snap?
"You... You're sure you mean Vivian is acting out like this?" Reid asks slowly, and I can't stop myself from laughing out loud.
"Come on, she's a professional. This has been going on for weeks, in her school, I'm sure she would know if it was your kid having a screaming match with someone else..."
This time Doctor Reid actually looks over at me, an eyebrow raised, and though I very much believe what I've just told him, the way he's looking at me right now drops my heart straight down to my stomach, like he's the principal and I'm the student acting out—No, it's worse than that... I feel like he's a disappointed parent, but not with Vivian, with me.
I avoid his intimidating stare and look down at the ground. "Sorry... I'm just... This isn't like Sky, either, I don't know what to do..."
"Well, usually when we have these sort of disputes, we like to have the students talk it out amongst themselves with a moderator present. But we've tried that, and it seems that they still haven't made any progress. Now, I know your children are good at heart, and it seems like you both are excellent parents— You know your children better than anyone here ever could. So, I'm proposing the two of you take a meeting some time and try to figure out how to settle this."
Seriously? If it hasn't been made clear already, this man is a doctor of some kind, planets away from my league in any capacity, and I can just picture the two of us in a screaming match close to what I imagine our children's looked like...
Maybe we can just e-mail.
"Okay," he agrees evenly, and I'm surprised he seems this calm considering I've just practically yelled at him... "I have free time this afternoon if you want to talk it over."
"I have to get back to work, but I get done at five," I sigh, wanting to get this over with. "Are you free then?"
"Good," Anteros chirps, standing and leaving Doctor Reid and I to follow suit. "Perhaps over the weekend we can get this settled."
I sure as hell hope so.
"Ms. Y/L/N, wait!"
I have no idea what he could possibly want from me now that we've set a time and place to talk tonight, but I'm just praying desperately that he doesn't want to take this time alone in the parking lot to get back at me for accosting him in Anteros's office...
Thankfully, his face when he approaches seems rather kind.
"You can call me Y/N..."
"Right," he says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and nodding. "I'm Spencer."
"Spencer... So, um... Did you need something?"
"O—Oh, I just... I know you have to get back to work so I'll make this short, but I wanted to see if you wanted to do, uh... dinner tonight?"
"Well, I just figured since we probably didn't expect for our weekend to go this way... We should make it worth it?"
"Are you really trying to turn this into a date?"
"W— No, not really, I just... You know, I thought it might be nice to... make this less like a chore, you know? A—And don't feel like you have to say yes, it was just a thought, I'm sorry if I made this weirder..."
The fact that I still can't figure this man out bothers me, but right now he's blushing, and he looks like he's trying to save himself from embarrassment, and it's so fucking adorable that I don't really care that I was just annoyed.
So I tell him, "Sure. Why not?"
"Yeah... Besides, Lord knows I haven't gone out for dinner in a long time."
The doctor is relieved, a smile creeping up on his lips that suddenly tugs at my insides and makes me wish for a second that it really is a date he's offering... "Okay, good. Do you want to meet at Waterstone, seven o'clock?"
The excitement starts to drain from me as he says it, followed by an incoming wave of embarrassment. "Oh, man, that... That place is kind of expensive, I don't—"
"Oh, it's okay, I'll pay for everything. I'll even wait outside for you so we can go in together if you'd like..."
Why he's being so nice to me I have no idea, but it's making my annoyance melt and my heart start to beat faster, and I really don't know how to feel about that. In fact I'm pretty sure it's weird as fuck given the circumstances.
But all I have to do is make it through this weekend, hopefully all will be back to normal, and I won't ever have to think about it ever again.
"Alright... It's a date."
Out of all the scenarios I'd pictured for the end of the night, this definitely had not been one of them.
I finished my shift at the diner, imagining on my drive home the look on his face when I inevitably showed up with something on my face or stained on my dress; Instead I showed up to Waterstone and was greeted with wandering eyes and showered with bashful compliments.
I expected to get into some type of argument about how each of our kids were better than the other or something, but we ended up talking through their traits with compassion, interest, and pride, all while agreeing that we just have to sit with them this weekend and explain that there are easier, better ways to sort out disagreements than screaming at each other in public.
I expected not to have much fun at all, but by the time we gathered the check and headed out the door, Spencer and I were laughing, just a little tipsy on Cabernet, our hands gently brushing and sparks shooting up my arm at the feeling.
I expected to go our separate ways and walk to my car and drive home, but instead he ended up telling me he was taking the Subway home, and I offered to give him a ride to the opposite side of town where I lived (Waterstone was right in the middle).
I expected to walk through the door, stumble straight up to bed, and sleep until Sky inevitably woke me up with them saying I've slept in too late and needed to get ready for work, but instead I ended up following Spencer up to his door to say goodnight.
And now we're at a fork in the road, and I can take one of two paths.
I can say goodnight, watch him walk in, and then go home and forget about this whole thing.
Or I can keep letting him stare at me until I find myself leaning in to kiss him. Whether or not he'll actually reciprocate is another story, but the little bit of wine tingling in the surface of my body and the dark, intense look in his eye gives me more courage than I've had since I met him.
Before I can make a move, Spencer talks, his voice small and inviting. "Do you want to come inside?" The beating of my heart quickens immensely as he takes another step forward and brings his fingers out to graze my chin. "Vivian's with her mom tonight."
Yes. Vivian's mom, who divorced Spencer pretty soon in the marriage after she just decided his job was too much to handle. He'd quit and took a teaching job, but even still, she declined his pleading to stay married and eventually admitted that she just wasn't in love with him anymore. At least she had the decency to let him have joint custody once his schedule cleared up, and it seemed like they were decent co-parents. Maybe even friends.
I think about Sky, how much they wish their dad had stayed, and how much I wish he had too. I was devastated when he left without anything more than a note. For years it took a huge toll on us, and I barely had the headspace to even think about dating anyone since then.
But here I am now, standing with this man who has also lost a spouse, who's somewhat of a single parent, and who seems kind and genuine enough that I don't think I'd have to worry about bringing him into the life of my child.
Though, I don't even know it'll go that far. I'm getting too far ahead of myself, and so to slow down I look at what's right in front of me. Right now.
Spencer looks at me like he wants to devour me. My whole body is tingling from head to toe. I want to kiss him, and I'm pretty damn sure he wants to kiss me back. He just invited me inside, which means that if I accept, we'll most likely end up sleeping with each other.
Again... Definitely not one of the scenarios I'd had in mind when I left the school today. But it's a damn good one, and he's so hot I want to cry.
My flirty switch turns on so fast, it nearly gives me whiplash. "And what are you gonna do if I say yes?"
"Depends... How badly do you want to walk tomorrow?"
My first instinct is to jokingly tell him to put me in a wheelchair, but I settle for kissing him instead, hoping that gives the same sentiment.
The way he melts into my body tells me I've succeeded. My arms fly up to his neck and pull him closer, and he holds me tightly to him, waiting for my lips to part so he can expertly slip his tongue past them.
I whine out and take a step towards the door. Spencer comes with me and fumbles with the keys in his pocket before reluctantly pulling away to get us inside.
Once we take our jackets and shoes off, he clings to me like static, drawn to me like a magnet, and I let him near without a second thought. Our lips find each other perfectly, like they've always meant to fit together. And as pieces of clothing come off on our way through the house and up to his bedroom, our limbs fit together just as well. Nothing is out of place.
Hell, I don't even remember how inferior to him I felt earlier in the day. Our jobs and lifestyles might seem like polar opposites, but for right now, the two of us are on very equal footing, coming together like it's always been meant to be.
I nearly fall apart when his fingers gather wetness from my cunt, just enough to tease me before pulling away and bringing them to his lips. I watch with a whine waiting on the back of my tongue as he slips his fingers past his mouth and sighs.
"More," is all he manages, and I want so badly to tease him—tell him how I know he can be more eloquent than that—but words are all lost on me too, when he drops to his knees and spreads me apart with ease. I have no choice but to reach behind and grip the foot-end of the bed as he works his tongue expertly against me.
Each of my sighs and whines are met with more avidity from him, taking the form of sharp flicks of the tongue over my clit, and once he adds his fingers to the mix, pumping them expertly inside me, I'm a fucking goner.
I come with a silent shout, clenching my thighs around his face and gripping the foot of the bed so tightly it feels like my hands might go numb.
Once my body loosens, Spencer gets up and kisses me, nearly knocking me over. I'm breathless and dizzy as the tang of my arousal coats my tastebuds. His hands are gentle despite the hunger in his lips, and the medley of sensations of all of these things has me weak in the knees.
"Getting harder to stand already, sweetheart?" he laughs, catching me as I fall into him. His hands clutch at my thighs and he carries me to the edge of the bed, crawling over top of me and kissing down my neck. "That's okay... I'll take good care of you."
I still can't manage to speak as he gently pushes in, the slow burn of him splitting me in two rendering me utterly incapable of even thought. I gladly welcome the pressure, especially once he's inside me all the way and lowering his body to mine. Our chests press firmly together as he pulls back and starts a steady pace with his hips. He traps me with his arms, bringing them to either side of my face. And when his fingers brush the hair from my eyes, he stares into them with intensity as he fucks me.
It's slow and hard. It's heart-pounding. It's earth-shattering. It's everything that makes sex worth having. In that moment we're two equals, so wrapped up in the mere feeling of each other that everything else is just background noise. He breathes me in and I do the same, and with each cant forward of his hips, he brings me deeper into this world we've both ultimately created together.
I want more than anything to wrap my legs around him and keep him close to me, but he's fucking me so good that I don't have the willpower. Instead, they lay spread out, lazy and open as his hips move between them. I'm warm all over, tingling everywhere our skin connects. When he kisses me, swallowing my pathetic attempts at whimpering his name, I'm positive that this is what Heaven must feel like.
Whether it's hours or only minutes later, eventually my body tenses, unable to hold back any further, and two particularly deep thrusts from Spencer send me barreling over the edge.
"There it is, sweetheart..." he praises, caressing my face with long, gentle fingers and leaving little kisses wherever they trail. His voice only seems to help me along, each warm syllable soothing the muscles that pulled taut at his mercy. "That's a good girl..."
I feel tired, calmed, and relaxed, when he pulls out only to jerk off over my lower stomach. Through tired eyes, I watch as he lets go and covers me with his release. Hearing him grunt out my name as he does it nearly wakes me up again, and it even finally brings some words out of me.
"God, you're so fucking hot..."
Well... Not exactly elegant, but the feeling gets across.
Spencer laughs and rolls over so that he isn't nearly crushing me anymore. He kisses down my neck, my arm, and he ever-so-slightly swipes the tip of his tongue over the mess he made before kissing my thigh and getting up to leave— presumably to get me something to clean up with.
Sure enough, he returns shortly with a wet washcloth and tenderly cleans me up. I manage to sit, leaning back on my elbows once he's done and smile at him. He's practically kneeling in front of me again, smiling back as his lips press featherlight kisses to the inside of my leg.
"How're you feeling?" he drawls, letting me pull him up to lay down with me.
"Really good. I haven't done that in so long..."
"Me either... I um... I hadn't really thought much about seeing other people once Lena and I got divorced... I guess I just wanted to put all my focus into being the best father I could, you know?"
"Mhm," I answer, turning to face him and interlocking our fingers. "I know exactly what you mean."
We lay like that for a few moments in comfortable silence, hands and limbs tangled while we breathe the same air and revel in the afterglow we've just created.
Suddenly Spencer laughs, and I squeeze his hand. "What is it?"
"I was just thinking... We probably wouldn't have met if not for Anteros calling us in, right?"
"Yeah..." I piece it together. "Guess I never thought of it that way."
"I just think it's funny, because in Greek mythology, Anteros was an Erote, known as an avenger of unrequited love, and he punished those who scoffed at romantic advances made by others... You and I never even thought about dating after our separations, and yet... Here we are now, because of Anteros."
Hearing him educate me on Greek mythology only serves to remind me how different we are. Still, the little story brings a comforting smile to my lips. "Well... Remind me to send her a basket of muffins or something to thank her."
"And tell her what? That you're grateful she got you laid?"
"Yeah. And what about it?"
The two of us dissolve into laughter that eventually fizzles and leaves us silent again. Our fingers are still tangled, and somehow we've snuggled in even closer.
"In any case, I'm glad I got to meet you, Doctor Reid."
"And I, you, Ms. Y/L/N..."
In the past two weeks since that first meeting, I hadn't received any more phone calls from Principal Anteros, which bode as a good sign.
Spencer and I decided to see each other as secretly as we could, which meant only giving vague details to our kids as to what we were doing in our spare time— It seemed weird to spring it on them if they didn't get along, so we figured it was best to wait until the situation was handled.
I tried to talk to Sky about their progress with Vivian, but they only insisted that everything was fine and they wouldn't have to worry anymore. And after relaying this information to Spencer, he informed me that Viv had said the same thing to him.
It wasn't until we both realized that they'd said the same things verbatim each time we asked, that something odd was going on.
And that's how we end up right here, Sky and I sitting on a park bench bathed in the golden October sun while I patiently wait for Spencer to 'coincidentally' show up with Vivian.
Thankfully I don't have to wait too long, because almost five minutes after we sit, I hear the familiar sound of my name falling from his lips, and it's hard to contain the cocky, playful smile that appears upon my own.
"Spencer, hey!" I call back, standing up and going to give him a hug. He pulls me in and he's nice and warm. He smells like burnt wood for some reason, and I want to breathe him in forever. Instead, I settle for a sweet kiss on the lips, both because I simply want to and also because it should baffle the fuck out of our kids.
Sure enough we pull away and look to them, and they look panicked. They have no idea what to do, what to say...
"Oh! Sorry... Viv, this is Y/N, Sky's mom."
The pure amusement in Spencer's voice makes me feel even warmer than being in his embrace. I look to his daughter and give her a wave. "Hi."
It almost seems cruel to laugh at their predicament, but as I turn to Sky and introduce them to Spencer, they have clear annoyance written all over their face.
"Okay, Mom, I think we get it... How did you guys figure it out?"
"What, that you two pretended to hate each other so your principal would have to call us both in to meet?"
The pre-teens look at each other and sigh, truly defeated once and for all. "Yeah," they mutter simultaneously.
"Well, it surely didn't make any sense when you got in trouble for yelling at each other in the first place," Spencer points out. "And then when we asked you how things were working out, you both said the same exact thing..."
"It wasn't that hard to figure out, but we appreciate the effort," I add, reaching out to ruffle Sky's hair. They jerk away playfully, and I can't help but notice their smile as they peek over at Vivian.
"Our plan worked, though, so I call it a win," Vivian says with a shrug.
"As long as you two don't plan on causing any more disruptions at school..." Spencer looks between the both of them, and then at me, his eyes softening as he takes my hand and squeezes it. "Then yes. I'd call it a win, too."
I lean into him and laugh. "Turns out it wasn't Greek mythology that brought us together. It was The Parent Trap."
He raises an eyebrow, like he doesn't get what I mean, and before I can ask or explain, Vivian does it for me. "He's never seen it."
Spencer looks between the three of us like a lost and confused puppy, and we all laugh.
"Well, then, maybe we'll have to have a movie night sometime soon," I offer, reaching out for Sky.
Hand in hand, the four of us continue down the pathway, walking away from the setting sun while dried leaves rustle under our feet.
PERMANENT TAGLIST (tags not working are struck out):
@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @mcureid @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @goldensonlyangel @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @flipperpenguins @pansexualthing @donald4spiderman @awesomebooklover17 @shemarmooresfedora @izraahh1 @bakugouswh0r3 @singularityjc @xoxospencerreid @thatsonezesty13 @big-galaxy-chaos @mggskneescrew @youabitchhhh @spencersjello @moonlight-2-6 @starrylang @foreveryoungxx3 @spencerreidscoffeecup @morganwilliams @emilyprsntiss @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @gubswh0re @mrsobrien888 @loveeee2134 @umbreonwolfy @ayla-1605 @reidsbabe @not-that-kind-of-dr-spencer-reid
If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!
324 notes · View notes
fics always make partners jealous when they buy toys but i think spencer would be the opposite.
one day you go shopping with the girls and you’re like “hey i wanna try a new vibe maybe one with different speeds”. fast forward a few hours later when you get home with the bag from the sex shop and spencer already knows what’s gonna go down.
you bet your ass he has you spread open, each leg over his shoulder as he’s going to town with that vibe.
“you looks so good like this baby”
oh you came 3 times? whoops looks like he discovered the new pulsing pattern and as a man of science he just HAS to test out how quickly it can make you cum again.
“ i know you’re sensitive angel, just give me one more hm”
let’s just say the sheets have to be changed that night.
i have too many thoughts but i know y’all know i’m right and it’s a hill i will die on.
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Imagine waking up from a sex dream at like midnight. Hotch is sound asleep next to you in nothing but his boxers. You try and fall back asleep because you don’t want to wake him up, but you can’t. You leave kisses on his jaw and down his chest until he wakes up. He just like, “What is it, my love?” You explain what it was and he just says, “Spread your legs.” He’s half asleep while he slowly fucks you and his voice is so very low as he groans quietly in your ear. You both end up falling asleep while he’s still inside of you. You wake up in the morning and continue where you left off.
Anyways- bestie, would you like to run this blog??
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On the Road Again
Summary: When Aaron has to drive home from the case because of his ear injury, the reader accompanies him hoping to work out the remnants of an argument they were in.
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x (fem!)reader!
Warning: 18+ NSFW CONTENT - SMUT AND LANGUAGE. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
Includes: Road Trip, vaginal sex, emotions, feelings, fluff, angst, dirty talk, pet names, set post season 3 finale, Aaron Hotchner needs a hug, car sex, canon typical violence - mentions of bombs/guns.
Word Count: 3.3k
A/N: This is posted on my ao3 (ssahotchswife)! Hi guys!! I hope your monday has been going well and I hope you all have a great week! Enjoy some smutty hotch hehe i hope you like this one it was super fun to write! AO3 LINK
Secret relationships were a lot of work. They were fun as hell – for sure they were – but it was also stressful as hell trying to keep a somewhat new relationship with your boss secret from a team of profilers. Especially when you’re in the middle of both a case and an incredibly irritating fight with said boss and secret boyfriend. A fight that had dragged on for days because you hadn’t had the time or the privacy to make up yet. Or the desire to make up, really, not when he clearly still didn’t understand your point.
Aaron Hotchner was the best man you had ever met, and you couldn’t be more excited about the fact that you got to date him. You were the one that straightened his tie after a secret make-out session in his office, you were the one that got to stroke your thumb over his cheek and whisper that everything was going to be alright when a case went poorly. You were the one that had to hold back the soul-crushing fear that coursed through your body when you found out he had been blown up in New York.
Watching that CCTV video of the man you were falling more in love with every day get blown up by a terrorist had felt like someone had plucked your heart from your chest and dunked it in a bucket of ice water before putting it back where it belonged. You couldn’t breathe thinking that he was out there somewhere – hurt, bleeding, scared – and you had no way to get to him until Morgan called to say they were at the hospital. And even then, all you could do was offer him a tight nod that appeared professional enough until you were able to be alone with him that evening and hugged him so tight it was like you were trying to become a part of him. But he still put himself in danger, let himself get hurt because he refused to take it easy even for a second.
Now, your fingers tapped absentmindedly on the warm leather seat of the government-funded SUV while you waited for the rest of the team to pile in and drive to the airport. Through the thick tinted windows, you could see Aaron’s brow furrow slightly as he spoke to the small town’s detective. You’d hopped in the car early, hoping to get a good seat, but now you wished you were out there to hear him. Not to mention, you’d stop Derek from tossing Reid the keys to the SUV for the young genius to drive the forty-five minutes back to the airport. You’d sooner drive all the way back to Quantico than ride with Reid and his terrible driving for the relatively short amount of time it would take to get to the airport.
“I’m just gonna grab my bag,” You heard Aaron say as he pulled the door to the SUV open. His eyes found yours immediately in the back of the truck, lingering on you for just a moment before he closed the door behind himself.
Without a second thought, you launched yourself forward into the first row of seats and out the door – now or never. Your friends looked at you like you were insane as you rolled out of the car.
“What’s going on?” You asked.
“Hotch is driving back to Quantico,” Derek said.
“By yourself?” You asked, letting your gaze slide to your boyfriend.
“That was the plan,” Aaron said, not even looking up at you as he sent a text on his phone – likely letting Haley know about his plan so she would know not to expect him for a day or so.
“I’m coming with you.”
“What?” Now he was looking at you.
“I can’t ride with Reid,” You said dramatically, squeezing Spencer’s bicep so he’d know it was simply good-natured teasing. “Besides, you need someone to keep you company for those seven hours, right?”
“Fine,” Aaron said coldly, walking off towards the other SUV. “Fly safe to the rest of you.”
You pursed your lips as you watched him walk away. He’d been distant the entire case, cold glances, snapped words, awkward silences. You knew why he was upset, but that didn’t mean that you had to like it. Or accept it. Especially when it had been his fault in the first place that had led to the fight that pissed him off. Of course, in his eyes, it was your fault that you were fighting, but you would never agree that trying to take care of him when he clearly refused to take care of himself was a bad thing.
After saying goodbye to your friends and avoiding their questioning stares when you grabbed your bag, you scurried after Aaron. He was sitting in the driver’s seat with a tight jaw and a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel – he barely looked at you when you slid into the passenger’s seat, he simply put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot.
Almost two hours passed in thick silence. You were desperate to talk to him, desperate for things to get back to normal. He was obviously still pissed at you after the blow-up you’d had a week ago when you suggested he take it easy. When he got back from the doctor claiming that his ear was fine – and wincing the whole time, every time a door shut near him – you had called bullshit immediately. The man was clearly not fine, no matter how much he wanted to pretend that he was, and apparently, you suggesting that he take time off to heal properly was nagging. Or so he said.
“You’re quiet,” You observed, feeling a little annoyed that he wasn’t even trying to act civil, and you couldn’t help but want to stir the pot a little more when he acted like this. “I suppose I should be grateful that you realized your ear needed the rest from the jet this time without a fight.”
He said nothing in return, his jaw tightening like a petulant child seconds away from throwing a tantrum. You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness – the man could really drive you crazy sometimes. And you hated how attractive he was when he was being an ass. The silent, angry brooding look really worked on him. It was so fucking annoying when you were pissed at him.
“Fine,” You sighed dramatically, letting your head loll back and to the side to look at him. “I guess I’ll just talk for the both of us. It sure was brave of you to be so reckless and put your body into potentially harmful situations which could further hurt your ear and maybe lead to permanent hearing loss.”
“What?” He asked childishly, pretending not to hear you.
“Jerk,” You grumbled under your breath.
That was all you said for some time, before you knew it, another hour had passed with you in near silence. You were miserable, sneaking tiny glances at him out of the corner of your eye and looking for the telltale signs of pain from this man that you knew too well. The truth is, you were just worried about him, and the way he seemed to push himself to the limit without a care for his own well-being.
Slowly, it started to get darker out. You’d left the police station at nearly four p.m., so you knew it would be dark for at least part of the drive. You tried to watch out the window as the sun set behind you, staring out at the scenery of the boring landscape and the crazy billboards, but all you could focus on was the frustrating man next you. Turning your head once more, you looked at him for a few moments, studying the angry set to his jaw that hadn’t relaxed the entire time you’d been in the car.
“Shit,” Aaron grumbled under his breath.
“What?” You asked, watching him turn his blinker on and pull off onto a rest stop that looked more abandoned and creepy than restful. “Aaron, what’s wrong.”
“We’re out of gas,” He sighed angrily, turning the car off.
“What?” You practically shrieked. “What are we going to do?”
“Call triple-A,” He shrugged. “Walk to the nearest gas station?”
“Call triple-A,” You agreed.
Aaron spoke on the phone with the triple-A person for a total of about ten minutes while you waited not-so-patiently to learn what was going to happen. At least he was holding his phone up to the ear that wasn’t injured. You looked at him with raised eyebrows when he finally hung up the phone.
“They can’t get out to us for at least an hour, but he said it could even be more like two.”
“Two hours,” You breathed. “Stuck here.”
A sadness washed through you when he said nothing further. If you weren’t in the middle of this stupid fight you’d be enjoying this little delay together, talking or kissing or playing a game to make the time pass. But now you were both trying to ignore each other and doing a piss poor job at it with the way you kept catching each other looking at one another.
“Aaron,” You said eventually, waiting for a sign that he was listening to you. “I know you’re mad – although, I don’t really get why –”
“You don’t get why?” He asked incredulously.
“No,” You said. “I don’t. All I was suggesting was that you take some time to let your ear heal right, so you don’t permanently lose your hearing, Aaron. You know, like your doctor told you to.”
“I don’t need you to take care of me,” He snapped. “I’m a grown man, I can do that by myself.”
“I want to take care of you,” You said, beyond frustrated now. “You’re my boyfriend, I want to make sure you’re okay!”
“I’m fine!” He yelled, turning to face you. “Okay? Is that what you want to hear? I’m fucking fine, I don’t need you hovering over me like I’m about to break!”
You stared at him in stunned silence, blinking in shock. Clearly, he was as surprised as you were that he had raised his voice so much from the way his eyes widened at you. You nodded silently, turning your head out to look out the window so he didn’t see your eyes well up. Try as hard as you might to keep your eyes clear, tears of frustration flooded your eyes and threatened to spill over your cheeks.
“(Y/n),” He said quietly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – I shouldn’t have yelled.”
“It’s fine,” You whispered, blinking back the tears in your eyes before they could fall.
“Please look at me,” He begged softly. With a breath, you looked back at him. “I’m sorry for yelling, I was just frustrated.”
“I’m frustrated too,” You said. “I’m frustrated that you won’t take care of yourself.”
“Because there’s nothing to take care of,” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “There’s nothing I can do to make the tear in my ear smaller.”
“Maybe not directly,” You agreed. “But not being in the field for a little while will help your ear heal without you being hurt. I can’t see you get hurt anymore, Aaron.”
“Do you have any idea how scared I was when they said it was you that got blown up?” You asked, your voice cracking as your tears from earlier finally spilled down your cheeks. “I thought you were dead, Aaron, or soon to be dead, I didn’t know if I would ever see you again and it nearly destroyed me because I fucking love you.”
Silence fell between you as you wiped your tears. Aaron stared at you with wide eyes, like he couldn’t process what you had said. You rolled your eyes, mentally calling yourself an idiot for letting those three words – or four including the curse word – out of your mouth. And begging him silently to say it back. Of course he wouldn’t say it back, though, you’d only been dating for a few months and he really hadn’t been divorced for that long.
“You love me?” He asked quietly.
“Yes,” You whispered through your tears.
“Come here,” He said, moving to pull you into his seat with him, sliding the chair back to give you both enough room without hitting the steering wheel. You hesitated, watching the silent beg in his eyes as he tugged you over the center counsel and into his lap. “You love me.” His hand was soft as he brushed your tear away. “And I love you, very very much.”
You took in a sharp breath at his words, gripping the soft material of his button-down shirt tightly. He loved you, he actually loved you.
Now it was your turn to ask, “You love me?”
“I love you,” He said, holding your head in his hands to bring your lips down to kiss you. “I love you.” His kisses traveled down your jaw, your neck, along your collar bone. “I love you, (y/n).” His words sent a shiver down your spine over and over, while his hands sent zing after zing of pleasure straight to your core with every touch as they slid up underneath your shirt.
“Aaron,” You whispered huskily as his hands cupped your breasts through your bra.
“I love you,” He replied through a groan when you shifted your hips over his, grinding yourself down on the growing bulge in his pants, your skirt bunching up around your hips. “I fucking love you, angel.”
“I love you too,” You moaned, picking up the pace of your hips as you felt a wave of pleasure roll through you at your movements. “Love you so much, Aaron.”
His mouth sucked a deep hickey on your neck, letting his teeth press in slightly before his tongue soothed the gentle bite. A little whimper pushed out you when his hands pulled the cups of your bra down to cup your bare breasts in your blouse, his thumbs and forefingers pinching at your sensitive nipples, the sensation going straight to your cunt.
“Such a good girl for me,” He murmured as gasps and tiny moans flew out of your mouth at the feeling of his erection grinding into you through your panties and his slacks. “I want you to cum, angel, cum in your pretty little panties for me.”
Burying your face in his neck – careful to stay on the side of his good ear – you cried out lightly as you tumbled into your first orgasm at his words. Your pussy clenched around nothing, making you whine greedily for him.
“You want me to fuck you in a government-funded vehicle?” He asked, kissing the side of your head. “Want me to make you clench around my cock with that pretty little cunt of yours while I fuck you full of me.”
“Yes,” You whined. “Please.”
“Anything for you, angel,” Aaron grunted. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
Gently, he moved your hips back enough to free his cock from his dress pants, stroking himself a few times as he sucked in a sharp breath. After a moment, he snaked his hand up your skirt to move your underwear out of the way and use his grip on the thin cotton to tug you closer to himself, lining himself up with your entrance.
“Ride me, baby,” He urged quietly into your ear, easing you down onto his cock. “Fuck – feel so good.”
Your hands gripped Aaron’s shoulder in a tight squeeze, knowing that if he weren’t still wearing a shirt he’d have marks clawing down his skin from your nails. A moan slid from between your lips as your cunt fully enveloped Aaron’s dick like you were made just for him. Nothing had ever fit more perfectly than Aaron Hotchner inside of you – it was like magic.
“Aaron,” You moaned, shifting your hips up enough to slide up his cock and back down until you were filled to the brim with him once more.
Picking up the pace, you bounced over him, fucking and being fucked by him at the same time. Aaron’s hands found purchase on your hips, holding them in a bruising grip as he picked you up and slammed you back down on his dick, his hips lifting to fuck up into you at the same time.
“Fuck, Aaron,” You gasped. “Oh my god.”
“So fucking good,” Aaron groaned, nipping at your collarbone while your head tossed back in pleasure.
Pleasure built in you like a wave threatening to crash, you had never been this turned on before in your life, you were positive of that. He fucked you like it was the end of the world and this was how he wanted to spend his last moments – buried in you for the rest of eternity. What a way to go out.
“Aaron!” You cried out burying your face in his neck once more, your orgasm hitting you like a brick wall as your every nerving ending alit with pleasure. Your pussy clamped down around Aaron’s cock, fluttering around him with every pulse of pleasure that slammed into you.
“Fuck, I love you,” He grunted, thrusting up into you a few more times before he found his own release, moaning your name like a prayer as his cum shot up into you and filled you to the brim with him. “(Y/n), love you so fucking much.”
The only noises in the SUV were the sounds of your respective breathing as you tried to gain control of your lungs once more. Your heart thudded in time with the remnants of your orgasm that pulsed through you, weakening with every beat. After a moment, you pulled your face from Aaron’s neck to look at him, heart squeezing painfully at the sweet smile on his lips.
“I’m sorry for scaring you, my love,” Aaron said quietly, placing his hand on your cheek to pull you in for a soft kiss, his other hand holding your hip tightly. “I’m okay –”
“Your ear –”
“My ear will be fine,” He assured you. “I’ll limit my role in the field, and I’ll avoid all the loud noises I can.”
“No more standing next to guns that will go off,” You said, squeezing his bicep. “Or cranes that pull coffins out of the ground.”
“Right,” He nodded, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I’ll be more careful.”
“Thank you,” You whispered. “I don’t want to nag you –”
“I know, sweetheart,” He said. “I know, you’re just taking care of me. And you’re doing a great job at it.”
“It’s because I love you,” You smiled, Aaron’s grin mirroring your own.
“I love you too,” He murmured, nudging your nose with his as he leaned in for a kiss.
After a moment – one very kiss-filled moment – you pulled from Aaron with a giggle, finally realizing that you just fucked in an FBI SUV. And that triple-A was going to be there any minute.
“I should –” You started, moving to peel yourself off of him and sit back in your own seat.
“One more minute,” Aaron begged, tightening his grip on your hips. “I just want to hold the woman I love for a minute more.” And how could you argue with that?
“One more minute,” You agreed with a smile, snuggling yourself into his arms while he made quiet promises to be more careful, and then asked you to make the same promises.
You had no problem wrapping your pinky around his and promising that you wouldn’t be reckless while grinned down at you happily. When triple-A finally showed up with a can of gas to get you back to Quantico, you left the rest stop with smiles on your face and Aaron’s love bursting through your heart.
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Morning Glory (S.R.)
Summary: Spencer goes into way too much detail about nocturnal penile tumescence (or morning wood, or morning glory, or whatever pejorative you prefer).
A/N: Here is my second (late) addition to the Only One Bed Challenge, this time with Spencer! This is completely unedited and written in a sheer state of panic. Bon appetit.
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)
Content Warning: Cuddling, accidental grinding (asleep), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering
Word Count: 5.7k
Ever since I was a boy, I’d been plagued by nightmares. My interest in dream analysis had been a great part of my budding interest in psychology — until I’d gone and learned that it was all mostly bunk. That, too, had been a great sense of comfort, because I realized my nightmares meant nothing about who I was (beyond my brain chemistry, which, I suppose was everything about who I was - but I digress).
But still, I wanted them to change. Each night when I laid down, I would force myself to think of anything and everything beautiful. That particular evening, it had been easier than usual.
It wasn’t the first time (y/n) and I had shared a room. The very first time we had, I think we’d both been a bit nervous to see each other in such an intimate setting. Every time after that, however, she’d made a point of picking me in the event we had to partner up. When I’d asked her why, she sort of just shrugged. She’d talked about snoring, weird habits, and schedules, but in the end she’d told me that she simply felt safe when she was with me, and I had happily accepted that answer.
However, when we walked into our room, we noticed something peculiar. Something that threatened the typical comfort we felt together. It was a product, we supposed, of having been a man and a woman in professional dress, asking to share a room in a hotel far nicer than our normal taxpayer-subsidized stay.
There was, in the center of the room, only one king-sized bed.
The woman beside me hardly seemed to notice at first. It wasn’t until I’d asked her if she wanted me to talk to someone that she realized there was a mistake. At that point, she just bit at her nails and shook her head. She hadn’t wanted to be a bother, and she saw no harm in us sharing a bed, especially one so large.
‘It’ll be like I’m not even there,’ she’d said.
She was wrong. Wrong in the best way.
We both knew it the second we fell in bed together at the end of a day that went on for far too long. She had only been right about one thing — the massive space that existed between us. But all it had taken was one look, one twitch of hands too close together in the middle of the bed before we realized that we didn’t have to leave it there.
(Y/n) and I hadn’t talked about cuddling, but we had done it, anyway. It had started with interlocked pinkies and nervous giggling that eventually shifted into her back pressed against my chest. There was still space between us, as physics demanded there always be. But it was not for a lack of trying. Each time I pressed forward, she would press back.
We would meet in the middle, but we said nothing.
I had fallen asleep just like that, with her wrapped safely in my arms. The beat of my heart pounding against her shoulder blades and the smell of her shampoo filling my lungs with each calm, rhythmic breath.
That was why it had been easy to think of something beautiful. I had thought only of her, and how no matter her size, she would always feel small when she sank further into my embrace. I imagined a reality where this was not a one-off, a favor from fate to let us both find something wonderful where we usually only saw death and pain.
My mind spun so many fantasies, all of which turned to dreams filled with her. Every dream, each thought of her became more complex as the night went on. Eventually, it felt like I’d hardly been dreaming at all.
I hadn’t wanted to let it go. Even — especially — when the mood began to shift from the innocent, naive kind of puppy love to something else. Something that made my chest ache with a desire that I’d rarely experienced before. I could still smell her perfume, the lingering hint of her true presence.
My hands gripped her hips harder, pulling her against the true source of my longing. The thought that she would allow me to do that was enough to drive me mad with lust. But she hadn’t stopped there; hellbent on turning me to nothing but a feral animal seeking warmth in the cold, she began to move against me with a similar need.
The friction and the sounds of rustling sheets and her breath became too much to bear. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t see anything but visions of her riding my thigh until she begged for something more. With frustrated tears streaming down her face, she choked out a plea for me to take her until there was nothing left but one two-headed beast.
“Spencer,” she whispered apprehensively.
“(Y/n)…” I returned, dragging my nose along her neck just to feel her shiver. Which, she did. And with just a few seconds of self-reflection, I realized that the sensation of her name in my throat had felt just a little bit too real.
Because it was.
And so was that.
“Hm?” I sleepily replied, somehow still not caught up on the fact that my dream had not, in fact, been confined to my own mind.
That poor girl seemed too petrified to speak at all, much less explain the nature of what was happening.
“Um…” was her dreadfully inarticulate reply. I didn’t blame her for not knowing what to say, though.
There were very few suitable options for when you awake in the morning with your coworkers dick pressed firmly against your ass, and his mouth buried against your neck. In fact, I think ‘Um’ was probably the least hurtful of them all.
What did hurt, however, was the sharp sound that left me immediately thereafter. That pain was shared, as was the guilt that followed. Because as soon as I’d jumped away from her, I realized how close to the edge we’d come over the course of the night. My head hit the nightstand with a terrible thud, and my body hit the floor much the same.
“Are you okay?!” she screeched, holding the blanket to her chest like she’d actually had something shameful to hide.
Meanwhile, I was sitting there with a persistent erection that apparently was impervious to pain.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied in the least convincing manner. All of my genuineness would be saved for the next word to leave me — which really ought to have been the first: “Sorry.”
She didn’t accept my apology. Instead, she jumped from bed and landed on two feet that quickly took her out of the room.
“Let me go get you some ice!” she yelled, as if I wouldn’t notice the way she’d left the ice bucket behind.
Unsurprisingly, she left for quite some time. I could only hope that she would return at all. Thankfully, she did. She’d even managed to snag an ice bucket from someone or somewhere else, and I prayed that it wasn’t a member of the team. I really didn’t want to think about anyone other than the two of us knowing about this just yet.
I wanted to be a bit more diplomatic about Derek Morgan finding out I had basically just assaulted a coworker because I couldn’t control my dick.
Diplomacy, however, was apparently not a skill I had perfected just yet.
“Okay, first, before you say anything,” I said much too loud and much too fast to a girl simply trying to tie off a thin bag from a cheap hotel ice bucket.
I’m not sure what I had expected her to do, but she stared at me with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth and her eyes wider than I’d ever seen them. The poor thing looked petrified, or some other kind of powerful emotion that I would project everything negative onto. If I’d thought about her feelings for even one second before I started to speak, I might’ve realized that I could have asked her if she was alright, or if she needed anything from me.
But no, I just started talking. Per usual.
“I just want to assure you that nocturnal penile tumescence, or NPT, or—or morning wood, or morning glory, or whatever… colloquialism you prefer, is completely unrelated to sexual arousal or thoughts.”
Not entirely true.
“I wasn’t… like… arousing myself by touching you, I swear.”
A bald-faced lie.
“It’s actually theorized that the cause it the lack of the normal noradrenergic neurons of the locus ceruleus, which inhibit penile erection during the day to prevent… disruptions,” I continued, just barely catching myself before I said something even more regrettable. I should’ve figured, though, that there was no right answer when I was playing with the trolley problem’s tracks.
(Y/n) still said nothing.
So, like an idiot, I just kept talking.
“A-And testosterone levels are highest in the morning. Although, most men have several erections at night, they just only notice in the morning because they wake up.”
“Spencer, I—“ she actually tried, but it sounded so terrifying that I immediately cut her off again.
“Sorry, I know I’m rambling and it’s not even 9am and you really don’t want to think about your coworker’s penis but, I want you to know that I also don’t want to think about your genitals, and that I wasn’t doing that before.”
The disgust or rage or whatever it had been faded into a frightening apathy. (Y/n) looked down at my feet, still clutching a bag of frozen water that had been meant to make me feel better. If I’d let her speak, I might’ve heard the crack in her voice and realized that she hadn’t actually been apathetic at all. In fact, she almost seemed… sad.
I had been so busy being wrapped up in my own shame and self-hatred, though, I hadn’t cared to look. My concerns were entirely set on self-preservation, and even more so, repairing any damage I’d already done between us.
I just didn’t want to hurt her, and I wasn’t quite sure how to undo what I’d done. I didn’t know how to assure her that, although I found her beautiful and I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything or anyone, I would never have touched her without her blessing. That I would only ever want it if she showed a similar amount of enthusiasm.
But then again, I didn’t exactly want to explain to her that she had been displaying that desire for me in my wildest fantasies. Nor that I had wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep and feel them again.
Instead, I firmly repeated, “It has… nothing to do with sexual attraction or arousal.”
That time, I did see a flash of anger in her eyes. It was a palpable pain that I very much wanted to avoid if given the chance. I figured that the best way of doing that was either humor or guilt. I tried, and failed, to do both.
“A-And, you know, women get it too, nocturnal clitoris tumescence, it’s just not visible because while most penises are visible when erect, the clitoris tends to remain hidden,” I stated with a tight-lipped smile and a sure nod.
“Right,” was all that she replied.
In the awkward silence that followed, I squeaked, “Yeah, it’s all very interesting.”
“Yes. Interesting,” she sighed. “Can I… get ready to leave now?”
It was regrettable, really, that all I could say was a pitiful beg. Just one small, “Please,” that I hadn’t meant at all.
Nonetheless, she had accepted it.
“Okay. I’ll… bye,” she muttered, dropping the dripping bag of ice back into the sad plastic bucket.
As she disappeared into the bathroom with a door that shut a little too hard for comfort, I continued to stare at the discarded trash. I thought for a second that I should use it, considering she had gone through the trouble of getting it for me. But then I figured that I deserved the dull ache as a reminder of just how fucking stupid I had been.
Relief was a luxury I didn’t deserve. The least I could do for the girl I’d practically defiled in my sleep was to suffer in honor of the death of her perceived notion of safety. Not even halfway through the day, I found myself mulling over that same feeling to the point of near-obsession.
And I came to a realization. Whoever said time heals all wounds was a goddamn liar.
As the hours stretched on, the only thing that got any easier was avoiding (y/n) at all costs. Truthfully, that also had nothing to do with time and everything to do with the fact she had also made the executive decision to avoid me at all costs.
Enough so, in fact, that it had only taken Derek approximately three hours to realize that something had happened. As I’d promised myself, I was much more diplomatic in explaining the incident that had happened that morning. I left out a lot of the… more distressing details, and left it a simple, conclusory statement: “We woke up cuddling in a slightly disturbing way.”
He hadn’t asked for any clarification, immediately understanding what had happened and instead going directly for the jugular.
“You apologized, right?”
“Yes?” I answered, “Or… possibly no? I mean, I-I explained that it wasn’t anything to do with sex. I think I said sorry.”
“You think?” he balked, only barely resisting the urge to smack me upside my already injured heard. “You have an eidetic memory, man. What do you mean you think you apologized?”
“I was panicking! I don’t remember things I say when I get flustered, you know that!”
“Give me the shortened version,” he demanded with a heavy sigh.
Condensing the conversation was hard for a number of reasons. One, because I had a massive headache and a lump on my head that I probably should have looked at. Two, because I actually did remember the conversation with a frightening amount of clarity and was horribly embarrassed by it.
And three, because about halfway through the story I noticed the way his jaw dropped, and never came back up.
The silence in the room was deafening. The normal sensory overload I struggled with had disappeared, replaced only with the suffocating lack of noise. Even as I nervously bounced my foot and tapped my fingers against the desk, I could barely hear them over the blood rushing through my ears.
“So… let me get this straight,” Derek started, and I knew I was doomed. “You rubbed your business all over a girl, and then spent the next five minutes repeating over and over that you find her repulsive?”
Slowly, I felt rusted gears in my head start to turn. I repeated what he’d just said over and over to myself, trying to formulate why he was the one who’d mistaken the meaning of a social interaction. But the longer that I tried, the more exasperated the man sitting across from me became.
“Reid. We’ve talked about this.”
“First of all, I have an eidetic memory and I can confidently say that we have never once talked about this—“ I stated sharply, pointing an accusing finger that I quickly corrected and turned to numbers, instead, before continuing, “—and second, that’s not what I said at all!”
The only answer worse than a denial was the knowing stare that I received.
“… Is it?” I squeaked.
With just one nod of his head, I felt the depths of my self-loathing rise to levels unknown. I felt myself be swallowed by the dread that I almost certainly deserved to feel, and I dropped my bruised head down onto the table with absolutely no attempts to save myself any of the pain.
“Yeah,” he agreed as he stood from his seat to leave me alone in my misery. His final parting gift was a simple, and well-deserved, “Good luck with that one, dumbass.”
