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#spencer reid
autiefutaba · 12 days ago
Any dumbass NT that says "You don't look autistic!" genuinely thinks that every single autistic person looks like these mfs
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emily-bett · 2 months ago
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“Never wage a practical joke war against an MIT graduate because we have a history of going nuclear.” 
MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER as SPENCER REID  in CBS’ Criminal Minds season seven.
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marisatomay · 4 days ago
haunted by the episode of criminal minds where doctor spencer reid all but calls himself submissive and breedable
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imagining-in-the-margins · 3 months ago
My Boss’s Daughter (Reid Request)
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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.
“How’s college?”
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.
“Still what?”
“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!”
“I know!”
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?!”
“What?! No!”
“You do!”
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!)
2K notes · View notes
gublersgoblin · 2 months ago
Hotch: how are you all doing?
Emily: I'm..breathing
Hotch: setting the bar pretty low
Emily: it's more than Spencer
Spencer, having a panic attack: fuck you
2K notes · View notes
An Inconvenient Affection [Chapter 1]
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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
Next Chapter 
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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.
Thank you so much for reading, comments, reblogs, and tags are always appreciated! ❤️
Let me know what you thought about this chapter here <3
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2K notes · View notes
nothazellevesque · 23 days ago
early criminal minds (seasons 1-5) is so fucking funny if you think about it from the perspective of literally anyone that the BAU interacts with outside of each other. to recap what’s going on, let’s go over the team. We’ve got:
Elle Greenaway- murderous bitch who maybe murdered someone in cold blood (claimed self defense but who can prove that?)
Spencer Reid- a genius with both mommy and daddy issues who looks like a fourteen year old TA and does magic tricks whilst, at some points, zooted off his ass on dilaudid
Jason Gideon- man who screams at crime scenes and lays down in blood stains
Derek Morgan- calls their tech analyst like “ugh mommy shove that nice hot information down my throat”
Penelope Garcia- the aforementioned Information Mommy, who talks to the team (specifically morgan) like a phone sex operator trying to make enough to cover rent
Jennifer Jareau- bubbly blonde woman who yells at TV reporters and kicks ass
David Rossi- rich, elderly, famous crime novelist who DEFINITELY should be retired
Emily Prentiss- goth lesbian who DEFINITELY has cursed folks out in one of the many languages she knows
Aaron Hotchner- tired workaholic man, trying his best to hold this shitshow together, also beat a man to death
like, can you IMAGINE??? it’s the worst week of your life. Some madman is running around, i don’t know, killing folks and cutting off their nipples or something, and this absolute clown brigade rolls up like “ah yes, just another Tuesday for us lmao” and start asking you questions about what kind of dirt this murderer had stuck to his shoes, and then they SOLVE THE CASE???? what the fuck must you be thinking at that point
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marisatomay · a month ago
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didn't know it was "bully your subordinate for being a baby-faced twink" day
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mercy-burning · 2 months ago
She’s An Angel
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer discovers that Reader has a rather promiscuous personality behind closed doors, and he can’t help but give into her. Category: SMUT (18+), (there’s a lil fluff at the end, but it’s mostly filth lol) Warnings: Language, heavy flirting and sexual tension, female/male-receiving oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, innocence kink (kinda?), breeding kink, dirty talk Word Count: 10.8k
***EDITED: 7/23/2021***
NOTE: Hi, guys! This is my entry for @willowrose99 ‘s 1-Year Writing Challenge Celebration! My prompts were: Only Angel by Harry Styles (fun fact, this is my favorite Harry song! And the notes/texts that Reader sends to Spencer are lines from the song), stealing clothes, and the dialogue “You know, I kinda like it when you call me -pet name-” I hope you all enjoy it! I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!!!
Also! Little fun fact: sex and metaphors/references to religion is like... my favorite thing in the whole world, so I made a tiny playlist for you to give a listen if you’re interested! If you have song recs so I can add them, please let me know! I’m always on the lookout for new stuff :) Enjoy!!