To say that I’d had a bad day would be an understatement. The day wasn’t even over yet, but I’d dug myself a hole six feet deep and I was more than ready to find my way to the bottom already. However, this particular hole would prove to be more difficult to crawl into because it would already be occupied.
Spencer and I hadn’t really talked since that morning, and I knew that was what he’d wanted. But knowing that my best friend didn’t want to talk to me didn’t make the day any better at all. It made it much, much worse.
I hadn’t stopped replaying the morning in my head, but each time that it started, I found the pit in my stomach growing larger until it threatened to swallow me whole.
I knew Spencer well. Well enough to know that when he was put in an even slightly uncomfortable situation, he would panic. But when I’d been backed against a rock and a… hard place, I hadn’t really had any good options.
The options were these: wake up Spencer before either of us did anything even more regrettable, or take advantage of his sleepiness and built my repertoire of fantasies for when he awoke and inevitable hated me forever. And honestly, both of those things made my heart race in entirely different ways.
It didn’t matter anyway. It was in the past now, and all I could do was attempt damage control now that we’d be forced into a room together again.
However, seconds after the door closed behind me, I realized that it would be easier said than done.
The poor boy was like a deer caught in the headlights, but with cheeks the color of the sports car the animal was about to total. After a few seconds of tense and prolonged eye contact, he turned away from me and refused to meet my eyes again.
We said nothing, instead going about our nightly routines as if the other person weren’t there at all. I wasn’t sure which was worse; him avoiding me, or him ignoring me. Either way, I knew that the feeling wasn’t fading anytime soon.
I tried to tell myself that things would be better again soon. I just needed to get him into the bed with me again, to wrap his arms around me like he had the night before. Neither of us were exceptionally great at talking, especially about feelings. But not that many hours ago, we’d expressed more about our feelings than we ever had before.
When Spencer held me, I felt nothing else. The pain and suffering I’d witnessed faded like the later Summer sun. Fiery hues of pink and orange consumed me, and the sheet of blues calmed heated skin. Our embrace felt like safety and home and everything good.
So, when it slowly became less and less innocent, moving away from it was the furthest thing from my mind. My body was still burning from the love, and I sought only to stoke the flames higher and higher until they licked at my jaw where his breath ghost over a frantic pulse.
I shouldn’t be thinking about this, I reminded myself as the heat returned to my cheeks.
“Do you, um… do you want me to sleep on the floor?” Spencer squeaked from where he stood on his side of the bed. “B-Because I can. I don’t mind.”
“No, Spencer. Don’t be ridiculous,” I sighed, although I think we were both tempted by the thought. “I know you didn’t mean to make me uncomfortable or anything.”
“Did I?” he asked.
“Did I make you uncomfortable?”
What kind of question is that? was what I’d wanted to say.
“Um… no. It’s fine,” was what I said, instead.
Because it felt like a trap. What had I been meant to say? That yes, he had made me uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the part where he pressed his dick against me, it was the part where he extended my rejection well past the minute mark.
Talking had been bad enough already, anyway. We’d both proven time and time again that our mouths couldn’t be trusted to open without causing panic or something much worse. So, I hoped that my next instruction could be one of the latest sentences uttered to end the worst day.
“Come get in bed. I’m cold.”
To his credit, he did follow my directions. However, he also made a point of staying so close to the edge of the bed that a light breeze probably would have tipped him over the edge.
“Do you want to put a pillow between us or…”
My answer came in the form of a heavy sigh. I actually heard Spencer’s voice crack into the nothingness. Over rustling sheets, he continued to make pitiful sounds like I was honestly about to hit him for being kind.
But I wasn’t going to hurt him. I wanted to do the opposite.
My hand on his wrist was gentle, but firm. I wanted to show that I had no doubts nor reservations when I yanked him closer.
“It’s fine, Spencer. I mean it.”
Spencer did not fight my grip at all. If anything, it almost seemed like he leapt at the opportunity to hold me closer. But I knew that was probably just wishful thinking, and I was trying to keep things as relaxed as one can be when half-clothed and vulnerable with a coworker in a king-sized bed. When he was finally in his rightful place beside me, however, I realized that I wasn’t quite ready to let him go.
It was not my idea for Spencer to wrap his arm around me so that we could continue to hold hands without putting stress on my shoulder — but I did not deny the offer. Not even close.
While it was frightening and exhilarating to think that he was close enough to me that he could almost surely feel the way my heartbeat went wild and my lungs struggled to fill at the risk of losing any part of his hold, I still felt so free. So at home in his arms that my tongue became loose and threatened to spill all of my secrets.
“Your hands are so warm.”
Spencer’s breath caught in his throat, but he said nothing. I closed my eyes and prayed that it would stay that way, because I was terrified what words might come out. I also sort of hoped that when he made a noise, they wouldn’t be words at all. At least not any shaped like my name.
I could still hear his sleepy voice calling out to me, the first word uttered that morning between soft sounds of pleasure. The feeling it elicited deep in my chest was so powerful that I had hardly noticed when my hand, still in his, began to steadily descend down my stomach.
It wasn’t until our skin touched, the gentle pads of his fingertips brushing over the exposed skin of my stomach, that I gasped. Goosebumps littered my skin, each particle of my existence reaching out in the hope of touching him.
“You’re so soft,” he whispered with broken words half-muffled against the column of my throat.
As if to prove his point, Spencer slipped his hand further underneath the hem of my shirt. Abandoning my hand as it fell between my legs, the man behind me recounted his steps now that he’d rid himself of the barrier in the way. If I’d thought my heartbeat was wild, his could hardly be counted in its frenzy. But I still tried. I paid attention to every place where his body pressed against mine, relishing in the way it felt to be desired in the way he swore to me that he wasn’t.
When the backs of his knuckles brushed across the underside of my breast, though, he paused. Whether he was catching his breath or seeking my permission, I didn’t care.
“Don’t stop,” I begged. “Please, don’t stop.”
Spencer’s response was immediate and powerful. Forcing his leg between my own, his other hand appeared out of seemingly nowhere to ensure that I was exactly where he’d wanted me. With a ruthless hold and hands that shook under the pressure, he began to lead my hips to move against his leg. His other hand continued its previous path, tenderly kneading my breast just enough to make me want more.
I’d always want more.
“You’re so beautiful,” he praised just before laying a sloppy kiss against my throat. That kiss, too, was followed by another, and together the sensation robbed me of my breath and any remaining sense.
I became nothing but what I’d always wanted to be — His.
“Spencer…” I called, allowing his name to slip between parted lips.
His leg wasn’t going to be enough. I wanted more, craved that sunset feeling of him enveloping me and burning through each and every defense. I wanted to be nothing but ash and dust in his wake, still dancing along the rays.
After a few more moments of passionate, breathtaking adoration, Spencer had also decided that our current situation was both too much and not enough. Pressing a now familiar hardness against my ass, he finally rewarded me with a long, drawn out sound of pleasure.
“I want you,” he groaned, “Please, I want to have you so bad.”
There were many ways I’d envisioned this happening. Fantasies about sleeping with the ever elusive, always awkward Dr. Reid were plentiful and pervasive. I’d always envisioned something remarkably special; a romantic outing or a deep, emotional conversation following something terrible.
But when he offered himself to me in the heat of the moment in a beautiful hotel and a king-sized bed, romantic gestures seemed simpler. It didn’t have to be rose petals and wine. I didn’t want anything to distract us from each other.
I wanted him just as badly as he wanted me, and I wasted no time in demonstrating that to him. I tugged down my shorts, trying my hardest not to kick him while also removing my clothing as quickly as fucking possible. His job was easier. He didn’t even need to pull his pants all the way down — and he didn’t. In the moment, that testament to just how eager the two of us were felt a lot like romance to me.
As did his hand on my cheek, pulling my face back so that he could kiss me for the first time. It felt less like a checklist of things we were meant to do, and more like a bucket list of dreams that suddenly seemed accessible. That would explain why we hadn’t stopped with just the one. We kept going, a flurry of kisses that broke into lighthearted laughter.
It felt exactly how it always did with him. Safe. Comfortable. And when the feelings became less and less innocent, with his legs intertwining with mine and his cock slipping between my thighs, it still felt like home.
Again, Spencer paused. His body stalled there, no matter how much he struggled not to continue. He waited with heaving breath and tiny, desperate whimpers until I gave him my permission to cross that last line.
“Fuck me, Spencer,” I whispered.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said with a dreamy chuckle, “More than you could ever know.”
There was no more hesitation. With utmost care, he answered my call. He pressed into me slowly, with both of his hands holding me tightly and his mouth buried against my neck. I felt each moan and every gasp shaking my throat, and I tried my hardest to offer him my own in return.
But we both knew we weren’t the best at talking, and (for the most part) let our bodies speak for us. Still, it was sweet to hear just how much I was affecting him with each inch deeper he went.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he practically sobbed. I’d never heard him so exasperated, so raw and vulnerable and rendered speechless. “And so… fuck…” he mumbled, “God, you feel amazing.”
“So do you,” I offered in exchange, unable to predict the visceral reaction he would have.
His hips thrust forward, filling me completely with little warning. The sudden stretch of the sensitive muscles caused a chain reaction, and before I knew it I was clinging to any part of him I could reach. The shoulder he’d been kind enough to think about earlier was now craned back, leading my hand to grab fistfuls of his hair to keep his lips against my neck.
“Harder,” I demanded.
And harder, he provided. Everything about him became harder. Our hips met with a brutality that seemed too crude for him. His breath came with more force, too, causing his lips to slip on the dew of my neck. That didn’t stop him, though. The same way that I had been dedicated to finding new ways to hold him, he used every bit of his 187 IQ points to ensure that our bodies were never farther apart than they needed to be.
But while his moans were drowned out by the debaucherous sounds of skin slapping together, mine were freely flowing through the room. That was, until those same, soft fingertips clamped over my lips.
“Shhh,” he said, not as a command, but a humble request. “It’s okay. Be quiet, sweetheart.”
As if that hadn’t made me want to sing his praises more. When my jaw dropped open, his fingers toyed with my lips that begged to be kissed. But he couldn’t, because we were both too caught up to let each other go long enough to turn around.
I didn’t need to face him, though. I just needed to feel him. Always more of him. My lips closed around his fingers, sucking them in until the sounds coming from my lips were just as lewd as the ones between my legs.
“Oh, good girl,” he choked, “My sweet girl. I can’t wait to taste you.”
My heart skipped a beat, or several, on his command. If it weren’t for the revitalizing sensations he was providing, I very well might have dropped dead right then and there. But death wasn’t strong enough to separate the two of us now that we’d finally gotten our hands on one another.
Things continued to devolve, with Spencer’s pace fluctuating based on the rate with which I lavished his fingers. I could only imagine the things he was thinking, the images a mind like his could conjure now that I’d given him the tools necessarily for all his little hypotheses.
I, however, remained firmly in the present. Because I knew that it was almost the end, and I wanted to enjoy the finale to the fullest.
Which was why when he asked, “Tell me where you want it.”
I already knew my answer.
“What?” he balked, but not in the way that sounded surprised. It was more like he was… excited.
“Come inside of me,” I repeated without hesitation.
Spencer, ever the gentleman, remained unconvinced. Despite having intimate knowledge of my medical history and my nightly routine, he still wanted to ensure that nothing about this night would be regretted in the morning.
“Are you sure?” he urged.
To which I cried against his fingers wet with my spit, “I need it, please!”
No more words were needed. Whether he’d been convinced or caught off guard, it didn’t really seem to matter. Because when the fireworks began, we were both lost to the beauty of the lightshow. Stars burst behind my eyes, my hands gripping tightly to his on my hips as he gave a few more powerful pumps of his hips.
He didn’t stop, even after it was over. He continued to rock against me exactly like he had that morning; a comparatively innocent demonstration of his insatiable desire. The way he still wanted me, the same way I would always want more of him than I could have.
As if on cue, Spencer’s voice was quiet when he called, “Come here, sweetheart.”
The instruction seemed superfluous, considering he immediately used his existing handle on my hips to turn our bodies. He hoisted me onto his lap until I sat on his lap, facing away from him in a way that made me suddenly feel bashful.
… and that feeling got much, much worse when he slowly lifted me from his softening dick, and I felt the aftermath of our actions drip out of me and over his stomach. The feeling sent a shiver down my spine, which again was worsened by the sound of a deep, rolling moan from the man underneath me.
Because we would both always want more than we could have. Not in the sense that we couldn’t be together, but because the laws of the universe dictated that no matter how close we became, there would always be a layer of particles separating us.
But as I started to stand on shaky legs, laughing and watching him struggle not to spill all over our only bed, I thought that Spencer and I… might find a way to truly touch one another. If any two things in the universe stood a chance, I believed that it was us.
“How considerate of you,” I sighed, motioning to the mess he’d made on himself so I would have less of it between my own legs.
Unable to spout his usual facts, on account of being out of breath, he merely muttered, “Physics.”
“It’s all very interesting,” I teased to a man whose pink cheeks suddenly had a very different meaning. “You should tell me more about it sometime.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he chuckled like he’d been in on the joke.
“I hope you do,” I said, “I hope you never let it go.”
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An Inconvenient Affection [Chapter 1]
Summary: When a couples’ therapist is suspected of murdering his own patients, Y/N and Spencer must go undercover as a feuding married couple to draw him out.
A/N: This is the first part in a series, thank you so much for the response to the teaser! I hope you guys enjoy, and any feedback is always appreciated! ❤️
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Category: Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst
Warnings: alcohol consumption, language, criminal minds typical violence, murder mention, suicide mention, stalking, cheating, please let me know if I've missed anything!
Word Count: 4.4k
Read it on AO3
"He's forcing one to kill the other" Spencer mutters under his breath, staring so intently at the photos pinned the the cork board that he must be able to see through them by now.
"Pardon?" Y/N pipes up from her perch at the opposite end of the room, surrounded by imposing stacks of files, photos, newspaper clippings, anything to give her something even resembling a leg up on this case.
Spencer turns sharply on his heel to face the team, his hands contorted as he speaks, "The unsub, he's abducting couples but I think he could be forcing one to kill the other" he states it louder this time, tearing a photo down from the board and walking it over.
"We already know they were killed with the same gun, but why was Mrs. Milton restrained while Mr. Milton wasn't?"
Y/N screws her eyebrows together in confusion, she'd been at the scene and she'd analyzed the photos. Mr. Milton had been restrained. There was another chair at the scene that seemed as though he'd been strapped to it, the bindings were loosened but the general assumption was that he'd managed to free himself before getting shot by the unsub.
"I think our killer untied him" Reid spoke confidently, Y/N liked watching him like this. He could be so shy in his day to day life but there was something about his work that gave him a boost.
"So do you think the same goes for the Stevenson's from 4 months back? What could his motivations be for doing something like that?" Derek asks. The first case had initially been labeled as a murder suicide by the local police precinct but the most recent victims were both shot in the back of the head. Though the scenes had far too many similarities to rule out a serial homicide.
"Most likely" he nods, "though I haven't gotten to the why just yet. But what I can tell you is that our unsub seems to really hate the women" He turns his attention back to the cork board.
"Well that's not very original" Y/N quips before pulling out her cell phone to call Garcia. "Hey Babe, I'm gonna need you to find any overlap between the Miltons and the Stevensons, any clubs, stores, hangout spots, somewhere where they could've met, or met the same people. If that's too broad maybe narrow in on the wives, anywhere they would've potentially overlapped, we think they could've been this unsub’s primary target"
"But of course my Angel" Garcia's almost sickly sweet voice pours out of the headset along with he clacking of her brightly colored nails on the keys. "Hmm." she let's out a little frustrated, "They lived a little too far apart to be members of the same gym, church, what have you. Wait!" she stops in her tracks excited, "Both couples had several appointments at the same clinic, St. Andrews Medical Centre, but those records are sealed."
Y/N lets out a frustrated sigh, "Can you unseal 'em?"
Garcia scoffs, "Can I unseal them, who are you talking to? I'll have the info in 3, 2, 1, Bingo. Both couples had several appointments with a therapist, one Dr. Harris in the months leading up to and week of their disappearance" she sends a picture and attached file to Y/N's tablet as she beckons Spencer over to take a look.
"He's a therapist with a specialty in, oh," Garcia pauses, "couples counseling"
"So what were they in for?" Derek pipes up, "Is our Dr. just interested in the look or has the couples' issue got something to do with it?"
Y/N reads through the files Garcia's sent on Dr. Harris, combing though them as fast as she can for any ounce of helpful information.
"Harris is divorced?" Y/N says in confusion.
"His wife cheated on him, and she's currently married to that guy" Garcia interjects, "he wrote a whole article about it, yeesh, someone is not over it.”
"Maybe he's targeting couples where the wives have been unfaithful to their husbands?" Spencer suggests, "That would account for the unjust hate towards the women, and the implication that he forced their husbands to kill them first, perhaps he's using them as a surrogate for the vengeance he wants?"
"Maybe so, but we've got no evidence for any of this, the crime scenes were spotless, not even a trace of DNA to tie anyone other than the couples to the scene, if it is this guy then we have to prove it before we can arrest him." JJ counters as the voice of reason.
The room goes silent.
"Prove it?" Y/N asks, Hotch looks down at her, before averting his gaze towards Spencer sitting beside her.
"I've got an idea" he says, monotone and serious. “The two of you come with me.” He motions with is hand.
The two of them look at each other with profound confusion before following behind Hotch, resigned.
“A married couple?!” Spencer all but shouts, the office is hardly soundproof and the rest of the team must’ve caught on by now. For the ‘smartest member of the team’ Spencer sure had some gaping holes in his foresight.
“You can’t be serious!”
He stands up from his chair, shaking his head in disbelief, starting to pace around the medium sized office to work off the nervous energy building in his chest.
“This is hardly outrageous Reid” Hotch states, making sympathetic but brief eye contact with Y/N before he pinches the bridge of his nose in an effort to restrain himself. “Yourself and Y/N already have a friendship to build on, she’s worked undercover many times and your memory should make it simple for you to integrate into the false narrative she can construct. Plus, you’re a non-threatening presence to an unsub like this. What else could you possibly need convincing of?” Hotch adds with exasperation, he’d mentioned all of that and more in his initial proposition but Spencer was still reluctant.
“If I’m really that repulsive I’m sure we can find someone else to play my husband Spence?” Y/N tries to joke but there’s something about the sentence that makes her stomach uneasy.
“No!” Spencer sits again with haste, looking between the two other agents, “No that’s not it, I just” he takes in a deep sigh, “I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this, I don’t want to ruin the investigation” he confesses and Hotch immediately shoots it down.
“That won’t be an issue, our unsub’s primary target will be Y/N. She’ll be the cheating partner, your role will mostly be following her lead which shouldn’t be too difficult”
Spencer might be great at acting after all. He lets his shoulders slump and his posture relaxes entirely as though his boss has just put all of his worries to rest. But that’s not what was bothering him. Not even close.
He’s had a stupid schoolboy crush on Y/N from her first day at the BAU. He’d like to think it had come later but he knew it had been almost instant. Her first day had been on Halloween 2 years earlier, he’d been explaining the historical origins of the holiday when Y/N corrected his pronunciation of the Irish word Samhain.
“It’s more like ‘Sah-whin’ than ‘Sam-hain’ in spite of its spooky origins it’s actually the current Irish word for November” she spoke up from her seat in the bullpen, setting up some stationary at the once empty desk next to Spencer’s.
“Y/N L/N,” she stood up outstretching her hand, “I guess I’m your new co-worker” she half-smiled, her nervous energy getting the better of her as he ignored her gesture and just looked at her palm instead.
“He’s just weird about touching” Emily reaches out to reciprocate the handshake, “I’m Emily Prentiss, it’s nice to meet you, this little guy here is Spencer Reid” she says as she places her hands on both of his shoulders and shakes him gently
“Dr. Spencer Reid” he corrects quickly, shooting her a tight lipped smile paired with an even more awkward half-wave.
“Oh, a doctor” she raises her eyebrows, “best not tell my Mom I work with a doctor or she’ll be hounding me to marry you” she cracks. It’s obviously a joke but Spencer can’t help but recall the conversation now and how prescient it feels.
“We can work out the details together if you think that’ll help you feel more comfortable?” Y/N reaches out her hand to touch his forearm to steady him in his seat. He’d grown so used to her casual touch by now that he barely noticed it. But this time, with his rolled up sleeve, feeling her fingertips against his bare skin it felt as though he was going to combust. How was he going to be able to hide this childish infatuation if they had to masquerade as a married couple. What if she touched him literally anywhere else. She was a profiler too, of course she’d notice.
“It’s paramount that it looks natural. This unsub knows the ins and outs of what it’s like to be a married couple so I’ll expect the two of you to prepare accordingly” Hotch is stern and focusing on Y/N as he speaks, “Work on it together, tonight, and report back to me tomorrow morning. We’ll make our decision on how to proceed then.” he says before dismissing them from his office.
They stand in the bullpen in unsure silence for a moment too long before Y/N speaks, “So, your place or mine hubby?” she leans on the last word and it feels comical coming out of her mouth but it still makes something in Spencer’s stomach tighten.
Garcia sends them away with piles of notes and transcriptions from each of the couples’ sessions so they could aim to predict the kind of questions they could be asked. Digging through interviews with Mrs. Milton’s friends it became apparent that she’d been stalked in the weeks leading up to her abduction, and potentially longer. Y/N and Spencer had to be prepared for that eventuality too.
Each of the couples had had at least 4 appointments before they were abducted, so the new Mr. and Mrs. Reid had to come up with several hours worth of talking points, along with day to day appearance of living as a married couple in order to be prepared.
Shouldn’t be too difficult.
Spencer was already making moves to walk back his commitment. Now that he was in Y/N’s living room pages strewn about the coffee table he was finding the whole situation a little overwhelming.
“Look I don’t think I’m up for this, I’ll just call Morgan and see if he can do it. I’m so bad at lying Y/N, I’ll get us both killed” he lets his head flop down into his hands.
“Hey, hey, calm down. Just rest your head between your knees and take a few deep breaths” Y/N coaxes and he does as instructed, his heart rate dropping to normal again almost instantly. It might be the breathing exercise but it’s probably her hand tracing up and down his back over the fabric of his dress shirt that’s actually calming him.
“The golden rule of working undercover is to tell the truth until you absolutely have to lie” she says softly, continuing her movements along his spine. “Sure we have to lie about being married, and about my infidelity. But that doesn’t mean everything has to be a lie. We can pull stories from our real lives and force them into our Legend.”
“Legend?” he says into his own lap, just loud enough for her to hear.
“Mmhmm” she hums, her finger tracing circles between his shoulder blades now, “Our Legend, it’s like our profile, our history, for our undercover identities. We’ll build it together so that we know it inside out. But it doesn’t have to be a total fabrication.” Her voice is gentle and sweet as she explains.
Spencer sits up straight again, looking to Y/N with a furrowed brow and she continues, “Remember the first time we hung out outside of work?” She coaxes and he nods. Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory he would never forget.
“You asked me to go see that Russian film and you translated it into my ear the whole time?” He smiles at the memory, “And I just hadn’t told you that I spoke Russian yet” she giggles.
She was going to tell him right as the movie started, honestly she was, but the way he had to lean in so close to whisper the words in her ear, so close that she could smell his soap and shampoo. She would’ve told him, but then he would’ve stopped.
“Then we went to that noodle place next door and you started to fact check a bunch of my translations?” He finishes the story.
“That’s the one!” She sees him ease into the seat on the sofa, his body beginning to relax, “So how about we keep things simple, that was our first date.” Y/N states so plainly, like the suggestion doesn’t make Spencer’s heart skip a beat.
“Yeah, okay.” he nods in agreement swallowing the lump in his throat.
“Great, so we have our starting point” she pulls out a notebook and makes a note of it, he leans over to peer at the writing on the page.
“November 18th” he says quietly and she turns to him confused,
“That was the uh, the date, the date of our ‘first date’” she nods in agreement and puts the date next to the bullet-point in the notebook
“November 18th” she repeats content.
“We’re Spencer and Y/N Green. We’ve been together for 2 years, married for just over a year. We eloped in Vegas after going to visit Spencer’s Mother. He’s a professor and I’m a bartender. That bar is where we met. We have opposite schedules in order to facilitate my infidelity.”
Y/N and Spencer stand at the top of the room facing the team gathered at the round table, the pages of their legend tacked to the board behind them.
“I found out after I left work early 4 months ago. Y/N doesn’t have a consistent partner but revealed she’d been casually sleeping with other people for the 6 months prior. She agreed to stop at the time but continued to cheat. This time we’re seeking professional counseling to see if we can save the marriage.” Spencer finished the story with ease. Turning to Y/N to shoot her a small smile.
Once they’d worked out the overall story, the details came easy. He wouldn’t let on but he was pretty confident he may know everything there was to know about his ‘wife’ already.
“Okay, if you both feel confident I can start making the arrangements with Garcia to set up an appointment for you two” Hotch stands up from the table turning back on his way out.
“Great work agents.”
There were no appointments available until the following week, which comes as both a stress and a relief. On one hand it gives them more time to prepare, but on the other hand it stretches this whole situation out further.
Garcia coaxes Rossi into inviting everyone over for the evening with little to no real effort. More than anything Spencer just wants to go home and read in the peace and quiet of his living room, but Y/N sits herself on the edge of his desk before he has a chance to leave for the night.
“You coming kid?” She picks up his satchel off the ground to hand it to him as he stands, he takes it from her before shaking his head.
“I don’t know that I’m up for it” he scrunches up his nose a little as he says it, it’s one of the nervous ticks he’s got that Y/N loves the most.
“Aw c’mon. My husband is gonna make me go to a party on my own? No wonder I went and cheated on you” she shoves his shoulder gently, antagonizing him just a little. He chuckles as he and shakes his head softly. “But seriously Spence, it’s been a rough day and half, and it’ll be an even weirder week. It might be good for you to blow off a little steam, get out of your own head” she reaches up to ruffle his hair as she says it.
He loves that. The way she has to reach all the way up on her tippy toes to get to the top of his head but she still insists on doing it. He softens with so little convincing.
“Y’know what, you’re right” he sighs, slinging his bag across his shoulder, “Lets get out of here.”
And it’s already worth it to see the smile that spreads across Y/N’s cheeks.
“I can see it, I think pretty boy here’s a bit stiff but you can pull it off” Morgan squints at the two of them sitting next to one another around Rossi’s table.
“Hey I’m not stiff” Spencer jumps to his own defense before the table erupts with laughter. He wants to fight it again but Y/N’s hand comes to rest on his forearm laying on the table between them.
“Yes you are Spence, but I married you anyway” she makes an exaggerated kissing face before the table begins to giggle yet again. Spencer doesn’t mind this time because after the joke is over her hand doesn’t move from it’s position.
“Oh, oh, oh!” Garcia almost begins to vibrate in her chair, “I’ve got a great idea, we should test you guys”
The team starts to holler and the sound throws Spencer’s head back into chaos. Each time he felt his heart start to palpitate he hoped Y/N couldn’t tell.
Garcia pulls out her phone and starts to look for questions, “What did they wear on your first date?” She asks with a quirk of her eyebrow.
“A light blue sweater with black pants and boots” Spencer answers with no hesitation.
“No fair!” Y/N yelps, “this game is rigged, the kids got an eidetic memory!”
“Alright then, I’ll change it up, who’s the tidiest?” Garcia asks, and that’s also unfair because Y/N knows it’s Spencer but doesn’t want to pay him that compliment. Before she can speak he’s already on it though.
“Me, is that not obvious?” He jokes,
“Yeah okay that one’s right too” Y/N sulks.
“What’s their dream job?” Garcia offers and Y/N jumps in before he can answer first.
“Aha! Magician!” she yelps and Spencer turns to her, eyebrows pulled together.
“Yeah, how’d you remember that?” he interrogates.
He knows exactly when he told her. Y/N was having a moment during a case. it was getting to her more than she’d like to admit but Spencer could tell. She’d knocked on his hotel room door one evening when she couldn’t sleep, she knew it wasn’t his strong suit either.
He’d let her in, settling on the bed. This was one of the better mattresses they’d had in a hotel. It helped soothe the muscles that had been tensed all day. Y/N didn’t want to talk about why she couldn’t sleep. This was the first time it happened, but they’ve found themselves in each other’s hotel rooms over and over as the cases went by.
They both knew that what they were searching for was distraction, and comfort, but they wouldn’t admit to the last one.
“Just tell me something, anything”
Spencer had to wrack his brain looking around the hotel room when something struck him. “Do you want to hear an interesting hotel fact?”
“Sure Spence, shoot” she murmured into the pillow she had curled up in her lap.
“Did you know that the ‘Sky Beam’, a bright light that shoots out of the Luxor Hotel in Las Vegas, attracts so many insects that it has established a new ecosystem of moths, bats, and owls” he says with fervor but he can see from the way her face contorts that he’s put the wrong foot forward.
“Not a gross fact Spencer” she knocks him in the head with her pillow, not too harsh, but rough enough to ruffle his curls.
He skims the room again, eyes landing on a few coins scattered on his bedside table. “How about a magic trick?” she looks at him strange but shakes the expression away and nods.
Spencer picks up a coin of the nightstand and shows it to Y/N with enthusiasm, “See just a regular coin” he jokes and she returns the look exasperated.
“Alright, spoilsport” he holds it out to her pinched between the thumb and index finger of his right hand, moving his left hand over the coin quickly before it vanishes. He then holds out his two empty palms to Y/N for inspection.
“Nah, bullshit” she says, pulling his open palms towards her. He snaps them away before she can look too hard. Pulling his hands back in towards himself he waves one in front of the other and the coin reappears between his fingers.
“What?” is all she can say, and he’s accomplished his goal of distracting her now. “How’d you do that?” she picks up the coin and starts to inspect it closely, with no idea what she’d even be looking for.
“A magician never reveals his secrets” he smirks, confident now that he’s left her so dumfounded. She snaps her head up to look at him, throwing the coin back into his waiting hands.
“So you’re a magician now?” she jokes, reclining back onto the pillows below her and turning her head to look up at him. He follows suit, lying down on his own pillows next to Y/N and returns her gaze.
“Yup, that’s actually what I wanted to do when I was a kid. Still do if I’m honest with myself. So I guess if this FBI thing ever goes belly-up I’ve got a back up plan” he says it like it’s just a silly joke but Y/N can see it’s a little more than that. Spencer joined the BAU so young he almost didn’t get to have a childhood at all, he barely even chose what he would spend the rest of his life working at.
“You have to teach me that one sometime” she yawns, shutting her eyes softly.
“Anytime” he smiles, even thought she can’t see it, and watches as her breathing evens out and she’s asleep. He’s gone not long after. He wishes he had the energy left to stay awake, watching her for even a few moments more so that he could commit the sight to memory. But something about her presence in his room, in his bed, just put him at complete ease and he couldn’t help but fall asleep.
Like so many things in their friendship he’d assumed he was the only one to remember it all so vividly. Despite how often Y/N proved him wrong he would never get used to it.
“Of course I remembered you wanted to be a magician Spencer. How was I supposed to forget that, you still haven't taught me that coin thingy” she feigns annoyance but really she’s just had a glass or two of Rossi’s expensive wine and is feeling brave.
“Sorry Y/N I tried to teach you that, your coordination is just that bad” he shrugs and takes a sip from his own glass.
Derek interrupts, scanning the screen of Garcia’s phone for an interesting question before he appears to land on one, his face lighting up.
“Of the two of you, who’s the better kisser?” Derek says with pure confidence that catches Spencer so off guard that he almost spits out his wine like he’s in a cartoon.
“We haven’t– we don't need– we uh” Spencer stammers having next to no clue what he’s even trying to say.
“I’m sure it’s 50/50, isn’t that right Mr. Green?” Y/N reaches her hand up to cup his cheeks, pushing his lips into a small pout. The red wine staining his lips ever so slightly so that they’re just a shade pinker than usual. And Y/N can’t help but stare at them for a second too long before looking up into his eyes.
He looks uneasy, and a little nervous so she lets go of his cheeks, letting her hand fall down to rest on his forearm once again, grazing the exposed skin.
“You gotta at least play the part pretty boy” Derek laughs, “What happens if this therapist starts asking about your sex life, are you gonna clam up, freak out?”
And he hadn’t thought about it. But it made sense, the sessions were going to be about ‘cheating’ which is by it’s very nature linked to their sex life. This was worse than he thought.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it Morgan. I’ve thought of it all.” Y/N waves off the comment, gripping Spencer’s arm a little tighter as she spoke in an effort to comfort him. “You know what, I actually think it might be time to head out.” She stands up from the table, rubbing her ‘husband’s’ shoulder as she moves so that he follows suit, recognizing this move as her saving him from the interaction.
They’re out the door together with minimal teasing in under 3 minutes, piled into a cab beside each other with no real plan other than to leave that table.
“Do you want to go by to yours and watch old reruns of The Twilight Zone?” Y/N offers and Spencers shoulders almost melt into the black leather of the seat behind him.
“So so badly” he groans, letting his eyes close as he falls back against the headrest.
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summary: spencer’s neighbor happens to believe he has the best hands in the world. one night, she asks if she can feature them on her only fans page
a/n: based on this request from @subspencer
category: smut, 18+, spencer reid x fem!reader
warnings: fingering, light choking, spencer’s praise kink, minor alcohol consumption, slightly sub!spencer
word count: 3k
Without a doubt, Spencer Reid has the best hands she's ever seen. She'd be ashamed of how often she thinks about them if they happened to be any less perfect than they are.
The first time she noticed them was when she walked into the mailroom of her apartment building. He was checking his letter box which was so conveniently placed in the slot next to hers. As he stood in front of his mail cubby and scanned the letters he received, he was tracing over the words with his fingers.
She was instantly drawn. They were long and thin, and she hand no idea how they managed to look so delicate yet so strong at the same time.
There's a good chance he's caught her looking at them once or twice. But he has only himself to blame, really, because he can't stop using his hands when he speaks. They're always brushing his lip, pressing into his chin when he's deep in thought, or waving in front of his pretty face.
It's like he wanted her to stop and look. Dangling the forbidden fruit in her face like that.
But he had no idea how often she thought of them. It became harder to ignore the more they saw each other, which as of lately, has been a lot. In the name of "neighborly spirit", she's invited him to hang out after work a few times in the past couple of weeks.
With the invitation comes a few drinks. With a few drinks comes reduced inhibitions.
"You have really nice hands, you know," she slurs, smiling around the lip of her beer bottle as she takes another sip.
He merely raises a brow as she sets her bottle onto the coffee table and takes his hand into hers. She starts to play with his fingers, admiring how much larger they look next to hers. As she traces along the length of his middle finger, he blushes and tries not to pull away on instinct.
"Uh. Thank you, I guess?" he chuckles.
"Can I borrow them sometime?" she thinks to herself, lost in a sea of thoughts about what all those hands could do.
"Excuse me?" Spencer chokes around his beverage when he hears that and has to set it down to make sure he heard right.
She laughs. "What I meant to say was, could you model them for me sometime? There's... a few pictures that these would be good for."
She wiggles her brows at him. Her statement was intentionally vague; she figured asking Could you pose for my Only Fans profile would've been a bit more of an intimidating way to put it. But he shares a wall with her; he’s heard her recording her videos. He's well aware of her job and why she wants those pictures.
He's reluctant to do it, but she's still playing with his fingers and stroking his hands so tenderly. Spencer just likes to be appreciated, to be both paid attention to and praised, and this feels quite nice. So he agrees.
Five minutes later, she comes back into the living room with a couple pieces from her own jewelry box that might work for him. Really, anything would've looked good but she needed some that looked like they could be his size.She finds that a couple of the gold ones look good on him. Dainty and ornate to compliment the slender, sculpted nature of his fingers. His fingernails are neat and almost feminine, but the back of his hands show off veins under the thin skin.
He dances his newly decorated fingers against her palm and clears his throat, waiting for instruction.
"Here, put your hands like... this." She picks up his wrists and rests his hands in his lap, pushing him to lean back on the couch in a relaxed pose. He has on dark black pants that contrast his skin.
As a courtesy, she leaves his face out of frame and focuses solely on the main attraction. "That's good. Now..." she trails off as she thinks. Then, taking his hand again, settles on placing it on her own thigh.
Spencer's shoulders tense slightly and she can feel it with the way his fingers go rigid. In another situation, with his hands in another place, that would've been more desirable.
"Is this ok?" she asks. His lips pull into a sheepish grin and he nods, reprimanding himself inside. To reassure that he's fine, he relaxes his hands and rubs her thigh a little. His fingers tighten around her as she clicks a few pictures.
She's clad in comfy sweats, and though the pictures come off slightly scandalous and suggestive, they have a domestic quality about them. Way too easily she can picture laying in bed next to Spencer, cuddling up to him on a lazy morning. One full of pillow talk and soft kisses as he roams his hands over her, taking his time to appreciate every inch of her body. The way she fits into his palms and the warmth of her skin against his...
Shaking that thought from her head, she takes the opportunity to slip her hand on top of his. She's about two seconds away from telling him how big his hand looks, but refrains as she takes the pictures.
Instead, she wraps her fingers around his two middle ones. The same ones she's imagined him using on her countless times.
No doubt he knows what she's thinking about. He starts coughing and sputtering because he starts thinking about it, too.
"Sorry, go on," he blushes. He's embarrassed of his reaction, not by the photos, and wonders how she could keep such a professional front during this. As if she was truly unaffected by it like she seemed to be. He sure wasn't.
"Do you think we can take a few... more playful ones?" she asks shyly. He finds himself agreeing before he even questions what playful meant.
But she smiles at him and he discovers that he doesn't really care what it entails, he's just happy to have made her smile like that.
She pushes his shoulder even deeper into the couch until he's reclined against the armrest with his legs stretched out. Carefully, she scoots into a seat between his legs and leans her back onto his chest. Nestled perfectly against him, she places one of his hands at a safe, conservative starting place. Right on top of her tummy, fingers pushing under the hemline of her tank top.
Just so he could get a feel for it – for her - before she had him venture further.
With a quick look to Spencer, she assured him he should relax, get more familiar. He lets go of a breath he didn't realize he was holding and loosens his hand. His fingers splay out over her waist. The tips of his fingers find little exposed patches of warm, bare skin. Time moves by so slowly as they stay together like that.
"That's good!" she praises, clicking a dozen pictures in that position. "Could you move your hand a bit?"
He misinterpreted her request. Choosing to be on the safe side, he removed his hand from her body entirely.
"No, Spencer," she laughs, "I meant can you move it around on me."
He gulps. Probably at an audible volume, and hopes that she doesn't feel his heart beating out of her chest. It's probably thumping against her back as he touches her again.
The heel of his palm rests flat against her hip while his fingers graze lazy circles over the sliver of bare skin. She giggles at the way it tickles, squirming in his lap to get away. She snatches his hand away when he finds the weakest spot, catching her breath again after her fit of laughter.
He tries his best to ignore what the squirming does to his body. As she settles down, the first place she can think of putting his hand is on her chest. She did so before thinking twice about it.
"That's - that's your -" he stammers, unable to finish that thought. "Are - are you sure?"
He doesn't know if removing his hand is the polite thing to do, or if it's actually more rude - what if she take offense to his refusal to touch her? He's too conflicted. His brain is doing olympic gymnastics as he tries to process what to do.
In the end, he lifts up his hand and then puts it back down about three times, unable to decide what the right thing to do is. Effectively doing nothing but pawing at her, repeatedly.
"Spencer!" she squeals with laughter, trapping his hand against her chest with her own to get him to stop.
"Sorry." He goes bright red when he realizes what he's just done. She smiles and shakes her head.
She raises her phone to take another picture as Spencer readjusts his grip to cups the underside of her tits. Quickly, he makes the astute observation that under that thin white tank top, she is not, in fact, wearing a bra.
Forget olympic gymnastics, his brain just pulled a muscle and is now out of service.
Right as she takes the photo, he tests out if he's right about it. He ever so slightly kneads her chest, feeling for a distinct lack of underwire. A soft moan escapes her lips.
Spencer's hands still, as does she. Until he grants her the grace of ignoring it. She continues taking her pictures in silence, throat feeling a little tighter now, as he holds that pose. Her nipples harden and Spencer watches through her phone screen as they begin to bud through the fabric. He can't help his curiosity.
He watches the frames clicking by as he slowly, carefully shifts one of his thumbs along the curve of her breast. He brushes over the sensitive peak and another small sound escapes her. She nearly drops her phone.
Spencer's prepared to apologize for it, when she turns her face to him with a sheepish request.
"Could you... keep that hand there, and move the other to my neck?" His surprise to that ask is clear, but he does it anyway.
One hand kneads her chest while the other tightens around her throat. His long fingers wrap nearly the whole way around. The veins running through his sculpted hands are fully on display as he gently restricts her airways. He’s never done this before, hold someone’s neck like this. But from the look on her face, he’s doing a good job of it.
She was nice enough to keep Spencer's face out of the pictures, but he sees hers perfectly when he looks at her phone screen. Her head is tucked under his chin, brows are slightly drawn together. Her eyes close gently and her mouth begins to part. The image of total bliss.
Not for the first time tonight, an idea pops into his head. He lets go of her neck and instead brings to fingers - his middle and ring, the same two she spotlighted earlier - to her lips. Just to see what she'd do.
Eyes still closed, she feels them tap against her bottom lip. She readily accepts them into her mouth and suctions around his delicate fingertips, nibbling lightly on the pads of them with her teeth.
Spencer's hips press subtly up to her ass, providing the briefest relief to his hard dick. She slides her mouth down the length of his digits, flattening her tongue against the underside of his fingers with a pleased hum.
"Oh, fuck," he whispers to himself. He questions how in the fuck he ended up in this situation. With his neighbor on top of him, sucking on his fingers and asking him to play with her tits. And he has no idea how to proceed from here like everything's normal. Lucky for him, she doesn't plan to.
She topped taking pictures a while ago. But she takes the extra measure to toss her phone onto the floor to let him know that this was just for the two of them now.
His grip travels from her chest to her waist, tightening around her hips. His fingers knot up the waistband of her sweats, pushing and pulling the fabric until her hips start to rock against him.
She gasps his name in broken syllables, muffled by his fingers, and rolls her hips down to him. She pushes his hand lower until he cups her cunt over her sweats. His long fingers wrap around her curves and stop right at her entrance while his palm rests right against her clit.
She lets out a whine when she feels him grind his palm against her. Her grip on him tightens to press him impossibly closer as she grinds against his hand. His nose brushes against her neck as he cranes to peer over her shoulder and watch as she bucks desperately into his palm.
Her neck bends to give him access and he teasingly skims his lips against her throat. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she sighs, eyes closed. His tongue darts over his lips before he presses them in an open kiss at the junction of her neck and shoulder.
As he draws the skin into his mouth, using his teeth to graze and tongue to soothe, she whines and ruts against him. His hips buck to hers and he slings his arm over her waist, holding her against his dick as she squirms.
"Spencer," she gasps. She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her sweats and tugs it down to her thighs.
His eyes fall straight to her cunt, clothed in a pair of simple white cotton panties. He wonders if they're damp, and presses a finger to her center. She's completely soaked them through.
He kisses a line along the side of her jaw, up to her ear. His words come out mumbled and breathy, "Want me to?" She whines and nods yes.
He pushes his fingers down the waistband of her panties. The tight elastic band shortens his range of motion, trapping his fingers flush against her as he finds her clit and begins to rub in concentrated circles. Her knees press together as she gets more whiny, thighs starting to shift against each other as she tries to calm down.
His fingers slip out of her panties. Before she can begin to miss them, he tugs the fabric of the panties to the side. He runs a finger through her wet folds, teasing over her entrance.
"Fuck, please fuck me," she pleas. He dips two fingers at her entrance, teasing before inserting them painfully slowly. He hooks his legs between hers and uses them to spread her out, giving himself better access. His fingers sink inside, down to the knuckle. Fully inside, he spreads his fingers a little bit at the time, feeling her walls resist the stretch.
She can't stop moving. Her feet plant firmly onto the sofa cushions as she writhes on top of him. Her hand digs into his forearm and holds him close as she moves against him, fucking herself with his fingers. As she moves, he quickly curls them upwards, hitting that spot inside her.
He wonders if he can come just from this. From watching her gasp and moan at his movements, hearing her sing little praises for him under her breath. From having her grinding her soft ass against his dick each time she rolls into his fingers.