He didn't think much of it the first day she started working at the BAU. If anything, Spencer was glad that they had an intern— someone who could share some of their responsibilities without completely changing the dynamic of the work. She even became part of their family, going out with them after cases, attending every workplace gathering, whether it be a wedding for a co-worker they didn't see often, one of Rossi's dinner parties, or Henry's birthday party.
It wasn't until they were setting up for the BAU office Halloween party that he noticed something was... different.
Y/N and Spencer were put on decorating duty while everyone else brought food and music, and whatever else. They stopped by extra early to set up, meaning they would be there together, alone, for at least two hours before anyone showed up.
Normally that wouldn't have been anything to worry about, but Y/N showed up in costume, and it completely threw him for a loop.
Now, he wasn't one to really care whether or not people used Halloween as an outlet to dress like sexy nurses or cheerleaders or whatever else. Sure, he'd rather go with something on the scary side, something with a creepy mask or intricate makeup, but in the end the holiday was everyone's to enjoy how they wanted to. And one way or the other, he never saw anyone in a sexy Halloween costume and found himself tempted by them in the slightest. In fact, it was rare that he ever saw anyone in one at all.
So, when Y/N slowed up to the office wearing a very skin-tight, tiny schoolgirl costume, and his heart leapt out of his chest, mouth going dry and blood running hot at the sight of her?
He was a goner.
Her eyes lit up when she saw him, dropping the large bag she was carrying to run over and give him a hug, which he shakily returned, trying to snap out of his daze. Suddenly he felt a little underdressed, not wearing his costume yet, and truthfully, he wasn't sure if he wanted to wear one at all now, fearful that she'd think it was too immature.
Even more frightening than the holiday itself was the fact that Spencer found himself caring about what Y/N would think of his costume when a minute ago it hadn't even crossed his mind.
He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly before she released him from her hug, hoping to expel his fear and remember that she was his friend and she'd never actually say anything bad about his costume. Not that that'd even mattered in the first place. It shouldn't have mattered, right?
God, pull yourself together! She's just a pretty girl dressed in a suggestive costume, it's nothing you haven't seen before...
Though, he wasn't even sure he could call her a pretty girl right then.
Because when she pulled away from him, talking about some of the decorations she brought, he had ample opportunity to get a good look at her costume up close. And she wasn't pretty. She was downright sexy, all legs protruding underneath a short plaid skirt and adorning shiny black heels, curly hair tumbling down her shoulders in pigtails. Her shirt was so low, most of the buttons undone to reveal a black lacy bra underneath. She wore a pair of glasses that sat cutely on the tip of her nose and minimal makeup, the only noticeable thing being bright red lip color.
That wasn't what was different, though.
Sure, she'd never worn anything that scandalous around work or even on nights out, but it wasn't the fact that she'd done so now that felt strange. No, it was the way she looked up at him, her head hung low and her eyes looking up through eyelashes. When she got excited to tell him something, she pitched her voice higher. And often times, she'd put herself in compromising positions, and it seemed like it was on purpose.
At one point she stood right in front of him trying to hang a streamer on a beam she was most certainly not tall enough to reach. Her arms stretched high, all fabric on her body rising up and exposing more skin. Spencer quickly tried to avoid any problems, offering to help so she wouldn't hurt herself, first of all, but also so that he wouldn't find himself staring too long when he shouldn't have been staring at all.
The whole time they were decorating, she found excuses to drop things and pick them up, to stumble and hold onto his arm for steadiness, to accidentally brush past him... And that's what was so different about her.
He didn't want to assume she'd been drinking before coming to the office, and if he'd known any better he wouldn't have assumed it in the first place. But that was the one and only thing that crossed his mind that could have been the answer to her strange behavior, despite the lack of alcohol on her breath. (The only reason he knew her breath didn't smell of alcohol was because at one point, she hugged him again and pulled back to look in his eyes, brushing stray curls from his face and telling him they did a good job finishing up the room they'd been working on.)