Her hand flies to his hair as he starts pumping his fingers rapidly. She runs them all through his waves, tugging carefully in all the right places. He brings his free hand back to her throat and wraps his fingers around it. Her eyes clamp shut even harder, a low mewl drawing out from her. His thumb moves to rub patterns over her clit as his fingers pump relentlessly. Her fingers screw into his strands as he brings her closer.
"So good, Spencer, so good, so..." she rambles nonsense. Her thighs begin to tremble when his thumb picks up pace, his hold on her throat tightening. Her walls begin to flutter around his fingers and she groans loudly as she comes. Only a small portion of it is heard through Spencer’s hand around her neck.
She cries when he keeps going, wanting to draw her orgasm out as long as possible. His fingers retreat from inside her and focus solely on o her clit, working rapid motions up and down over the bundle of nerves. Her hips move uncontrollably against his. Spencer's hand leaves her throat and flies to her waist, holding and steadying her as she grinds on his aching dick.
Her hands duck between their bodies and tug at his waistband, signaling him to take them off. She lifts her hips up just slightly, enough for Spencer to fit his hand between and work off the button and zip of his slacks. She takes his cock into one hand and carefully guides him between her legs, running the head of his cock through her folds. His shaft slicks with her arousal as her hips move up and down on his length, enveloping him in the warm wetness.
He retracts his fingers as she nestles his cock flush against her, her fingertips holding him firmly there. As she moves over him, the tip of his cock nudges her clit with each pass. Her tummy tightens, an orgasm bursting quickly after the first one. Another string of praises fall from her – so good, such perfect hands, perfect cock, feels so fucking good - as she meets it, and Spencer's hips stutter.
His movements get sloppier and he feels his control slip away. He can feel her throbbing against the base of his dick as he grinds on the outside of her pussy. His grip tightens as he rocks harder against her, faster. His mouth hangs open and he cranes his neck to watch as he spurts his release all over her, coating her folds with his come. It spreads all over her as she keeps sliding on him, drawing out his orgasm as long as possible. She twitches each time she accidentally nudges her clit with his cock, still sensitive after he made her come twice.
His breathing pans out slowly. She stops her motions and lays against him as they both recover. Something between shyness and embarrassment creeps up on Spencer as he lays there, until she cuts in.
"Wow, um. That wasn't what I planned to happen," she laughs, "But can I borrow your hands again sometime?"
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professor!spencer x fem!reader
a/n: this is based on this concept of pervy professor spencer, who has been lusting after a student. cw: unprotected sex (wrap it!), cream pie, fingering, brief oral (fem receiving), hair pulling, no dom/sub relationship. i mean spencer is kinda a sub no matter what tho. lmk if i missed anything!
He’s aware that what he’s doing isn’t right, or ethical. It doesn’t stop him, though.
He shouldn’t be looking at a student the way that he does. Much less be thinking about her in such sinful contexts; when he’s alone at night with his own hands around his cock, picturing her laying under him. Or maybe she’s sitting in his lap, bouncing on his dick while her skirt flounces around her waist. Sometimes she’s on her knees in front of him, using her mouth to get him off in his own office. And sometimes just the thought of tasting her, having her fall apart on his tongue while his fingers are deep inside her, is enough to do the job.
There are about a thousand and one ways he shouldn’t be thinking about her, and unfortunately, he’s thought about them all.
He’s completely guilty.
Of making her come up to the chalkboard in the front of the class, under the guise of demonstrating how to solve some equation, just so he can see her bare legs carry her across the room, his eyes following where her short skirts barely covered her.
Of lingering at her seat when he comes over to answer her questions, resting his arm on the table and leaning in close enough to smell her, peeking down her blouse when she’s unaware he’s looking.
Of keeping his eyes on her the entire duration of his lectures, unashamed to get caught staring. Feeling smug with the way she shrinks a little when she gets flustered under his gaze, prideful that his affection was noticed.
His shame doesn’t live only in his mind –– he’s done more than enough to know she may never look him in the eye again if she found out.
There was one time that she forgot her sweater behind in the lecture hall. Spencer took it home with him, telling himself it was just so he could keep it safe and bring it back to her during the next class. He knew it was one of her favorites, after all, for how frequently he watched her wear it.
But that sweater never got returned.
His mistake was bringing it inside, whereas he really should’ve just left it in his car. He flung it over the back of his couch, dropping it there so he’d remember to pick it up again in the morning on his way out. But when he sat down, with the fucking sweater dangling next to his face, he could smell her sweet perfume lingering on it. And it was so incredibly soft, just like he imagined her skin to be.
It wasn’t exactly a proud moment, but he buried his cheek against the sweater as he put a hand down his slacks, letting the sweater add a new layer to his fantasies. They just felt even more real with the fabric rubbing against his face, allowing him to picture her –– her touch, her smell –– so vividly.
And now he’s had it for so long that it almost feels weird to give it back. So he doesn’t, and he doesn’t feel bad about it. After all, if the closest he could ever get to her was by stealing a piece of fucking fabric, he deserved to have it. It was the least he should have if he couldn’t have her.
Sometimes he deludes himself into thinking she wants him too. When she comes to office hours after class, wanting to discuss her assignments despite being his top student. Acting as if she needs the help. Or in the way she looks up at him from her chair as she asks questions in class, making eyes that look like she’s just begging to be fucked. Wearing cherry colored lip gloss that calls to him like a signal.
But maybe he’s just a big joke to her. Maybe she tells all her friends about the weird professor that leaves flirty little comments on the corners of her papers. How he always says good morning to her, but not to any of the other students. They probably laugh about it in private, making comments about how her professor probably wants to sleep with her. Why else would they be alone in his office so often?
They’d be right. And he’d be grateful if they said that, to be honest, because at this point he’s desperate for her to finally realize it. His infatuation with her is growing quickly out of control and soon it might kill him.
It feels like her hemlines keep getting shorter, her sweaters tighter. At one point he discovered that she stopped wearing bras under her tops because he can see her nipples right through the fabric when they get hard. It leaves him wondering what else she might not be wearing.
And he knows it’s probably a figment of his imagination, but he wants to believe that she does it for him.
The idea that she knew his secrets added a twisted little element to it. Like she dresses this slutty on purpose because she knows what it does to him. Because he figures that even if she doesn’t want him, she wants to play this silent game just to see what he’ll do next.
The only thing is that there’s nothing more he can do without losing the last ounce of dignity he has. He’s already getting himself off on thoughts of her when he’s at home, and now he’s doing it in his office, right after she leaves. Barely able to wait until she walks out the door.
In an ideal world, she’d catch him in the act. Realize she forgot her pen or that she had one more question to ask and walk back in at just the right moment, while he’s hard and moaning out her name.
Either she’d look at him in disgust or in some weird way she’d find it flattering, and he doesn’t even care at this point because he just wants her to know.
That was the problem, that she honestly didn’t know.
She had no idea the effect she had on him, never expecting that such a shy girl as herself could grasp the attention of the university’s most attractive professor. Everything she did, everything she wore was borne from innocent intentions, and Spencer was the one turning them into perverse fantasies.
He knows he’s not the type of man to corrupt someone; he wouldn’t say he’s looking to break her or to destroy her gentle innocence in any way. It might be another thing he cherishes about her –– her unassuming, shy exterior that reminded him so much of himself. But, fuck, did she make it easy to think that way when everything she did just felt so sexual to him.
How could it not, when she bites down so gently on the cap of her pen between two perfectly parted lips? When he can see her tongue flickering behind it, pressing against the cap as she loses herself in thought. She could be doing anything and Spencer would find a way to fuel his sinful imagination with it.
He prepared himself for the possibility that their tension would never come to a breaking point. She’d finish the semester, move on to graduate, and forget all about him when he knew he’d never be able to forget about her. For all that the world’s given Spencer, he’d come to accept that to be his fate. To be forgotten about, to go unnoticed in his affections.
However, even fate has its surprises.
He always sat on top of his desk right next to her seat, rather than in his own chair, just so he’d be able to occasionally graze his thigh against her shoulder as they spoke. And so he could visualize her head so, so close to his lap — an image saved for later use.
But for the first time, she seemed to be the one initiating the stolen touches.
The hand that clutched her essay now rested so carefully on his knee, in a closed fist but nonetheless on top of him, as she read it aloud. Voice as sweet as ever. She didn’t even notice she was doing it. It was the passive kind of contact that people who are comfortable with each other have. He took that as a good sign.
And when she looked up from the page, she looked right into his eyes as she adjusted her hand a little higher on his leg than it was before. He’s convinced he saw her tongue dart out, sweeping over her bottom lip. It’s a small act but intentional.
He didn’t want to be too presumptuous, so he tested the waters first. Subtly shuffling his leg so that his thigh slides down on her further, legs falling open just a little as he bites his lip.
The first thing a former profiler understands about body language is that mirroring someone’s movements can reveal subconscious trust, desire to build personal connection, and most importantly, romantic interest.
So when she bit down on her own lip, Spencer had all the answers he needed.
His eyes narrowed on her, feeling like he’s finally made a breakthrough. “Why did you come to office hours when your essay is already perfect?”
She didn’t expect that question. She comes to his office hours all the time. Never because she needs the help, but that’s never been a concern to him before. Before her stammering could form an excuse, he covered her hand with his own to let her know he’s noticed her placement on him.
She swallowed the air in her dry throat, averting his eyes when she whispers, “For the same reason you kept my sweater?”
And he didn’t expect that answer. He took that sweater a month ago — how, for weeks, had she known about that?
“I saw you walking to your car with it. I went back to find it, and… I saw.” Her voice was small, so afraid to be wrong about him.
She was right, and now she knew. More importantly, it didn’t seem to scare her, not even when he intertwined their fingers together as she rose to stand in front of him. Spencer exhaled deeply, feeling relief wash over his whole body as she willingly came closer to him.
Neither of them had anything to say; there are no words to use when you know what’s coming, when you can instead let your actions speak for you.
Spencer scooted closer to the edge of his desk, narrowing the gap between them. His knee slot between her legs as he beckoned her closer by her hips, guiding her above his thigh. He wanted her to take the first initiative, leaning back on his arms to admire her figure over him as he let her figure out where she wanted to go from there.
She watched his face for approval as she let her hips shift down until she was straddling his thigh. With a hand on each of his shoulders, she braced herself as she slowly pressed against him, using her soft thigh to place pressure against his dick.
She bit her lip, cowering under his eyes that wanted to memorize her face, the way she looks and feels when she’s with him like this. The exchange is a silent challenge of who will break first.
It’s Spencer. Of course it’s Spencer, who breaks the stillness of the moment with rushed, desperate actions. He waited too long to not fall apart as soon as he got to have her.
He surged forward to connect his lips to her neck, sucking the skin harshly like a man deprived. Her fingers came to knot in his hair, twisting and tugging the strands as his hot mouth trailed across the expanse of her bare neck. One hand came down to her ass, holding her as she rode his thigh. He used it to force her hips to grind on him as he pushed his thigh firmly against her, soft whimpers escaping her lips as he put pressure on her core. He groaned, feeling her panties dampen through his trousers.
The other hand worked its way to the back of her scalp, tangling the hair in his fingers and giving it a sharp pull to make her cry out.
“Ah! Doctor Reid!” Fucking finally. At last he got to hear her say his name in that foul, desperate way he always fantasized about.
“Say it again, sweetheart?” he asked, moaning into her neck as he slid his hands under her skirt, hooking his fingers into the sides of her thong and tugging roughly, letting the fabric create harsh friction against her clit.
Her sharp cry turned into a rolling moan as he pulled her underwear again, more carefully this time, twisting it against her clit in slow, aching circles. Her lips brushed against the shell of his ear as she repeated his name lowly before they wrapped around his lobe, using her teeth to tug gently.
He groaned and released the fabric, letting it snap sharply against her skin.“Take these off.”
Telling her to do it was pointless because he was already ripping them down her legs himself. He let them drop to the floor once they made it past her knees and she kicked them away as she stepped out of them. He made quick work of the buttons on her sweater, placing wet kisses on each new inch of skin he exposed. Across her collarbones, in the dip between them where they met her throat, down her sternum and over the top of her breasts.
At the same time, she reached around for the zipper on the back of the skirt in a rush to take everything off for him. It only earned her a light slap to the side of her thigh. Not enough to really hurt. Not even to sting. It was just his way to command attention back to him.
“Keep it on.”
She nodded, “Okay,” and pushed him further back on top of his desk, practically jumping into his lap and hooking her legs onto either side of his to straddle him. Bruising knees against the wood be damned.
The moment she was in his lap, looking down at him with these eyes that held a warmth beyond simple lust, he paused. Everything slowed down. If Spencer never got to have this twice, then he was prepared to make the first time mean everything with the woman he’d desired for so long. Gone was the desperation as he finally brought their lips together, allowing their first kiss to be tender as their mouths glided together. It was sweet, savoring the taste and feeling of each other’s lips.
His lips wrapped perfectly around her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before giving the same treatment to the other. She placed two hands on either side of his face to hold him to her as she rolled her hips against his at a painfully slow pace. Without her panties between them, Spencer could feel her wetness seeping into the fabric over his crotch. As her mouth opened to let him in, his hands traveled up her sides until they stopped at her chest. She moaned into the kiss as his hands kneaded the soft flesh, gently tugging on his swollen bottom lip to pull his own sounds free.
His hands travelled under the skirt again, lifting up the hem to get a full view of her bare under it. He ran two fingers through her slit, coming back up covered in her arousal. He greedily popped them into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around them as he licked them clean. The digits disappeared into his mouth and slowly retracted back, sliding in and out of his plush, pouty lips so temptingly.
She leaned down and captured his lips again, gently sucking on his tongue with a soft moan as she tasted herself on it. She wrapped one hand around his, bringing it to her mouth and pressing a long kiss to the tips of his two middle fingers, begging for him to use them on her again.
To punctuate her want, she guided his hand down her body, lifting her hips a little to give him access to slide between her legs. He ran his fingers through her folds again, groaning before stopping to pay attention to the bundle of nerves at her crest. A series of soft sighs came out of her as he rubbed in slow circles, alternating directions before switching to side-to-side motions.
She rested her forehead against his, her shallow breath fanning across Spencer’s face as he continued, taking in as much of the view as he could. His fingers moved away to dip over her entrance, teasing with just one fingertip pressed inside. She whined and squirmed against him, pushing her hips closer to his hand with soft begs, “Please.”
Slowly, he pushed his middle finger inside with a groan, “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” his lips attached themselves to her throat, trailing hot kisses down the column of her neck and onto her chest, mumbling against the skin, “and wet.” When he reached her sternum he could feel her heart beating rapidly. And he stopped to circle around it with loving kisses.
Both her arms wrapped around his shoulders, cradling his head nearer to his body, encouraging him to continue worshipping her with his mouth. “That feels so good,” she gasped as his finger curled upward deep inside of her. He added extra pressure against her anterior wall as he dragged it out, then pumped it slowly in again.
She took fistfuls of his hair and twisted them as he fucked his finger into her repeatedly, tugging harder when she wanted him to add a second one, unable to form words beyond a desperate “More.” He slipped his ring finger in too, repeating the same motions as she adjusted to the stretch.
His spare hand held her by the waist as she started shaking around him, thighs fighting the urge to clamp shut with his hand in between. As he curled his fingers again, pushing them in so deeply, she moaned loudly in his ear with hot, wet breath that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
She breathed out incoherent words to tell him she’s so, so close, and he brought his thumb up to her clit, applying pressure to bring her over the edge. He covered her mouth with his own, swallowing her moans as she clenched tight around him, so nearly there. He thrusted his fingers faster, repeatedly coaxing that spot inside that made her stomach flutter. Her grip tightened on his strands as she hit her high, drawing his moans into her mouth as she did the same into his.
Her breath came short and uneven as she recovered, slumping her tired body against his chest while he held her. His free hand came up to brush her sweat-dampened hair away from her face. He gave her a moment before withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to his tongue to clean them. Instead, he was stopped by her catching his wrist, dragging it towards herself instead. He looked up at her, jaw slacked in awe as she flattened her tongue on the underside of his long digits, running up their length before wrapping her hot, wet mouth around them.
She held his eye contact as she bobbed her head down, swirling her tongue around him as his fingertips hit the back of her throat. Her cheeks hollowed and lips glistened with her own arousal as she let go of his wrist and allowed him to push them on his own volition. As he watches his fingers disappear behind her lips, taking them so well, it just leaves him wondering how talented she’d be sucking other things, as well. His dick twitches against his zipper at the thought of it.
She must be able to read his mind, because she immediately went for the button on his trousers, resting the heel of her palm over his hard dick as she worked the fly open. His hips bucked into her touch and he moved to grip the underside of her thighs, lifting her carefully as he stood up.
He switched their places and set her back on the desk, guiding her with a hand on her back to lay down along the length of it, knees dangling over the edge. He quickly knelt on the floor and pulled her ass closer to the edge as he licked a broad stripe across her cunt. She whimpered as he began using his mouth to carefully clean her up, running his tongue along her folds to gather all of her release. With a sly smile to himself, his tongue formed a dart and flicked harshly over her clit just to tease. He adored her dearly, but he couldn’t resist hearing her soft sob at the overstimulation. He chuckled and soothed it with a sweet kiss before rising to stand over her.
She leaned back on her elbows to watch him as his eyes scanned over her body, pupils blown wide. She quickly scrambled up to work the buttons on his shirt, yanking his tie off in the process. If she was already naked, it’s only fair she should get to look at him too.
She pulled off his boxers last, dropping them to the floor so he’s finally exposed to her. A small, Fuck, escaped as she takes him in, sight fixed on his pretty cock. Of course the most attractive professor would also have a pretty dick.
She left a sloppy kiss on the center of his chest, nibbling on the skin with her teeth until a purple mark forms. It’s almost poetic, he thought, that she should mark his heart like that. A physical manifestation of what’s already been done.
She continued sucking little bruises into his skin, working across the bare canvas of his chest as she wrapped her hand around his cock, spreading the precome leaking from his tip over his shaft to slick him up as she pumps up and down.
When he couldn't wait any longer, he put his hips flush to hers, grinding his dick against the outside of her pussy. His eyes rolled back at even the slightest friction she provided. She leaned back again to give him a better angle to enter her. He braced himself with a palm against the table as he lined himself up and began to push in.
“You feel so good,” he gasped as he felt her warm and wet around his dick. He lifted the hem of her skirt, pooling it over her belly so he can get a better view of where their bodies met as he thrust into her. He leaned down to give her a quick peck, only managing to use half his words, “so pretty.”
She whimpered as he stretched her out, pushing incrementally to let her adjust before he finally fit fully inside her. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips as he concentrated on her face, watching for signs of pleasure to encourage him. Her eyes screwed shut and brows were knitted as she focused on the way he felt, her jaw twitching as she let out silent moans.
When she nodded, he began to move. Not before bending down to place a kiss on her flushed cheek, right below the contours of her eye. She hadn’t noticed the tear forming there. As he worked up a rhythm, his thumb fell back to her clit, tracing small patterns into the bundle of nerves. He drew out a few gasps before easing off the pressure for a few seconds, and repeated. Each time she caught her breath, he brought his thumb back, working out more pants and moans from her before removing the friction altogether, and starting again.
She felt the knot in her stomach grow too quickly with his ministrations, only to have it paralyzed each time he pulls away. He only gave her reprieve when she braced her hand around the forearm that he uses to support himself on the desk, digging her nails gently into his skin to beg for release as tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. “Please.”
He repositioned to wrap both arms around her hips and pull them up higher, lifting them slightly off the desk as he started to move faster. From this angle he got deeper, brushing against her spot with the head of his dick nearly each time he thrust in. Her thighs wrapped around his waist and drew him nearer, gasping breathlessly at the speed and force of his motions.
With her legs hooked around his sides to support herself, Spencer let go of her hips and bent down on the table, pressed flush against her body as he continued his relentless pace. His hazy brown eyes fluttered shut as he let his touch guide him across her body, starting at her chest and dotting sloppy kisses between the valley before slowly making way to one side, dragging his bottom lip across her skin until it found the bud. He wrapped his mouth around it, swirling over with his tongue and teasing it between his teeth as his large, rough hand paid attention to the neglected one, pinching and rolling her nipple between the pads of his fingers.
His free hand came to replace his mouth and continued the teasing as he was trailing his path upward, stopping to bury his head into the junction of her neck and shoulder. He nipped at the soft flesh, laving his tongue over each mark he chose to form. He could feel her throat reverberate under his lips as his name rolled off her tongue like a prayer, over and over as he gave himself to her.
Just as he bit down harder, her hips canted forward, and he stroked in just the right spot inside her. Both her hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging into the muscle as she cried out, head thrown back.
He dove down to capture her mouth as his hips buck forward on their own volition, determined to have her whine like that again as her release builds inside her. In mere seconds, she had to break it off to let her moans fall freely as the knot broke. His hands flew down to her thighs, gripping them with bruising force as he tried to keep her as close to him as possible as she trembled and tightened around him. He watched himself thrust against where their bodies meet, right under that little skirt still pushed up to her waist, to bring himself closer to the edge. Not long after, he followed, hips staggering as he continued to fuck her through his own orgasm.
His fingers relaxed around her thighs and he pressed their foreheads together as he came down, unwilling to move away. At the same time, she wrapped her arms around him with similar intention. She opened her eyes, only to be met with large, adoring eyes already watching her. He was taking in everything so carefully, as if he’d miss it all if he blinked, and she would disappear if he looked away.
Spencer studded kisses along her jawline, praising her for letting his fantasies finally come true. The two stayed like that for a while, basking in the glow of each other and the culmination of Spencer’s desire.
When he finally pulled away, he immediately rifled through his drawers for a tissue to run carefully over her body as he broke the seal around her. When he was happy with his work, he tucked himself back into his clothes and let her sit up on the edge of the desk as he began helping her find her own.
He found her sweater on the back of his chair and brushed it carefully before pulling it over both her shoulders, tugging to make sure it was on straight. She watched as he worked each of the buttons, his bottom lip between his teeth as he concentrated on putting her back together with utmost care.
His eyes scanned the floor for her panties, finding them flung over his satchel on the ground next to his desk. He picked them up quickly, admiring them for a brief moment before kneeling in front of her. He held them out, signaling her to lace her legs through them, and she shook her head.
“Keep those,” she smiled, mirroring his request that she keep her skirt on. His brows shot up, checking if she was being really serious about it. She leaned forward to cup his cheek, bringing his face to her own as she spoke through another long kiss, “Just give me back my favorite sweater.”
He chuckled as she took the pair from his fingers and tucked them into his shirt pocket, patting them twice over his chest.
“You can pick it up from my place?” He offered, hoping she’d understand his ulterior motives and take him up on it. She laughed and laced her hand into the back of his scalp, scratching gentle patterns as he melted into her. Even without his proposition, she knew she would end up back with him just like this.
“It’s a date.”
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Summary: y/n is bored, and that means she's incredibly horny. And the only cure is sitting on her boyfriend's lap until he finally surrenders to her needs (fem/reader)
Prompt: "C'mere, you can sit on my lap until I’m done working."
Warnings: (dom/spencer), (sub/reader), (kinda perv/spencer)Unprotected sex, penetrative sex, age gap (24/39), fingering, dom/sub undertones, predator/prey undertones, daddy kink, cnc undertones I think, masturbation, swearing, spanking, bitting as a turn on, cockwarming, praise, teasing, masochism (kinda), edging, breeding kink, crying, innocence kink, choking, mentions of overstimulation, degradation, panty ripping, minor jealousy. (NSFM)
I was horny, whiny, and impatient—it happened sometimes—and when Spencer wasn't home I would either send him some nudes hoping he would have compassion and grant me permission to come or I wouldn't and I would simply wait until he could make me come.
Only this evening wasn't the same as the previous ones because my Spencer was home, and I would make damn sure he knew how much I wanted—no needed—him.
I was almost done completing my Philosophy essay when my intense arousal hit me, and sitting criss-crossed in Spencer's leather armchair only made squirming and grinding against my middle easier. I suppressed some moans but the needier I became; the more I could only think about him. How his curly, messy, hair was so smooth in my hands and how those damn lips kissed mine. How in public he was the most amazing partner; kind and loving, but in the sheets he could make me his by bitting, sucking and pushing my limits until I was ruined in his arms.
I moaned out loud, shutting my computer harshly and standing up. I was only dressed in Spencer's pink chemise, his favorite shirt, and I clumsily undid some buttons. I grinned, mussing my hair and skipped into his living room to see him at his desk.
Spencer was so immersed in the documents he had taken home from work that he hadn't seen me. However, upon seeing me standing in his shirt and my obviously aroused expression, a smirk curved his lips, "How's your essay?"
"I don't understand the assignment." I whined.
Dismissing me, Spencer said, "I can look it over soon, y/n."
I couldn't see his smirk anymore but I could sense it and the shame bubbling inside me only stimulated my arousal. I unbuttoned another button on his shirt nonchalantly.
"I wanna do something," I explained in the most inexplicit manner I could. Spencer was an intelligent man, he could fill in the blanks.
"You can wait." He snapped, turning the paper in his hand and ignoring me.
I didn't like his tone, so I didn't listen to him. Instead, I leaned my arms on his desk and squinted at him, "I actually need your help now, Sir."
Spencer didn't look up.
"I could use some encouragement for my essay." I taunted, tempting him and still, nothing. I sensed his disappointment and my arousal seemed to intensify the more he didn't bear in mine my demands.
I needed him. I wanted him so badly that my mind was cloudy.
Spencer Reid, while a genius and an honest man, was primarily a man and I knew men didn't like other men, or women, hitting on their romantic partners and as I mentioned, Spencer was only a man, "If you won't help me then I could call up, Collin. I'm sure he'll want to assist me with my problem. He's constantly staring in class. He's kind."
"I won't touch you at all if you continue like this." Spencer reminded me and I smirked, happy than he responded to something.
"I'm sure it'll be less shocking than me dating someone who could easily be my professor. How scandalous. I'm sure many think I'm some slut and you—an old perv."
Spencer slammed his hand on the desk and I looked at him. His pupils had darkened and his jaw clenched. He was unquestionably stunning.
His usually puppy-like expression had hardened and I mean, sure, he was pissed and I must have pushed his buttons but that certainly didn't make him any less handsome and me any less horny.
"You don't know when to shut your mouth do you?" He said quite calmly, which greatly juxtaposed his previous outburst that happened only moments earlier and heat rose to my cheeks.
"No Sir, you should punish me." I smiled and feigned innocence, knowing that I was only rubbing well-warranted salt into his opened wound.
"C'mere and sit on my lap until I'm done working."
His demand shouldn't have surprised me. I had sat on Spencer's lap many times, even in public sometimes, and it was never something scandalous or impure.
Spencer was an honorable man, consistently meticulous in his movements and how his hands would touch me—but I could sense that this time he was asking me for something less innocent than the previous times.
Merrily, I jumped onto his desk and his chemise slid up my thigh; uncovering skin to tease him a little more. "I'm not wearing anything but skimpy panties Sir, that would be inappropriate." I smirked, turning towards him.
I crossed my arms, surely he didn't think I would relent that easily? I beamed at him, motionless, and the extreme lust that was burning in Spencer aroused me more as he expressed his ultimatum; his request or nothing.
I certainly didn't want nothing.
Smiling at him, I moved around his desk and straddled him. I wrapped him arms around his nape. "Is that better, Doc?"
His hands clamped around my hips, nails digging into my skin and in consequence, bunching up his chemise and exposing even more skin. I leaned in, my lips skimming his as I grinded my hips. I made a small needy sound into his ear.
"Shh," One hand steadied my hip, "I don't want to hear you. Can you do that?" Spencer's other hand found my hair, and he was pulling on my curls to expose my neck to him. Holding onto his shoulders as he kissed my sensitive skin harshly caused stimulating vibrations and I whined.
"What did I say, Sunshine?" He chuckled darkly, his hands sliding to my ass.
"Y-you said-d you didn't want to hear me." I mumbled when his hands skimmed my pantie's hem teasingly. Without any warnings he snapped the thin string and I jumped, "Spence! Fuck."
However, my complaint didn't matter anymore as his, straining, suit pant came in contact with my naked sex. I moaned and grinded my hips harder.
"I can buy you another pair." Spencer said, "Now don't complain, you wanted this."
I could only whimper as he unzipped his pants, taking his dick and lining up his dick to my soaking entrance. I pushed my head into his shoulder to muddle my moans as he sunk into me.
"Isn't this what you want?" His hands cupped behind my nape, holding me as I nodded into his him at the absolutely torturous lack of movement inside me.
Spencer was a smart man, and knowing him, I was almost sure he could read my mind as my hands clamped around his arms, "Don't move until you have permission, Sunshine."
Punishments like this one would usually make my breathing harshen, but this time I smiled and moaned again. Spencer was always cautious with me; making sure that I liked what was happening and usually cooing praises in my ear. However, his hold returned onto my hips and then his hands slid onto his desk as he continue his work showed me that, tonight, he wasn't planning on being nice.
I don't know how long he continued the charade of him buried deep inside me without any movement, but I was a whining mess. I had shifted on his lap three times: and each one had earned me a quick slap on my ass, Spencer's hand then rubbing around the reddening mark as I whimpered into his shoulder.
My arousal was evident now, I suppose it had been since the beginning but now it was worse and Spencer seemed to bask in the power he currently had over me.
"Shush, I'm finishing up and then you can have what you really want."
I wanted to listen to him and I wanted to be his good girl, I truly did. Only his calloused hands on my exposed skin and the hum from inside his chest was deepening the burning desire inside me. I buried my hands in his hair, holding him and grinding my hips, "P-please daddy." I mumbled wantonly against him.
His hand hit my ass again, harder this time, and I whimpered. However, the pain in my cheek was accompanied by a throbbing inside me and I smiled. Deciding that because Spencer was making this situation hard on me, I wanted to return the favor and I pressed kisses down his neck and up to his collar.
My hands slipped innocently down his shirt and unbuttoned the buttons. I heard his breath hitch as I untied his tie, "Pain won't dissuade me, daddy. I need you."
"You little brat," Spencer groaned as my hand blemished a line down his chest and I bit on his shoulder. It was my favorite thing, marking him as mine. Because he was mine; he was mine as I was his and I wanted everyone to know.
"What you gonna do about that?" I taunted and grinded against him again, "Do you plan on fucking me so hard I can't walk? Making me take you in this position? Or in your bedroom? I wanna know, Spence, have I been a bad?"
I know Spencer saw through me, he always did. But he must have also seen something worth having or even the desperation behind my eyes as I ran my mouth since he pulled me up into his arms, pushing out his chair and standing up.
Instinctively my legs hooked around him, our bodies never once disconnecting as I clung to him. He walked to his auburn, leather, couch in the middle of the living room and I moaned again, expecting him to sit and finally fuck me.
Only, he didn't.
Pulling out cautiously, I whined as Spencer sat me on his couch. He leaned over me, crushing my lips in his hands as he kissed me. Spreading my legs, my hands resting in between them, I blinked up at him with round innocent eyes clouding with pure lust.
"Touch your slutty pussy."
I didn't hesitate, my hand cupping my sex as I bit my lip at him, "I don't wanna." I muttered, pouting, "I want you to touch me."
But, as I said this I moaned inaudibly and pleasured my clit in quick motions.
Spencer undressed, simply staring at me, "You don't seem too unhappy, y/n."
I whined, "Spence, I fucking need you to fuck me." His hand slowly replaced mine as he leaned over me. His lips skimmed my ear, hot breath sending shivers up my spine.
"I know. You're so useless without me; needy and pathetic. But don't you worry, my darling, I'm here." His movements were slower than mine, calculated and deeper. It was like I was his toy, and I suppose I was in some way because he was spreading me open as he bit his lip, concentrating on his movements.
"Please," I couldn't answer him. I didn't know how but I did know I wanted him. Now.
Spencer kissed my temple, his hand on my lower back as he pulled me into him and then laid me on the couch. He hovered over me, hand still in motion as I moaned. He smiled, leaning in to capture my lips in his.
"Okay," Was all he said as his eyes shimmered. He tapped his three fingers onto my lips and I opened, sucking them and tasting me on his skin. It was dirty and naughty but the action only made me hornier as my hands fumbled to unzip his pants. However, when Spencer hooked his thumb in my mouth to silence my moans, my mind was so blurry that my hands didn't listen to my wants and Spencer had continue for me.
"Useless." He hummed in between kisses but behind the cruel word I could only hear his love. I knew that he absolutely adored me and that he was also in this relationship without me. I had him wrapped around my pinky and I couldn't ask for anything more.
Once his tip pressed against my hole, I grunted and wrapped my legs around him. "Spencer, please." He groaned, kissing my cheeks and pushing in.
No matter how many times he fucked me, I was never used to him. Maybe it was more because I loved him so much that whenever he was this close I couldn't be anything but happy. Or, maybe it was because Spencer knew exactly how to use what he was given.
As he thrusted once into me, slow and deep, I began to think my second assumption was the truth as I cried out. It was a little much, like everything inside me was falling apart in the best way possible. I squirmed, hands digging into Spencer's shoulders as I clung to him.
I had tears brimming as his slow thrusts continued. "You're amazing, look at you taking me like a champ. Is this what you wanted?"
I whispered a small "Yes", whining.
"Or this?" Spencer snapped his hips, holding onto the couches arm behind me and thrusted again until I squealed, clenching around him. "Does my little baby want more? Would fucking you harder make you happy, slut?"
I nodded, "Yes, please Spence."
His hand went down to my cheeks, slapping them a little as his pounding continued. I could sense every single movement and his hand tautened around my throat and he squeezed. I smiled, pulling him in even more.
"You know, you used to be innocent when I met you." Spencer breathed, peppering my skin with his sloppy kisses, "So fucking innocent, and now look what I did to you." He murmured, thrusting particularly hard and I cried out, the sound muffled in my throat. He was pressing hard now, but I trusted him. Spencer would never intentionally hurt me, and he was the smartest person I knew, he would know if I was in pain.
Seeing that I had almost no more air, Spencer's hand unclenched and he used his thumb to wipe my tears, "You know it turns me on when you cry, you look so lovely." I moaned, so close as the pressure in my pussy was increasing.
Suddenly, Spencer pulled me up onto him again and when he was in an upright position, I sunk onto him again and mewled. "Come on, little girl, bounce."
He didn't need to ask me again. I put my hands on his shoulders, slowly bouncing. It was an entirely different angle and I moaned, my pleasure only accentuated by Spencer's grunts as his arms wrapped around me harder. He was whispering incoherent sentences into my skin, nails almost scratching my sides as my bouncing became more frantic.
"Such a good girl, I love you so much." Spencer groaned. He must have seen how I was shaking now because his hands clamped around my hips and he had taken over, forcing me harshly onto his dick as I buried my face into his shoulder.
"I have to do everything, don't I, princess?" He said hoarsely.
I couldn't even answer, muffling my moans into his shoulder. I didn't want to ask for permission to come. I was so close I could just do it now and he wouldn't be able to stop me. But, I knew that being disobedient had consequences and I really wanted him to come inside me. Which was something he only did when I was good.
"Daddy, sir, can I come?" I whined. Spencer continued bringing me down onto his dick, one hand now rubbing my clit. He sucked on my throat, most likely creating marks even my foundation couldn't conceal and he shook his head.
"A little longer."
I pulled in his hair, arching and squealing as he thumb continued to abuse my swollen clit, "No-mmh, no I can't. Please, so g-good. You fuck me so good, please!" I was a mess. One Spencer clearly enjoyed turning me into one because I heard him laugh.
"Needy slut, you want to come on my dick?" He taunted.
I struggled to look at him, biting my lip so hard to suppress my needy sounds. He smiled at me, one harsh bounce sending more tears down my cheeks. I nodded, because fuck that was the only thing I could do in this position.
Spencer kissed my lips, "I'm close too, can you wait until I come?"
I didn't want to, but I also wanted to make him happy so I mumbled a small "Yes." as again, I buried my nose into his shoulder, whimpering. His hand cupped my head, whispering praises that turned more and more into mumbling as he continued bouncing me onto him.
His hand gripped my hair, straining on it and I hissed. I wasn't in pain but the tug had been harsh enough that Spencer loosened his hold. He kissed me again, pulling me into him so that his lips skimmed my ear, "One day, I'm gonna fuck a baby into you if you continue letting me do this." He grinned, "You would like that wouldn't you? You'd truly be mine then."
I opened my mouth to answer him, only small grunts and moans escaped my lips instead. Spencer put his hand on my nape, pulling me into him and kissing me again; "It's okay, I know." He smiled, groaning and thrusted his hips into me.
When he came, I bit down on his shoulder. I was an incoherent mess at this point I wanted to cum so badly. I tried to bounce again, only to slump down on Spencer and have him continue, "I-I can't." I moaned, holding onto him as my insides churred. I could sense the pressure in my abdomen and Spencer chuckled.
"Okay, go on. Come on me, little girl."
Instantly, I cried out and completely collapsed onto him. My entire body burned, skin damp with sweat as his shirt stuck to my skin. Spencer kissed my head, "You did so well Sunshine, such a good girl." He praised.
I wanted him closer to me so I hugged him, hands pulling on his shoulders. Spencer let me stay like that a while, our bodies this close as our breathing synchronized. "I think it's time to run a shower." He murmured, hand in my hair as he played with the strands.
"Mmmh, I have an essay." I muttered, my words slurring.
Spencer chest heaved as he laughed, "I promise I'll look it over but I want to clean you up, Please let me and then I can help with your essay, darling."
I let him help me into the shower, his hands in my hair as he massaged the shampoo in and trailed kisses over my sensitive neck. I clung to him the entire time and once he had washed me and himself, he dressed me in his comfiest sweater and sat me in his armchair.
Spencer was dressed again and I whined, "I want you here."
He smiled, kissing my head, “I am here, you need to work though so I’ll be in the other armchair."
I shook my head quickly, "Spence," I said, "Can I sit on your lap?"
Spencer grinned, looking at me amused, "Do you plan on behaving this time?" I nodded, pouting. He couldn't seem to resist my pout as he sat on the armchair instead. He pulled me onto his lap. He had handed me my laptop and I snuggled against his chest.
"I love you, Spencer, thanks for taking care of me."
"Always, Sunshine, always. I love you more than life." He murmured, hand over my waist as he leaned his chin on my shoulder.
I let out a low gasp, turned my body a little to look at him round eyed. "Spencer Walter Reid," I squealed, "don't you dare say that. You can't die on me."
Spencer smiled, "I don't plan to, don't worry."
I sulked, turning to my computer again. I blinked at the screen. I was completely unmotivated now. I turned to Spencer again, "Help me?"
"You're insatiable, Sunshine." He moved his hand lower.
"I meant with the essay, Spencer! I'm sore enough, I don't think I could handle another orgasm."
"Is that a challenge?" My suddenly sassy boyfriend murmured into my ear. I giggled, his warm breath causing shivers up my spine. He kissed down my jaw and I wiggled in his lap, laughing now as I attempted to escape his touch.
"Spencer, no. I'm serious about working."
"And I was serious about working too, that didn't stop you." He sucked on my neck.
I pushed on his arm, jumping from his lap, turning around and crossing my arms, "I'm serious."
"You're cute when you pout."
"Spencer, I'll bite you." I warned, my smirk proudly displayed now.
"Is that a promise? Because that turns me on."
I burst into laughter which only made him grin wider.
"I'm leaving." I pretended only to have Spencer jump up and wrap his arms around me again. I grinned as he spun me around and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding him now as I returned his kiss.
"I have you trapped, little girl." He mumbled into my mouth.
"I think I like being trapped then." I said, holding him closer.
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“What Plot!?” - [Reid x Reader]
Summary: Reader is a new member to the team who has developed a slight crush on one of her co-workers. She also has a proclivity for reading certain kinds of books. What happens when our favorite speed reader takes a peak over her shoulder?
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (no y/n used)
Word Count: 4.5k
Category/Rating: Smut. Literally just smut. Explicit, 18+
Content Warning: Lord have mercy. Dom!Spencer, post prison Spencer, face sitting, dirty talk, unprotected sex, no y/n, spanking (kinda), BDSM discussions. I can’t think of anything else, but if I missed any, lemme know.
A/n: Hello doves. Welcome to fic 2 of my birthday fic fest. I hope you love it. 🤍 (also: Thanks to Sam for reading the first bit and for helping me come up with a title.)
-- What Plot!? --
“What are you reading?”
My spine stiffened, and I snapped my phone up until it was pressed against my chest. "…Nothing." I felt my neck get hot at the words being said…or rather who was saying the words.
In the weeks since I’d joined the BAU, I very quickly developed a crush on the team’s resident genius. I had tried not to, I knew it was unprofessional to develop feelings for someone you work with, but it wasn’t even my fault. Fighting my feelings for Dr. Reid was like fighting gravity. Not only was he objectively gorgeous, but he was also otherworldly smart, unfailingly kind, and to my delight, he was a complete nerd.
There was much more to him than that, but we weren’t close enough for me to pull back the veil. His smiles came easy, but I couldn’t help but notice the sadness lurking in his warm brown eyes. I knew his story from the other teammates, and he had only mentioned his time in prison in passing.
All of that combined is probably why I couldn’t bring myself to look up at Spencer, but I didn't really have to; his tone made it plainly obvious he didn’t believe me. “So, you were staring at your phone…that had a page open…filled with nothing but words…but you weren’t reading.”
Lowering my phone to my lap, careful to keep the screen facing down, I met his stare. The corners of his lips were quirked up in amusement, and his eyes were unusually warm. “I just meant…that it’s not something you’d have read. That’s all.”
“How do you know what I’ve read?” he asked, pulling out one of the chairs from the table. The one closest to me. “I read a lot.”
“I’ve noticed,” I huffed, feeling heat creeping up my neck. “But…still. It’s just not something you would have read.”
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, interlacing his fingers while his eyes moved over me. “So, you’ve noticed that I read…and you’ve noticed what I read.”
I couldn’t be sure if he was teasing me or attempting to torture me. “It’s normal to pay attention to things like that. I’ve only been here for a few weeks-.”
“Six weeks, 4 days, 5 hours, and 16 minutes,” he interrupted.
“Right,” I said softly. How does he do that? “Well, it’s normal to notice things about your co-workers. Especially when you work as closely as we all do.”
Dr. Reid nodded, his teeth biting the side of his bottom lip in an attempt to suppress his smile. “Of course, it’s only natural to notice things about your co-workers. You’ve noticed that I read a lot, and apparently the sort of things I read. But,” he paused, bringing one of his hands up to his face, his index finger tapping against his mouth. “I can’t help but wonder if you’ve noticed how fast I read.”
I felt my heart stutter in my chest. “What?”
He made no attempt to hide his smile from me now. “I can read up to 20,000 words per minute.”
“That’s not possible.”
“It’s actually a fascinating thing; our conscious mind can process 16 bits of information per second; our unconscious, however, can process 11 million.”
“…So, you can read with your unconscious mind?”
The corners of his mouth tipped up again. "Something like that. So, I asked what you read as more of a politeness in an attempt to make conversation. I already read what was on the page."
Fuck my life. “Oh.” I sucked in a deep breath, trying to ignore the blood that rushed to my cheeks. “Um…do you think you could keep that bit of information to yourself?”
Spencer chuckled. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. We just finished a tough case; we all unwind in different ways."
Heat began to creep up my cheeks. "It's…it's not like…" I huffed, wishing the earth would open up and swallow me whole. "Can you not tell the others about this? I'm still…knew, and I just…."
He tilted his head to the side. "You just what? It's a very popular genre. Statistically, other members of the team would read it too."
“Do you?” I challenged.
Spencer just nodded slightly. “It’s not my preferred reading, but I had to read a similar novel a few years ago for a case. The story was…well, it was something,” he finished with a soft laugh.
“What book was it?”
He leaned back, leaving his legs slightly spread but crossing his arms over his chest. "Bare Reflections. We had an unsub that was using it to lure in his victims."
I wrinkled my nose. "That book was terrible." I glanced around quickly to make sure we were the only two in this part of the lobby. "It was a total misrepresentation of the BDSM community! And the guy was completely uninterested in what the girl wanted. He just did his thing and expected her to have a hundred million orgasms."
Spencer’s laugh is what broke me out of my rant. I hadn’t actually heard him laugh before, at least not like this. The corners of his eyes crinkled, the only indication that he was older than he looked. But it was his smile that stopped me. He was so pretty. He smiled with his entire face, and for a moment, the shadows I always saw under his eyes were gone.
“I don’t think it was quite a hundred million, but I can see your point,” he said once he’d composed himself. “I haven’t read the book you’re reading. Is it any good?”
He didn’t look convinced. “It must be more than fine if you’re reading it in the middle of the hotel lobby where anyone could come up behind you.”
I waved his comment off. “I read this stuff all the time.” Oh…oh fuck. "I don't…I don't mean…."
I blame the fact that I was so caught up in my own horror that my reflexes were delayed. Before I even realized what was happening, Reid had my phone out of my hands. His eyes were zooming over the page while his thumb scrolled up.
Why did I switch it to continuous scroll! I thought angrily, lunging across the table. "Give it back, Reid!"
He stood up and stepped out of reach, his eyes never leaving the page. “Hang on, I’m almost done.”
I rounded the table at full speed, jumping slightly to reach the right height. I was able to knock him off balance enough that his arm dropped, allowing me to grab my phone. The only thing I hadn't planned on was the fact that my charging at him would knock me off balance. I stumbled over Reid's feet, embarrassingly losing my balance.
His hands gripped my sides automatically, steadying my body against his own. We weren't wholly flush against each other, but it was enough for me to notice how warm he was. He was impossibly tall and slimmer than other male team members, but he also seemed solid somehow.
“That was rude,” I breathed out, staring up at him. I hoped he would just assume that my sudden change in tone was due to the adrenaline of chasing him. From the way his hands flexed at my sides, I knew I had no such luck.
He chuckled, his eyes moving over my face. “So is reading porn in the middle of the lobby. But who am I to judge?”
I smacked his chest lightly, stepping back. “It’s not porn. It’s erotic fiction.” I sniffed, tucking my phone securely in my pocket. “There’s a difference.”
Spencer shrugged. “If you say so.”
Just then, Alvez rounded the corner, two small white envelopes in his hand. “Guys! Prentiss got it fixed.”
“Thank god,” I muttered. I really, really wasn’t looking forward to having to share a room tonight.
After taking our room keys from Alvez, Spencer and I fell into step beside each other as we made our way to the elevator. After he hit the button for the third floor, he asked what room I was in.
“Um…36,” I answered, looking anywhere but at him.
“Hmm. That’s interesting. I’m in 38.” His shoulder bumped up against me. “Looks like we’re neighbors.”
Fantastic, I thought sarcastically. “Super,” is what I choose to say out loud, however.
When the doors parted and I went to step off the elevator, Spencer took a step forward and grabbed my elbow, holding me back. His foot came out to prevent the doors from closing while he leaned his head down until his lips brushed my ear.
His voice was gravely when he spoke, his breath hot against my skin. “If you want to try what’s on page 347, you know where to find me. I’d much rather hear your sounds in person…but if I have to hear them through the wall…so be it.”
He said nothing else, just pulled away from me as if nothing happened. Spencer Reid just walked casually down the hallway to his room like he didn’t make my mind explode.
I was still standing inside the elevator; my feet were frozen to the ground when he reached his room. Once he had the door open, he turned to look at me one final time.
He might have winked at me. Or I might have been seeing things because of all the heat flooding through my body.
After I finally got my legs to work, I made my way to my own room. My body went through my usual routine on autopilot, which was extremely helpful because my mind was utterly useless. Before I'd gotten in the shower, I'd flipped to the page Reid had whispered about before he'd exited the elevator.
That decision had been a mistake.
I could still feel flutters when I thought about that page. The flutters only intensified when I thought about Dr. Spencer Reid doing that to me.
Was he serious? I thought. Maybe he was just joking? It’s true, I hadn’t known him long, but he didn’t seem like the sort of person to joke about something like that. Then again, he hadn’t seemed like the kind sort of person to whisper in my ear either.
I chewed my lower lip as I thought. What was I supposed to do? I could go over there, certainly. He could turn me down…and if he did that, I'd simply fake my death and start a new life somewhere else. That wasn't so bad; sure, I'd devoted a lot of time to my career but –
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on my door, which caused my heart to stutter in my chest. Part of me wondered who would be at my door, but the other part of me already knew.
Sure enough, I opened the door to reveal the man himself, Dr. Spencer Reid. He was dressed in sweatpants and a Cal-Tech t-shirt. His skin looked flushed and warm like he'd just showered too. Those beautiful hands that I thought about entirely too much were resting on his hips while his eyes looked down at me.
“Hi,” I squeaked. Squeaked, like I’m not an FBI agent. Get it together.
Spencer smiled softly at me. “I only came over because I can practically hear you overthinking through the wall.”
His long arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I just…I thought I had noticed you looking at me a certain way. And the book seemed like a good way to…brooch the subject.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot under my stare. “It’s not something I normally do. But…”
“But what?” I hedged, my breath coming faster.
From this distance, I could see the stubble on his chin, the tiny flecks of gold around his irises. “But…I’ve realized life is short. And I made a promise to myself that I’d start going after the things I want.”
My heart skips another beat in my chest. “And…you want…this?”
He chuckles, clearly amused at my discomfort. “I want you, Princess. Any way I can have you."
Oh. Oh. “Oh,” I say lamely, heat pooling in my stomach. “I…I want you too, Reid.”
He takes a step forward, crowding me until I take a step back. Once he’s through the doorway, he shuts the door with a soft click, his eyes never leaving mine. “You can call me Spencer, you know.”
I snort despite the tension I feel. Somehow the dry way he says it speaks to my weird sense of humor. “You don’t want me to call you daddy? Or sir? Or is master what you fancy?” I tease.
Spencer smiles, but there’s something dark lurking just behind it that makes a spark of electricity flow through me. “Spencer is fine for every day. What you call me when I’m fucking you is up to you. We can figure it out as we go.”
'When I'm fucking you,' repeated in my head over and over, causing my eyes to go wide.
“I take it you don’t have any real-world experience with this?” When I shake my head, he continues. “Okay. We’ll use the traditional safe words. If you say red, the scene ends. But it’s important that you know only the scene is. I respect you, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. The scene can end, but aftercare is still a part of all of this…unless you don’t want it to be.”
My head was spinning. An hour ago, Spencer Reid was just my work crush; now he's talking about aftercare. "You…you won't be mad? If I have to stop?"
He reaches out to cup the side of my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “Not even for a second, Princess.”
His words go straight to my heart, stirring emotions I don't have time to think about right now. "Why are you calling me Princess? Is that just like…your go-to name?"
Spencer shakes his head. “No, I’ve never called anyone else Princess before.” I can’t help but preen a little bit after he says that. “But you’re pretty, just like a princess, so it fits. But…I have to confess; page 347 is what cemented it in my mind.”
Oh. My mouth went dry. “That…that made you think of a princess?”
He leaned close to me again, his lips ghosting over my cheek before I felt his breath against my neck. “Maybe I just like the idea of my princess using my face as her throne.” I felt his lips press more firmly against my neck, causing a whimper to escape my mouth. “Would you like that? Do you want to put your pretty pussy on my face and let me make you cum?”
I'm eternally glad one of his hands had come up to grip my waist because my knees quickly turned to jelly at the thought of Spencer Reid doing that to me.
His breath puffed against my neck as he laughed at my reaction. "Is that what you want?"
Mutely, I nodded rapidly. Who the fuck wouldn’t want that?
To my surprise and momentary disappointment, he stepped away from me. I could only blink up at him while he moved to my bed, sitting on the edge with his legs spread slightly. "Then come here, Princess." I walked over to stand between his knees, squeaking when his hands gripped my waist, maneuvering me onto his lap, my knees on either side of his hips. Our lips hovered less than an inch apart when he said, “Remember, you can stop this whenever you want. Alright?”
I never got a chance to respond or from any sort of coherent thought before his lips were against mine. I lost the ability to think about anything that wasn't Dr. Spencer Reid.
His lips were full and soft but slightly chapped from how much he bit them. One of his hands came up to tangle in my hair while he guided my movements. Both of his lips moved against my top lip, then my bottom lip. His tongue brushed against the seam of my mouth, demanding entry that I was only too happy to give him. My hips started to rock against him while his tongue moved against my own.
The hand that wasn't in my hair moved up from my hip until he was at the hem of my shirt. He paused for a moment like he was waiting for my permission. I brought my right hand down to cover his, urging his hand higher under my shirt, shivering when those slightly rough fingertips brushed against my ribs.
His mouth broke away from my own at the exact moment his fingers came in contact with my breast. His thumb teased my nipple while his teeth nipped at my neck. "Spencer," I groaned, desperately grinding down on the hardness in his sweatpants. "I need…I need…."
I didn’t even know what I needed, but luckily Spencer seemed to. He started to shift his body up the bed, tugging me along with him. Once he reached the spot he wanted, he started pulling my shirt over my head, his own quickly following. My initial instinct was to cover my body from his gaze, but he pulled my hands away. “Don’t. I can’t control how you feel, but please don’t hide from me. You’re beautiful.”
I was still reeling from his words when he started to pull my sleep shorts and underwear down my legs. With some careful maneuvering, I was now fully naked on top of Spencer.
He reclined until he was lying flat on my bed, his eyes moving over me hungrily. “Come here, Princess,” he said, his hands urging my hips upwards.
Embarrassment bloomed across my chest. “But…my thighs…what if you can’t breathe?” My teeth started chewing on my bottom lip. “I’ve just…never done this.”
Spencer just shrugged. “I’ll tap your thigh. Or I’ll die. Either way.”
I was in the middle of forming a retort when he grabbed my hips and used them to pull himself down the bed until my pussy was directly over his mouth. Before I was done processing that, I felt his tongue run up and down my fold, dipping inside me.
My breathy groan of his name came out at the same time he actually growled against my flesh.
After another swipe of his tongue, Spencer flicked his head back a bit in an attempt to see my face better. “Okay?”
“More than okay.”
He didn’t need any further assurance. Spencer’s mouth latched onto my pussy again, his tongue moving over my folds and clit repeatedly. When he finally focused his attentions on my clit, his tongue fluttering rapidly, one of my hands came down to tangle in his curly hair.
Spencer's arms were wrapped around my thighs, holding me to him while my hips slowly started to rock against him. I tried to cover my needy sounds by biting my lip, but Spencer would have none of it. His lips closed around my clit fully, sucking softly. A broken cry spilled out of my throat, causing Spencer to dig his nails into my skin.
“I’m…I’m- fuck. Spencer, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.”
Spencer’s hand made its way from my thigh to my ass, smacking sharply when I tried to pull away from him. His mouth moved over me like he was ravenous for me, desperate for me to fall apart under his touch. His hands lifted until he grabbed my hips, holding me in his iron grip as his mouth continued to work me over.
I should have been embarrassed by how wet I was, how needy I sounded, or how I started to rock my pussy against his mouth. But I couldn't; I just couldn’t.
“Spence- Spencer! Don’t…Don’t stop, please,” I babbled, my hips moving faster and faster against him. His mouth sealed over my clit again, his tongue moving rapidly, and I lost it. I came with a shriek against his mouth, my hips rolling as he rang every ounce of pleasure from me.
He gently worked me through my orgasm, his grip on my hips losing slightly. Spencer’s mouth came away from my pussy with a wet smack, much to my embarrassment. I scooted my hips back a bit, glancing down at him. The bottom of his face was drenched with the evidence of what he’d done to me. His lips were red and swollen. I thought he was beautiful before, but it was nothing compared to how he looked now.
But his eyes weren't fixed on me the way mine were on him; his eyes were much lower. With a gentle tug on his hair, I cleared my throat. "My eyes are up here, Dr. Reid."
Those warm brown eyes met mine, nearly blown black by his pupils. “Sorry,” he rasped, not sounding sorry at all. “I could stay here all day.”
I snorted, trying to move off of him without incident. “While I don’t think I’d complain, I’d really like for you to fuck me now.”
Spencer moved quickly into a sitting position, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crowding me back onto the bed. “I’m sure we can arrange that, Princess.” His lips were against mine again in an instant. I pulled him closer to me while the hand that wasn’t bracing him up started to push his pants down his slim hips.
“Do you have a condom?” he asked once his pants were off completely.
My eyes moved down to his newly exposed length. He was longer than I would have expected and not overly thick. I reached out to take him in my hand, giving him a few pumps, reviling in the way his breathing hitched.
"I'm on birth control…if you want to…."
Spencer leaned his forehead down to rest against mine. “If I want? If I want to fuck you without one? Is that what you want, Princess? Do you want me to fuck you like the dirty girl you are? Do you want me to fill you up with my cum?”
It didn’t skip my notice that no matter what, Spencer still kept the upper hand. I’d never told him about that particular kink, and I knew it wasn’t referenced in the book I was reading. Fucking profilers. "Yes. I want that if it's okay with you. Please, Spencer?"
He laughed again, moving to settle his hips between my thighs. "Is fucking your pretty pussy bare okay with me? I'm sure I'll manage somehow." He took himself in hand, moving the blunt head of his cock up and down my slick folds. Slowly, slowly, slowly, he started to slide inside of me. Moving his hips in a gentle rhythm, fucking his cock into me a few inches, then out again. His eyes were trained on where we were joined, watching his cock disappear inside of me. "You feel better than I ever imagined."
With that, he bottomed out inside of me, his pelvis meeting my own. My hands gripped his shoulders, digging into his skin. "You've thought about this?"
Rising up on his braced arms, he pulled out slightly before snapping his hips against mine sharply, pulling a cry from me. “I’ve thought about this plenty, Princess.” Spencer started a steady rhythm, pushing himself inside me deeper and deeper. “You’re so fucking tight,” he pants. “How do you feel so fucking good?”
My pussy fluttered around him at his words while my legs hooked around him, urging him closer. “Spencer, faster. Harder. Please.”
His mouth came down to mine in a filthy kiss, his thrust becoming more forceful. I raked my nails down his back, pulling a growl from him. Breaking away, his mouth attaches to my neck, sucking marks that I'm sure will be impossible to cover tomorrow.
“You’re getting close,” he whispers. “I can fucking feel it. But you can’t cum until I tell you, do you understand? This pretty little pussy is mine, Princess. Isn’t that right?”
I nodded, my eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of sensation.
Spencer wasn't happy with that as he snapped his hips against mine hard, grinding his pelvis into my sensitive clit. “I asked you a question.”
“Yes! Yes, sir! It’s yours!” I babbled. “I’m yours!” I hadn’t meant to say any of that, but I was too far gone.
Spencer moaned at my words. "Good girl. You're such a good little girl. Reach down and rub your clit for me." I followed his directions automatically, my fingers frantic against my flesh. "Come on, pretty girl. Cum all over my cock, Princess. Be my good girl, and I'll fill your pussy up with my cum. Isn't that what you want?"
His filthy words triggered something deep inside me. My back arched off the bed, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. Vaguely I heard Spencer groan my name while my spasming cunt pulled him over the edge too, but I couldn’t be sure. My entire being fractured apart under his touch. No orgasm I’d ever had before had ever felt anything like this.
When I slowly began to float back down to my body, Spencer was still there, peppering kisses all over my face. His hand was smoothing over my hair while he murmured in my ear about how pretty I was, how special I was.
He withdrew himself after a moment, moving towards the bathroom quickly. My eyes had started to drift shut when I felt the warm washcloth between my legs, cleaning me up. Tossing it aside, he climbed into bed with me, pulling me to his side before covering both of our bodies with the comforter.
It took a few moments for my breathing to return to normal, but when it did, I lifted my head to look at him. “Hi.”
He smiled at me, his eyes crinkling again. “Hi,” he whispered before pressing a kiss against my nose. “You should probably go to the bathroom in a few minutes to prevent UTIs.”
Blood rushed to my cheeks. “Jesus, Spencer.” I was mortified, dropping my head against his chest again.
"What?" he asked with a chuckle. "I can't talk about UTIs, but I can say I'm going to fill you up with my-“
My hand covered his mouth quickly. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
His eyes were shining when I met his gaze again. “Maybe,” he mumbled behind my hand.
I started to reluctantly pull myself away from him. “Will you be here when I get back?”
Spencer nodded, running his fingers down my arm. “The only way I’ll leave is if you send me away, Princess.” His words were earnest and caused a warm feeling to bloom in my heart. “Oh, but while you’re gone, can I finish reading that book? I need more ideas for next time. And that’s the quickest way to find what you like.”
I glared at him. “You could read it for the plot, too, you know.”
“Plot?! What plot?!”
Before I got out of bed, I threw a pillow at him.
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Rule Breaker • Spencer Reid
Dom!Spencer x Fem!Reader
Summary: Reader breaks the rules, and Spencer gets his revenge.
Warnings: SMUT with like 0 plot!!!!! choking, oral (f), unprotected sex, slapping, spitting, daddy kink, mention of public teasing, spanking, degradation, bruising, orgasm denial, d/s undertones
Word Count: 2.7K! Feedback is welcome and appreciated!
You knew from the moment Spencer opened the door to your apartment that you were in big trouble. Truthfully you deserved the punishment that was coming your way, especially after breaking the rules and teasing him throughout the Academy Alumni Dinner you’d attended that evening.
To put it simply, you’d taken great pleasure in behaving like an insatiable brat the whole night…but who could blame you? He looked so good, all dressed in his fancy tux, hair gelled back but stray curls still falling out from their place. He looked absolutely delicious, and it sent you completely feral. So, you’d made it your mission to rile him up; placing your hand over his crotch and palming him under the table, purposely pressing hard when he began to speak - the sound he let out when he opened his mouth made you giggle and the look he gave you let you know he was mad.
That’s how you found yourself in this position, back pressed against the mattress, hands tied to the headboard and legs thrown across Spencer's shoulders. He’s enjoying himself, has been for the past 30 minutes - his lips latched to your clit and fingers pumping in and out of you almost robotically like he didn’t even have to think about his actions. He’s been getting you close to your orgasm, so so close before he pulls away. His lips make a crude popping sound as he removes himself from your core, chin shiny from your wetness. He wipes it away with his thumb before placing it in his mouth, watching as you rut against nothing, your mouth wide open - silently begging for a taste.
He laughs at this, shakes his head and gets close to you, “You taste so fucking good angel.” He moans as he cleans off his thumb. You’re whining, tongue falling out of your mouth slightly, and surprisingly he takes pity on you…. in his own way.
He quickly removes his fingers from your pussy before shoving them into your mouth, deep. You’re gagging around them, the taste of yourself filling your senses, almost overwhelming you, and he’s enjoying every minute of it - even wiggling his fingers down your throat, relishing in the sounds that leave you. He stops after a moment, retracting his fingers and holding your face in his hand, looking you in the eyes.
You feel his cock twitch against your thigh as you make eye contact, and you can only imagine how you look - hair messy from being pulled, makeup from that night smeared from the spit and tears, lips swollen from biting back moans. You looked like a mess - and he loved it. He holds your face in between his fingers a little longer, no words spoken as you maintain eye contact, only deep, shaky breathes and small whines.
“Spencer…” You whisper, but that’s all you can say before he’s kissing you. It’s soft, it’s slow, it’s romantic - the complete opposite of how he was staring at you - with an almost animalistic look behind his eyes and your own eyelids flutter shut, the feeling of his lips against yours too overwhelming.
You don’t keep them closed long; a sharp slap to the face lulls you from your daze, and you can barely feel the throbbing in your cheek over the butterflies that rushed to your core. You gasp, but you’re not sure if it's because of the impact or because of the way he slowly begins to kiss down your body, lips making their way back to where you needed him - leaving marks that will remain on your body along the way.
His tongue finds its home between your folds once again, and your thighs clench around his head. It’s pathetic how close you are after one motion, but it’s not your fault. He’d been teasing you for almost 45 minutes now - getting you close to your orgasm before cruelly pulling away. It would take absolutely nothing to get you over the edge, and you knew if you did - you would be in even bigger trouble.
But you can’t take it; you’re begging and pleading, his name mixed with a plethora of expletives leave your perfectly pink lips, and you pray to every upper being there is that he takes some mercy on you. He doesn’t; in fact, when he feels your legs clenching around his head - he brings his hand up to push them away - placing short slaps to the soft skin.
The word “No.” leaves his lips more times than you count, yet you can tell he’s putting all his effort into making you cum. Two fingers coming up to play with your nipples, the tight buds being given equal attention, as his other hand stays buried inside your pussy, fingers curling up to hit the exact spot that makes you weak every single time.
"Wanna cum... please." You whimper, feeling your legs begin to tremble. He shakes his head again, the motion sending waves throughout your body, and you can’t help but tug at the restraint holding your arms against the headboard. "I'm sorry daddy... p- oh fuck- please let me cum."
He stops again, crawling up your body to hold your face in his hands. "Do you deserve to cum?" He asks; it’s rhetorical - you both already know the answer, yet he waits patiently for your reply. You shake your head, feeling a tear roll down your face. He lets out an airy laugh before wiping it away, his thumb stroking your cheeks lovingly before slapping you once again. You cry out at the impact, to which he simply puts his thumb in your mouth, silencing any noises that threaten to hit the air around you both. "Then shut the fuck up and stop begging."
He sits back on his knees, watching your body tremble as his fingers tiptoe down your body. It’s light, almost non-existent, yet his touch sends your body into overdrive. As his fingers near your centre once again, you do the one thing you’ve been holding back on, desperately trying to avoid.
Your breath hitches, back arches....body tenses, and you swear your soul leaves your body. It’s intense, so intense your eyes are squeezed shut as your hips move against nothing, desperate for some friction to prolong this feeling. You can hear yourself whining, begging, pleading, but the sound feels distant, almost foreign. Shuddering out a breath, you try to bring yourself back to reality, all too aware of Spencer glaring down at you; your eyes don’t need to be open to be able to tell.
“I-I’m so-” You begin to apologise, hastily trying to get up - momentarily forgetting about your restrained arms and jelly-like legs. But he interrupts you before you can spit out the rest of your apology.
“Shhh…” He says, once again, far too gentle for what was happening. His hands run up and down your body, trying to soothe the aftershocks that tore through you. “It’s ok.”
You’re confused, almost sure you misheard him, so you speak up again. “I tried… I’m sorry daddy.” You whine, and he smiles, taking note of the way your lips form the perfect pout, your eyelashes slick with tears and the way your lips had swelled up. His hand came up to your face, brushing aside the stray hairs that lay flat against your sweaty forehead.
His lips press against your cheeks, leaving sweet kisses along the flushed skin as his hand reaches up, fingers slowly tugging at the silky tie being used to bound your wrist. The moment your hands are free, they are on him. All over him, running down his back, pushing into his hair… gently caressing his face. He smiles at you, sickeningly sweet, and if you’d blinked, you’d have missed the way his eyes darkened even more than you thought possible. “Oh baby…” His words were soft, but his tone was heavy. He grabbed your wrists, gently rubbing his thumb along the red marks his tie had left, digging in a little harder when he hurt your whimper in pain. “Don’t be sorry.”
Your jaw drops as he flips you over, so quick you don’t even process what’s happening until your face hits the pillow. “Spencer…” Your voice is muffled against the fabric, but he hums in acknowledgement of his name before shushing you again. You feel him climb back on top of you, cock pressed against your entrance and his body lying flat on top of yours; he’s heavy, but in the best way, the weight of him pushing you down, pinning you against the bed sends a new flood down to your core, and your thighs do their best to clench together.
He tuts when he feels it, hand coming down to grip your ass - holding it tight for a moment before bringing his hand against it, the sound of the impact ricocheting off the walls. You gasp, expecting another one to follow as it usually did, except it never happened. Instead, you felt him move further up your body until his lips were pressed against your ear… teeth nibbling against the soft skin before moving back to speak, “You did exactly what I wanted you to do.” Is all he says, and once again, the confusion overtakes you.
“Wh-what are you-.” You begin, only to be interrupted by him once again. He snakes a hand under your body, finger pressing itself against your overstimulated clit, and you writhe under him at the feeling. “Daddy…”
He pushes your hair from your face, moving it behind your ear so he can look at you whilst he speaks. “Do you know how fucking easy you are… didn’t even have to touch you for you to cum like a dirty whore hmm?” He watches as you shake your head, a small, sick smile plastered along his face as he kisses your cheek and begins to push his cock into you, slow. Your jaw drops, silent moans falling from your lips, and he laughs. His thumb finds a home in your mouth, and you suck on it...eyes fluttering shut from the intense pleasure. “Knew you’d never be able to follow instructions, knew you’d behave like a desperate little thing and cum without permission.”
“Da-fuck- Daddy, I tried….” It’s barely audible over the bed creaking and Spencer’s pants as he sped up his thrusts, still not going as hard as he could or wanted to. Your hand moves to wrap around his head, fingers wanting to tangle themselves up in his messy hair, but he stops you. He moves back to sit on his knees, lifting your hips up to arch your body before bringing your hands down behind your back.
“I know you did, princess, know you tried your best to be a good girl for me.” He pushes into you once again, going so deep you swear you can feel him pressing against your ribs, and you cry out once more. “But you’re not a good girl...I know that. In fact, oh fuck, I counted on it.” You try your best to remove your hands from his grip, fingers fighting to hold onto something, anything, but he’s strong. His hold on you tightens, and he presses you down further into the mattress, your body contorting in an almost painful way, and he can tell.
He grips your hair with one hand, pulling you closer to him, so your back is almost pressed against his chest. “Does it hurt?” He asks, words sincere, but his voice tells a different story; he knows what he wants the answer to be.
You nod fervently, mouth falling open as he angles his thrusts perfectly. He pulls you back a little more, so your head is leaning back… your eyes looking into his. He smiles down at you before spitting into your open mouth, the string of saliva hanging from his lips trails across your face. It’s nasty, filthy..disgusting and yet you feel euphoric. You smile giddily as he releases your wrists, his now free hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “Good.” He says, fucking you harder if possible.
Your hands trail down to your clit, fingers rubbing against the nub as if your life depended on it, and strangely Spencer didn’t stop you. In fact, he paid your actions no mind, simply squeezing harder against your throat and fucking you so deep you could see the outline of his cock pressing against your tummy. He notices this as well, his fingers coming down to brush against it. His cock twitches the second he makes contact, and before he can stop himself, he releases inside of you. The feeling of him coating your walls triggers your second release, and moments later, your body falls limp against his hold.
He’s panting against your shoulder, and you can feel his heart pounding against his chest. You reach around to hold him, wrap your arms around him, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he pushes you back against the bed, his cock sliding right back into you... giving you no time to adjust after your second release. “Daddy…” Your throat is sore, voice hoarse from the screaming and whining.
“Give me one more sweet girl, just one more.” He gently holds your face in his hands before slapping you silly, relishing in the sight of your cheeks heating up from the sharp impact. “Can you do that for me baby?” Your body gives you no choice but to nod, desperate to redeem yourself...to prove you could be a good girl - his good girl.
“I want it daddy - fuck- want it so bad.” Your hands come up to cover your face, almost as though embarrassment was taking over you - embarrassment from being so inanely desperate for him that all you could think was Spencer. His name dancing through your mind taking up every thought, every fibre of your being was craving him… begging for him.
You can feel his fingers holding down your hips so tight, and you know without even looking that there’s going to be marks littered across the area for weeks. His thrusts are getting sloppy, yet somehow stronger… your body moves back with each movement, and the headboard sounds as though it’s about to break in half, but you don’t care. The crude sounds of your body meeting, mixed with his low voice telling you to “Take it, be a good girl and take it.” has you reeling. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and he hisses as your pussy grips so tight he has no choice but to cum again, deep inside you...filling you up perfectly once again.
Your head falls back as the feeling of satisfaction overtakes your body; every inch of you is shaking, and you can barely catch a breath, but the feeling of being so full makes you smile. He notices your dazed state and clicks his fingers a couple times to bring you out from it, and when that doesn’t work, he pulls out of you... watching as you wince from the sensitivity. He sits back, and you take a moment to open your eyes and rest up on your elbows, looking down at where his eyes seem to be transfixed.
“Holy shit.” He says, watching as his cum falls from your cunt...slowly dripping down onto the bed below and as though he was under a spell, his hand comes up to push it back into you. Instinctively you swat his hand away, giggling at the feeling of his fingers trying to fill you up again and how easily he switches from being this mean, relentless dom back to your sweet, almost bashful boyfriend. “That’s so hot.”
You smile slyly as you bring your own hand down, fingers slowly rubbing against your entrance, collecting his release before bringing it up to your mouth. You hum as your mouth envelopes your fingers, moving them to the back of your throat to take it all in. His jaw drops as his eyes dart between your pussy and your face, unsure of what to focus on….”Tasty.” You joke, grinning up at him.
“How did I get so lucky.” He says, bringing you forward to kiss him, tongue slipping into your mouth and pressing against yours, uncaring of the fact that he could taste himself on it. It’s dirty, sloppy and truthfully messier than anything else you’d done that night, but it was perfect. His hands cupped your face as your arms wrapped against his neck; your sticky, sweaty bodies were so close it was like you were one, never able to let one other go and truthfully, neither of you wanted to.
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Spencer Reid x Reader
Warning/Includes: SMUT, fluff, Spencer being absolutely in love, fingering, hand-job, penetrative sex, curse words.
Summary: Spencer got it bad for you. He knew that, it was one true fact he gladly made peace with.
Note: Hi everyone! Guess who procrastinating from her final and write this instead? me. I think this is my first ever smut work that I posted anywhere, and I'm actually a little nervous. Please let me know what you think and give me your feedback!
The most mundane thing tends to hold the most charm. Spencer had been ignorant to that fact for God knows how long, until what he always liked to presume as a miracle walked into his life unprompted.
You offered him a gentle hand to guide him to walk through the garden of mundanity and introduce him to the charm that he had been sadly blinded from. The charm of just idly sitting by the window watching the rain hit the pavement, counting every droplet that splashed on the window. The charm of laughing until he had tears in his eyes over some really bad puns. The charm of coming home to an open arm, engulfed him into a warm embrace as the horror and the reality of the world around him melted away.
It was simple. It was mundane. But it was charming.
Morgan sometimes nudged him with a teasing smile and called him whipped. He got some fair amount of harmless teasing about how whipped he was for you a lot of times from his friends, but he couldn’t get himself to mind about it. Screw all of that, screw all of them. None of them knew the exhilarating feeling of being ardently in love with you and being loved back just as much. None of them what your love was like.
Spencer got it bad. He knew that, it was one true fact he gladly made peace with. He got it so bad that he found himself indulging you walking underneath the heavy rain, his Converse soaking and his shirt pressed into his skin like a second layer. It all started with a quiet rain-watching as per usual, then with a mischievous smile flashed on your face, you stomped on a puddle that splashed on his ankle. He gaped, but the sight of you laughing so freely and loudly with your head thrown backwards made all the words that were ready to be fired from his tongue gone like a wisp of smoke.
The next thing he knew was he was chasing you through the rain, a faux threat escaped his lips that was met with your even louder laugh. All the thought about how uncomfortable his shirts pressing into his skin and how his Converse started to squeak underneath the weight of his feet that usually would make him squirm melted away. He didn’t mind. He didn’t mind at all if he were blessed with the ringing, beautiful sound of your laughter.
Aside from all of the mundanity that you gladly showed him, you also sent him into the ethereal realm that his mind never dared to dream about before.
Kissing you had never been a mundane thing. His brain refused to think your kiss was anything less than otherworldly. When he had finally caught you and swooped you into his arms, laughing as you squeal, he couldn’t resist the temptation to feel your lips against his. Shivering and freezing from the rain, his lips tenderly meet yours, in such gentle and delicate manner that he always does when it comes to kissing you. As if you were porcelain, as if you were just a figment of his imagination, and if he pressed too hard you would crumble into nothingness.
You would grin and tease him that he would make out with you like a hormonal teenager in high school. He would scrunch his nose at that. He was not a hormonal teenager, thank you very much.
But then, despite the soaking rain, despite the freezing lips against his, he found himself on fire. All of his nerves were on fire, his skin burning as his hands found residence on your hips and pulling you closer desperately. Impossibly closer. He was still kissing you through the hallway of his apartment, too drowned and drunk in his adoration for you for any fear of his neighbour catching him making out with you on the hallway to seep into his heart. If anything, it made it more exciting.
Maybe you were right. But Spencer was still reluctant to admit that.
Spencer pulled apart to catch a breath as soon as he was in front of his door. You smiled at him, lips swollen in pink and his heart soared at the reminder that it was his doing. Spencer gently caressed your cheek, admiring the way your eyes fluttered close underneath his gentle touch. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, his heart sang a song for you. A song that had always been there since day one.
He couldn’t tell who initiated the kiss again, and frankly he didn’t mind one bit, but he found himself meeting your lips again. Spencer had to steadied himself with his hands against the wall as you kissed him with so much need, so much passion that it knocked all the air from his lungs. You and him fumbled through his apartment in such familiarity as having done this numerous times before. He refused to let you go, if anything, his arms had been pulling you closer in wish to kill any lingering distance.
“Spencer,” you gasped against his lips. He pulled away ever so slightly just enough to catch the sight of your beautiful face again. His heart leaped from its pants at the sight of you. Cheeks tinted red and lips swollen with all the love he poured on you. “I need you.”
And just like that, his brain went blank and broken like an old radio. He swore you hold the string that controls his being. “Say that again,” his brain settled for that.
“I need you, Spencer. I need you.”
He shut his eyes as he let shivers run down his spine. There was nothing else more beautiful in the world than hearing you saying it, with such earnest eyes yet dark with desire. What could he do if that was all you wanted then? All of your wishes had always been his command and he would be damned if he didn’t try his very best to fulfill everything you need from him.
Spencer gently lifted you up and seated you above his kitchen counter. He stepped back slightly, admiring the way the faint light that shyly seeped through the kitchen window landed on your skin, bouncing to highlight all of your beautiful figure. His eyes quietly and patiently watched you tugging off your wet shirt, tossing it away to the kitchen floor that landed with a wet smack. He would laugh at the absurdity of the sound it made if he weren’t so enchanted by the sight in front of him.
It was not the first time that his eyes would ever be blessed with such an opportunity to gaze into such a beautiful sight, yet every time, it never failed to knock him breathless. How many times he had been reciting over and over about your beauty today? He had lost count. But how could he not, when you, the product of a carefully crafted art made from the hand of God graced him with your presence?
“It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before!” you nudged his side with your left foot, frowning, and he caught the tip of your ear slowly turning into a pretty shade of red. You had always grown a little self unconscious and shy underneath his gaze when he was busy admiring.
Spencer laughed, lightly and freely. He stepped in and made himself comfortable in between your legs, his finger started to trace the outline of your face. “I’m sorry. You’re really beautiful today.”
That was true, but you always respond best with humor. You rolled your eyes at him, although he caught the corner of your lips twitching just fine. “You were just staring at my boobs.”
“Hmm,” Spencer hummed, rolling his eyes at your commentary. He gently pressed a kiss into your forehead, transferring all of his love for you. “I like your boobs. They’re my favorite.”
“Which one do you like better, me or my boobs?”
“I like the whole package deal, which includes you.”
You snorted a laugh at him, laughing at his answer like it was the funniest thing on earth. He smiled as he trailed down to kiss your nose, then the apple of your cheeks, basking it in his love as you still letting out all the laughter you wanted to get out. One of Spencer’s favorite things out of loving you was to kiss you while you laugh at something. He could feel the way the edge of your eyes would crinkle and your nose scrunched adorably underneath his lips, the apple of your cheeks lifted up as your head threw backwards in laughter.
His lips trailed down to your jaw, gingerly kissing every inch of your face and carefully making sure that he didn’t leave any inch of your skin untouched. Your laughter died down and replaced with a soft, content hum as he trailed your jaw. Soon, replaced with a soft gasp as his lips trailed down towards your neck, his teeth grazing some of the spot he knew like the back of his hand.
Spencer left a lingering kiss there, smirking when he could feel you started to shiver underneath his touch.
His lips trailing down your collarbone. Spencer made sure he sucked some skin in that would form some bruises. Your gasp turned louder as he left his mark on your skin, hand flew into his wet hair as you do. Spencer knew you were not his to own, you never were, you were his to be experienced. But there was such an intimate and enthralling sensation upon looking at you and saw his mark littered your skin, from your collarbone down to your bare chest.
His hands found their way into your sweatpants, impatiently untied it and pulled it off your feet. Your hands tugged his shirt and took it off from him, leaving him exposed. His fingers gently and teasingly traced the rubberband of your panties, eyebrows cocked questioningly as you arched your back to push off your panties out of you impatiently.
“Someone’s eager,” Spencer gave you a teasing smile. “Already wet down there from me kissing you?”
“Someone’s a little too slow!” you replied with a huff. “And it was wet from the rain.”
Spencer hummed skeptically. He always loved the way you always found an answer for every word thrown your way. A pretty face with a smart mouth, he would say. His hand gently and teasingly caressed your thigh. Each time his hand would inch closer into where you wanted him the most, but would back away as soon as it almost reached the place. It was a game of cat and mouse that entertained him and pushed you into your edge.
“Do you know that clitoris is very, very dense with nerves?” Spencer asked, his voice was a little far away as if his question was an afterthought. His finger slyly made his way into your clit, a place that he had known for so long, and the surprised gasp that came out of your lips worth every painstaking effort. “There are 8,000 nerves ending on it alone. Clitoris is also the only known body part that exists solely for pleasure. When stimulated, it can swell up to 300 percent from its original size.”
You let out another gasp as he made a circular motion on your clit. It was wonderful, yet mind boggling at how much control Spencer could have over you with certain motion. How he could elicit certain reactions and noises just from simple gestures alone.
“Holy shit,” a curse left your mouth. Your hands gripped into the edge of the kitchen counter with all of your might to support yourself while Spencer kept making a steady circular motion on your clit. “Only you, babe. Only you would tell some scientific fact in the middle of sexual activity.”
Spencer snorted as he inserted one finger knuckle-deep into your folds. His eyebrows went to his hairline at how wet you already are, dripping with arousal coating his finger. You trembled when he started to thrust his finger in and out painstakingly slow, careful and meticulous with each stroke. “And only you would get aroused with someone reciting scientific facts in the middle of this.”
“It’s hard not to when it comes from you,” you said with a smile that soon faltered as he fastened his pace. “Oh, God. That feels so good. Don’t stop.”
He merely nodded, already long gone into committing himself for your pleasure. His heart pounding inside his chest at the way you tremble and whining underneath him, eyes shut close and lips parted open deliciously as more noises left your lips. Your lips recited his name in between your whines and your whisper like it was a prayer, his heart fluttering at every syllable of his name that left your lips.
You buckled your hips against his finger, rocking it against his finger, riding it out in such sly movement that made him blush. You mewled as Spencer inserted another finger inside you, filling you up until you rolled your eyes shut again. The wet pants that were already pressing into his skin like a second layer started to feel more snug around him.
His thumb diligently made circular motion on your clit, pressing some right amount of pressure that made you jolt every time. The sound of rain knocking against the window mixed with the sound of your whimpers and whining was a beautiful music to his ears. His breath started to get heavy and labored from excitement and arousal over the heat that laced his fingers, matching your hitched ones coming from pleasure.
Heat started to pool on the bottom of your stomach. Like a coil that kept building up threatening to break anytime. Your breath started to hitch in a pattern that Spencer recognized and loved, pushing him to fasten his pace on thrusting his fingers in and out of you. Your hand moved to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you supported your weight in fear of crumbling down underneath his fingers. Spencer finished you with one last thrust, elicited scream from you as a white-hot sensation took over your body and the coil on your stomach broke.
Spencer pulled his fingers out of you, feeling your body shivering underneath him. His fingers were wet and coated in your arousal, a constant and rewarding reminder that he was able to do this to you. You grabbed his wrist and popped his fingers into your mouth without warning before he could utter any single word. He watched you with a wide eye, shivering as your tongue gently licked his fingers clean. Tasting yourself on his fingers.
He cradled your face again, kissing your lips after you finished yourself and tasted the lingering taste there. You tasted exactly the way he imagined it, sweet and full of arousal. Your hands traveled down into his hips and down to his pants, desperately tugging it off him with a little bit of struggle as it pressed into his skin. Spencer helped you undress him, shaking the pants away from him to reveal his hardened cock.
You licked your fingers at the sight of his cock sprung out of his pants. Your hands moved towards it to stroke his length, efficiently making him shudder and stuttering. Spencer gripped the countertop in between your figures to support his weight, careful not to collapse his weight on you.
It was overwhelming, the sensation of your fingers stroking his length. Spencer might have read a lot of journals and studies on human nature and arousal itself, but nothing had prepared him for this. Nothing really had prepared him for the amount of pleasure he could get from you alone, from feeling all the love and desire he harboured.
Pre-cum already leaking from his tip, and Spencer swore your eyes had darkened with lust and lips pulled upwards in excitement. You fastened your pace to stroke his length, yet still somehow delicate and careful with him.
“Baby,” you whined at him. “I want you. I need to feel you.”
Spencer let out a shaky sigh. And just like that, he was gone. Who was he to deny your request? “Come here, sweetheart.”
You guided his cock into your entrance sloppily. Spencer inhaled sharply as he lined himself up into your entrance, and eased you up into his cock in one swift movement without warning. You yelped at the sudden sensation, hands flew into his shoulder as he thrust himself in slowly. Your toes curled up in both anticipation and pleasure, already excited with the whole ordeal of him being inside you.
He started it painstakingly slow, tried to enjoy it as much as he could while his eyes ate your perfect figure up. His grunts and your moans started to fill his kitchen, bounced through the walls as you both moved. The sound of skins slapping against each other fueled his already burning desire and need to feel you. He watched the way your eyes rolled up in pleasure as he devoured you, the sight alone drove him crazy.
He pounded deep into your aching pussy. Hitting all the sweet spots he knew would guarantee screams of pleasure from you that filled his entire apartment. Both of your hands holding each other for dear life, needing a steady part to lean on to not crumble in the weight of an otherworldly pleasure. His hands dig into your waist, pulling you closer with each stroke leaving no room for any spaces.
To think about it, despite the whole arousal and sexual activities, Spencer couldn’t help but to feel vulnerable and protected at the same time. You were kissing him sweetly, bucking your hips and moving against him, taking your time and guiding him into pleasure. His heart swelled and soared every time you mumbled his name between your moans, praising him, and he did the same.
Your walls clenching along his shaft made him groan. He shut his eyes at the familiar sensation of a knot forming at the bottom of his stomach, tightening with each stroke he took against you. He kept moving until your breathing hitch again in his favorite pattern.
“Are you close?” he asked through gritted teeth, shivering and shuddering from the overwhelming pleasure.
You nodded, not trusting yourself to let out another sound beside a moan.
“I’m close,” he gasped.
“Then cum for me, baby.”
Almost like his body would always bend to your words, Spencer came, a rush of pleasure washing through him. He gasped, his vision wavered and hands limply fell to your side, holding you as you still moved slowly through his wave before you came. You yelped out his name as you came, like a magic mantra and prayer.
Spencer immediately grabbed your face, kissing your lips like there was no tomorrow. He poured all of his heart into his kiss; all his feelings and adoration he held for you. He was visibly shuddering as he pulled himself out of you, his cum filling you up and leaking from you. It was such a beautiful sight according to his very humble opinion. You, a sweaty and moaning mess, all because of him.
You rested your head onto his shoulder as you heaved for air. Spencer draped his arms around you protectively, holding you gently and lovingly as he shields you from the outside world. You could hear his heart pounding hard against his chest in the same rhythm matching yours.
Silence fell in between you, filling all the gasp in such familiarity that it didn’t leave anyone suffocating. If anything it felt like a protective, warm blanket draped above you. Spencer stroked your back lovingly as he gently swayed your body to the music inside his head, letting the time pass by to tame down his erratic heartbeat and cooling down from the fiery activity he had just done with you.
“I’m going to run a warm bath for both of us,” he announced with a tender kiss to your left shoulder. He pulled away slightly just to gaze into your face perfectly from this distance.
You groaned, both from the loss of body heat he provided and the coldness of his kitchen that suddenly sneaked on you. “You’re the best boyfriend ever, do you know what?”
Spencer grinned widely. “With someone like you, only a fool who wouldn’t do their best.”
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Girl-Of-Many Fandoms: Criminal Minds Masterlist
Who’s The Kid?
Always Been You
Stay With Me
Go for it
I’ll Always Find You
By Your Side
No More Secrets
Cuddles Over Criminals
BAU x Reader
Note that I don't own any of these CM characters only Y/N or reader. Do not steal or copywrite my work. GIF credits to the respected owners!
* - mentions of smut
**- definite smut
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spencer reid x reader
Summary: Spencer is incredibly touch-starved and hard on himself since coming home from prison. Luckily, the medical examiner in this small town is really good at reading people, and exactly what he needs.
warnings: mentions of cases, insecurity issues, female reader, smut, blowjobs, riding, praise, emotional hurt/comfort. emotional sex, strangers to lovers, hook-ups,
word count: 5.8k
They had been in New Mexico for almost a week, solving a series of murders that seemed to have no end in sight. There was nothing they could do but go back to their hotels to sleep, hoping there’d be a connection in the morning.
Spencer and JJ were sharing a room as the small town hotel didn’t have accommodations for everyone that was visiting to help with the case. They didn’t mind, it was like a long sleep-over.
They did their own thing, kept their space and Spencer really did enjoy overhearing her on FaceTime with her kids. It was refreshing happiness in the middle of the madness murder sadness and despair they were swallowed by.
When his phone rang at 6 am, just shortly after he returned to his room for a quick rest, he sighed deeply, “Dr. Reid.”
“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but another body dropped and I need you to go to the ME,” Prentiss explained softly down the line. “It’s weirder than the other’s and you’re the only person who would be able to work it out with the examiner.”
“I’m on it,” he replied with a tightlipped smile. He hung up and looked over at JJ, already peacefully asleep on her bed. He closed the door softly on his way out, not wanting to disturb her any further.
At the other end of the hallway, Spencer stood and waited for the elevator. It seemed to be taking forever, everything he was doing lately dragged on and on with no end in sight. He was exhausted, still struggling with his PTSS, just all around not having the best time.
He was in the middle of rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when the elevator opened with an equally tired woman waiting inside. “Hi,” she said before covering her mouth to yawn, “sorry.”
“I get it,” he smiled as he stepped inside. “Lobby?”
“Yes please,” she smiled. “Are you here for the case too?”
“Uh, yes,” he answered softly, “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, with the FBI.”
“Oh, hi! I’m Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, the medical examiner,” her face lit right up. “Agent Prentiss said you’d be joining me I just didn’t think this quickly.”
She was adorable, bubbly and happy in a way he envied. He missed the feeling of random giddiness, smiling at her as he felt the butterflies swirl in his stomach. “Do you need a ride? I have an SUV from the bureau.”
“Yeah,” her smiled got bigger. “That would be really nice.”
They walked closely together through the lobby and towards the parking structure, he hit the unlock button a few times while trying to figure out which SUV his keys matched to. Finally getting in and watching her climb in the passenger seat.
“Do you know anything yet about the body?” Spencer asked as he turned on the ignition.
“Yeah hold on,” she pulled her iPad out of her bag and started sliding through emails.
“Your tech girl sent me the initial police reports, witness statements and overview,” she began to explain. “Like the others, she’s a 25-year-old female, blond, blue-eyed, athletic.”
“Prentiss said it was a weird one?” Spencer added.
“They think she was embalmed before the unsub staged her,” Y/N added with a tone of disgust on her voice. “Do you have your tech girl’s number?”
“Yeah, hold on,” Spencer dug his phone from his pocket and dialled the number.
“Penelope Garcia, the 8th wonder of the world at your service,” she answered after just one ring. “How are you doing on this fine morning, my fine furry friend?”
“Not so hot,” Spencer replied. “I’m with the ME right now on the way to the body, she has a question for you.”
“Oh hello, ask away.”
Y/N was smiling on the front seat, enjoying the show they put on for her. “Um, hi I was wondering if you could look into anyone in this town buying embalming equipment, or if any has been stolen from the funeral home? This town is so under-resourced already, I don’t know where this guy could get this stuff.”
“Absolutely, I’ll add that to my parameters,” Garcia’s voice was lovely and soft. “I’ll call you back if I find anything!”
“She’s lovely,” Y/N exclaimed as Spencer place his phone back in his pocket.
“Yeah, she is.”
Spencer pulled into the morgue’s parking lot, the lights were all on and the Coroners van was parked by the loading doors. Inside there was just 1 officer, waiting beside a body bag as Spencer and Y/N walked in.
The officer gave them both a quick rundown of the crime scene findings, as well as information about where all the equipment was before leaving them to their work.
“Have you ever examined a body?” Y/N asked Spencer.
He nodded, “I’ve been present during a few, held some organs, but I’ve never done one myself.”
“They’re pretty gnarly,” She scrunched her face and giggled. “Let’s get you all geared up.”
She handed him a hairnet, a white plastic suit, goggles and a mask. “Gloves are on the wall, pick your size.”
He felt like a lunch lady standing beside her, taller than her by almost a foot, dressed in all white with a hairnet. He could tell she was smiling at him under her mask, her eyes gleamed up at him in a way that made his heart melt.
He had to remind himself multiple times that this was nowhere close to the time appropriate to want to flirt with someone. They were about to examine a dead body, and potentially solve a case. There would be time to flirt later.
But he was just so amazed by how she worked, being able to tell everything that was going on by just looking at the body. Making notes on her own and only occasionally explaining things to Spencer. In her own little world, solving the puzzle with expertise.
“The other 4 vics were just strangled and staged, dressed up and left in different areas around town,” she ran the case down more for herself, needing to hear the words to make a connection.
“Yes,” Spencer followed her train of thought, tilting his head as he listened.
“She was murdered, embalmed, staged and sexually assaulted. His MO is completely different and it’s only been 2 days since the last body dropped. I think he’s found his signature,” She explained her thoughts. “His sexual aspect comes out only when they’re dead and cold, we’re dealing with a necrophile.”
“While most serial killers start with small animals before moving on to humans, he started with women and then eventually grew to what he really wanted. That’s what we were missing,” Spencer’s eyes lit up.
“He’s a lot younger than you hypothesized in the original profile,” She added.
“You read it?”
She nodded, “yeah I like to know what you’re looking at to see if I have answers.”
“This is really going to help us,” Spencer smiled, his eyes mimicking hers now.
“I can finish up here if you want to go back to your team? I can get a cab,” She offered. “Go catch this guy.”
“Okay,” Spencer said, backing up from the table and taking his equipment off. Placing them in the hazmat garbage. “Are you sure?”
“Yes Dr. Reid, I’ll be fine,” She laughed. “Can I call you if anything comes up?”
He smiled again, “call me even if something doesn’t.” He dug a contact card out of his pocket and placed it on top of her purse. Waving as he walked out of the room.
He thought about her smile for the rest of the afternoon, leaving his findings with Prentiss before heading back to his room to sleep for a few hours.
He finally found his way back into the police department 5 hours later, coffee in hand as he tried to absorb all the new information. They had a lead, stolen embalming equipment from a funeral home a few towns over was reported 4 days ago.
He stayed back during the apprehension of the suspect. Simmons, Lewis and Rossi were closer and they didn’t think the unsub would be dangerous. No one was missing and he wasn’t expecting them, should be easy to get him to come in for some questions.
Much like the rest of this case, it didn’t go to plan. They found another woman in his home, having to shoot him in the process. Ending the spree, ridding the world of a necrophile. It just didn’t feel like justice was served when another person had to die.
Spencer sat on his bed, calming down slightly from the end of the case. Saving a woman, killing a murderer, it was all a lot to process in such a short time.
JJ was in her bed on the other side of the room, scrolling through Facebook as she looked at photos of her kids. It was a much easier way for her to calm down, remembering that she could go home to pure, unadulterated happiness at the end of a case.
They heard a small knock on the door, Spencer volunteered to answer, opening it only a small amount as he looked out.
“Oh, hi,” surprised to see Y/N behind the door.
“Would you like to come and drink with me?” She asked, holding up a bottle in her hand. “In my room,” she added.
“Yeah, yes um, hold on,” he closed the door on her softly.
“Who’s that?” JJ smirked at him.
“My friend,” he replied quickly, running to the bathroom to look at his hair and fix his shirt. “I’ll be back later.”
He grabbed his wallet, making sure he had a condom first, before opening the door only a small amount to slip out into the hall. Hiding Y/N from JJ as she tried to look out the door.
“Sorry, my co-worker and I are sharing,” he explained.
“It’s okay,” she smiled, heading towards the stairs. “I’m just a floor up, and the elevator takes a million years.”
Spencer held the door for her, watching her head up the stairs as he noticed the bottle in one of her hands and her shoes in the other. She walked up the steps in her socks, exhausted from the day.
“Did you get any sleep?” She asked him softly as she kept climbing the steps.
“A few hours, did you?”
“Yeah,” she laughed, “I woke up just before they called about the body this morning.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to just go to bed? You’ve been working for 12 hours,” Spencer worried for her.
She reached the door for floor 3, pulling it open with the hand she held her shoes in, “Sleep is the for weak.”
He laughed lightly, “do you want me to hold anything?”
“Here,” she handed him the bottle, “thanks.”
She dug the keycard from her pocket as he followed her towards the right door. Excitement bubbled in his chest as she opened the door and welcomed him inside.
It was exactly like his room downstairs, only there was just 1 queen bed and a few couches by the window. She set her things down on the bed, sighing deeply as she sat on the edge.
“Do you have any cups or mugs?” Spencer asked, reminding her that he was holding the alcohol still.
“Yeah, on the bar table over there,” she pointed. “I’m just going to change in the bathroom quickly, you can pour yourself a drink.”
“Okay,” he smiled awkwardly as he crossed the room.
She dug through her suitcase quickly. Spencer saw from the corner of his eye as she took out some shorts and a shirt, not even slightly worried about being so casual in front of a complete stranger.
He inspected the bottle, it was just a cheap scotch, nothing too special. He poured about an inch of the golden liquid into two cups, not a big fan of drinking but tonight he felt a little risky.
She came back looking more refreshed, very cozy, and still breathtakingly beautiful. He hadn’t felt this way about someone in a long time, the tightening in his chest as he wondered where the night was going to go.
Not to mention the longing he felt.
Even before prison, he wasn’t one to spend a lot of nights alone with a beautiful stranger. The added isolation in his life changed him on a fundamental level, he realized just how much he craved contact, and just how much he’s deprived himself over the years from both men and women. He just wanted to be loved properly.
He silently handed her one of the cups, smiling at each other softly as they tapped cups. Taking the whole drink, “oh, yep that was exactly what I needed.” Y/N’s eyes watered as her face scrunched up, coughing a bit.
Spencer felt the same, only being able to hide it a bit better. The burn was nice on his throat, it made him feel alive. “Did you want to order some food or anything or?”
She laughed, “that would be the smart and responsible thing to do.”
“Are you okay?” He asked softly.
She looked up at him, her shoulders dropping as she released the tension in her body. Looking into his eyes with care, it was so different from the way his co-workers looked at him. She didn’t think he was broken, she had to reason to believe he was even damaged.
“Yeah,” she smiled, placing her hand on his chest as she stepped in closer to him. “Do you like mushrooms on pizza?” She giggled, even this close to him with every opportunity to kiss him, she chose to just make him smile. Something that didn’t happen too often lately.
“I do, it’s my favourite topping actually.”
She took his tie in her hands and dragged him to the couch, “I enjoy topping sometimes too.”
She sat down on the couch and looked up at him, waiting for him to sit beside her. Patting the cushion beside herself while he swallowed sharply, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, making her smirk.
“I won’t bite Spencer,” she laughed finally. “I’m sorry if that was too much?”
“No,” he said, sitting down beside her quickly. “No, it’s fine honestly, I’m just not used to it.”
“Too busy with the FBI to find anyone to hit on you?”
He shook his head softly, pushing his hair out of his face. “I uh, I was framed for murder and in prison for 3 months. I haven’t really had a conversation with anyone I don’t work with in a while.”
“Oh,” she didn’t look surprised or scared. “That makes sense.”
“You’re soft,” she leaned in to press her hand against his chest once more, eye level with him now. Seeing his eyes dart from her lips to her eyes every few seconds as he licked his lips. “You don’t look like you want to hurt anyone, but something about your aura is changing. You know how to protect yourself now, and you’re stuck thinking you’re still in danger.”
“How can you tell all that just from looking at me?” He asked softly.
“If I showed up at any other man’s door with a bottle of alcohol and the offer of a night alone, I would have been pushed against that door the second we got here,” she explained. “You respect me, almost a little too much.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” His face was soft and curious and proving her point.
“You see me as a person, but I can tell you’re touch starved. Every time I get close to you, it’s like you don’t want me to move away,” her voice was barely a whisper as she leaned in even closer to him.
She could feel his breath on her face, her nose was close enough to brush against his as she stared at his lips, “but you won’t make the first move. You want to protect me from you.”
He nodded his head lightly before rubbing the tip of his nose against hers and making her smile. He let out a sigh, relaxing his shoulders as she straddled his lap, leaning him back against the couch. He bit the bullet and let his hands rest on her hips, looking at her softly in the hopes it was okay.
“Tell me?” She begged, holding his tie in her hands, running it through her fingers as she waited. “What do you want? What you miss? Let me be that for you,” she begged.
“Anything,” he finally tells her. “Just touch me.”
She loosened his tie, freeing his neck finally. She slowly undoes every single button on his shirt, untucking the hem from his pants as she opens it up.
Her fingers are warm on his skin, but he still gasps at the touch. Her fingers were so soft, like angel kisses as the pads of her fingers traced the skin. Gliding over every freckle, raking through his chest hair, bumping along the barely-there abs.
His thumbs rubbed against her bare thighs, where he held her lightly. “You can touch me too,” she whispered.
His hands travelled up to her waist, he gently pulled her in closer. No longer resting on his legs, but pressed close to his chest. Her hands landed on his shoulders, looking down at him with nothing but pure lust as her breathing hitched.
She cupped his face, gliding her thumbs along his cheeks softly as she stared at his lips. He opened his mouth to breathe, his bottom lip was plump and beautiful and she couldn’t help herself from rubbing her thumb over it.
He kissed her thumbprint before taking it in his mouth, sucking on it softly making her hips buck into his lightly. The suction on her thumb was more erotic than she expected, the feel of his hot mouth, his wet tongue swirling around it before he let her go with a pop.
She accidentally let out a moan that excited him, “like that?”
She immediately felt her heartbeat in her clit, she nodded feverishly. Suddenly at a loss for words, wondering where this Spencer suddenly came from.
“How far are we taking this?” He asked softly. “We can stop and order that pizza at any time?”
There he was, the soft and sweet man that she brought here in the first place. “Pizza is even better after sex,” she couldn’t stop the giggle from erupting from her, even as she bit her lip.
He smiled at her like she was the world. A complete stranger making him feel more than anyone had in the last year. “I’m going to need longer than it takes to deliver a pizza,” he admitted.
“Luckily they’re open late,” she compromised, leaning in and finally kissing him.
It was soft at first, then he pulled her in even closer. She was chest to chest with him as he breathed her in deeply. She melted into his grasp as if he had just stolen her soul right out of her body.
She was his now.
She kept his face in her hands, holding him as he broke the kiss to explore her jaw. Kissing every inch of her neck and chest as she gripped his hair, making him moan as she used her nails to comb through the long locks.
“Does that feel nice?” She cooed, running her nails along his scalp as he tilted his head back.
“My favourite thing,” he explained as he closed his eyes, letting her repeat the same motion again and again.
He looked so peaceful, running his hands over her back and sides softly as she massaged him. She leaned in and kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose, both eyelids and his forehead.
He wanted her to touch him everywhere, her delicate touch made him feel worthy for once. Every self-hatred of his washed from his body as she explored him with care, care only one would receive if they were a most prized possession.
He felt loved.
It was overwhelming, he didn’t realize a tear had slipped down his cheek until she was wiping it from his skin. Shushing him softly before kissing him quickly on the lips.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, embarrassed.
“It’s okay, what’s on your mind beautiful?” She asked softly as she brushed through his hair once more.
“I just,” he looked in her eyes ever so innocently. “I’m not used to feeling cared for, no one pays attention to me this way.”
“That’s shameful,” she looked utterly perplexed. “Look at you? You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re powerful. You’re kind and lovely and soft?”
“But I’m also weird and too much to handle,” he interjected.
“Not to me,” she corrected him. “this morning you could have said nothing in the elevator, you could have driven by yourself and awkwardly waited till I was finished my work. But you didn’t, you had a conversation with me, you helped me many times, you cared about me making it back here safely and you didn’t even know me. You’re a special kind of person Doctor Reid, and anyone who doesn’t see it is an idiot.”
He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile and furrowed his brow, “do you ever give out parts of yourself to everyone because you know how hard it is to feel appreciated?”
“All the time,” she laughed softly. “But not now.”
“Me either,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
“I’ll make you a deal, you tell me the worst thing you’ve ever done and I’ll tell you mine,” she offered. “Even the playing field.”
“Right now you think I’m super nice and kind right? And I just told you how I feel about you, but you hate yourself and outside of here I hate myself too. Share a secret, we can be fucked up together,” she smiled.
“In order to keep myself safe in prison, I poisoned a batch of heroin and almost killed a lot of people,” he responded without thinking.
“Okay,” she was a little shocked that he gave in so fast. “One time I stabbed a guy who tried to touch me after I pushed him off me twice already. He didn’t die, it barely even went in.”
“Both are technically self-defence,” he shrugged.
“See?” She smiled. “You’re not as bad and scary as you think you are. You’re smart and cunning.”
“Are you sure you’re not a therapist?” He teased her, “because this has been better for me than any therapy appointment I’ve ever gone to.”
She laughed again, kissing him softly. “I think it would be against the rules for your therapist to do this, I guess that’s why some men cheat.”
“How so?” He just liked listening to her speak.
“It’s easier to be open with someone you’ll never see again than it is with your therapist or wife because there are no consequences. They can’t judge you or hold anything against you, they do what you paid them for and they leave,” she explained herself.
“I’d like to see you again,” his voice barely a whisper. “If you’d like that?”
She nodded softly, “maybe I’ll move back to Virginia, finally.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
“Born and raised. I moved to Albuquerque with my girlfriend 5 years ago, and she left me about 2 years ago now,” Y/N explained. “I liked my job too much to move all the way back there and start over.”
“I can put in a good word for you where ever you want,” he offered before he could stop himself from looking too desperate.
“I’ll look into it,” she smiled.
He kissed the centre of her chest again before pulling her into a hug. Hearing her heart beating in her chest softly as she pressed her cheek to the top of his head and rubbed her hand over his back. Soothing him so completely, he felt beyond amazing.
And then she was gone, pulling back from him and standing up. “Wh-?” Before he could even ask, she was lifting her shirt off.
He stared at her breasts, eyes wide and jaw dropped. She walked over to the bar, taking another shot before she pushed her shorts down and climbed onto the bed. Completely naked in under a minute.
He stood then, pushing the opened shirt off his shoulders and immediately undoing his belt. He took a condom from his wallet before kicking off his shoes, dropping his pants and underwear to the floor and stepping out of them.
She was laying back against the pillows when he crawled over her, resting his naked body against hers ever so slightly. She just smirked as she looked up at him, “hi.”
“Hello,” he whispered.
“What do you want?” She asked.
He kissed her softly on the lips, or at least he planned to. Y/N wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him down against her. Swiping her tongue across his bottom lip, begging to make out with him, finally.
Grabbing and tugging at each other as everything started to heat up, she could feel his erection against her leg as he ground down on her. Sucking on his tongue, lightly making him moan into her mouth.
His hair kept tickling her face, every time she’d push it away it would just fall right back against her skin. She pulled him off by his hair, gasping for air as they stared at each other again.
“Can I be on top?” She asked lightly.
He wrapped his arms under her, holding her close as he rolled over. Watching her settle more onto her knees as she sat on his hips. “Better?”
“Much,” she said as she sat up, taking a hairband off her wrist and putting her hair up. Raising her arms in a way that made her tits perk up. He reached up and cupped them, rubbing his thumb lightly across her nipples before giving them a squeeze.
She just laughed as she finished her ponytail, “having fun?”
“Absolutely,” he smiled up at her.
His hands followed the curve of her body, from her boobs to her waist and down over her hips. She was stunning, confident, everything he ever wanted and more.
She found the condom in the sheets, the bright purple packaging making it easy to see. She played with it in her hands, seeing how long it would take before he got desperate, but he never did.
“How long have you had this?” She asked, trying to tease him.
“Not long,” he was honest. “I just got out of prison, remember?”
“So you haven’t had sex since before you went in?” She looked excited.
She smiled, “so I’m taking your free man’s virginity.”
“I don’t think that’s a thing?”
“It is now,” she giggled before leaning down to kiss him once more.
Trailing kisses down his neck, stopping only to suck a mark near his Adam’s apple. Hearing the sweet little gasps he made every time her tongue came in contact with his skin. She kissed his clavicle, his shoulder and down his chest. Making her way across his abs and over his lower tummy.
He gripped the sheets, not knowing what she had planned or where she was going. Spreading his legs, she kissed his groin, his right hip bone and the inside of his thighs. He couldn’t believe it, the way she explored him so delicately.
She ignored his cock for a while, kissing and sucking at any and all the visible skin she could find. He felt her smile against his thigh then, getting closer and closer before she took his cock in her hand and kissed the base.
He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, settling into the bed like water filling a glass, he was liquid in her hands. Her mouth was a blessing and she chose him to worship.
“Fuck,” he moaned as she took all of him as far as she could. Dragging her tongue along the shaft as she pulled back up. Swirling her tongue around the tip before taking him all the way in once more.
She pulled off with a pop, sitting up now with his dick still in her hands. She tore the condom open with her teeth, taking the package off and rolling it over him.
His dick bounced back against his stomach when she let go of it, hard enough that it had a mind of its own now. She bit her lip as she lifted herself over him more, setting herself down softly where it laid against him.
The head of his cock brushed her clit as she ground down on him, his hands found her hips once more as he instinctively helped her find a rhythm.
He could feel how wet she was, the way she glided over him so easily. Her breath hitching every time her hips bucked, she was enjoying herself. It made him even more excited. She leaned back down then, kissing his neck once more as she continued to push down on him.
“I need you,” Spencer gasped.
She smiled against his skin, lifting her hips enough for him to line up with her before she started to sink down on it. He watched himself disappear inside of her, feeling the way she took him in like he was always meant to be there.
“Fuck,” she gasped as she sat down fully, her hands resting on Spencer’s stomach as she tried to get used to it all. Listing herself up and down little by little to get the rhythm going again.
Spencer pulled her back in again, arching her back so she could bounce easier. She held him close, tucking her face into the crook of his neck as she started to move faster and faster on him. Hearing his breathing pick up as his grip tightened on her asscheeks.
She kept one hand in his hair as her other hand reached for her clit, pleasuring herself slightly the way she knew she liked it. “Jesus Christ,” she whispered against his skin as she fucked him.
It had never felt like this before, it was so personal for the first time. They worked together perfectly, not having to communicate at all, following the other person’s rhythm like a well-oiled machine with a task.
He felt her everywhere. Her hands in his hair, her lips on his neck. The way her hot breath tickled right under his ear as she tried to catch her breath against him. The way she pulled off him and sucked him back in, again and again, her breasts against his chest and her ass in his hands.
He couldn’t believe it. That a real human being cared about and appreciated him, even after learning his worst secret. She was special and different and everything he needed.
He could feel himself getting closer, wanting to savour every moment with her that he could. His hands roamed her back, over her shoulders and arms. He wanted to touch every single inch of her while he had the chance.
“I’m so close,” she whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek and resting her open mouth against his.
They weren’t kissing, they were panting over each other with their foreheads resting together. Euphoria filling the empty spaces between them as she came, gasping and shaking violently over him.
“Fuck,” he groaned, bending his knees and driving into her a few more times before he finished.
She tugged on his hair then, biting his bottom lip as she felt him twitch inside of her. Letting out the smallest gasps and whimpers as she pulled her hand out from between them and pushed herself off him.
Dropping her body against his, resting her head on his chest as they caught their breath.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a hug as he repeatedly kissed the top of her head. “Thank you,” he was still out of breath as he said it.
She smiled, laughing against his skin again as she hugged him back.
He woke up to the sun in his eyes and the feeling of lips against his skin. He blinked as gained consciousness, finding Y/N laying against his chest again. Her face in his heck where she was placing lazy kisses, trying to wake him up nicely.
“Good morning?” His voice was groggy and deep, it made her smile against his skin. A feeling he didn’t realize he missed so much during the night.
“What time is your flight back?”
“10:30, why?” He asked softly, rubbing his hand over her back softly.
She held him tighter, breathing him in deeply as she did so. Not wanting to let him go any time soon, “it’s 9:45.”
“Is it bad I’m hoping there’s a secret serial killer in Albuquerque?”
She laughed again, sitting up this time so she could look at him again. “Maybe I’ll come to visit my parents soon a find a reason to stay in Virginia?”
“I’d like that,” he smiled, pulling her into a kiss. Never wanting it to be the last one.
He waited till the last possible moment to finally peel himself out of her grasp, trying to find all his clothes and belongings from the night before
He kissed her quickly at the door before taking off down the steps and back to the room he was supposed to be sharing with JJ. He knocked on their door lightly, hoping to every god on earth she hadn’t left yet.
She opened the door and just stared at him with her mouth open, “oh my god?” She laughed.
“What?” He asked, completely oblivious to how he looked.
JJ dragged him inside, pulling him towards a mirror and pointing at his reflection. “What happened to you?”
His hair was a mess, he had hickeys all over his neck. His shirt was barely buttoned, definitely not untucked and he didn’t even have his shoes on. “oh.”
“Oh?” JJ couldn’t believe it. “Who is she?”
“Um, the ME from this case,” he explained, scratching the back of his head as he squinted.
JJ just laughed then, “hurry up and look somewhat presentable, pretty boy, the team is going to eat you alive for this.”
Sure enough, when he finally sat in his little corner of the plane with his glasses on and a hickey still visible above his collar, all eyes were on him. No one wanted to ask, they all just made it abundantly clear that they were curious.
Alvez even took a photo to send to Penelope, who sent it to Derek, who texted Reid only 20 minutes into the flight asking who she was. He rolled his eyes and put his phone back in his pocket. About to get really pissed when a second text came in.
555-0623: if you’re still serious about that recommendation, there is a spot available at the DC medical examiner’s office… I’d probably be closer to you than your therapist’s office 💋
He smiled then, saving her number and starting his letter.
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Summary: Spencer can’t control himself around Reader so she decides to do something about it
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, masturbation, exhibitionism, mommy kink, dry orgasm, oral sex (male receiving)
Word Count: 2060
A/N: This is a part of the Mommy Kink Collection - it’s a little on the longer side. I got carried away
Spencer had a problem. A problem that started the moment you walked into the BAU and only got worse with each passing day. He had a crush, an all-encompassing and surely unreciprocated crush on you. He felt he could control his behavior, his microexpressions (he was a profiler after all) but unfortunately for Spencer, his attraction to you had the embarrassing tendency to manifest physically. In layman’s terms, just the mere sight of you sent all the blood in his body straight to his dick.
Even that might have been manageable if he were a man of more willpower. But he wasn’t. He broke his promise not to touch himself while thinking of you practically moments after he made it. It was only your third case with the team but you had transitioned seamlessly, bantering with Derek and joining in on ladies night. The two of you were sharing a room. Spencer had nearly had an aneurysm when he heard and now that he was in your shared bathroom taking his 2nd cold shower of the day he wished he had.
Do not under any circumstances think of Y/N, he warned himself. But as soon as he wrapped his hand around his stiff cock images of you flooded his mind. You interrogating suspects, you laughing at Emily’s jokes, you kicking down the door to the unsub’s home. It was wrong. He knew it was wrong but he was coming in no time, biting back a groan. From that point on, it was unmanageable. He was excusing himself at the office, at Rossi’s during family dinners, almost in the middle of giving a profile once. He felt so guilty that he could barely look you in the eye, speaking to you in half-sentences and then rushing off.
A few weeks later it came to a head. The team was going out to celebrate the end of a long case. Before Spencer could mutter out an excuse you reached over and stole the book he was reading. “You’re coming too, right?” you asked with a mischievous glint in your eye.
His brain must have really short-circuited then because he found himself stammering out a yes. The next thing he knew he was being ushered into the corner seat of a booth and you were sliding in next to him. Spencer was acutely aware of 2 things. The first was that he was hard - no surprise there. But the second thing was not only surprising but shocking. Your hand was lightly skimming the top of his thigh and you had started to trace little nonsensical patterns onto the inseam of his pants, creeping dangerously high.
For a profiler, Spencer Reid was not subtle in the slightest. It had taken you less than a week to realize that the resident genius liked you but you hadn’t decided on what to do with this information until a few days ago. The team had been working a case in Michigan and tensions were running high. Interrogations were getting nowhere and you had let your frustration get the better of you, slamming your hands on the table and getting in the unsub’s face. You stormed out of the interrogation room only to catch Spencer escaping down the hall to the bathroom with something rather large in his pocket. It was then that everything clicked into place.
Now you continued your ministrations while listening to Emily’s latest exploits, ghosting over Spencer’s bulge, careful not to apply any pressure. He was completely silent and gripping his glass of water like his life depended on it. He made no move to stop you and when you squeezed his upper thigh he came in closer. Emboldened by his movement, you quickly shifted your hand to hold him. His reaction was immediate. He bucked his hips forward and very nearly spilled his water, barely suppressing a moan. Surely he hadn’t… You massaged him lightly to discover that he had indeed.
You just made Spencer come in his pants in a bar in downtown D.C.
Grinning, you waved away JJ’s concerned questions to Spencer. “I think Spence is getting a little tired. Why don’t I take you home?”
He gave an uncoordinated nod and let you usher him out into the cool night air and to your car. He was so flustered that he could barely remember how to think, let alone speak. You opened the passenger side and watched him climb in, his cheeks stained red. You leaned in and pulled his seatbelt over his lap, giving him an eyeful of your chest. He was just too easy.
You started the car and pulled out in silence, contemplating your next words. “Look at you, Dr. Reid. You’re a complete mess. You’ve got 3 PhDs but you still can’t keep it in your pants. Is that what you’re doing when you run away from me? Are you jerking off in the bathroom like a horny teenager?”
He looked down at his feet, beyond turned on. He was so hard, it was like he hadn’t come just 10 minutes ago. “Y-yes” he whispered.
“You’re a greedy boy aren’t you?” you palmed his sensitive cock over his pants, eliciting a low whine from his throat. “Lucky for you, I’m very generous. Tonight I want to see you come undone over and over again. I’ll have you cumming until you don’t have anything left. I wonder if you’ll cry. What do you think, baby? Are you gonna cry for me?”
“Fuck, Y/N” you squeezed him without warning and he sucked in a sharp breath, digging his head into the back of the seat.
“Watch your language” you hissed. “You’re an even bigger brat than I thought. I don’t want to hear another word out of you until we get to your place.”
When you pulled up to his apartment you withdrew your hand and turned to face him, softening your gaze. “Are you okay? Don’t answer right away. Take 30 seconds to think about it. If you want, I’ll let you out and we never have to talk about this again.”
Spencer locked eyes with you. He knew what he wanted from the moment you breezed into the BAU but he counted a quick 30 seconds in his head, eager to follow your every command. “Please come upstairs with me. I want you so, so badly.”
That was all you needed to hear before taking Spencer’s hand and guiding him up to his apartment. You were patient with him as he fumbled for his keys. You closed the door behind you and regarded him uncomfortably standing in his living room. You gestured to the couch and he practically raced to sit down, nearly tripping over the coffee table. Slowly and purposefully you sat by his side and opened his pants.
“What a mess” you scolded, running a finger along the underside of his cock and letting out a short laugh when he thrusted his hips up towards you. You wrapped your hand around his base. “Is this what you think of late at night when you’re all by yourself”
“I expect you to answer me when I speak” you squeezed, hard.
“Yes” he breathed. “I think of you all the time”
“All the time?” you teased. “You’re so fucking needy. You just can’t control yourself, can you? I wonder how many times you’ve gotten off thinking of me. 10 times? 20? 50?”
With each guess he turned a darker and darker shade of red. You guided his hand to his cock. “Why don’t you show me?”
As his hand traveled up and down his length, you continued to goad him on. “What a pretty cock for such a dirty boy. I wonder what the team would think if they knew your little secret? If they knew you were jerking yourself off almost every night? If they knew what you were doing in the bathroom at the office or in police stations or during dinner at Rossi’s?”
As you spoke you undressed, taking your time with the buttons of your shirt and neatly folding each garment afterwards. When you finished you settled yourself on an armchair directly in front of Spencer and parted your legs ever so slightly, just enough so he could see your soaking wet core. His pace was furious and his breaths came out in heavy pants. “What’s wrong, baby? Are you shy? Why don’t you come for me?”
At this he erupted all over his hand with a shout and collapsed back into the couch. Smiling widely, you dropped to your knees and crawled over to him, settling between his legs. You littered a trail of gentle kisses from his knee to his inner thigh and back down the other side.
“Have you thought of me like this?” you asked. He whimpered out a yes, clutching the couch cushions. You took his soft cock into your mouth, sucking gently at the oversensitive flesh and bringing one hand up to cup his balls. His hips bucked towards your mouth of their own accord and you brought your forearm up to hold him down. You hummed happily when you felt him harden, vigorously pulling him into your mouth and occasionally traveling all the way up his length and swirling your tongue over the tip. So responsive.
“Mommy, I’m going to -” he finished with a groan. He let out a string of unintelligible whimpers and squeezed his eyes shut, pleasure eclipsing his embarrassment. You swallowed the miniscule amount of come he released into your throat while looking up at him through your eyelashes.
“Mommy? Oh I like that. You wanna be my baby?” you pulled away and settled into his lap, straddling him and bringing your dripping core to brush against his red and oversensitive cock.
“I do,” he whined pitifully. His breaths came out in heavy pants and all he could see was you. His cock was so sensitive, every sensation was magnified. The cool air coming in from a cracked window, the leather couch cushions sticking to his back, and your soft, warm cunt. He was torn between overstimulation and his desperate need to have you, all of you.
Luckily for Spencer he wasn’t the one making the decisions. You brought yourself up, dragging him through your folds before settling down on his cock. You took him slowly, feeling yourself stretch around him. Smiling, you wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye.
“You’re such a good boy, Spencer. You feel so good. You know, I’ve thought of you too” you confessed. It was true. You couldn’t help but want him from the very beginning, that shy smile and the awkward little wave in lieu of a handshake. Sometimes when he rambled you closed your eyes so you could block out everything except his voice. He looked up at you in disbelief. “It’s true, baby. I’ve pictured us just like this. But you’re so much better than anything I could have imagined.”
You picked up your pace and brought a hand to your clit. Spencer was nearing his high for the fourth time that night and having you above him, revealing your fantasies and letting out breathy moans was more than he could handle. He rutted into you, so overwhelmed that his release took him by surprise. He shook underneath you, hips lifting off the couch and tears streaming down his face. He had never experienced a dry orgasm, never had someone ruin him so thoroughly that he had nothing left to give.
Your release followed quickly and Spencer pulled you in close as you collapsed into his chest, needing to feel you against him. You were both too blissed out to even speak. You pressed sloppy kisses to his collarbones and his neck, marking him as yours. When you felt his breathing start to even out, you pulled away with whispered assurances to be right back.
You returned in one of his old tee shirts with a washcloth and very gently cleaned him up, showering him with praise as you did so. You took his hand and led him to bed. When you turned away he caught your arm. “Are you - will you please stay with me?”
“Of course, sweet boy” you climbed under the covers and cradled his head in your chest. “Mommy’s here”
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My Boss’s Daughter (Reid Request)
Request: Reader is Hotch's daughter & younger than Spencer but understood him better than others. And he meets her at Haley's funeral & helps her recover. She goes to "visit her dad" but really she's just there to see him and then they're hanging out and they are like making out or something and almost get caught by Hotch.
A/N: This has been a long time coming. I hope you all think it’s worth it!
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)
Content Warning: Adults with age difference (21/30), penetrative sex, fingering, unprotected sex, degradation, reference to “daddy issues,” references to oral sex, physical fight, choking (hand on neck - no pressure), breathplay (hand over mouth/nose)
NOTE: Reader is Hotch and Haley’s daughter, but there is absolutely nothing in the fic that stops you from believing that she’s adopted! Imagine away if needed!
Word Count: 11.3k
Being Aaron Hotchner’s daughter meant there were a few unfortunate and unavoidable truths about my life.
For example, having all of my family under one roof was a rare, special occurrence. Attendance at school ceremonies and holidays was never promised, and I had to enjoy every second with my father, because there was no telling when he would have to leave.
But more than anything, being his daughter meant that I would never, ever be able to find someone willing to date me.
Trust me. I’ve tried.
If the thousand-yard stare wasn’t enough to scare them off, my dad’s not-at-all-subtle flashes of his two different holsters certainly would be. Not to mention his history as a prosecutor, reminding you that he didn’t even need a gun to end your life.
And god, did he let every potential suitor know it. It didn’t matter if you were a girl, boy, or non-binary person, my father did not discriminate in scaring the absolute shit out of anyone who showed an interest in me. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume it wasn’t on purpose, but I wasn’t dumb enough to believe that.
But that night, the first time I’d come home in almost a year, it wasn’t my father I was hoping to see when I walked through the doors of my childhood home.
I was there to see Spencer.
It had been three years since I last saw him, and the circumstances were... uncomfortable. After months of helping me deal with my mom’s death, I’d made the terrible decision to tell him the truth of how I felt. At least, I tried to. I only got about halfway through the confession before he realized what was happening and all but took off running.
It wasn’t even because of my dad, although I wished I could have blamed him. The truth was that despite being a legal adult at eighteen, I was still just a kid to Spencer. Part of me was convinced that was all I’d ever be in his eyes. But another part of me, the louder, stupider part, told me to give it another shot.
That was how it started.
“Hello! It’s just me! Anyone home?” I called as I opened the door, stepping into the familiar space that almost felt foreign from my time away. When no one answered, I followed the faint sound of video games coming from upstairs.
Sure enough, once I reached his room, I spotted Jack through the crack in the door. Beside him sat Spencer, his identity clearly indicated by the worn out Converse that bounced on the floor.
“Knock knock,” I announced, causing the two boys to nearly jump from their seats. While Jack recovered and quickly returned to his game, the same couldn’t be said for Spencer.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come…” his voice died before the sentence finished, his mouth hanging open and the book in his hands falling a few inches under his slackened grip. “... in,” he mumbled when he finally tore his eyes off my body and brought them back to my face.
There was no comfort for him there either, because all he found was a devilish grin. He took his defeat in grace though, clearing his throat before he finally succeeded in his third attempt, “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Hey, Dr. Reid. It’s been awhile,” I answered as calmly as I could. I really should have prepared better, but it didn’t seem like he was any better off.
“… Yeah. It has,” he absently responded. It was blatantly obvious that he was checking me out, to the point that it was almost embarrassing. But he was simply too cute for me to mind. I even gave him a new angle, entering the room and going straight to Jack.
“Hey little dude. Excited to see me?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered under his breath.
“What a charmer,” I said with a roll of my eyes and a ruffle of his hair. Once he’d smacked my hand away, I turned back to Spencer... who was still staring at me with his jaw dropped and eyes stuck to my cleavage.
“Does my outfit look weird?”
“What?” he squeaked as he jumped back to the real world, “No!”
“Are you sure? I just got it and it feels weird.”
It was a lie. It wasn’t a new outfit, but he wouldn’t know any better. He might’ve if he paid closer attention to the clothes instead of the person beneath them, but there was no way that was going to happen. Especially not when I started tugging at the already too-tight fabric.
“No, it’s not weird. It’s not weird at all,” he stammered, his voice getting higher with every word, “W-Why do you think it’s weird?”
“I don’t know. You’re kind of… staring.”
I didn’t miss the way his legs crossed in a subtle attempt to hide any sign of his very obvious attraction to me. If all the fidgeting and squeaking didn’t give him away, the bright red blush on his face certainly did.
“Am I? Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that I-I like it. It looks nice.”
My smile that followed was genuine, brought about by the realization that within a minute, we’d already made it farther than we ever had before.
“Thanks,” I chuckled, “You look nice, too.”
The nice moment swiftly ended with Jack’s equally clear disgust.
“Stop being gross,” he scoffed, still not looking up from his game.
“What if I told you that you look handsome, Jack?” I teased, reaching down to wrap my arms around him from behind. I never made it though, as he slid down in his seat until he hit the floor.
“Whatever. I’m leaving if you guys are gonna be weird.”
He was already out the door, and I was pleasantly surprised that while Spencer watched the boy leave, he hadn’t tried to stop him. Honestly, I’m not sure he realized what it would mean for Jack to leave until he was already alone with me.
“He didn’t give you too much trouble, right?”
Spencer looked up at me, and I watched as his eyes flickered all over the area surrounding me, trying to find something else to focus on. If the purpose was subtlety, he was doing a terrible job. I might not be a profiler, but I’ve lived with one long enough to know what people do when they’re nervous.
“No, he was great. Normal. You know,” he chuckled.
The nerves would only get worse as I continued to approach him, waiting until I was only a few inches from him when I said, “Great? You must know a different Jack. He’s always a little devil for me.”
From that distance, it was easier to track his line of sight— not that it ever strayed that far. The most interesting pattern, however, was the one darting between my hands, lips, and eyes. I waited for it to repeat until our gazes locked before I asked, “So… do you have any other plans tonight?”
“Hm? No,” he answered quickly before pausing, “Just… Just going home.”
“That’s too bad. It’s Friday night. Even my dad is on a date.” I laughed, less awkwardly and more lightheartedly than he had. The sound strangely seemed to shift the mood in the room more than my actual presence had. Spencer’s body almost relaxed, a breath of relief leaving him at the same time as he stood up. Despite having grown, he was still taller than me.
“Yeah, I guess that’s why I’m the babysitter of the group,” he said with a shrug.
Was he trying to be taller than me to reassert his dominance in the encounter, or was I just being insane? Was I projecting what I wanted him to be doing? The questions in my head were endless, which was odd considering how much energy it took to formulate coherent sentences.
“Is it weird, thinking about how you used to babysit me?” I asked with a sheepish smile.
“Well, I never really babysat you,” he started, his confidence dwindling with each word spoken, “You weren’t… you know… a baby.”
It was an interesting statement. Interesting because it distanced me from the fact that for the vast majority of our relationship, I was either a minor or only barely an adult, but also because it was the exact opposite of what he’d told me the last time I spoke to him. Granted, he had been caught off guard by the teenager he was helping cope with the death of her mother suddenly confessing her love for him.
“Hmm. I seem to recall you very avidly insisting that I was ‘still a young kid who had lots to learn,’” I said, with air quotes and all.
Spencer continued to surprise, with his voice jumping an octave and his eyes narrowing when he replied, “Did I?”
“Did you forget? I thought you didn’t do that.”
His mouth hung open, a small squeak leaving it before he took a sharp inhale.
“W-Well, I mean, I have an eidetic memory, so I remember things better than most people, particularly my short-term memory, but after three years, I’m bound to forget some detail,” he explained, becoming more and more defensive while he simultaneously backed up.
The only problem was he was backing up into several pieces of furniture, followed by a wall. Even worse for him, I stalked forward at the same rate until his back was against the wall of my little brother’s room. The same little brother who was definitely old enough to know what was happening and was not going to save him.
“Is something wrong, Dr. Reid? You look flushed.” I pouted to hide the amusement from my tone, but the way he audibly swallowed told me that he was aware of my intentions.
So, there was nothing to stop me from taking it another step further. Reaching up, I pressed the back of my hand against his forehead. He was warm, just as I’d expected. I could only imagine how much warmer his cheeks were as they took on a dark red shade.
But just before I could say anything else, Spencer slipped from between me and the wall, leaving me almost falling forward into the plaster.
“I-I should probably go,” he urged, sidestepping to the door like he was too afraid to put his back to me.
“So soon? I was hoping we could catch up.”
The sadness in my voice was genuine, and I think that was the reason it succeeded in stopping him dead in his tracks. His body froze, his eyes stuck on mine even as they fell to the ground.
“About what?” he mumbled, too scared to ask more, and too intrigued to leave.
“Our lives, I guess,” I shrugged. When he just continued to stare at me, waiting for a better answer, I sighed. I guess it was time to get real, since I figured out that worked. “I know it probably didn’t mean much to you, but you’re a very important person to me. The way you helped me through everything when I was younger…”
We both shifted in place, letting the inevitable tension of the topic wash over us and start to recede. It’d been three years since my mom died, and three years since I’d seen Spencer. But that time apart didn’t stop me from constantly reliving those days in my head. In doing so, I was just as often reminded of the one person who always managed to make it better. To make it bearable.
With a crackling voice and tears just starting to line my eyes, I admitted the truth that was hidden beneath the flirting, “I just wanted to thank you. For being there for me.”
“(Y/n), you don’t have to thank me for that,” Spencer answered before I even had time to take a breath. It was just like him to say that. The ever so humble, oblivious genius.
“I know. But I want to.”
As I approached him, his arms fell to his sides, his mouth curved in a solemn half-smile that remained even when I wrapped my arms around him. I knew that hugs weren’t really his thing, but we’d had our fair share of them, and he’d never complained before. Judging by the way he eventually reciprocated, I don’t think he minded.
In a way, he held me the same as he had before. He was careful, applying only enough pressure to prove his presence, but never enough to hurt. But this time was also different. His hands that had once stayed at my shoulder blades moved, roaming further down my back until they rested just above my hips.
And in a shocking turn of events, I was the one who pushed away. I was the one who felt the spark from his fingers spread through my body like a wildfire in a drought-ridden prairie. Right before my hands withdrew entirely, I used them to give him a slight push towards the door. I could’ve sworn I heard him laugh at the motion, but he still turned to start his inevitable departure. The same one he’d been rushing towards.
But when we did finally make it to the front door, Spencer stopped. He spun around on his feet and found me there, just as uncomfortably close as I had been when I trapped him against the wall. At least this time it was an exit I had him cornered against.
“How about I buy you a drink?” I asked before he had the chance.
“You can drink?”
It wasn’t so much what he’d said, but the perplexed look of shock that took over his entire face. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yes, Dr. Reid. I’m not a baby, remember?” I kindly reminded, using a hand to gesture to myself. His eyes locked onto it, following it all the way down until it rested on my hip. The surprise laced through his knitted brow and parted lips shifted to another emotion I was familiar with.
“So, what do you say? A drink?” I repeated, drawing his attention back up to my face and hoping he would see his own expression reflected in mine.
“R-Right now?” he stuttered before grabbing his satchel and moving it to the little space between us. Hiding himself from me for the second time in a matter of minutes.
That self-preservation instinct only heightened when I started to laugh.
“While I’m of legal age, I think Jack is still a few years off.”
“Right! Sorry. I forgot.”
“Doing that a lot tonight, huh? You should get that checked out,” I teased. It was less enjoyable when he seemed so uncomfortable. I wondered what else he was hiding behind the satchel, but I was kind enough not to ask.
“You can stay longer, if you want,” I suggested, knowing it would be shot down but wanting to see his choice in doing so, “You could stay until my dad gets back.”
“N-no! That’s fine,” he answered without any hesitation. Somehow, the lack of pause made his response even more suspicious. He realized, too, because he quickly followed up with, “I uh, I don’t know how he’d feel about... us... hanging out together.”
“Why would he care?”
I knew why.
“Uh, I don’t know.”
So did he.
“Does that mean no to the drinks?” I said between a pout, and I watched the guilt manifest in every inch of his expression.
I could’ve let the stuttered lack of a response offend me. I could have taken it as a rejection. But the thing was, it patently was not a rejection. He could have said no — he was very capable of the word. He’d said it to me before, and it sounded nothing like this.
When I closed the gap between us, my thigh pressing hard against his hand still splayed over his only protective barrier, I dropped my voice to an almost whisper. Quiet enough that I wouldn’t miss the way his breath caught in his throat.
“How about this…” I offered, “You go entertain yourself for a few hours and then I’ll meet you at Spirits.”
His finger twitched against my leg, but I moved away before he got the courage to do anything more. The energy I’d stirred up in him came out of his mouth, instead.
“S-Sure,” he said, and it sounded like heaven.
“Great!” I squeaked as I turned to open the door for him. He took a cautious step out but kept his eyes on me. I said nothing, forcing him to stare at me with narrowed eyes and rigid posture.
I waited until he stumbled over the threshold and onto the porch before I finished, a bit too happily, “It’s a date!”
“Wait, what?” he asked, but the door was already half closed.
“See you soon!”
My dad wasn’t exactly the type of guy to make me change before I go on a date. However, that night, I didn’t ask for his permission or clearance. Even the most understanding of fathers probably wouldn’t have approved of the way my intentions were stitched in the fabric.
But I didn’t need my father’s approval.
The only man I wanted approval from was sat at a table in the back corner of the bar. But before my heart even had the opportunity to skip a beat, Spencer spotted me.
The poor soul looked even more flustered than he had back at my house, with those quick, flawless eyes capturing every inch of me in the shifting, pale yellow light. His jaw stayed hung open all the way until I took my seat.
He didn’t greet me with a hello. Instead, he squeaked, “Oh. You… changed.”
“Don’t tell me this outfit is weird, too?” I laughed.
But there no sign of humor in his tone. If there had been, I might not have looked like a smitten schoolgirl when he said, “No, you look… Very beautiful.”
“I don’t remember you being quite this flattering,” I said to hopefully shake off some of the nerves that had spontaneously appeared, “Don’t tell me three years has changed you too much.”
“I don’t think so?” he squeaked, glancing down at the same clothing he’d been wearing before allowing his eyes to find me again in the darkness. I watched the hunger form just to be blown away by another, stronger feeling. The one that took all control when he stuttered, “B-But you seem to have changed… uh… q-quite a bit.”
I knew he wasn’t talking about my clothes.
“I can drink now. It changes you.”
“Right,” he laughed.
The quiet between us returned so quickly that it almost broke my heart. There was only so much my hoping and longing stares could do for two parallel lines. But just as it so often happened, the second I broke my focus was the same moment he spoke.
I tried to think of any satisfying answer that sounded more interesting than the truth. When I failed spectacularly at that, I turned it back to him with a shrug.
“I don’t imagine it’s much different from your most recent degree.”
“Something tells me we have very different experiences, actually,” he thoughtfully returned.
It was my turn to laugh, then.
“Yeah, probably,” I sighed. I hesitated to say that things would have been better for him, because I’d seen so many times when that wasn’t the case. Which brought me to another line of thinking that was too exciting to pass up on.
“So... how’s your personal life going?”
“Personal life?” he balked, “We don’t... really have those.”
“Don’t most people on the team have a significant other?”
“I mean— yeah, I...” His pause told me everything that I needed to know, but he clarified it for my sake, anyway. “I guess it’s just me who doesn’t have one, then.”
“A significant other, or a personal life?” I pressed, leaning my whole body forward with the question.
Spencer might have been dense, but he wasn’t a fool. His eyes dropped to my neckline almost immediately. If I’d blinked, I would have missed the movement entirely.
“And here I thought I wasn’t subtle,” he muttered, almost like he could read my mocking thoughts.
“You got me,” I freely admitted, “Now answer the question.”
I really thought that my candor would catch him off guard. I had a whole collection of thoughts and scripts in my arsenal. I was prepared to fight him all night, to try to provide the kind of challenge I knew he loved.
But Spencer wasn’t playing a game.
“Neither,” he confessed without jest, “I don’t have either.”
So, I wouldn’t play one, either.
“Is that why you didn’t want my dad to know you were coming to drinks with me?”
I’d expected the silence that came. It was inevitable, really. I didn’t regret it… yet. Because similar to how the man across from me functioned, I’d imagined the several possibilities.
Spencer could finally man up and admit to the way he felt when he saw me again, and the way he hadn’t stopped looking at me since. He could acknowledge that time had passed, and we’d grown older and more mature, and thus should be able to make our own decisions.
He didn’t pick that one.
“(Y/n), you might not be a kid anymore but you’re still...”
I’d already started rolling my eyes before his voice started to falter. By the time he got to the last word and trailed off, I had lost about any patience I had.
“You’re still my boss’s daughter.”
My heart sunk into my stomach, which turned with a vengeance from the unwanted visitor. Exposed skin burned with the rage that had started to build the second I realized that this was going nowhere, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The problem wasn’t even with me or him. It was the same thing it always was.
My father was Aaron Hotchner, so clearly, I wasn’t allowed to be happy.
I could see he was about to explain it away, to tell me that I was a sweet girl and that I deserved to be happy -- and I didn’t want to fucking hear it.
“Who cares who my dad is?!” I blurted out, my hands forming a death grip on the edge of the table.
Spencer, surprisingly, met my energy and my volume, equally frantic as he shouted back, “I do! I-I’ve known you since you were 13!”
“Well, I’m not 13 anymore!”
The sound of his voice, low, rough, and raised, brought my tongue to a standstill. My entire body froze with it, almost like he could command me with such simple sounds.
He saw the way I reacted, and on instinct, his voice started again.
“God, I know. I see you and...”
But it cut off just as swiftly. That beautiful, marvelous mind of his must have blared every siren possible inside his thoughts. I watched the panic blossom and break through every muscle until he was practically running out the door.
“I-I’m sorry. This was a mistake. I… I have to go. I’m sorry.”
Abandoning the drinks and any remaining inhibitions or insecurities behind, I chased after him as fast as my feet would allow.
“Wait! Dr. Reid!”
Thankfully, Spencer wasn’t really known for his athletic prowess. Although, a part of me liked to think that he let me catch him on purpose. After all, I did feel goosebumps when my hand closed around his wrist.
“Please don’t leave! I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. It’s just that–“
My throat closed around the words I wanted to say, but knew I shouldn’t. The ones that I’d tried to say three years ago. I almost abandoned them as fruitless once again… until he looked at me.
He looked at me, and something in those honey gold eyes told me to continue. To give him any excuse to take my hand and never look back.
“I really like you,” I laughed, both at the sound of the words finally being spoken and the way his smile shifted to a pout in return, “I’ve always liked you. And I know that it’s weird because you work for my dad but… I would’ve hated myself if I didn’t at least try.”
Spencer didn’t talk. His lips and tongue tried to change into position, but they failed him for probably the first time in his life. Still, those damn eyes stayed on me with so many emotions that I felt like I’d been caught in a hurricane made of molasses and caramel.
I was just… stuck and scared.
“You don’t have to say yes,” I tagged on to numb the pain of the inevitable rejection, “and I get it if you’re not interested in me but–“
There were many ways Spencer could have chosen to stop me from repeating myself. He could have cut me off, as he was all too comfortable doing to… just about everyone. He could have covered his ears or took off running like he had just moments before.
But he kissed me, instead.
With both hands desperately clutching my face, Spencer’s entire body was pressed against mine in a matter of seconds. I couldn’t even put together what was happening in the whirlwind of breath and my back hitting the brick wall of the building.
As soon as I was able to comprehend what he’d done, I quickly returned his efforts with my own. My hands grabbed hold of any fabric I could find, trying to keep him as close as possible for as long as he would allow.
I gasped as I felt his erection through his pants, and he took full advantage of my parted lips. His tongue met mine with enough dominance that I actually almost moaned in the far too public place to be doing what we were.
When he did pull away, he didn’t go far. His teeth sunk down on my bottom lip until he was finally able to elicit a tiny yelp from me. Spurred on by the sound of submission he’d clearly been seeking, he let out a heavy breath.
“Fuck, I want you so bad,” he growled against my lips.
The feeling was very much mutual.
“Take me home with you,” I begged breathlessly, raking my fingers down his neck and watching the way the pink skin blanched before it turned an angrier red.
Spencer didn’t answer. He just watched me with an even heavier stare than he had all night, his chest heaving with deep breaths and his lips gravitating towards mine like magnets.
“Please,” I continued with even more desperation, “I promise my dad won’t know.”
He paused again, one final calculation and consideration of the potential futures.
And then, he picked me.
“Let’s go,” he said as he took hold of my hand — not my wrist — and practically dragged me down the street.
For the umpteenth time that night, no words were shared. Except this time was different; we weren’t avoiding our feelings or intentions. We were simply too busy giggling like absolute maniacs, like teenagers finally free of the scrutiny of overbearing parents.
I might not be a teenager, but that last bit certainly remained true.
By the time we were in the car and safely on our way to his place, my father was the last thing on my mind. Any and all energy was being spent on securing my safety for the night.
But… that also included my dad.
“What are you smiling about?” Spencer asked, likely unsettled by the shit-eating grin I wore.
“I just texted my dad that I was spending the night at a friend’s house,” I explained, much to his horror. To ensure the night didn’t end before it ever really began, I tagged on a slight annoyed, “Don’t worry, I left your name out of it.”
I wanted that to be the end of any discussion of my parentage, but my pathetic reassurance clearly hadn’t done its job.
“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” I droned.
Bored as I might have been, Spencer was certainly animated in his response.
“... Yes! Dammit. Of course I am, I just—!”
He raised one hand from the steering wheel to try and sort out the hair I’d only just mussed up for him. I didn’t fail to notice the way his legs started to bounce, or how it affected the motion of the vehicle.
With a loud groan of what I could only imagine was an overwhelming amount of guilt, Spencer cried, “You’re my boss’s daughter — You’re Hotch’s daughter!”
If I hadn’t grown up surrounded by profilers, I might have missed the truth behind the crackling in his voice. The undercurrent of his desire. One of what I’d hoped were many reasons that Spencer Reid was interested in me.
“Oh my god,” I gasped, “You like it, don’t you?!”
Spencer regained that stern, low voice he’d displayed at the bar, raising an accusatory finger as he warned, “Don’t. I will turn around and take you home.”
He really should’ve known better than to challenge me. He’d known me and my father long enough to know that I never shy away from a chance to show my wits.
Not that it really took a lot of intelligence to fluster Spencer. It just required a few… womanly wiles.
“To my home? Or to my dad’s?”
“Stop that,” he tried to caution, but his voice cracked in the middle of it. The authority bled between the gaps and landed squarely in my hands. One of those very hands then slid over his thigh, grabbing hold to help balance myself as I leaned over the center console.
I heard his breath hitch as my lips came close enough to his ears that he could almost feel them as they moved.
“Tell me, Spencer… would you fuck me in my old bedroom and hold your hand over my mouth so he doesn’t hear what you’re doing to his baby girl?”
It really wasn’t fair, how easy it was. The poor thing’s face turned a deep shade of red with what I assumed to be the only blood left in his body that wasn’t already delegated to the tent he was pitching in his pants.
With a soft, clumsy swat, Spencer tried to make me back up.
“I’m serious! Stop it!”
I listened that time. I had already won; I didn’t need to rub it in.
“Oh, calm down, Spencer. It doesn’t make you a bad person. I get it. I know what it’s like working for my dad. Always bossing you around, cutting you off...”
“I respect your father very much,” he said, cutting me off and proving that I did, in fact, fall for a man just like my father.
But unlike my dad’s instructions, I was more than happy to follow along with whatever Spencer wanted me to do.
“Well... you don’t have to respect me,” I offered with a quick squeeze of his thigh, “In fact, I think I’d rather you didn’t.”
I saw the familiar landscape of his apartment from less than stellar memories in my peripherals, but I kept my eyes set on him. I wanted to see the way his jaw muscles tensed and twitched under the pressure of words he wanted to say. I relished the way it felt to have his thighs shift farther apart to follow my hand when I finally took it back.
When the car was finally parked, Spencer turned to me slowly but with hands that were quick and practiced. He grabbed hold of my jaw so that my mouth was covered.
He really didn’t want me to talk back when he muttered, “You really don’t listen.”
I didn’t talk back, but I definitely giggled. The smirk he flashed in response told me everything I needed to know about what would happen when he finally got me somewhere private.
The two of us, together, hand-in-hand, took off again. It really was apt to consider us like teenagers, and I got the feeling that Spencer had long sought something like this. The chance to be giddy and carefree about something he wanted.
Someone who really, really wanted him back.
Within seconds of his front door shutting, Spencer had me pinned against a wall once again. Before I could call out this developing habit, I was cut off by his lips catching mine and holding me down even harder.
I wondered if this was really how it would be, with him carelessly taking and commanding without a care in the world. I hoped so. I’d had so many fantasies of the shy, austere man breaking down and sinking his teeth into my neck.
But it was my turn. The next time he’d parted his lips, I bit down on the bottom, sucking gently before letting him go. I was rewarded with a short, dark chuckle quickly followed by a hand cupping my throat just below my chin.
“You’re a spoiled brat,” he spat.
His grip was loose, but enough to steal my focus from anything else. I was practically hyperventilating already from the excitement, and if it weren’t for his thigh wedged between my legs, I would have clenched them shut from the anticipation.
“You’re welcome to bend me over and spank me as you fuck me,” I teased.
It was meant to be an invitation for a segue into the bedroom, but as I would soon learn, Spencer did not intend to take this into the bedroom.
“We’ll save that for another time,” he whispered in a downright cruel tone, “Right now, I want to see the look on your face while I fuck you.”
His other hand made its way to my hip where it grabbed a handful of stretchy fabric and tugged it up to my stomach. I gasped at the feeling of cold air hitting heated skin, but he didn’t stop there. With the same rough imprecision, he yanked my underwear down my thighs until I was able to step out from them with shaky legs.
I was going to make a joke, to tease him for being so eager when he’d given me such a hard time already. Spencer, again, had other plans. Before a single word could leave my mouth, he buried two fingers into my waiting heat. He must have been amused by how prepared I already was, the obvious desperation in my bucking hips, because he just gave that same little laugh.
“Tell me what you want,” he cooed, taunting my wildest dreams in front of me with his erection pressed against my leg.
“Please,” was all I could answer, “Please, Spencer. Please.”
He didn’t hesitate. While I missed his fingers wrapped around my neck, I much preferred the sound of his belt buckle coming undone. And when he pulled his fingers out of me and dragged the slickness over his cock, I thought I might actually lose the little bit of control keeping me upright.
Thankfully, I wouldn’t need coordination. Spencer’s arms and chest locked me against the wall almost immediately. He took his time easing into me, staying true to his word and watching me with rapt attention. Memorizing each twitch of my jaw and roll of my eyes as he filled me inch by inch.
“Shit,” I cursed, closing my eyes to get some reprieve from the violent way his eyes tore into my soul. I should’ve known I couldn’t hide from him for long.
His breath felt unbelievably hot against my ear as he whispered, “Tell me how it feels.”
My first answer came through a strangled moan and nails dug into his shoulders. Spencer pulled out and slammed into me again, harder and without reservation. When my body started to slide up the wall, he pressed his elbows hard against my shoulders to force me back down onto him.
“So good,” I slurred.
Apparently deciding that I didn’t enunciate my words clearly enough, Spencer’s hand returned to my face just as I opened my eyes. With a slight flick of the wrist, he lightly smacked my cheek.
“Speak up, young lady.”
I tried, I really did, but he punctuated the command with another thrust, and my mind melted. All of my back was burning against the friction of the wall, and my chest could barely expand enough to take in enough air to maintain my current level of consciousness.
When I was able to speak, I had another request.
“Harder,” I purred, joining his hand against my cheek to cradle my face.
He refused, tearing his hand away from me now that I’d made it clear how badly I wanted it there. I tried to follow it, but in doing so I granted him access to my neck, which he gladly took advantage of. His tongue was even more intoxicating there, and I could feel him trying to leave some kind of mark in his wake.
The harder he tried, the louder I became. They were not the powerful, broken moans from before. They were tiny, delicate whimpers that he’d probably thought me incapable of at this point. A display of softness and need much like the way he’d acted before he had me at his mercy.
My hands tangled in his hair, trying to keep him there, encouraging him to make me his in a way that would last longer than that night.
“Just like a proper slut,” he growled against my neck, “you just want to be taken care of.”
I couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled through the throat he continued to kiss.
“Am I worth the daddy issues, Dr. Reid?” I teased.
The reference to my father just about broke the already crumbling man in front of me. Spencer’s hands were so fast that I didn’t even see them until one was clamped over my mouth and nose, depriving me of any chance of air I might have had.
“I’m the only man I want to hear about from you,” he warned, “Since your father apparently didn’t teach you any fucking manners.”
That time when his hips snapped forward, he didn’t have a strong enough hold to stop my body from pulling away. He forced my head back so I would have to feel just how hard he fucked me. Each thrust felt just like the years’ worth of frustration he’d endured being ordered around by my father.
When I whimpered again, the noise stifled by his hand, he laughed.
“Fucking brat. Making me do this to you,” he forced through teeth clenched shut, “I had already graduated high school by the time you learned to spell your own name.”
I honestly couldn’t tell if the world was going blurry because I had finally run out of oxygen or because of the tears that had started to pool in my eyes. The same catharsis he’d felt was inexplicably shared by me, and I was racing towards the finish line without ever having lifted my feet to run.
He must have seen the euphoria building in my half-lidded eyes, because Spencer removed his hand from my mouth in favor of gently cradling my cheek.
“Please, Spencer,” I slurred through my heavy panting, “I’m gonna—“
“What? You want to finish?” he mocked through the smirk I’d seen for the first time that night, and hoped to never forget. The one that I’d already fallen hopelessly in love with.
“Yes. Yes, please.”
“Fine. Look at me.”
I forced my eyes to open as wide as they could, and Spencer helped me by forcing my hips forward so he could bury his entire length inside of me with each thrust. They were becoming sloppier by the second, and I saw the hunger swallowing kind eyes as he warned, “There’s only one place I want to finish.”
“Oh, fuck,” was my very intelligent reply.
Spencer chuckled again, his tongue sweeping over his lips that stopped just short of kissing me.
“Speak now or forever hold your peace, young lady,” he offered, but I got the feeling he already knew my answer the first time he succeeded in holding me down.
“Don’t stop!” I cried, “Please!”
I couldn’t feel anything else beyond him. His arms that caged me in felt like the most comforting embrace. Each brutal snap of his hips elicited sounds from the both of us that felt so familiar. I tried to scream his name, but it came out as unintelligible pleas for him to let go. To release all of the tension and frustration of years we could have spent tangled up in one another if not for the circumstances of my birth.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered, “I’m not stopping until I’m done with you.”
And he didn’t. Even after my muscles all tensed around him, Spencer continued with his same, unsteady pace. My walls closed around him, but he found a way to force himself deeper until he bottomed out inside of me.
His lips found mine as the both of us collapsed in on ourselves and one another. Our tongues tied together with desperate, broken cries and trembling whimpers as our bodies rushed us to relax. Spencer still held me up, breaking our mouths apart with a groan as he felt the evidence of what he’d just done dripping from where we were still joined.
Between heavy, deep breaths, our eyes met again, seeing each other clearly for what felt like the first time.
And I think we both liked what we saw.
Little had changed since I first slept with Spencer. It had only been a month, but his appetite continued to be voracious in the best possible way. I had lost track of time somewhere between the second and third orgasm, but Spencer seemed hellbent on continuing his ministrations regardless. I didn’t mind. I liked raking my hands through his hair just as much as he loved keeping my legs wrapped around his shoulders.
Just when I thought he was finally satisfied, he began to lay kisses over my stomach on his ascent.
“Shit, Spencer,” I mumbled to the man whose lips quickly moved to my neck despite my complete and total exhaustion. I could barely even find the will to move away from him.
He caught my flimsy, limp wrist with ease and pinned it back to the bed. The new position allowed him to continue his ministrations down my chest.
“I’m not done with you,” he growled against heated skin he hadn’t yet had the chance to mark, “I missed you too much to let you off this easy.”
“How are you still functioning?” I groaned, only to earn a quick, chipper reply of, “Easy. I know you deserve it.”
The answer was charming enough that I was willing to let it slide. Spencer returned to his previous position, his face hung over my mine with an insatiable desire hidden behind coffee colored irises.
“Oh, do I?” I hummed happily.
He punctuated the thought with a chaste kiss that felt more like a tease than a genuine expression of his interest. So, naturally, I returned it with my own version of a proper kiss. Spencer’s laughter almost broke it, but our dedication to consuming as much of one another as we could in the little free time he had won in the end.
Until it happened. The same thing that always signaled the end of every wonderful day spent tangled in the sheets together.
Someone’s phone was ringing.
Spencer’s instincts meant his phone was already in his hand before he’d even moved from his place on top of me. But as he went to answer the call, he noticed something peculiar.
Holding the touch-screen display out for me to read he nervously muttered, “It’s… not my phone.”
“Fuck. Get my phone,” I muttered, throwing an exasperated arm over my face. The only worse news than Spencer having to leave was the fact I’d have to speak to another human being.
But before that came to be, Spencer dropped my phone on the bed with a high-pitched yelp that sounded far too feminine for his lips. It was… adorable. I almost teased him for it, too, but then he said the very last thing I ever wanted to hear while in bed with my boyfriend.
“Shit! It’s Hotch!”
“What?! Why the fuck is my dad calling?”
“I don’t know!” he answered in a panic, “Answer it and find out!”
Resigned, I held out my hand to accept my fate.
“Fine. Give me the phone, then.”
Unfortunately for the both of us, Spencer’s killer instincts also meant the phone was now stuck in an endless labyrinth of fabric. It really didn’t seem possible for it to have gotten lost so quickly when we’d barely moved, but it had.
It didn’t matter all that much to me — I rarely answered my dad’s calls on a normal occasion. Although, arguably, this was becoming my new normal. It was rare for my dad to call me when he was working, so my Spencer and Dad visitor ratio had become very oddly competitive.
Which is a roundabout way of explaining that I really should have foreseen what happened next.
From my seat at the edge of the bed, through the tiniest little slits of the blinds, I saw something truly horrifying.
“Oh my god, he’s outside.”
“What?!” Spencer shrieked as I began to get dressed with a speed that I could tell he found both suspicious and relieving.
“Shut up! Stay here!” I called as I almost tripped on my leggings on the way out of my door. With at least a little bit of foresight, I turned back at the last second to yell, “And put some fucking pants on!”
The knock on the door came at the worst possible time. I wasn’t sure how Spencer clearly managed to fall over while trying to put on pants, but I heard the thud from the other room at the same time. I held my breath, waiting to hear some sign of life before realizing it was probably better if the poor guy was unconscious.
Plastering a horribly fake smile on my face, I opened the door to find my (im)patiently waiting father.
“Hey Dad, what are you doing here?” I said through my teeth.
“Can I not check in on my daughter?” he answered, ignoring all signs of discomfort and welcoming himself into the entryway without providing a real answer.
“Not when you’re snooping.”
“Can you blame me?” he asked, inspecting the shoes by the door and the coats hung nearby, “I haven’t had a chance to see you in over a month, despite my very serious efforts.”
I avoided the guilt-trip because I was too smart to notice it was nothing but a distraction. He was profiling every inch of my place that he could see, and I really, really didn’t want him to find anything of value.
“Remember that conversation we had about boundaries?”
My dad also ignored the question in favor of another.
“He’s here, isn’t he? The boy you’ve been seeing?”
“Seriously, it was a whole talk about privacy and boundaries and profiling...” I mumbled under my breath, only to be spoken over for yet another astute observation from Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner.
“Concerning that his car isn’t in the driveway.”
“You were there for the conversation,” I said while crossing my arms, body language clues be damned, “I remember you being there.”
He noticed. I wasn’t exactly trying to hide it. In fact, a lot of me wanted him to realize just how uncomfortable I was. It wasn’t that I was angry, or that I didn’t appreciate how involved with my life he was trying to be. Lord knew he had a lot to catch up on.
But this wasn’t how I wanted him to find out, and I knew it sure as fuck wasn’t how Spencer wanted it to happen.
With eyes wide from both panic and pleading, I let my arms fall back to my sides in defeat as I grumbled, “Please, Dad?”
I actually heard the fight leave my father with a deep breath. He shook his head, almost like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth as he begrudgingly replied, “Fine. I’ll leave it and you two alone. For now.”
Even he couldn’t help but smile when my spirits immediately spiked. Enough so, even, that I threw my arms around him in a hug so quick he barely had a chance to return it. After all… I didn’t want him to notice any familiar cologne that might have transferred in the past 24 hours.
If he did, he stayed true to his word and said nothing about it. Instead, he made one more protective sweep of the immediate surroundings and gave his own plea.
“Promise me that you’ll let me meet him eventually.”
“Sure!” I chirped, using my entire body to help push him towards the door that I still held open for him.
He paused in response to my haste, grabbing hold of the doorjamb to prevent me from closing it before he warned, “That was not a promise.”
“Promise,” I shouted, finally managing to get him on the other side and shouting, “bye, Dad! Love you!”
It took me a moment longer to remember the troubling sound that had come from the general direction of my room, but when I burst back through the door, Spencer was nowhere to be found.
I didn’t have to guess where he was. I already knew.
Slowly opening the door to my closet that was really way too small for him to be standing in, I found my FBI agent boyfriend cowering between my clothes.
“Is he gone?” he squeaked.
“Yeah, for now.”
“Thank god,” he said, letting out a breath that he must have been holding the whole time. At least that would explain why his face was so fucking red.
After he’d managed to gain back at least two of his brain cells, Spencer turned to me with a pitiful little pout as he muttered, “How does he know you’re seeing someone?”
“How do you think?”
“Right,” he immediately answered for himself. But he didn’t dwell on his own apparent idiocy when it came to me and my father. Instead, Spencer stepped out of my clothes and wrapped his arms around me once more.
“I guess you have been happier and more relaxed lately...” he whispered, already in the process of leading me back to the bed.
“Don’t get a swelled head now,” I warned.
But I knew that Spencer was a betting man. A man who didn’t like to be told that he was overly confident in his abilities. So when he pushed me back onto the bed, I already knew where we were headed.
“Here,” he said with a smile, “I’ll show you what I mean…”
While things were carefree within the house, the same couldn’t be said for the disgruntled father already making his way back from the two minute visit with his daughter.
It wasn’t that Hotch was disappointed that his daughter had finally found someone — she certainly had waited long enough. All of the jokes he’d made when she was little, that she would have to wait until she was a proper adult to date, were really coming back to bite him in the ass.
Because there was no denying that’s what she was. She was a grown woman capable of making her own decisions, including the one not to tell her father about the boy she was dating. That was okay, though, because he trusted her. She had proven to him many times over that she was smart enough to take care of herself. Lord knew he’d put that one to the test enough times. More than she deserved.
But something still felt off about it all. It simply wasn’t like her to hide this much from him. Even if she was worried that he would disapprove, that’d certainly never stopped her from introducing a partner before.
The boy would have to be a felon or worse for her to be as scared as she seemed for him to find out.
Just as his mind had started to race with the potential partners she could have chosen, the worst kind of men that might have found their way into her heart, Hotch saw something familiar in the corner of his eye.
Nearly 5 blocks and three streets away from his daughter’s apartment was a very, very familiar car.
And Hotch realized in that moment that his fears were correct. His daughter had fallen for someone much, much worse than a felon.
His daughter was dating one of his friends.
The next time that the incessant ringing filled the room, I was already over it. It was bad enough to be interrupted while being showered with kisses and praise — it was another thing entirely to be disrupted when my boyfriend’s dick was fully inside of me.
While that alone was enough to dissuade me from picking it up, it apparently did not stop Spencer.
I could see it on his face before he’d even said a word.
“Is my dad calling again?” I sighed, and he wasted no time in jutting the phone in my face.
“Yeah. Answer it.”
“No, I’m mad at him,” I tried to protest, but he shoved the device so close to my face that I almost answered it on accident.
“Spencer!” I blubbered, smacking his arm away and trying to remind myself which one of us was the one licensed to carry a concealed weapon.
The next time my phone rang, I did pick it up… and promptly tossed it across the room.
“If you don’t answer he’s going to come back!” Spencer whined, collapsing his body on mine like that would actually make me answer the phone faster.
“He’s probably already on his way,” I grumbled before pointing out the conclusion I’d already reached (and he’d somehow missed). “Besides, do you really want me to talk to him while your dick is inside me?”
I’d waited as long as I did to point it out because I knew what he would do. Sure enough, with a soft, strangled, “… Fair point,” Spencer pulled out and fled the scene of the crime within seconds.
Still, it was long enough for my phone to stop ringing.
We waited with bated breath and eyes stuck on the little rectangle of doom resting a few feet away on the floor. When it didn’t ring again, we both felt a strange combination of anxiety and relief.
“Do you think he figured it out?” Spencer whispered as if my dad would actually be able to hear.
And perhaps I was wrong. Maybe my dad really was capable of hearing my thoughts or surroundings despite being absent. Because as soon as Spencer asked the question, his phone was the one that started to ring.
Across the display was a familiar name: Aaron Hotchner.
“Okay,” Spencer squeaked, “He figured it out.”
While he was already prepared to meet his maker and face the music, I was dedicated to my denial.
“Whatever. It’s probably a coincidence,” I said through a yawn, “Don’t answer it. It’s a trick.”
“It’s way more suspicious if I don’t answer.”
“It’s a trick, Spencer!” I sang over his protests.
But always the logical one, Spencer used his hands to emphasize his point, holding them out and wildly swinging in a way that I was surprised he managed to keep the phone in them.
“If neither of us answers and he knows, he’s going to think we’re having sex,” he explained.
“Spencer… We are having sex.”
“Well, I don’t want him to know that!”
That was the last appeal fate allowed him. Before his fingers had a chance to do what he’d wanted them to all along, the phone returned to its previous screen, and the room fell silent.
“Look,” I laughed, “There you go. Problem solved.”
Unfortunately, my point was punctuated poorly, with the now incredibly irritating chiming of his phone. At least that time, it was just a few beeps to indicate a message had been received, rather than a live call that would require actual speaking.
“Come outside,” is all the text said.
“Just ignore him,” I said with a dismissive shrug. I’d been through a similar situation enough times to know that putting off the inevitable was the more enjoyable of the two experiences. Especially considering my dad might actually kill my boyfriend this time.
But as usual, Spencer spoke the voice of unwelcome reason.
“Listen, (y/n), I hate to be the bearer of what should be obvious news but there is no conceivable reality where I can maintain an erection while my boss, your father, is outside preparing my slow and torturous death.”
He was right. We both knew that. But I wouldn’t be myself if I didn’t take the words the worst possible way.
With a cheeky little giggle, I asked, “Is that a challenge?”
“No!” he sternly replied like the spoilsport he was, “It is definitely, decidedly, not.”
Despite his obvious anxiety and frustration, Spencer allowed me to wrap my arms around him. In fact, he leaned into my embrace like I could offer him the strength to do what he needed to.
He really should’ve known better by now, than to expect any comfort in my arms.
“Fine. If you really won’t ignore him, then do you want me to just save you the torture and shoot you now?”
Spencer paused for a second, his eyebrows furrowed and lips puckered in a pout.
“You don’t think he’d kill me in broad daylight in public, do you?” he asked.
“It’s like... 40/60,” I answered.
“Wait, in favor of which?”
But then, finally learning not to ask questions he didn’t want the honest answer to, he raised a hand to stop me before I replied.
“Never mind. I don’t want to know. I have to go out there.”
My only response was a groan that never really stopped until I heard the front door lock click open. Then all I could hear was my heart pounding in the silence. It really felt like it always looked in the movies — like time had slowed down before the dramatic moment.
Just as I stepped into the doorway enough that I could spot my father on the lawn, I heard it. The distinct sound of bone on bone, the forceful meeting of two difficult forces just before Spencer’s body hit the ground with a thud.
“My daughter, Reid?!” he yelled, and I realized that it was the first time I’d ever heard such a thing.
I couldn’t move at first, stuck on the image and echo of my father’s voice still booming through the otherwise calm suburb. I wasn’t even worried about being embarrassed yet; I was too busy worrying about the fact my dad had crouched over my boyfriend, grabbing him by the collar while he just sort of… floundered in response.
“God, Dad! Leave him alone!” I shouted once I was able to move again, sprinting over to the two and grabbing onto firm, unmoving shoulders. “Get off of him!”
“It’s fine,” Spencer slurred while holding onto a nose that would probably be a little less straight tomorrow, “He’s right.”
“Ugh! Men are so stupid!”
I knew it wasn’t the mature or fair thing to do, but when I reared my leg back and kicked my dad square in the thigh, it at least made him move. He turned to me with this incredulous look, like I had been the one to just assault a guy on my lawn.
Well, I guess, technically, I had. But he had started it.
He dropped Spencer’s shirt in favor of addressing the more pressing threat: my wrath. I think he was sort of processing what had just happened, because he didn’t really react when I stepped to the side to help Spencer to his feet.
Although, my boyfriend definitely remembered he wouldn’t find comfort with me that time.
“Spencer, get the hell out of here. I want to talk to my dad.”
“My keys are inside,” he so helpfully pointed out.
“Then go inside,” I sternly commanded. After he’d run off like the kicked puppy that he was, tail between his legs and chin dripping with a little bit of blood, I muttered, “Jesus, I thought he was supposed to be smart.”
My dad didn’t think it was funny.
“(Y/n), what do you think you’re doing?”
Opting for the literal route instead of the more painful one, I answered, “Standing in my yard and being yelled at by my father.”
“I’m not yelling at you.”
“You might as well be.”
An awkward silence stretched between us, and for a brief second, I actually thought that I might cry. It felt silly, but also reasonable under the circumstances. I’d seen this whole situation coming from a mile away. I knew my father well.
But some part of me, the naive, hopeful part, wanted things to have been different.
“What are you doing?” my dad asked again, quieter and with more patience.
I couldn’t accept the white flag.
“About what?” I shrugged.
My father sighed, running a hand over his face before settling two fingers at the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, but his voice came out just as harsh and unforgiving.
“He’s nearly ten years your senior and a member of my team—“
“I don’t care about your job, dad!” I shrieked, hating the way my voice broke but knowing the words wouldn’t have been able to come out any less hostile.
“Well, you should!” he tried, but I shouted over him at the same time, “I’m not a fucking child!”
With a sharp inhale of breath, he lowly cautioned in something similar to a plea, “Don’t talk to me like that.”
The reprimand lit a fire in my veins.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about!” I vaguely stated with a similar gesture to the man in front of me, “Dad, I didn’t just pursue him to screw you over. I like him!”
“All that matters to me is what is best for you. Don’t you understand that?” he quickly followed, his words more stuttered and imperfect than the usual monotone, “He lives an entirely different life than you.”
“What, a life like yours?” I scoffed.
He didn’t find it funny.
“Yes,” he said like an end to the argument that I wasn’t willing to concede.
My mouth was moving so quickly that I couldn’t predict what was going to come out of it until I heard it. The poison laced through every word didn’t seem to do any lasting damage yet, but that streak would soon end.
“It didn’t stop you and mom!”
There was no utterance or reference of her that would be easily ignored.
That time when it fell silent, it wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t even particularly charged. It was just… sad. Dark, and horrifying, and painful. It was exactly the kind of silence that made you want to turn to your father for comfort.
But I couldn’t find any with him in that moment, either.
In the most defeated voice I’d ever heard from him, my dad looked me in the eyes as he asked, “Is that the life you want?”
It could have been a threat. If I was more angry and less heartbroken, I might have taken it as one. But there was simply no room left in me for anger. It was just a dullness that felt a little bit better when I thought of a universe where Spencer and I could be like my mom and dad were before… everything.
“Maybe,” I mumbled, “If it’s with Spencer then... yeah, maybe.”
He took a step forward and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. While I moved away from it at first, I eventually gave in. I leaned into his touch until he felt comfortable wrapping an arm around me and pulled me in close.
“He’s not like me,” he said, but I couldn’t decide if he meant it to be a good or bad thing.
Either way, he did find some joy in my humor that time.
“I know. Believe it or not, Freud was wrong about that one...”
Deciding to save the psychological discussion for another time, my dad chose to keep the conversation on topic for a little while longer.
“The life he leads is one where you’ll never come first,” he explained. As if I needed to hear it.
“I’m familiar with it.”
But he wasn’t being facetious. When I turned my face to hide my sprouting tears from his eyes, I heard his voice almost break when he finally confessed the true cause of his frustration.
“I want a better life for you than that.”
The admission got the better of me. It was just enough of the rare, humble honesty that I always knew my father capable of, but rarely got to see. My lip started to tremble, and my words became messy as I tried to respond with a similar vulnerability now that neither of the men I loved would be able to mock me for it.
“I just want to be happy,” I whispered, “He makes me happy, Dad.”
I wasn’t sure how long we had been standing there, but I wasn’t ready to move yet. I would find the time and energy to be anxious and embarrassed later. At that moment, I just wanted to let myself feel the full weight of my emotions (so I wouldn’t feel as guilty bottling them up again later).
Somewhat surprisingly, I wasn’t the one to break the silence — and with humor, no less.
No, it was my dad who murmured through pouted lips, “… Was he ever going to tell me?”
“He was scared you were going to shoot him,” I said with a very graceful snort.
“I can’t say I didn’t think about it,” he joked again. But despite the fun new dynamic he’d created to push me through the brunt of my breakdown, my dad returned to his previous sentimental side for just a second. Just long enough to assure me that I hadn’t made a mistake.
“I know... that he’s a good man. If he makes you happy, then that’s what matters to me.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I softly replied, choosing to let it slide for now that he didn’t seem to be able to utter Spencer’s name in my presence. I got the feeling it would be that way for a while.
Wasn’t my problem, though. I didn’t have to work with them.
As if on cue, my dad spoke again through a sigh, “I can’t promise I won’t hit him again, though.”
“Can you promise to only do it if he deserves it?”
He paused for a minute to consider the request before answering with a smile, “I’ll try.”
(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (she/her pronouns)
Summary: after witnessing Spencer and Y/N hate each other for far too long, Emily handcuffs them together for 24 hours. Based off this concept!
CW: (18+ MINORS DNI) swearing, mutual pining, perv!spencer, masturbation, possibly voyeurism (he masturbates in front of y/n?), handjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, riding, cream pie, love confessions, mentions of Reid’s past drug addiction and kidnapping, (let me know if I forgot any!)
Category: enemies to lovers angst & smut
Word count: 7.6k
A/N: thank you to @boldlyvoid for the beautiful mood board, beta reading this & allowing me to take on this concept! I love you!
Hatred is one of the easiest feelings to maintain because it is far easier to find the flaws in life rather than finding the beauty. When it comes to love, people are terrified of falling for someone because of that inevitable future where everyone in life leaves or dies. For Y/N, that's what happened. She fell for probably the most amazing person she's ever met, but right as she was going to confess her love, he left. Her world was obliterated from under her feet when she just started feeling content.
The story begins when Spencer and Y/N are in the academy together. Although they didn’t establish a relationship with one another, they began hooking up after they got drunk once and made out for far too long. From that point on, they were glued to each other at the hip, having sex at any chance possible. Everyone believed they were together creating a facade, yet there was never anything more than friends with benefits.
One morning, Y/N woke up to Spencer knocking on her door. It wasn’t common for him to show up unannounced so the act was a bit concerning. Nonetheless, she ran to the door, turning the knob, and slowly opening it to find a sad Spencer.
“Hey,” she smiles to hopefully make him smile in return, but he doesn’t.
“I need to tell you something,” Spencer whispers, looking down at the ground.
She nods, “okay. Do you want to come in?” she moves to the side to make space for him to enter, just in case.
“No, I have to leave in a few minutes; I’ll make it brief… I got a job offer at the BAU, and they want me to start immediately,” he lifts his head from the floor to look at her.
“Spence, wow that’s amazing,” she pulls him into a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you,” she smiles against his chest.
“I’m sorry I have to leave… I don’t want to,” he pulls away, moving a few steps back from her body.
“It’s okay. You deserve to take the job. Besides, we just graduated… They said I should be ready to go in a few months,” she nods, feeling tears form at the brim of her eyes.
Spencer’s phone beeps inside his pocket. He slips the device out of his pocket, reading the message. “I’m so sorry, I have to leave,” he looked up, meeting her sorrowful eyes.
“Go, they need you,” she nods her head and smiles as one singular tear falls from her left eye, symbolizing pain. Spencer thinned his lips into a straight line and gave her a small wave before leaving.
That was the last time Y/N saw or spoke to Spencer.
Life was hell without him and without his little rants he’d go on while they studied together. She missed the way he would constantly stare at her while she read, or the way he’d go out of his way to comfort her any time she was sad. He was the one person who remained constant in her life when she needed it most, and then he left. There wasn’t any resentment towards him though. She was incredibly proud of him; she just wished she had the same opportunity this quick.
Flash forward years later, Y/N worked her ass off to get a job, which happened a lot later than expected. There was one point in time when she wanted to give up and find a new career path, yet she never did; this job was her true calling. Sometimes she’d see Spencer in the background of some press conferences his coworker gave and wondered how he was doing. Every now and then she’d call with no answer, text with no indication he was even receiving the messages; it’s almost as if he never existed at all.
On Y/N’s first day, she met the entire team, immediately forming a bond with each member. Then she saw Spencer join the small group of people. His hair was longer than she remembered, a small piece in the front cut an inch shorter than the rest of his hair. He put on the tiniest bit of weight and muscle, making him toned in the best ways. He looked just as beautiful as the day she first met him.
Neither knew whether or not they should shake hands or hug, so instead, they awkwardly stood there and stared at one another while the team watched. Spencer gave a small wave, but she was still so heartbroken after his absence that she couldn’t fathom a proper reaction. It took everything in her not to run and jump into his arms, all while making out with him; that was definitely the worst option. She simply walked right to her desk and settled in without a proper hello.
In Spencer’s perspective, he was just as torn as Y/N when he had to leave. Although this was the chance he hoped for and ultimately knew he’d get, he wanted the chance to go through everything that’s happened with her. Maybe even explain that when he was kidnapped, tortured, and drugged by Tobias, the only person he wanted to run to was the only one who wasn’t there. He felt guilty in several ways for not returning any of her calls, but he couldn’t figure out what to say.
Funny how friends turn into strangers in a matter of seconds.
Their relationship is insanely rocky now. They’re always getting into arguments about the most ridiculous things, all because they’re both so afraid to lose each other.
It started when Y/N was insanely distant. She never replied to any of Spencer’s questions, tried to avoid being paired with him on cases together, and even went as far as leaving any buildings before him so she doesn't get trapped in an elevator or staircase with him. She was so terrified over losing him that she couldn’t fathom building a relationship with him just for him to leave again. Little did she know, he had the same fear of abandonment.
Gideon, Elle, his father; they were all a distant memory as the days passed by. Spencer never really told Y/N in full detail what happened with his dad, mostly because there wasn’t much to say. He walked out before Spencer could really get a chance to know and love him. But with Gideon and Elle, they became family in such a short period, he never wanted to imagine a reality where they weren’t present. Instead, he had to live through it.
There was far too much miscommunication between the two of them, yet neither fights to break that barrier anymore. They’ve merely accepted the fact that their relationship would never repair itself if they didn’t try to repair it.
At some point, Spencer borrowed Y/N’s favorite pen, and never gave it back. This started an entire series of events because he felt he didn’t need to give it back until she talked to him. It’s quite childish, but that’s how he chose to figure things out.
Y/N frantically searches in every drawer of her desk looking for her stapler before she puts two and two together. She clenches her jaw, turning her head to look at Spencer. “Okay. Where is it?”
He shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
“My stapler. Where did you put it?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Y/N, I don’t care about your stapler,” he mutters, putting his attention back onto the file.
Her eyebrows raise, “oh yeah?” she charges over to his desk, yanking open the drawer at the very edge. Everything inside clashes against the other object, until she’s rummaging through the mess.
“Hey! What the hell are you—“ he pauses when she pulls out the blue stapler from the inside. He lifts his gaze to her cold, dead stare, watching her lift the object next to her head so it’s in his view. “Whoops. How’d that get in there?” he smirks.
Y/N rushes back over to her desk, slamming the mental onto the top of the flat surface. “First my pen, then my phone charger, and now my stapler? What are you, four?” she glares in his direction.
“No, I’m 27.”
“That was rhetorical. This is a dangerous game you’re playing,” she hissed, spinning around towards her computer screen.
“There’s no game,” Spencer shakes his head.
She rolls her eyes, “sure there isn’t. It’s a new thing every day now,” she scoffs, turning back in his direction. “Can you stop taking my stuff?”
“Depends. Can we talk if I do?”
She slowly turns back to her computer, “there’s nothing to talk about so, no.”
He sighs, “then I won’t stop taking your things.”
Y/N knew what had to be done to get back at him. She promptly waited far later than she wished until Spencer had left. He said goodnight to Emily who was still in the bullpen and ignored her presence altogether. She pretended to look at something on the computer, patiently waiting until she could hear the elevator ding, signaling his departure. A tiny smirk formed on her lips when she moved over to Spencer’s desk, removing the stapler from the corner.
“What are you doing?” Emily asks, furrowing her brows.
Y/N sarcastically shrugs, “I’m not doing anything. I’m out of staples so I’m just borrowing it.”
“Y/N, this is childish,” she shakes her head.
“Em, I love you, but he started it,” Y/N pauses knitting her brows, “okay yeah I see what you mean… I’m still gonna do it.”
“Why are you putting it in your purse?”
“For safekeeping of course!” she laces the strap over her shoulder and sighs happily. “Okay, well I’m heading home now. I’ll see you tomorrow!”
“Goodnight,” Emily sighs, shaking her head with disappointment.
One of Y/N’s favorite TV shows had a specific scene involving a stapler, and after Spencer decided to steal her for no reason at all, she knew exactly what had to be done. She ran to the store on her way home, picking up everything she needed to complete this wonderful quest. She didn't want to potentially make the situation worse, but the reaction Spencer will have would be spectacular.
After everything is set up, Y/N falls asleep with such ease. What she didn’t expect was a particularly explicit dream with Spencer. It started with them fighting just like they always did, but then he was pinning her down and… Well anyone could guess what happened next.
These emotions weren’t new, but she wasn’t prepared to open that door again. She spent a long time trying to remove the love she had for him, all because she believed she’d never get to be in his life the same way again.
Y/N woke up bright and early to prepare for today’s schemes. She made sure to arrive at work before anyone else got there, well beside Hotch, of course. Although she looked forward to messing with Spencer only, the rest of the team’s reactions would be a wonderful addition to her amusement. She made sure to place the stapler in his drawer, then patiently waited at her desk.
Just like always, Spencer was the first to arrive. He entered the bullpen with his satchel hung over his shoulder, and a coffee already in his hand.
“Good morning Reid,” Y/N smirks, staring up at him. He paid no attention to her besides the small disgust on her face when she spoke.
He looks around the surface of his desk, noticing there was something out of place. “Where’s my stapler?” he mutters to himself, lifting the stacks of files and books in case it was underneath something.
“It’s missing? That’s so strange… It’s almost like deja vu, don’t you think?” she bites the end of her pen, raising her eyebrows. Spencer takes no time to falter, charging towards her with such ease. Before he has the chance to reach down, she stops him. “Ah ah ah! I wouldn’t go in there unless you want to see a pile of various vibrators,” she bites the inside of her cheek.
His eyebrows furrowed together with pure disgust plastered on his face. “You keep vibrators inside your desk?”
She chuckles in amusement, “no, but it’s not in there. Go ahead, check,” she gestures towards the handle. Right as he bends down to check, Y/N yanks on his tie pulling him close to her until her mouth is right next to his left ear.
“Wrong drawer, doctor,” she lifts her leg, yanking it open with her foot, Spencer is in awe of the entire action as he glances down into the empty drawer. She’s stayed next to his ear the entire time, still gripping his tie. “Want a hint?”
Spencer averts his eyes to her cleavage on show from the purposely unbuttoned top, before backs away from her altogether, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want a hint. I’m a genius, remember? I’ll find it.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second, doctor,” she laughs, watching him frantically search every hidden area and every drawer.
Emily enters the bullpen next, eyeing both team members. “Morning children. How are my two favorite toddlers today?” she asks, setting her purse down on her desk.
“Toddlers? I’m not a toddl—“ Spencer pulls open the last drawer, his mouth immediately dropping open. He bends down, pulling the stapler out and dropping it onto the desk. “Y/N put my stapler in jello,” he glares at the vibrant yellow enclosing the black stapler, the gelatin still bouncing.
“As I said, toddlers,” Emily scoffs, taking a seat at her desk. Y/N giggles under her breath, Spencer glaring at her.
Derek walks into the bullpen, noticing the jello the second he reaches his chair. “Y/N isn’t that from that one show… The Office?” Derek furrows his brows, approaching an angry Spencer with the plate still promptly on the surface.
“Why yes, it is! I personally find it hilarious!” she smirks.
“It most certainly is not hilarious,” Spencer crosses his arms over his chest, turning in his swivel chair to face the plate.
Derek laughs, “maybe you should eat your way to it.”
“I hate everyone. Except you Emily,” Spencer finally digs the object out of the yellow gelatin, cringing as his fingers squished the texture.
“Hey, no. Leave me out of this,” Emily shakes her head, reaching into her purse and pulling out a pair of headphones.
“I wasn’t dragging you into anything,” he frowns.
“What? I can’t hear you!” She gestures to the bulky black headphones covering her ears.
“Nothing is playing… We’d be able to hear it and you just plugged them in,” Derek comments.
Emily rips the headphones off, standing from her chair, “I’m going to get coffee.”
“Hey Y/N, if you’re planning on beating me, at least think of something more creative,” Spencer growls, removing all of the jello from inside the stapler.
Y/N turns to look at him, “oh pretty boy. I wasn’t trying to beat you. If this was a competition, I’d win,” she grins.
“You’d never win, even if you were ten times smarter than I am. You act on impulse, not logic.”
She taps her chin with one finger, “oh I don’t think that’s correct.”
“I’m never wrong,” he argues, clenching his jaw.
“Really? You’ve been wrong about a lot of things,” she scoffs.
“Oh yeah? Name one.”
“I can!” Derek adds, leaning forward in his chair and raising one finger into the air. “Remember that time we were talking about relationships? You said that I’ve never been with a woman for more than three months. I have once, and it was almost an entire year.”
Y/N nods, “you also said that I have a lack of empathy because—“
“Alright, I get it. Message received loud and clear,” Spencer cuts her off.
“Reid, just admit it. You’re too scared to have a competition.”
Emily comes back from the break room just in time to stop more shenanigans. “Competition? No, absolutely not. There will be no competition between the two of you, understood?” she commands, sitting at her desk with a fresh cup of coffee in hand.
“We have a case,” Hotch announces, walking towards the round table room.
Derek and Spencer entered first behind Hotch and JJ who were already in the room. Y/N stuck back a bit to walk beside Emily, smiling in her direction. She knew how irritating it must’ve been watching her and Spencer bicker, but it’s all fun and games for her… Partially.
“Don’t worry, I was only messing with him,” Y/N nudges Emily’s shoulder.
“I know, but it’s exhausting and that’s saying a lot when we caught serial killers for a living,” she chuckles.
Y/N took a seat in between Emily and Derek, while Spencer was sitting almost directly across from her. Listening to the case details would’ve been easier if it wasn’t for Dr. Reid who stared at her the entire time, occasionally looking her up and down. What’s most annoying about the situation is the fact he kept adding statistics and comments when necessary. She glared back at him a few times, clenching her jaw at his persistence.
Why exactly was he looking at her like that?
On the jet, Y/N decided to entertain herself a bit by sitting across from Spencer and his chess set. She was hesitant at first, wondering if it was worth pissing him off anymore, and yet she somehow craved the attention for no reason at all. Maybe it’s from pure curiosity. She was set on figuring out why he thought the childish tactic is the best way to get her to speak to him.
Reaching the seat, she lowered her body onto the leather with a small sigh. “Looking for a partner?” Y/N asks with such a genuine tone, it seems to throw him off a bit.
Spencer raises his brows, “are you sure you want to go up against me?”
“Set it up, pipe cleaner, but don’t blame me when you lose,” she grins, slumping back into the chair as she watches his fingers work.
“Well, I never lose,” he smirks before sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth in concentration. He insisted on having them perfectly centered in each square, even though the board was bound to get a bit sloppy with each move.
The game lasted about fifteen minutes. It would’ve ended a bit sooner if Spencer hadn’t stared down her shirt numerous times as she moved her piece. She found it adorable when he’d clear his throat every time she noticed. Even though they “hated” each other, sometimes she’d find a small glimpse of the Spencer she used to know, and it filled her veins with eternal happiness.
What she enjoyed most about the entire experience of playing with him is calling checkmate, and watching his mouth fall open. She sucked in her bottom lip to hide the grin she so desperately wanted to flash at him.
Spencer inspected each move, trying to determine how she managed to land a victory. “How the hell did you beat me?” he mutters under his breath
“What’s wrong? Is the queen too powerful for the little baby king?”
“You could never be a queen,” he
“Well I overpower you, the king, all the time so… I think that qualifies me,”
“That’s not true. You have to be born in the royal family, or marry one of the members. So no, you could never be a queen,”
She stands up, moving to bend down next to his ear. “Or I could wear a crown and make you bow down to me. Then I’m a queen,” she whispers, lingering for just a moment to get her message across loud and clear.
Of course, Spencer’s eyes travel to her open chest once more as he gulps. He clears his throat, focusing his attention back onto the mess of the chessboard. Y/N backed away happily, a smile growing on her lips while she watched him mumble to himself and replay the match.
The next few weeks consisted of a couple of cases, mixed with paperwork days where Spencer was still messing with Y/N. She stopped reciprocating the acts because, to be honest, she was too tired and didn’t feel like putting in a lot of effort. This didn’t stop Spencer; he tried to get her attention in any way he could.
Y/N went to the bathroom to pee, and when she came back she remembered she had to make a call, but her phone was nowhere to be found. She rummaged through her purse, looked underneath every file and paper, and even checked the drawers where she’d never put it anyways. That’s when she knew; Spencer took it for whatever reason.
She ran her way into the break room, trying to control her anger so she wouldn't lash out at him. “Why the hell did you take my phone?”
“Your music was annoying me,” he snaps, pouring a large amount of sugar in his mug.
“I had headphones in! I need to call someone,” she gestures her hand out in front of him, waiting for the device.
Spencer shakes his head, “you do know that having your headphones over 50% volume can lead to irreversible hearing damage, right?”
She rolls her eyes, “well then that means I don’t have to listen to your bullshit, so sign me up!” she sarcastically cheers.
“You’re not getting the phone back until the end of the day,” he turns to glare at her, taking a sip of coffee and happily sighing once he swallows.
“What the fuck? You’re punishing me? You’re not my teacher, Reid.”
Emily enters with her mug in hand, shaking her head in disappointment. “Oh c’mon. Are you two really fighting again?”
Y/N turns around to face her. “He stole my phone!” she almost shouts.
“Well her music was annoying me,” Spencer shares his side of the story, crossing his arms over his chest.
She slowly turns her head to stare at him. “I had my headphones in,” she hissed. He was the lighter to her wick, and this motherfucker was charring her until she’d break.
“And I could hear everything!” he scoffed, turning around to sip his coffee.
“Well my music taste is amazing so if anything, it’s benefiting you,” she rolled her eyes to Emily who was unamused.
“It’s far from amazing,” he debated.
“Says the guy who only listens to Beethoven,” she shook her head.
Emily removed her handcuffs from her belt, unlocking each cuff. If they hadn’t been arguing like middle-schoolers, they would’ve registered the metal clinking in the background. She waits until they’re focused on each other, simultaneously slipping the metal over both their wrists.
Spencer glances down, trying to pull his arm away once he feels the brisk metal. “Hey— What are you doing?”
“That’s my wrist!” Y/N shouts, tugging her right wrist at handcuffs when she realizes she’s attached to Spencer. She looks up at him, “oh you’ve got to be kidding me. Em, you’re lucky I’m ambidextrous because typically my right hand is my dominant one.”
Emily folded her arms over her chest, staring at the oblivious lovers as they try to maneuver their way around to face her. “You two have to spend 24 hours together. Maybe that will make you like each other again,” she sarcastically smiles, moving past them to grab her mug from the cupboard.
“Emily, I'm on my period. I highly doubt he wants to see all that blood,” Y/N tries to divert the subject onto something else, attempting to find reasoning as to why this is the worst possible idea.
Spencer knits his brows together, “you’re not on your period. Your next cycle isn’t for another week,” he corrected her.
“Thanks, Sherlock,” she looks up at him cringing. “Wait, why do you even know that?”
“I know all of your cycles to know when to be extra nice,” he thinned his lips into a straight line, trying to pull his arm away from hers.
“Ow, OW! Dude, really? We’re cuffed, you’re not getting out of it. Stop pulling it; you’re burning my wrist,” Y/N groans, using her free hand to rub against her skin.
“Don’t make me extend the time duration,” Emily warns them, quickly getting a cup of coffee and darting out of the room before there’s even more complaining.
“This is ridiculous. How am I supposed to use the bathroom?” Spencer pouts, throwing his head back.
“I— I don’t want to think about that right now,” she cringed, turning her body as much as she could to look at him. “Now, who’s desk are we sharing?” she fakes a smile, watching Spencer close his eyes and clench his jaw.
This is going to be hell.
With a lot of fighting and Hotch yelling at the pair several times, they somehow managed to get every file done for the day. Thankfully there wasn’t a case because that would be near impossible to deal with. One of the biggest difficulties was using the bathroom. Spencer pees far more often than Y/N, so she was constantly pressing her back against his while he used the urinal, wanting to cry the entire time.
How exactly is this supposed to make them like each other again? At this rate, they’d move to different countries just so they wouldn’t have to interact with each other again.
At the end of the work, they fought in trying to decide who’s apartment they were sleeping at. Y/N managed to make him choose her apartment since she drove to work and Spencer took the subway. She truly was a queen declaring her dominance over the king, or prince, since that’s better fitting.
Driving wasn’t too difficult but it wasn’t the easiest thing either. The entire time Spencer kept trying to keep his hand in his lap, which would cause Y/N’s hand to brush against his thigh, and what happened every time? He jerked away like a teenager. Eventually, he realized the best thing to do was keep their arms resting against the center console. Even with this, something strange kept happening.
Their hands would brush together with such delicacy, Y/N swore her heart stopped each time. Through her peripheral vision, she could see Spencer staring at her the entire drive, but she tried not to pay any attention to that. She couldn’t reminisce on her feelings once more just to be left in the dust again. Little did she know, he felt the same way.
Once they arrived at her apartment building, Y/N had to climb over the passenger seat, the same way she had to get into the car. The trip into her actual unit was the easiest thing they did all day; there was no maneuvering their bodies to get out of rooms or compact spaces, just simple walking. Sleeping was going to be the hard part.
The second they step inside, they eat a quick frozen pizza for dinner, watching a movie until they are ready to sleep. Not one word was exchanged the other time, besides expressing how delicious the pizza was. Once they were done, Spencer was obviously forced to watch Y/N clean up. He helped put away the plates after she cleaned them, but in all reality, he just admired her from a rather close afar.
Y/N pulled him into the bedroom so they could finally sleep. The hard part was removing their clothes and putting on new ones. Obviously, the shirts they had on would have to be cut, and the new one wouldn’t be able to slip over one of their arms. She didn’t care as much and grabbed a pair of scissors to cut the sleeve of her shirt.
Y/N goes right in, cutting the sleeve all the way down to the side of her shirt. Spencer’s eyebrows furrow, “What are you doing?”
She looks around the room like she’s trying to find the correct answer. “Getting ready to sleep?” she drags him over to the closet, grabbing the thinnest tank top she had.
“I understand that. Why are you cutting your shirt?” he watches her slip off the destroyed material, followed by her pants, in which he was pulled towards the floor.
“I only sleep in my shirt and underwear. I get hot at night,” she brings the strap of her bra through the gap of the handcuff until she can slip it over her hand, and then simply pulls it through, underneath her wrist. She then throws the clothes into the hamper across the room. Then she glares at him as he tries to turn his body away from hers. “Dude you’ve seen me naked before. What’s the issue?”
“I don’t want to see you in a thin piece of fabric,” he sighs, giving up on trying to run away.
Y/N stares at the tank top, finding the easiest way to put it on. “And I don’t want to be handcuffed to you. We both have issues,” she sighs, stepping into the tank top and pulling it up over her torso. Once she was covered, she used the same concept as the one from her bra strap. She took the right strap and slipped it underneath her wrist where the gap of the handcuff was, pulling it through until there was enough space to slip her hand through the loop. Then all she had to do was yank it through and bring it up to her shoulder.
“I know that you’re angry I got into the BAU before you but— How did you do that?” Spencer furrowed his brows, trying to figure out how she just put it on with such ease.
“I used magic since I only act on impulse and not logic,” she reiterated his earlier statement from weeks ago, soon pulling him towards the bed. “And I don’t care. I made it here, didn’t I?”
He pulled off his pants before she climbed into bed. “Yes, you did. But I don’t need to be the cause of your anger. It’s not like I wanted to join without you.”
“Look, I don’t care. I’m completely over it,” she carefully crawled onto the mattress, waiting for him to follow so she could pull the covers over them.
“I don’t think you are…” he whispers, finding a comfortable position.
“Suck my dick, Reid. Can we please just sleep?” Y/N angles her body by turning her knees to the side and moving her torso the smallest bit so her neck doesn’t hurt when she wakes up. This was the only position she could sleep in to be on her side, but could still have her arm by her side.
After a while, Y/N fell asleep despite being incredibly uncomfortable but was woken up by shuffling next to her. “Reid, I don’t know what you’re doing, but for the love of god stop moving. I’m trying to sleep,” she groans.
“I’m not doing anything. I’m just trying to get comfortable,” Spencer sighs.
“Then do it quicker. I’m losing my patience.”
“I won’t be able to. We’re handcuffed together; my wrist hurts.”
“Maybe you should masturbate more. You’d build some stamina,” she scoffs.
His brows furrowed, “is that a request?”
“No, you pervert. Just go to bed.”
Not even five minutes later, Y/N felt more movement and heard a strange noise; there was no way she’d be sleeping tonight.
“What the fuck is that noise? Please tell me you’re not—“ she turns her body over until she’s on her back to find his free hand underneath his boxers, palming his dick. “Reid, come on,” she scoffs, averting her eyes to the ceiling.
“Your butt was right in front of me and now it won’t go away,” he cries.
“So just think about your grandma… Or Rossi. I don’t care who, just make it go away,” she rubs her eyes with her free hand, wondering how to get out of this situation. It would be a lie to say she hasn’t thought about being with him again, but not in this circumstance.
“I can’t think of my grandma; that’s disgusting!” Spencer fake gags.
She shakes her head, “not to masturbate to— Damnit Reid. How long is it going to take for you to fix it?”
“I don’t know… Like twenty minutes?” he sighs, removing his hand from underneath the fabric.
“Okay, stand up. You’re taking a cold shower,” she sits up in the bed, causing him to follow until they’re both resting against the headboard.
He furrows his brows, “that’s not going to work if you’re in there with me, and I can’t take off my shirt,” he stares at her with his puppy dog eyes, begging to be set free from this dire situation.
“Then what do you suppose we do? Because I’m exhausted and want to sleep. Do you want me to put on shorts?”
“I don’t know…. It’s already there, I don’t think that would help,” he looks down at his dick’s outline in his boxers, begging for attention.
“I’m not fucking you if that’s what you’re getting at,” she scoffs, closing her eyes and resting her head against the headboard.
“I don’t want you to,” he adds, shifting uncomfortably to slip his legs out from under the covers.
“Okay. So then think about Rossi and fix it. I’m going back to sleep.”
Spencer groans, “Y/N, it’s not going to go down.”
She sighs, halting her movements and looking over at him. “How long will it take if I give you a handjob?”
Spencer’s face scrunched in confusion all while being intrigued. He took his dear time to think about it, making her want to smack him right across the face. “Probably half the time?”
Y/N pushed on the bed, sitting back up against the headboard. She let out a loud, irritated sigh and stared deep into his eyes, “I do this, and then we go back to hating each other. Understood?”
He quickly nods, “yes ma’am.”
Y/N grunts as she switches her position until she’s on her knees right next to his thigh. Slipping her left hand underneath the waistband, he helped with his right hand to push the fabric down his legs, until he could kick his boxers off altogether. His dick sprung up to his stomach, red hard and twitching from the lack of contact.
“Ambidextrous huh?” he chuckles nervously from the anticipation taking over his body. He hasn’t been with anyone in a long time.
“Yup, you’re in luck,” she brings her hand to the base of his dick, making one long stroke up until she reaches the tip. “You know, you’ve always had a gorgeous dick,” she chuckles, rubbing the tip with her thumb, swiping the precum off and spreading it down his shaft, a quiet moan slipping from his mouth.
“T-thanks,” he chokes out the word when she starts going at such a painfully slow pace.
“Is that good?” she asks, biting her bottom lip at the view.
“Yes, fuck,” he moans a bit louder this time when she flicks her thumb over the tip once more.
She lifts her gaze from his dick to his eyes to watch the pleasure written all over his face, but instead his eyes are already on her. “Please don’t stare at me while I’m jerking you off,” she quietly laughs while shaking her head.
“I-I can’t help it. You’re so beautiful,” he groans, staring down at her lips.
Y/N removes her hand for a moment, adjusting her position until she’s straddling his thighs. She stares deep into his eyes, beginning to stroke his length again. “Don’t do that. Don’t make me like you again. You left me,” she whispers.
He bites his bottom lip, glancing down at her working hand. “I didn’t want to,” he responds, holding back his moans.
“I was falling in love with you… And just as I was going to tell you, you left for the BAU… We never even spoke again,” she waits until his eyes are on her again to spit on his dick, using that as natural lube. “I tried calling you several times,” she whines, slightly picking up her pace.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I wanted to reach out but— fuck,” he throws his head back, “I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me.”
She removes her hand again, causing him to lower his head with such a needy look. She furrowed her brows, “Why would you possibly think that? I cried for several weeks because you didn’t answer. I loved you, Spence,” she whispers, feeling one small tear fall down her cheek.
Spencer sits up and learns forward, pulling her onto his lap with her clothed core right on top of his dick. She looks down for a moment, pushing aside her panties and lazily grinding against him. They find a comfortable position for their cuffed wrists before resuming the conversation… And figure out how to talk through the moaning.
“I wanted to stay with you… I— fuck,” his right-hand digs into her thigh, helping her grind against him. He grunts, “I didn’t want to leave you behind but I also couldn’t say no to the opportunity,” he stares back down at her lips.
“I wouldn’t have wanted you to stay… I was proud of you despite my envy,” she whispers, looking down at his cock disappearing and then reappearing from underneath her.
“How do you feel about me now?” he asks, running his tongue over his bottom lip.
“Why don’t I show you?” she lifts her hips lightly, grabbing the base of his dick and lightly rubbing his tip along her folds. He watches her every movement with such concentration until he’s trying to buck his hips up before she moves out of the way.
He looks up at her, so eager as ever. “I thought you said you didn’t want to?”
She smirks, “that’s before I thought you didn’t love me back,” she moves the tip directly over her entrance, staring right back into his eyes. “Is this okay? I’m on birth control and I haven’t been with anyone since you…”
He nods, “fuck yes. I-I’ve only been with one of my coworkers but we used a condom… Is this okay for you too?”
“Of course,” she slowly sinks down onto him, eliciting a loud moan from both of their mouths. She takes in every inch of his length until she’s completely bottomed out, both of them already a panting mess. “Shit, I missed this,” she whispers, slowly rising up and lowering herself back down.
“You’re so tight,” Spencer moans, reaching his free behind Y/N’s neck and pulling her right onto his lips. The kiss is gentle and patient at first until Y/N picks up her pace; then they spark the fire in between them.
Y/N moans into his mouth before pulling away and placing her hand on his shoulder while she rides him faster. Spencer rips down her tank top, resting his hand on the small of her back as he circles his tongue around her right nipple. Her head throws back from the act, loud moans slipping from her lips. He wastes no time moving to her other breast, repeating the same movements with his tongue as before.
She begins to falter when he removes his hand from her back and brings his thumb to circle her clit. She fell into complete ecstasy when he took over, bending his knees so he could thrust into her with such ease and an intensity that was setting her right over the edge. When she arched her back, the new angle set him up to hit her g-spot with every and any thrust he made. The state of euphoria she was in brought screams of pleasure into the room, encouraging Spencer to give it his all.
The pace was rough and dirty, yet was filled with so much passion and love, they both were putty in each other’s arms. Y/N quickly felt the sensation build up in her lower stomach, sending her into a wave of frenzy. She nuzzled her head into Spencer’s neck as her legs began to shake, and her body almost fell limp from his touch. His skin muffled her cries when she came, Spencer still fucking her through her orgasm.
It didn’t take Spencer long to follow. He huffed and panted onto Y/N’s skin as he turned his head to spread kisses all over her neck. With his pace growing weaker but harsher, he stilled his movements and emptied inside her, moaning directly into her ear. He wrapped his arm around her back and held her while she tried to catch her breath still nuzzled into his neck.
“Holy shit,” he pants, carefully pulling out so he doesn’t make a mess. She pulls back enough to press her lips against his, creating such a deep and intimate kiss that she almost forgot where she was. She groaned into his mouth before pulling back and smiling with him.
Y/n carefully moved off of his body and laid beside him. She happily sighs, “I think Emily’s trick worked,” a grin forms on her lips when she turns her head to look at him.
He smiles in return. “I’d say so too…” he furrowed his brows and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, “I’m sorry I never answered your calls.”
She moves to lay on her side, bringing her arm up in sync with Spencer’s so they aren’t tugging on each other. “It’s okay because we’re together now,” she whispers, running her eyes all over his face, taking in every inch of his beauty. The way his cheekbones are so prominent, the small freckle over his right eyebrow, his pink plump lips, his small nose that’s calling for a small ‘boop,’ and his beautiful eyes.
“Y/N? How’d you know I love you?”
She brings her left hand to push a strand of hair out of his face and smiles. “I could see it in your eyes… Your pupils dilated when I straddled you, and I could feel your heart rate pick up through your dick,” she laughs quietly, eliciting a smile from his end.
He sighs, “I’m sorry I never said it before,” he whispers at such a low volume, it’s barely audible.
“It’s okay… I’m not angry anymore,” she leans in, placing a small kiss against his lips. When she pulls back, she simply smiles.
“I love you,” Spencer confesses.
“I love you too.”
He plants a small kiss on her forehead before pulling away and sighing. “So… a shower is out of the question?”
She giggles, “I mean if you’re okay cutting through your shirt then it is.”
“Any chance you could pull it out the handcuff as you did with yours?”
Y/N shakes her head, “I pulled through straps, not an entire shirt.”
He glances down at the cheap material, nodding his head. “You know what? It wasn’t that expensive. Let’s do it,” he reaches his hand underneath her lower back, bringing her up with him.
“I have several oversized t-shirts you can wear, but none of them are work attire…” she stands up with him, looking up into his hazel eyes with such a love she hasn’t felt in years; one she prayed would never go away.
“I’ll wait until Emily removes the handcuffs, and then just take one from my go-bag,” he leans down, kissing her yet again as they stumble over to the bathroom, never backing away once.
That night was possibly one of the best while being simultaneously one of the worst nights of sleep they’ve ever had. The only thing keeping them from tearing each other apart as they tossed and turned was the undying love they have. It was clear that everyone on the team saw this love from the start, but the two were too infuriated with each other that they couldn't see it. A push really was needed to get them rolling again, but not necessarily in the way Emily intended.
Either way, Spencer and Y/N walked into the office with their cuffed wrists linked together, and smiles plastered on their faces. Emily took no note in the obnoxious graphic tee Spencer was wearing over one arm, and instead smirked as she approached the happy lovers.
“I see the handcuffs worked,” Emily reached into her back pocket and took out the key.
“Yes, they did. Thank you, Emily,” Y/N shows her gratitude as the metal is removed from her skin, her fingers immediately rubbing over the friction burn from last night.
“It’s my pleasure because now I don’t have to hear every argument,” she chuckles, taking the handcuff off of Spencer’s wrist next.
“Oh, you might want to sterilize those…” Spencer warns her while clenching his teeth and frowning.
Emily cringes, moving her fingers until she’s holding them with only her thumb and index finger out in front of her. “Ew god, okay that’s disgusting,” she gags.
“Sorry Em…” Y/N apologizes as Emily walks back into the bullpen.
“You’re not sorry,” Spencer laughs under his breath.
She looks up at him, shaking her head, “you’re right, I’m not,” she laughs, reaching both her hands up to cup his cheeks, and pulls him in for a kiss.
620 notes · View notes
summary: this is what happens when spencer doesn’t think his girlfriend gets loud enough.
a/n: based on this ask sent in on @subspencer
category: spencer reid x fem!reader, SMUT/18+
warnings: fingering + oral (fem receiving), penetration. no dom/sub dynamic.
Spencer had her halfway into his lap. One of her legs was hooked over both his thighs. The hem of her dress rode up ever so slightly with each passing moment. Just as slowly, his hand made its way up her exposed skin. Ghosting careful touches from her knee, up her thigh, he stopped mere inches below the junction of her hips. He wrapped his large hand around as much of her as he could, engulfing her thigh in a firm grip. A mumble left her lips as he held on tighter, pulling her impossibly closer to him.
She placed one hand on the back of his neck, dragging him down with her as she fell backward onto her bed. Spencer’s fingers ran in perfect paths over her body. Skimming down her sides, dipping low to take handfuls of her ass. And letting go far too soon, moving back up her body and avoiding where she wanted him the most.
He repeated that pattern for an eternity too long, until she parted her legs and begged him to come closer. That tiny please she said was everything he wanted to hear. Spencer’s knee knocked against both of hers, pushing them even further apart as he settled between them.
His tie was discarded long ago, along with his belt and trousers. They were lost somewhere between her living room and bedroom, same with her bra and stockings. As she shifted up the bed, the silky fabric of her dress pooled above her hips, revealing the soft white panties underneath.
Without ever breaking their kiss, he bunched the fabric in his hands and tugged it even higher. She lifted her hips to help him expose as much of her as he could without bothering to take it off. Sinking lower down the bed, his lips traced the contours of her body. Leaving long kisses on every few inches of bare skin. Against the swell of her chest, across her bare stomach, and everywhere between.
He stopped only when he reached the top of her panties. Looking up to make sure she watched him as he did it. Her bottom lip was fixed between her teeth, pulling gently on her own lip just the way Spencer was doing moments before. His tongue sweeped over his lips before he pressed a long, warm kiss on the fabric. Directly over the delicate satin bow that sat in the middle of the lace trim.
He continued his line of fire downward, pushing his soft lips against the outside of her clothed pussy. Against the damp patch growing for him. Over her bundle of nerves, which practically carried a heartbeat of its own as he pressed against it.
She was just shy of begging again when he finally sunk his teeth into the top hem of the panties. Hooking his lips and teeth around it, he used only his mouth to pull them off. He managed to tug them down her thighs with ease. Then, using both hands, he pressed her knees to her chest, making it easier for himself to get them off the rest of the way.
Panties dangling from his teeth, he let go of her legs. Carefully placing them back to the mattress with too much care. He took the fabric out of his mouth and slung them over one shoulder, showing them off as he dipped his head back to place. His fingers started off on the outside of her knee, brushing her with the lightest of touches until they finally met his mouth where it was running trails on the inside of her upper thigh.
He flattened both palms on the insides of her thighs, pushing her open until she was completely bare to him. His warm breath fanned lightly over her wet core. Her hips writhed closer to him on their own accord, a satisfied grin took over his face.
Spencer looked up again, trying to lock eyes before diving in. He wanted to know everything; read every emotion of hers in her eyes, as well as hear it. They were screwed shut as she anticipated his next move. His first contact was so faint. He placed a delicate kiss right on her crest. As if she imagined the whole thing, she waited with baited breath for him to do it again, harder.
He pushed them against her again, with twice as much pressure, feeling her arousal wet his lips already. She let out a soft exhale as he put his broad tongue flat against her. Moving it in small waves, working the muscle lazily against her whole pussy. Before focusing his attention lower, shallowly prodding his tongue inside her entrance. The only way he could tell she enjoyed it was her fingers tightening around fistfuls of her bedsheets.
“Does that feel good?” he muttered, that low, gravelly voice rumbling against her.
He made it sound hot, and not like what it truly was. Which was worried that she wasn’t happy with what he was doing.
She just mumbled and nodded, moving one hand down to his head, weaving through his curls as she pushed his face lower. He dove his tongue deeper inside, deliberately nudging his nose against the bundle of nerves just above. He felt her fingers tighten in his hair as he did that. So he did it again, and again.
Finally, he fully wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked it gently. Occasionally swirling his tongue over it. She started to pull his hair, dull and gently as he kept going. Even as he placed two fingers outside her entrance, feeling her practically drip, he still didn’t hear a single sound.
Spencer pulled away, wiping his glistening mouth as he propped himself on both hands to get a proper look at her. He needed to study her face. Her eyes were closed, mouth relaxed and open, chest heaving, and there was a sheen of sweat across her hairline. All the telltale signs of arousal. And yet, she was being completely silent.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” she breathed, coming out of the daze Spencer had her in moments ago. He crawled up, placing one palm on the bed beside her shoulder so he could get closer to her pretty face.
“Are you sure?” His eyes looked cloudy. Overtaken with something – concern, insecurity, or lust. Some combination of them all.
“Of course?” She sounded doubtful, only because he was making her worry. Popping open the last remaining buttons on his shirt, she dipped her hands inside and ran them all over his smooth chest. Leaving kisses in the wake of her hands, paying special attention to the spot where his neck met his shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re being really quiet,” he whispered. His thumb rubbed back and forth on her hip, finding it a safe place to rest and find comfort in.
A different heat rose to her cheeks.
For their first time together, she expected that she’d be the one taking the lead. Making sure Spencer was feeling alright every step of the way and guiding him through it. She thought she’d be the one checking in on him, making him feel protected. It never occurred to her that it might be the opposite. With Spencer taking control, guiding himself by instinct and letting her relax while he took care of her.
She nodded fervently, almost embarrassed that it didn’t seem like she was enjoying herself. “I’m good. So good,” she laughed, closing the small gap between their lips for a moment. “Don’t worry ‘bout me.”
She kept him there by his neck, just wanting to kiss him forever. Of course he’d oblige. His hand slipped between their bodies, fingertips barely inside before she rolled her hips into them. She sighed as they pushed in, two at once. Because as long as his fingers looked, they felt even larger inside of her. Almost impossibly so, reaching deep into her and brushing that sensitive spot effortlessly.
Once he saw her face change, he knew he found it. And he kept at it, stroking his fingers right there. Repeatedly, until her mouth fell open even more, those heavy breaths escaping more and more with each rapid pass of his fingers. He thrusted his fingers faster, curving them up with every thrust. Her tiny whimpers got higher only in pitch, not in volume.
Spencer latched onto her neck. Grazing his teeth over her sensitive flesh before sucking it into his mouth. After feeling him everywhere, all at once, he finally got a moan from her. It felt like a fucking victory. And he was determined to make it happen again.
He retracted his hand, earning a disapproving look as he moved around. He quickly tugged off his boxers and she immediately reached into her drawer for a condom. Spencer took it between his teeth, ripping it open with his perfect pearly whites.
She gripped him with one hand and used the other to roll the latex down his shaft. Positioning him perfectly against her, she wrapped both legs around his waist. Spencer pushed in carefully, going slow so she couldn’t feel any pain. Her face relaxed once he was fully sheathed inside and waiting still until she adjusted.
She nodded and dug her fingers into his shoulders. He laid his whole body on her, chests flush together while he moved his hips in slow, shallow circles. Barely pulling out of her before getting deep again. It was soft and tender and passionate like she always wanted. And she was still too quiet.
His mouth was all over her. Nibbling on her ear lobes, sucking on her neck and chest, flicking over the hard buds and pulling with his teeth. Same with his hands, exploring every place on her body. All in an effort to find out what would make her get loud. He got a whimper when he teased her chest, and a low rumble when he wrapped his hand loosely around her neck. It wasn’t enough for him.
His hips stopped moving. “Are you sure you’re enjoying this?” Spencer pulled out and sat back on his knees.
“Yes, Spencer, I was,” she whined at the loss of contact. He only sat back further, looking completely unconvinced.
“Then why aren’t you saying anything?”
Her mouth opened and closed with no words to say. She didn’t even expect him to believe her when she said it, even though it was true. “I’m just not a loud person, baby…”
Spencer narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t an answer he could live with. He needed her to be loud for him, making it known how good he was doing for her, how much she wanted him.
Grabbing each of her hips, Spencer roughly flipped her over. With no warning she was face down on the bed. Breathless at his slightly dominant side coming out. She propped herself up on her elbows, craning her neck to get an eyeful of him as he repositioned himself behind her. He sat on his knees as he lined up. Placing two large hands on the small of her back for leverage as he slipped in.
At this angle, it felt like he was getting twice as deep. If that was even possible. She whimpered when she felt him. So he kept going, making sure he got as deep each time, rolling his hips to brush against her spot on every stroke.
He propped both her thighs over his so he could get as close as possible, hip bones digging into her soft ass as he kept going. His hands pressing down on her lower back was the only way she stayed in place as he picked up speed.
She had to bury her head into the pillows, too shy to let her noises out in the open. It was all incoherent babbling, all grunts and airy whining that she couldn’t control.
“Ah! Spencer!” She cried against a pillow, hands giving out from under her as her whole body became pliable under Spencer’s hands.
That only spurred him on further. He snatched the pillow from under her, spilling those sounds free. Tucking it in the gap between the top of her head and the headboard as he drove into her harder. The bedframe knocked against the wall repeatedly, practically competing against her for what could make the most noise.
Just as the thought of getting a noise complaint crossed his mind, she let out a long, dragged out moan. Spencer was absolutely sure now that she’d find a note under her door the next morning, from irritated neighbors asking her to keep it down. The fact that it might be her very first time getting in trouble for something like that, for disturbing neighbors with loud sex, made him proud.
Her hand was clawing at the sheets, trying to feel any semblance of self control as Spencer kept going. She tried to be quiet, to stop the bed from shaking so much, but she couldn’t. He took one of his hands off her waist and slipped it over her own, locking their fingers together as he pressed her down. Leaning down, he placed hungry kisses on her shoulders as his thrusts got more erratic.
Panting heavily, his thighs gave out on holding him up. He laid down on her back, pinning her under him as he thrust twice before coming. Pulling her hair out of the way and finishing with a loud, gravelly moan directly in her ear, making sure she heard every bit of it. She followed less than a second after feeling him release inside her.
Spencer stayed in that position for a while. Fingers still interlocked on one hand, brushing her hair with the other, while his head rested between her shoulders. He dotted a few more kisses on her skin before rolling off and disappearing out of the bedroom.
She turned her head to watch him leave, too tired to protest his absence. All cleaned up, he came back moments later with a warm washcloth and a cup full of water. Spencer sat on the edge of the bed beside her.
“Well, what do you know,” he laughed, taking a quick sip of water before handing her the glass. She sat up on her elbows as he raised the glass to her lips, putting his other hand under her chin to help her drink. Spencer smiled as she finished it all and laid back down. “I guess you actually can be loud.”
She chuckled softly as he lifted the blanket and crawled under the covers next to her. Pulling her onto his chest. The rhythm of his chest rising and falling with every breath lulling her nearer to sleep.
“I don’t know, doc,” she mumbled, shutting her eyes. “Might have to run a few more tests on your theory.”
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A Very Good Night
Summary: Aaron is taken care of by the babysitter when he comes home from a case that has shaken him quite a bit.
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x (fem!)reader!
Warning: 18+ NSFW CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
Includes: Babysitter!Reader, reader is in grad-school, sweet boy Jack, reader wearing Aaron’s shirt, sweet boy Aaron, alcohol mention, food mention, eating mention, SMUT, oral M!receiving, vaginal sex, pet names, flirting, feelings, emotions
Word Count: 3.9k
A/N: This is posted on my ao3 (ssahotchswife)! Hi everyone! I hope you all like this one, I had a fun time writing it hehe. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great week! <3 AO3 LINK
Working for the Hotchners, you never knew what your schedule was going to be like. Some weekends you wouldn’t hear from them at all – those were the days you thought about them the most – and then other weekends you spent more than twelve hours a day at their apartment watching Jack. You wouldn’t give up that time with him for the world, being his babysitter – even if it was only a backup babysitter for whenever Jessica couldn’t watch her nephew – was the greatest job you ever had.
You had come to D.C. for grad school, following your heart – and your scholarship – to a phenomenal school in the city. It was purely a coincidence that the school you were currently working towards a Master’s degree from was the same school that your current boss received his law degree from – a fact that you had giggled about one afternoon when you were folding some of the laundry you had found in a basket in the living room and found a ratty old George Washington University t-shirt that clearly had been well-loved by the man you had been pining after since the day you met him.
Aaron Hotchner was – in a few words – nothing short of amazing, and you had wanted him for almost a year now. When your roommate introduced you to her boss Jessica after telling her all about how you were a nanny for a year between high school and college, you never imagined this is where it would lead you; standing in the kitchen of Aaron Hotchner’s apartment, making dinner for yourself and his son while Jack cleaned up his Legos from the living room. A little grin quirked onto your lips when you heard the familiar sound of footsteps falling on the hardwood and running towards the kitchen.
“Legos all cleaned up?” You asked the little boy as he climbed into his chair at the table.
“All cleaned up!” He grinned.
“That’s my good boy,” You smiled, ladling some tomato soup into a little bowl for Jack and then another for yourself. “Have you decided what movie we’re watching tonight?”
“Mmmm,” Jack hummed, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration. “The Lego Movie!” Jack grinned at you. His favorite movie of the month was The Lego Movie, he wanted to watch it constantly – though he didn’t often finish it, falling asleep even before the mid-way point of the film.
“Sounds good to me,” You said, plopping the grilled cheese sandwiches you had made onto plates and bringing them, and the soup, to sit at the table with the seven-year-old.
Following your lead, the little boy pulled the two halves of his sandwich apart and let the cheese string and droop in the middle with a giggle. Once your halves were separated, he watched your every move as you dunked a corner into your soup and brought it out.
“Cheers,” You said, giggling right along with him as you tapped soupy corners of your sandwiches together in a toast before taking a bite at the same time with a giggle.
Making happy conversation together about Legos and whatever Jack was learning at school that week, you ate your dinners happily together. Once dinner was done, you sent Jack to clean himself up while you put away the leftovers, pouring the pot of soup into a small Tupperware container. Of course, with the luck that gravity always gave you, as you were dumping the food into the container, it splashed out of the Tupperware and landed perfectly down the front of your shirt.
“Great,” You groaned. “Just perfect.”
“Uh oh,” Jack said, wandering back into the kitchen in his pajamas. You were glad you hadn’t chosen one of the more colorful words in your vocabulary when you’d gotten splashed. “(Y/n), you have soup on your shirt!”
“I know,” You said, ruffling the little boy’s hair. “Hey, do you want to be my big helper?”
“Do you know where my stuff is in the guest bedroom?”
“Can you please run in there and grab me my pajama shirt?” You asked with a smile at the little boy. “It’s folded right on top of the bed.”
You watched with a smile as Jack ran down the hall to the bedrooms. Using a damp paper towel, you tried to salvage your shirt from the tomato mess that lay on top of it, and by the time Jack came running back you had pretty much cleaned up the shirt as well as you could without running it through the laundry.
“Here you go, (y/n).”
You reached out to grab the shirt he held up for you, “Thanks, buddy – oh! Jack, honey, this isn’t my shirt, it’s your daddy’s.” The little boy had brought you Aaron’s navy-blue George Washington University t-shirt.
“I couldn’t find your shirt,” He shrugged. “So, I brought you one of daddy’s instead.”
Before you could say anything else, the little boy ran off to grab something from his room – likely his favorite stuffed animal that would participate in movie time with you. Not wanting to waste this moment alone, you whipped your dirty shirt off and slid the soft cotton of Aaron’s shirt over your head. Every place that the shirt touched made your skin tingle. You could just imagine him, floppy-haired and in law school, with an easy grin on his lips as he wore this t-shirt to bars or studying late at the library one night. You pictured him wearing it now, slipping it over his head much like you had and sliding into bed. You longed to be waiting in his bed for him as he slid between the sheets and rolled over to press a long kiss to your lips between a smile, that rumbling voice of his murmuring, “Good night, angel.” God, you wanted him.
After finally getting the leftovers put away, you curled up with Jack and his little giraffe stuffed animal on the couch and flipped on the Lego movie. Jack liked to be snuggled up into your side with a blanket tossed around the both of you when you watched movies together, and he often twisted the hem of your shirt around his little fingers. A little while into the movie, you hear Jack giggling, and when you looked down at him with a curious smile he giggled even more.
“What’s so funny?” You asked with a little laugh of your own.
“You smell like daddy,” He giggled. “Cause you’re wearing his shirt.”
“I do?” You asked with playful outrage. “Oh no, what am I gonna do? I smell like a Hotchner!”
That – along with the tickles you gave Jack’s sides – sent him into a fit of laughter as he moved further up into your lap. He stayed there for the rest of the movie, clinging tightly to you. This type of clinginess wasn’t that typical for Jack, you could only assume he was missing his dad and liked that you smelled like him right now and wanted to be snuggled into that. Either way, you hugged your favorite little boy into your chest and let him doze off as the end credits rolled.
Turning the television off, you scooped Jack into your arms and carried him off to bed. He’d woken up at some point of you tucking him in, and requested that you sit with him and rub his tummy until he fell back asleep. How could you ever say no to that sweet little face? You didn’t want to have to find out.
“(Y/n)?” His sleepy little voice asked you.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, baby,” You said quietly with a little smile. “You’re my favorite little Hotchner in the world.”
“Is daddy your favorite big Hotchner?”
You breathed out a little laugh, “Yeah, he is.”
“Good night, sweet boy,” You whispered, kissing his forehead.
“G’night.” He was snoring before you even shut the door after yourself.
Settling yourself on the couch with your textbooks around you, you figured you’d get some work done for a little bit before moseying down the hall to the guest room to sleep in Aaron’s shirt.
You had no idea what time you dozed off, but you knew it was almost two a.m. when you jolted awake at the sound of the apartment door being shut behind you. Springing forward on the couch, you blinked sleepily at the intruder as your heart thundered in your chest. Relief flooded you when you made out the form of Aaron Hotchner standing in the doorway. He flicked on the lights, making you squint slightly as you took him in. Surprise registered on his face when his eyes landed on you.
“(Y/n),” He said. “What are you doing up?”
“I wasn’t,” You huffed out a little laugh, dropping your open textbook onto the coffee table in front of you as you moved to sit cross-legged on the couch. “I stayed up a little late studying and I must have fallen asleep on the couch.”
“Ah,” Aaron said, locking his service weapon into the safe in the front hallway. “I see.”
You watched as he poured himself a glass of amber-colored liquor from the bar cart near the kitchen. He favored whiskey, and you could only imagine the burn his kisses would have when he was placing them along the column of your neck. After a moment, he dropped onto the opposite corner of the couch, taking a long sip of the whiskey in his short glass.
“I didn’t know you were coming home tonight,” You said.
“Neither did I,” He said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I should have texted you that I was on my way, but I thought you’d be asleep.”
“I should go,” You said, gathering up your school things. “Let you have your privacy.”
“It’s alright,” Aaron said quietly. “I don’t mind the company.”
He looked at you then, really looked at you, his brows furrowing slightly as he noticed what you were wearing.
“Is that –?”
“Yes,” You said, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. You’d completely forgotten that you were wearing his old shirt until that exact second. “See, what had happened was, I spilled soup on my shirt when I was putting the leftovers from our dinner away. A-and when I asked Jack to grab my pajama shirt from my bag in the guest room, he came back with this. I know I should have just put it away and worn my own shirt, but I – well, I wanted to wear your shirt. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s – it’s okay,” He said, the corners of his lips lifting only slightly into a tiny smile for a second. “It looks better on you than it ever has on me.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” You said, feeling the butterflies in your stomach take flight at the way Aaron’s eyes never seemed to leave you.
Quiet fell over you as you watched one another. After a moment you let out a breath of a laugh, making the corners of Aaron’s lips quirk up into a soft sort of smile that disappeared as quickly as it came. You were used to Aaron being quiet, the man was reserved and didn’t show his emotion easily, but this was a different sort of quiet. This was a quiet that worried you. He seemed troubled – likely by something that had happened while he was working, but troubled, nonetheless.
“Are you alright, Aaron?” You asked softly. “You seem – upset.”
“Yeah,” He sighed. “Just – tough day at work.”
“What happened?” You asked. “Or can you not tell me, is it classified?”
“No,” He chuckled. “No, it’s not classified, it’s just – it’s not exactly a pleasant topic of conversation.”
“What would be a more pleasant topic?”
“You wanting to wear my shirt,” He smirked tiredly, flirting with you in that familiar Hotch way. Ever since you started being comfortable around one another, you’d been flirting with each other. It was natural, like something between you made you flirt with one another.
“This may be your alma mater, but it’s my current school,” You teased, cheeks hot. “This shirt is basically half mine anyway.”
“Very sound logic,” Aaron let out a breath of a laugh, draining the rest of the alcohol in his glass. He still seemed off, like he wasn’t all back from this case just yet. You pursed your lips for a moment before speaking again.
“I’m a pretty good listener,” You said quietly. “If you want to talk about it. I promise I won’t get scared.”
Aaron was quiet, staring down into his empty glass for a moment with a sigh. You thought maybe he wasn’t going to say anything, maybe he’d simply get up and go to bed, pointing you in the direction of the door. Even the thought made you sad. After a breath, Aaron looked back up at you, his jaw set tightly.
“It was a rough case,” He said quietly, making you lean in to hear him better. “Kids.”
“Oh god,” You breathed. “That’s awful, I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long four days,” He sighed.
“I bet you’re exhausted.”
“I’m more wound up than anything,” He admitted. “It was a short plane ride and I usually calm down on the jet, but because it was short I just –”
“Yeah,” Aaron said tightly. “It helped knowing that you were here taking care of my son. I know Jack is safe in your hands – I trust you.”
“I trust you too, and I love taking care of Jack, he’s the most incredible kid in the world,” You said softly, suddenly realizing your proximity to the man. His hand was resting almost on your knee, one short scooch to the right and you’d be basically in his lap. Looking back up at him, you noticed his eyes lingering on your lips, making butterflies take flight in your stomach. “I-I think I may know something that will help you relax a little.”
In response, you made that short scooch into his lap, smoothing the crease between his brow as he let out a short breath of surprise. On your knees, straddling his lap, Aaron looked up at you, conflict flashed in his eyes briefly before he placed a hand on your cheek.
“Let me take care of you,” You whispered. “I want to help you feel good.”
“Okay,” Aaron breathed, his free hand finding home on your hip.
Before you could talk yourself out of it, you took Aaron’s head in your hands and tilted his face up to look at yours. Letting your eyes drift over the handsome planes of his face before settling on those dark eyes that held the secrets of his soul, you lowered your head to brush your lips over his in a brief kiss. The moment your lips touched his, it was like you had been electrocuted. A tiny gasp forced itself out of your mouth before you captured his lips in a much deeper kiss, using your tongue to explore the wonder that was kissing Aaron Hotchner.
“We shouldn’t do this,” Aaron breathed, breaking the kiss. “I’m – you’re so young and I’m your boss –”
“Please,” You laughed lightly. “We both know that Jack’s the boss around here.”
“Yeah,” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I supposed that’s true.”
“And as for age,” You shrugged. “I’m almost twenty-six, Aaron, I can make my own decisions.”
“What decision is that?”
“That I want you,” You murmured, kissing him lightly. “I need you.”
“I need you too,” He said quietly. “God, I tried not to need you – I tried to ignore what I felt for you, but I can’t. I don’t want to fight it anymore.”
“Then don’t,” You urged. “I’m yours, Aaron, completely and utterly yours.”
Aaron groaned into your mouth as you shifted your hips over him, lightly grinding yourself over the growing bulge in his pants. His hands, now firmly on your hips, moved you over him just a little less gently than you had been moving, giving both of you more friction. Before you could get too lost in the feeling of him against you, you slipped out of his lap, grinning up at his confused eyes for just a moment before freeing his cock from his dress pants.
“I told you I’d take care of you,” You said, slowly wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and stroking him gently.
“Fuck,” Aaron grunted under his breath.
You grinned, loving the effect you were clearly having on him. Keeping your eyes planted firmly on his, you lowered yourself to suck his cock deep into your mouth, letting the head hit the back of your throat as you bottomed out. Aaron groaned quietly, trying to keep himself from being too loud and waking his son.
Sliding your mouth back up to the head, you swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock and sucked just the head for a moment before sliding back down to take the whole thing in your mouth once more.
“Shit, angel, feels so good.” You practically squealed around Aaron’s dick as he called you by the endearment that you had always imagined he’d use for you – the pet name rolling off his tongue and going straight to your cunt that was already dripping endlessly with your arousal.
Taking Aaron deep into your throat once more, you grinned around his cock as you swallowed around the head in your throat. Aaron let out a gasped “oh!” as you did it, using his hands to pull you off his cock as he panted. You pouted slightly up at him, wondering why he didn’t let you make him cum.
“I need to fuck you,” He breathed, grabbing your hand to tug you up to your feet. “I want you.”
“Oh,” You grinned, wiggling out of your pants and underwear. With a smirk, as you sat on Aaron’s lap just shy of sitting on his cock, you corrected, “You need me.”
“I need you,” Aaron nodded, sliding his hands up your back to unhook your bra. After you helped him slide it down your arms, feeling goosebumps raise in its wake, you moved to pull your – his – t-shirt off. “No, no, I like seeing you in my shirt.”
You smirked, leaning in to kiss him as you undid the buttons on his dress shirt, helping him slid out of it. With him bare before you, you raised up on your knees and lined him up with your entrance, sinking down onto the length of his cock while his hand slid up your torso to cup your breasts.
“Aaron,” You whimpered, feeling his thick cock stretch you out in the best way possible. “Fuck.”
“So good, angel,” Aaron panted as you shifted your hips up and down his cock at a steady pace. “Fuck, so good for me.”
“All for you,” You panted.
“God,” He grunted. “I’ve always loved coming home to you, seeing your beautiful face, and forgetting all the shit I see at work every day.”
“I’m always here for you,” You whimpered, dropping your head to kiss and suck at the skin of his neck as he thrust up into you to meet the movements of your hips. “Always want you to come home to me waiting for you.”
“Shit,” Aaron grunted, tipping you over so you laid on your back on the couch.
His hands were tight on your hips as he thrust into you at a rapid pace. Laying your forearm over your mouth, you tried your hardest to muffle the desperate moans and whines that flew out of your mouth. It was the perfect moment – so domestic like you really were Aaron’s little housewife that he came home to and made love with to forget the stress of his job. You wanted that more than anything, forever, not just for tonight.
“Fuck, your cunt is perfect, (y/n),” Aaron moaned, his hips slamming into you in rhythmically loud smacking sounds. With a rough hand, he smacked your ass sharply, making you gasp at the painful pleasure ripping through your body.
“Aaron,” You croaked, feeling that coil in the pit of your belly tightening in that tell-tale way that meant an orgasm was on the horizon. “Aaron – fuck – oh! I’m gonna cum.”
“Yes,” Aaron groaned. “Fuck, cum all over my cock, sweetheart. Want you to squeeze my cock with your perfect pussy.”
You did just as he asked, arching your back off the couch as you came with a muffled shout, your walls slamming down around Aaron’s dick. He moaned at the feeling of your pussy fluttering around his cock as he continued to fuck you through the best, most powerful orgasm you had ever had in your life. You whimpered his name over and over as he consistently brought you to that incredible high again and again.
“Oh, shit,” He grunted. “Where do you want me to cum, angel?”
With a tired smirk, you wrapped your leg around Aaron’s waist, keeping him trapped inside your cunt. He groaned at the sight of you desperate to have him fill you to the brim with his cum.
“You want me to fill you up, angel? Huh?” He ground out, thrusting a few more times before he came with a gasping groan. “Fuck, (y/n), oh god.”
You felt so deliciously full of Aaron with him pumped into you and his cock snuggly inside your pussy. Never would be a good time for this moment to end, even though you knew it would have to at some point. Aaron gently collapsed into you, kissing at your neck and the soft spot just beneath your ear gently.
“It’s late,” He said quietly, tracing what felt like a heart into your hip with his fingertip. “We should go to bed.”
“You mean, you in your bed and me in –”
“In my bed,” He said with a sleepy smile. “I want to fall asleep with you in my arms.”
“That sounds nice,” You grinned, pushing a hand through his hair.
Aaron got off you with a groan, slipping his deflated cock out from between your legs and helping you off the couch. You kissed his cheek sweetly and excused yourself to run to the bathroom.
The woman looking back at you in the mirror had eyes so glazed over with lust that you were surprised you could see straight. After getting yourself cleaned up and pulling Aaron’s shirt down just enough to cover your ass, you tiptoed into Aaron’s room, blinking in surprise when you didn’t find him in bed. You slipped between the sheets anyway, figuring he must just be in the ensuite bathroom attached to his room. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Aaron emerged from the bathroom naked and smiled softly at the sight of you waiting for him in bed.
“Hi,” He murmured, slipping into bed with you.
“Hi,” You whispered, closing your eyes when he kissed between your brows.
“You should know,” He said quietly. “I meant what I said. I’ve wanted you for a long time, (y/n), I really like you, and I don’t want this to be just a one-time thing.”
Relief flooded your veins as you took in his words, snuggling closer to him as you said, “Good, because I meant what I said too: I’m yours, Aaron, completely and utterly yours.”
That seemed to make him happy as his arms wound around you and pulled you tight against him. You sighed happily, letting your fingers drift along the skin of his chest as he kissed your forehead again and whispered, “Good night, angel.” Good night, indeed.
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(Don’t You) Shy Away — Spencer x Fem!Reader
summary: Reader is supposed to be away for the weekend for her cousin’s first art gallery opening. Spencer takes the time to dip his toes back in the water of an old treat he hasn’t trusted himself with since Mexico. Reader comes home early to find him… A little preoccupied.
a/n: this is my first time actually posting a written fanfic/blurb on tumblr since like,,, 2015?? please be gentle i’m doing my best and cannot get this scenario out of my head this is 10000% self-indulgence. please let me know in the replies if i’ve missed any tags or warnings!
pairing: post season 12!spencer x fem!reader
warnings: 18+ CONTENT MINORS DNI! masturbation, voyeurism, anal play, pegging, use of sex toys (dildo, cock ring, vibrator), switch!Spencer, switch!Reader, implied sexual assault (while Spencer was in prison) [no graphic depictions], coming untouched, multiple orgasms, use of pet names, unprotected sex (always practice safe sex, in this fic reader and spencer are actively trying to have kids), creampie, aftercare, depictions of dropping after a scene, use of she/her pronouns for reader.
Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes.
That was how long it had been since ____ had left, a suitcase full of far-too-expensive clothes in tow as she headed out for the opening of her cousin’s first art exhibition in New York for the weekend. Spencer had declined the invitation to join his fiancé, as seeing his knowledge of the art world was… Limited, at best. Sure, he could explain how the works were made, and could profile what each piece meant, but in a post-modern art gallery, that wasn’t always what people wanted to hear. So, instead, he had kissed ____ sweetly, told her to send his well wishes and congratulations to her cousin, and then she was off on her way.
Which left him home alone for thirteen more hours.
He hadn’t been left truly alone in a long time— Though he knew exactly how many days it had been since he gained his freedom again, he chose not to think about it for his own peace of mind. A form of coping, he called it. Still, it had been months since it had just been him to keep himself company. He’d finished the small bit of laundry that hadn’t been done two hours ago, and washed the dishes six hours prior to that. As usual, he’d finished three books before deciding to take a rest, played himself at chess a few times and even took a small cat nap on the couch.
Twenty-seven hours and forty-four minutes since she had left, and ____ wasn’t due home for another twelve hours.
Sighing deeply, Spencer slowly sat up from the couch, raking long fingers through the haphazard mess of his curls and making a mental note to himself to have ____ give his hair a bit of a trim when she got home. She loved everything about his hair— She was the one who had managed to get him to finally start taking proper care of it after years of letting the two-in-one shampoo and conditioner do a number on those impossibly soft strands. Of course, having his hair trimmed usually meant having it… Played with, afterwards. ____ had a naughty little habit of tugging it just right and making his back arch, giving a little nibble to the nape of his neck and making him groan as she teased him. It had been a long while since they had done anything even remotely beyond that— After Mexico, it was like everything they had gone through together was hit with a hard reset, all the way down to the simplest of touches beyond hugs and hand-holding.
But he had grown since then. Though he no longer could handle gags of any kind, and still yellowed-out more often than not when it came to restraints, Spencer had come a long way from where he had been left at after those grueling three months. Standing up and realizing that he had the perfect opportunity to finally try and see where his boundaries stood with an old favorite, he shed his cardigan on the couch, leaving his phone in the pocket of it without a care. It had been only four days since he and ____ had last had sex, but he really had to think about the last time he had actually gotten off on his own, without his fiancé there with him, coaxing him to keep going or edging him for hours.
“Fuck,” Just thinking about his lover, with her big doe eyes and coy smile, cooing to him with her hand around the base of his cock that he was such a good boy, that he only had to wait a little longer before he could come— His hand drifted down to palm himself through the material of his jeans, teeth worrying into the soft skin of his bottom lip at the memory. Even better still was the memory of years before; back when they had still been but bumbling twenty-somethings, both of them still inexperienced and desperate and willing to try almost anything.
“Are you sure you wanna try it, Spence? We don’t have to— I know I already said I suggested it as a joke and I meant it! Please tell me you understand that if you don’t wanna do this, you can back out and I’ll completely understand—!”
“____,” Spencer cut off his girlfriend’s nervous rambling with a gentle but steady shift to cup her cheek, “I-I— I want to do this, okay? I just… I-I’ve… Never touched myself down there before. I know it can feel good, and that’s… Why we agreed to test it out. I-I’m just… Kind of nervous and embarrassed at the same time? If… That makes sense? I just— I want to do this. I promise,” His voice went a tad bit softer at the end, “I trust you to take care of me and make me feel good, ____.”
“Come on, love, where the hell did you hide it this time?” Spencer whispered to himself, carefully rummaging through their box of toys and trying to ignore how his cock throbbed impatiently as he passed over one of their vibrators. Some instinctual part of his body just seemed to know how good the toy had made him feel before; how it had brought him to the brink over and over and over again while he was being punished for mouthing off during a case. How his ruthless lover had held it against the hypersensitive head of his cock for what felt like hours despite the ring around his base keeping him from coming. A small shudder ran through him as he skimmed over said cock ring, his body remembering with perfect clarity how he had finally come so hard he had nearly blacked out for a moment, no cum even escaping him and a wail tearing through his throat from the raw, unadulterated pleasure.
“Spence— Spence, baby, baby, hey— Look at me, baby, can you look at me? Are you with me, sweetheart?” ____’s soft voice was just barely audible over the ringing in his ears, and Spencer managed a small nod. “Okay, good… You’re doing so good for me, baby. Can you talk right now?” A small shake of his head before he felt himself pitch forward ever-so-slightly, a strangled whimper escaping him as ____ easily caught him against her chest, the skin-to-skin contact grounding him. “Shh… I’ve got you, Spence. You’re safe with me… You came so hard I was afraid you had blacked out on me,” She admitted, carefully pulling Spencer’s gangly form into her lap with practiced ease.
“Didn’ mean… D-Didn’ mean t’… Tried t’ be good… Couldn’ stop it,” His voice felt thick and alien on his tongue as he spoke, head tucking into the known safety of his lover’s arms. ____ had always known how to care for him exactly the way he needed after each scene, no matter how tame or intense. It went the same way with him, but his eidetic memory made it far easier to remember how his lover tended to him.
As ____ held him, stroking her fingers carefully over the planes of his back, he felt his eyelids growing heavier, trying stubbornly to droop shut and give in to his body’s cry for sleep. Thankfully, he didn’t have to fight off his impending cat-nap— He knew his lover would be there to tend to him as soon as he awoke. Even if it meant they didn’t complete everything they had initially planned for the night, ____ would never grow truly angry with him for needing to take a break between sessions.
“Fuck,” Spencer breathed as he finally found what he was looking for in the box— A six-inch dildo; thin and a tanned, fleshy pink. It was the one ____ had used on him as a strap-on many times before, when they were younger and more desperate to figure out exactly what made the other tick. Swallowing hard, the brunet carefully grabbed the toy and the disinfectant that they made sure to always keep in the toy box, taking it to the en suite bathroom of their bedroom and carefully cleaning the toy of any dust that had collected. His pants were already starting to feel almost painfully tight against his cock, his hand moving down to palm against it and provide even just a tinge of temporary relief and some much-needed friction. Once the toy in his hands was cleaned to his standard, he went back to the bedroom, biting his lip as he stripped down to his boxers and settled onto the plush sheets of their bed. Already, his breathing was ragged and strained, soft pants escaping his bitten lips as he lazily palmed himself, letting his mind wander where it wished.
“It may be a little cold at first, I tried to warm it up,” ____ warned, her finger carefully dipping down to stroke between his legs first. Spencer just nodded slowly, exhaling deeply through his nose and trying to ignore how his breath hitched as her first finger pressed into him, not even half-an-inch in yet. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine— I-It just… Feels odd. Not bad, just… I-I need a second,” Spencer mumbled, letting his head tuck into the soft pillows cocooning them and whimpering openly as ____’s finger moved carefully in small circles just inside his rim. His hips jerked involuntarily, and he whined as she shifted to hold them still with her forearm, his eyes fluttering shut.
“Ngh, fuck,” Curses slipped from his lips so much easier now, especially as he fumbled open the bedside drawer and grasped at the well-loved bottle of lubricant. He had shimmed his boxers down to his mid-thighs, now, breathing harder and face stained a lovely crimson as he stroked himself. He knew better than to grip too hard too fast and ruin the fun early, quietly sinking his teeth into his bottom lip again as he let his thumb skim over the slit, hips bucking into the touch instinctively. He let himself sink deeper into the pillows, legs slowly spreading open and hands shaking.
“I’m gonna add the rest of my finger in now, Spence, okay?” ____’s voice was sugar-sweet in his ear, lavish kisses trailing just behind it; down the pale column of his throat to his collarbones like dripping honey.
His head felt hazy already, and he gave another undignified whimper as the rest of his lover’s finger sunk into him, the heat that had cooled slightly in his belly reigniting as she gripped his hip with her free hand to prop him up a bit higher, giving her easier access.
“Such a good boy for me, Spence… You’re taking me so well already, it must feel good, huh?” She was starting to fall into a more dominant role already, her loving words only making the other whimper and squirm.
“Oh, fuck,” Spencer’s breath hitched sharply as he sunk his finger inside himself, head falling back against the pillows once more and eyes fluttering shut. It had been at least three years since he had done anything of the sort like this, and it was quickly bringing back vivid memories of all the times before that his ruthless lover had turned him to putty in her hands just with a few careful quirks of her fingers. He lifted his hips a bit more, a small shudder running up his spine as the pad of his index finger just missed the spongey flesh of his prostate.
“Fuck! R-Right there, Miss, please!” Spencer could barely keep his voice steady as ____’s finger brushed against his sweet spot, tears of pleasure burning at the corners of his eyes, threatening to drip down his cheeks.
“Aw, was that your good spot baby? Hm? You need to tell me what it is you want me to do, baby, otherwise I won’t know how to make you feel good,” ____ cooed, her finger now purposefully avoiding the area.
Spencer all but sobbed impatiently, his legs quivering and hips lifting up on his own accord. “P-Please, Miss, I-I need more,” He pleaded, giving a strangled gasp as ____’s free hand grabbed at the sharp lines of his jaw and turned his head to properly look at her.
“Look at me when you speak, baby boy, it’s impolite not to,” She ordered, a second finger now circling the twitching rim of her poor, needy boyfriend.
“I-I’m sorry Miss, please— I-It felt so good, please, I need—!” Spencer was cut off by ____’s second finger sinking into him without warning, his eyes going wide before they wrung shut, a loud mewl of pleasure escaping him. His hand scrabbled to grasp at the base of his cock clearly trying to stave off his impending orgasm before it could wash over him. Thankfully, ____ chose to ignore the motion— She knew that, since it was his first time with any kind of anal play, she should go easy on him.
As he finally managed to sink a third finger into himself, Spencer could only grip at the base of his cock just enough to keep himself together— Any tighter and he risked it causing the opposite effect. Sweat was already dripping past the toned, smooth planes of his back and down his chest, and a part of him wished he’d had the foresight to tie part of his hair back. It was too late for that now, though; A pitiful sense of emptiness that he hadn’t felt in years was bubbling up in the pit of his stomach with each curl of his fingers. His heart was pounding already, and he gave a ragged groan deep in his throat as his index finger skimmed over his prostate again, back arching up into the touch as if he wasn’t in complete control of his own fingers.
“Do you think you’re ready now, baby? You’re opened up so pretty for me, sweet boy. I think it’s time to give you what you’ve been waiting for, hm?” ____’s voice in his ear had Spencer bucking his hips back desperately, mind already completely fogged over from the haze of pleasure threatening to leave him nothing more than a mewling mess.
“Yes, yes, Miss, please!” He practically wept, head burrowed back into the safety of the pillows to try and muffle his noises.
“Ah-ah, baby… Come on now, sweetheart, you know better than to try and hide those beautiful noises you make. You know I can’t give you a treat if you break the rules, honey,” ____’s hand was still curling dutifully within him, always just shy of full-on fucking his prostate directly, and it was leaving his head practically blank beyond how good it felt.
“I-I’m sorry— I’m sorry, Miss, I’ll be good. Please, I-I need it so badly, Miss, please!”
“Please,” His voice sounded so utterly wrecked that at first it didn’t even register that it was him pleading out to the open air for more. Finally deciding that he was ready enough to take it without harm, he pulled his fingers away, whining weakly as his thighs burned in protest from the unused angle. Thankfully, he did have the foresight to keep a towel and some water nearby for cleanup, making sure to clean off his hands with some hand sanitizer before he finally grasped at the toy he could already feel an old, desperate part of his mind aching for.
His body clearly remembered just how good the toy had helped him feel before, his heavy cock twitching against the slight softness of his abdomen, precum smearing against his flushed skin and making him moan out. He was still careful to properly lube up the toy, slipping a condom onto it for ease of clean-up more than anything else before he shifted back into the most comfortable position he could manage. His eyes fluttered shut, a ragged noise spilling from deep in his throat as he let the tip sink in. A small part of his mind tightened in panic, flashes of grubby hands holding on his wrists and hips tight enough to bruise threatening to bubble up to the surface. Thankfully, though, he forced himself to remember something much better, brows creasing and breaths escaping him in rough little gasps.
“H-How much is in, Miss?” His voice sounded so breathless, so fucked and raw already, that ____ had to clench her thighs together to halt the instinct to buck forward into her lover.
“Only half of it, baby. Do you need me to wait?” She whispered, moving to cup Spencer’s cheek and feeling her heart melt a bit in adoration as he nosed against her palm with a contented whine. “Use your words please, sweet boy. I know you can, you’ll be so good for me if you use your words. Can you be a good boy for me, sweetheart?” Her loving coos were met with Spencer nodding eagerly, his mouth falling open to give a soft moan before he spoke.
“I can take more, Miss,” Spencer panted, taking ____’s thumb into his mouth and suckling on it to prove his point— It had ____’s breath hitching sharply, feeling her lover’s deft tongue lapping and suckling on her finger like his life depended on it.
“Do you want me to fuck your mouth with my fingers, baby? Hm? You’re suckling them like you want me to fuck your cute little throat, sweet boy,” ____ leaned down to Spencer’s ear, pressing her thumb down a bit harder on his tongue and reveling in the choked mewl of pleasure he gave in response.
“Please, Miss,” Spencer’s words were slurred from the pleasure as he finally sunk down completely on the stationary toy, thighs quivering visibly from the exertion and chest heaving out every few moments. He was honestly trying to collect himself and adjust before he came too soon and ruined the fun— It was a struggle. His back arched up slowly as he let his right hand drift down to his cock from where it had been gripping the sheets below him, a strangled whine slipping from his throat as he wrapped his large palm around the steadily-leaking base of his desire and need.
He was so wrapped up in his own world, jerking at his aching cock as he slowly began to raise and lower himself on the toy, that had he missed the sound of the garage door opening and closing— As had he neglected to hear the chime of the alarm system going off from the garage entrance to their condo.
Thus, as ____ walked into their bedroom, she most certainly wasn’t expecting to find her fiancé, jerking himself off with three of his fingers in his mouth, eyes shut in pure bliss and broken mewls of please and more spilling from his swollen lips every few time he sunk his hips down.
“Holy shit,” ____ squeaked, heat dropping straight to her core at the sight. She had been trying to call her lover to let him know the gallery had wrapped up a bit early due to her cousin scoring an interview with a rather prestigious and well-liked collaborative of environmental artists. She hadn’t been able to get ahold of Spencer, but, considering the late hour, she had written it off as him being asleep.
Spencer still had his eyes shut, thighs burning in the best way possible at this point and chest heaving with exertion. He pulled his fingers away from his mouth; the clumsy, less-practiced movements of his left hand clearly not as good as his dominant hand. Before he could swap hands, though, his eyes blinked open just the smallest bit, revealing to him a slightly blurry figure at the doorway of the master bedroom.
“Spence,” ____ breathed, rushing over to him before he could panic at the sight of someone suddenly being in their room, “God, baby, what’s all this?” She whispered, cupping at Spencer’s jaw and reveling in how the stubble there scratched at her fingers.
“____,” Spencer’s voice was practically wheezed out, strung-out and high in his throat from the pleasure still thrumming through his veins, “You’re home early… I wanted to… T-To try,” He could barely gather his thoughts further before he was surging forward like a man possessed, lips crashing together with the far softer set of his lover’s own. He could taste the tinges of the sweet wine she must have had at the gala on her tongue, and cupped her jaw feverishly, trying to pull her closer.
Finally, ____ had to break away for air, breathing hard and tangling her fingers through Spencer’s hair to keep him from whining and trying to kiss her again. “Baby,” She whispered, instinctively holding onto his hip with her free hand to try and keep him still, “Were you making yourself feel good?”
Spencer just nodded, eyes all glassy and dazed as he caught his breath. “I don’t want to stop,” He whispered, starting to squirm a little and trying to rock his hips back down on the toy still seated within him.
“Baby, I need to know if you’re here with me enough to do a scene,” ____ had a feeling Spencer was a bit too far gone in the pleasure to properly agree to a scene, and lo-and-behold, Spencer’s brows furrowed a bit in thought before he shook his head, curls falling into his eyes.
“It feels too good,” He whined, “I don’t wanna stop— I just want to feel you,” He pleaded, groaning breathlessly in relief as ____’s hand loosened it’s stilling hold on his hip, allowing him to properly rock back down on the dildo still seated within him.
“Okay, baby. We can do that,” ____ nodded, pulling away for a moment and feeling heat throb insistently between her legs at the desperate whine of protest that spilled from Spencer’s swollen lips. “I have to be able to take my clothes off, baby, it’s okay—!” She was cut off with a squeak of surprise as Spencer tugged her close again, nimble fingers easily pulling the buttons of her silken blouse open and unclasping her bra with far-too-practiced ease.
“Need you now,” Spencer practically growled, promptly starting to layer rough, hungry kisses all across the span of her chest, biting at her collarbones and suckling dark marks there. ____ could barely manage to gather her thoughts enough to lift her hips and tug down the pressed white slacks of her pantsuit, crying out softly as Spencer’s greedy palm dove down to her dripping wet core, shoving her panties to the side just enough to dip his fingers into her.
“Fuck, Spence— Let me get my pants off and I’ll ride you,” She whispered, her own hands moving to grasp at his hips again, feeling how he was still rutting down against the toy like his life depended on it. He gave a hitched groan deep in his throat at the idea, and as she pulled up for a moment to kick off her pants, she couldn’t help but grin. “Does that sound good, sweetheart? Huh? You’re so needy you want more than just my sweet cunt wrapped around your thick cock? Huh? You need to be fucked, too?” She whispered against her ear, the shudder that rocked up her lover’s spine making her whine in approval.
“I didn’t think you were going to be home early,” Spencer huffed against her shoulder, making an annoyed noise as she gripped his hips firmly again to keep him still.
“Relax, baby. I don’t want you moving while I’m trying to get situated— Let me take care of you,” ____ soothed, seeing the look of discontent on her lover’s face as he was prevented from fucking himself back on the toy again. The tension quickly dissipated from his face as ____ pushed her panties to the side, pulling his fingers from her depths and sinking down to him in one smooth motion.
A choked whimpering noise slipped from Spencer, his eyes rolling back before they fluttered shut, body sinking into the pillows once more. “Oh my god,” His voice was strained, like his sanity was being held on by nothing but a thread. “Fuck— Fuck, oh my fucking god,” A slew of desperate little curses were spilling from his lips like a mantra, and ____ couldn’t hold back a squeak of surprise as his hips bucked up almost helplessly, like he couldn't control how his body was reacting to how good it felt. A part of ____ was reminded of their first time together, all those years ago, when they were still in their first few years at the BAU and wanted only to please the other.
“Use me however you want, baby,” ____ encouraged, seeing how feverishly her lover was rolling his hips down onto the toy beneath him and dipping down to kiss him, “Or do you want me to ride you properly while you fuck your needy little hole?” She offered, relishing the way Spencer nodded weakly, clearly too lost in the throes of his own pleasure to respond. Grinning, she gladly did exactly that— Milking around his cock each time he sunk down onto the toy within him and grinding her hips each time he rose up.
Spencer had become nothing more than an incoherent mess at that point, eyes rolled back from the sheer amount of pleasure overwhelming his every movement and thought. All he could do was choke out whining, pleasured little babbles of how good it felt, trying to comprehend which to turn towards to more. On one hand, his lover’s sweet, velvety heat swallowed around him like it was made just to make him lose his sanity, undulating his every move with another ripple of bliss. On the other hand, every time his hips rocked back, the rubbery head of the dildo within him fucked right up into his prostate, sending pleasure sparking down his spine with only a trail of burning want in its wake. It was like being caught between a rock and a hard place, but in the best way possible.
“Are you getting close, baby?” ____ murmured, feeling how her lover’s movements were growing more wild and frantic, as they always did when he was getting close to his limit.
Spencer could only nod, his eyes wringing shut and hands gripping at her thighs and hips for dear life— He needed something to anchor him to reality, otherwise the pleasure threatening to swallow him whole may just wash away what little sanity he had left. He was a man drowning in a sea of paradise, and ____ was his anchor, keeping the tides from washing him away. “Fuck,” He nearly sobbed, voice strangled and high in his throat, “I-I can’t— God, fuck, it feels so good,” Tears were pooling just beneath his eyelids, voice hitching higher yet as ____ sunk down deep onto him, hell bent on milking him for everything he had. “Please— P-Please, fuck, I-I’m gonna come— Please, please, please—!” The coil of heat boiling in his belly finally snapped, hips fucking up feverishly into the luxurious heat still wrapped around his cock. Tears spilled freely down his cheeks as he rode out the high, body collapsing into the pillows as his back arched up, quaking visibly and abdomen tensing up every few moments as he struggled to get a handle on the molten desire setting his every nerve on fire.
____ sobbed out as soon as Spencer came, barely able to catch her breath as his large palms gripped at the sensitive flesh of her thighs and hips like a man possessed, effectively keeping her in place. She could feel him twitching and rutting his hips up into her even as he came, painting her insides as if to claim every last inch of her as his. Only when she heard her name spill from her lover’s swollen lips did she finally reach her own limit, instinct taking over for a moment as she pressed herself forward into his arms, head tucking into the crook of his neck. She gave a small whimper as Spencer’s arms hugged back around her torso, clinging openly to her as they rode out the intensive aftershocks of their respective orgasms.
It was ____ who finally started to untangle them, having caught her breath and regained her senses enough to realize that Spencer was more likely in dire need of aftercare. “Spence, sweetheart?” She started softly, trying to pull herself up to sit up and frowning at the familiar cry of pain from hypersensitivity tore from Spencer’s throat the instant she moved. “Shit— Okay, okay, honey, here, I’m gonna pull off, okay? Breathe for me, pretty boy, you’ve done so good for me,” Her babbling came naturally— She could already tell from just how intense everything had been that it was a near-guarantee that Spencer was going to drop; the question was how much was she going to be able to cushion his fall. Gently raising her hips up, she felt her heart ache at how Spencer pressed his head deeper into her shoulder to muffle the whimper that slipped past him. “It’s alright, love. I’m gonna help clean you up, okay? You were so, so good for me, Spence. Can you keep being good and let me help take care of you now?” She asked, sighing in relief as he needed against her shoulder.
Spencer was still trembling within her arms, his breath hitching sharply and body jerking involuntarily as ____’s hand moved down to try and carefully part his legs. “Nn-nnh!” He thought she was trying to go for another round, and knew he would surely pass out.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Spence. I’m just gonna get the toy out and then we can go and calm down in the bath, okay? It’s all okay, you’re safe with me,” ____ murmured, helping him settle back against the pillows again and soothingly stroking at his chest as she helped him spread his legs open again. “It may feel a little tender for a moment, love, just close your eyes and breathe with me, okay?” She instructed, slowly counting to three before she took the base of the dildo and started to pull it out. Her heart clenched painfully at the cry Spencer gave once it was out, legs pressing together to try and protect himself from further overstimulation.
He already knew he was dropping, even with ____’s loving touches and soothing words— His head felt foggy, like it was hazed over, and a small part of him began to panic at the uncomfortably familiar feeling. “____,” He whispered, voice strained, “‘m— I-I think I’m dropping,” As soon as he managed to choke the words out, he was pulled into ____’s embrace without a moment to even figure out what was going on. He was practically in her lap, a weighted blanket being tucked around his shoulders and head cradled in the crook of her neck as she began to slowly stroke his hair.
It had been a long time since he had dropped so hard he ended up needing aftercare this intense.
A tiny part of him was almost embarrassed— When they had been younger, it was a common experience for both of them. They simply hadn’t had enough experience to know the signs of a drop as it was coming, and had to find out the hard way each time what could happen if they weren’t watching out for it. But now? He had seen and experienced so much in his life, and all it took was too much pleasure to send him right back into his fiancé’s arms, shaking like he was a twenty-something again.
“Spence?” ____’s name broke through the mile-a-minute thoughts circling through his brain with ease, and he finally managed to crack open his eyes enough to look at her.
____ could already see the conflict in Spencer’s mind just from those big, beautiful puppy eyes of his. The pupils that had been blown so wide they’d left his eyes nearly black before were now shrinking back down again, revealing the endless pools of hazel in their wake— And said pools of hazel were doing nothing to hide the anxiety and doubt written on his features. His brows had the smallest creasing between them, lower lip partially sucked in between his bottom teeth, jaw tight and Adam’s apple bobbing hard each time he swallowed.
“Hi, love,” ____ didn’t pay any mind to the way Spencer’s sweat-dampened curls stuck to her fingers as she cupped his jaw, tilting his head to look at her. “Come on out of that big brain of yours for me. Just for five minutes. I can already see that look on your face— The one that tells me right about now, you’re starting to think that all this care shouldn’t be necessary for someone who’s seen as much as you have. Am I right?”
Spencer nodded, slowly pressing his cheek into her soft palm before he lifted a hand to cover her’s in his own. “I’m sorry,” He murmured honestly— Not for dropping. No; he was apologizing for allowing his traitorous thoughts to doubt that he was still worthy of ____’s love and care. “This is the first time I’ve… It hasn’t been this intense since…” He didn’t need to say the words aloud for ____ to know what he was referring to.
“And that’s perfectly okay. While I can’t say I claim to know what possessed you to decide that tonight was the night you were going to ride a dildo like your life depended it while I was gone for the weekend, I can say that I know no matter the circumstances, before, during or after, I will always be here to take care of you no matter what you need. No matter if it’s just a glass of water and some cuddles, or me babbling on about something I saw on the Internet for hours to see you smile… I will always love you, Spence. So don’t you try and shy away from it. If you ever feel yourself doubting how much I love you, you come over and tell me and I’ll hug you just like this, real tight, and I won’t let go as long as you need.”
Spencer felt his heart ache, adoration swelling in his chest until it felt about ready to burst. “If we weren’t already engaged, I would ask you to marry me,” He managed to crack a weak smile, the dimpled smile on his lover’s cheeks only making his own smile grow wider. “I love you so much,” He added, leaning back against her chest and letting himself just enjoy the soothing touch.
“You know I love you too,” ____ cooed, leaning down to press soft kisses all across Spencer’s face, cheeks and nose.
After a few minutes of quiet passed, Spencer finally looked up at ____ again, a tiny, playful smile curving over his lips. "So," He started, voice still a bit too soft in his throat to hold any true teasing intent, "Why did you come home early?"
____ laughed, the noise soft and melodic in Spencer's ears as he watched a smile that could rival sunshine in its warmth bloom on her face once more. "The gallery ended early. My cousin ended up scoring a pretty important interview with some big environmental artist collaborative, so I just took the train back home. You would know this if you actually checked your phone, Spence."
"I was a little preoccupied," Spencer reminded with a laugh.
"I'm well aware, love."
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