Now they were in the conference room, and Spencer was hanging streamers as Y/N sat in one of the chairs, wheeled back to the middle of the room so she could observe everything. Well... observe Spencer was more correct. At least that's what he figured, anyway. It was like he could feel her eyes burning into the back of him. Or maybe he was just still unable to get over the fact that she and her stupidly hot costume had had that big of an effect on him.
He stood down from the chair and asked Y/N to hand him more tape, refusing to look at her.
"Spence, are you alright?" she asked sweetly, rolling her chair over to the table so she could reach the tape. The innocent concern in her voice had that same suspicious tone to it that wouldn't leave him alone, like it was nagging him and calling to him... begging to confront her.
He flicked his gaze down to meet hers for the briefest of seconds before looking back at the table. "N—Yeah, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" She picked up the tape and toyed with it between her fingers, which were manicured a light pink color. He couldn't help but stare at them. "You seem a little... on edge."
With a swallow, an attempt to bring moisture back to his throat, Spencer shook his head. "I'm... No, I'm sure. Everything's fine."
Y/N sighed. "Well, I've been working with you profilers for some time now, and... I think I can tell when you're lying. Was it... something I did?"
There she went again, her voice high and soft. Innocent. Like she was in character.
Spencer looked at her face again, and then immediately he regretted it. She was half pouting at him, doe-eyed and head tilted to expose her neck. He swallowed again, trying to figure her out while also figuring out what to say.
"No," is what he settled on, audibly nervous.
She could tell, too, because he thought he saw her smirk for just a split second. But then it was gone, replaced once again by her pout. "Oh... Good. Because I thought for a second that you didn't like my costume."
She obviously had to be up to something, right? Was she... flirting with him? And more importantly, did he want her to flirt with him? He'd never really thought about Y/N in that context before, but she was single, beautiful, and... well, truthfully that's all he really knew about her. They'd been friends for about a year now, and he couldn't put together one single thought about her other than the stuttering, muddled confusion over the fact that she was in a sexy Halloween costume and most likely openly flirting with him.
What was that Emily said once about his IQ dropping in the presence of a pretty woman?
Y/N had rendered him utterly thoughtless.
And speechless, too, apparently, because he stood there, staring at her without saying a single word.
"Spencer," she called out softly, almost like a lullaby. Her chair rolled back, away from the table to give him a better view of her legs as she un-crossed them and very slightly opened her knees. "Do you think I'm pretty?"
As if he wasn't already practically burning inside-out since the moment she arrived at the office, now his blood ran hot, and he was suddenly very uncomfortably warm. "U—Um, y—yes, you're... You're beautiful, y—your costume... It's nice, it looks nice on you."
Her pout slowly turned into a smile as she patted her knees. "Thank you... I wore it just for you, you know."
Is this some sort of bizarre dream? he wondered, his knees almost buckling at her words, their tone, and the meaning of it all.
"Y—You did?" he whispered brokenly.
"Mnmm," she drawled as her fingers toyed with themselves. "You teach, right?"
Y/N hummed and nodded, her legs still closed enough that he couldn't see anything... extra promiscuous. "You know, I bet you have quite a few students who find you attractive... Tell me, do any of them dress like this?"
She leaned back in the chair and started to run her hands slowly up the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. "Do they ever... Sit in the front row and... spread their legs just enough for you to see the pretty panties they picked out... just for you..."
By now her hands were resting on the inside of her thighs, her legs spread in exactly the way she'd described. He couldn't help himself. There she was, offering herself to him, and in his line of vision was the faintest glimpse of baby pink fabric that matched the color of her fingernails.
He didn't even know how to verbally respond. By now he was sure his face was beet red, and his palms were sweating so badly and struggling to keep him upright as he leaned forward on the table. Ah, the table— the only thing separating him from her, a fact which he wasn't quite sure if he was thankful for or not.
The spell she had around her broke when her phone rang. And just like that, it was like she was... herself again. At least, the 'herself' Spencer had always known. She sat up and walked over to the other side of the room to grab her phone from her bag, reading the screen as he struggled to catch his breath.
"It's Penelope. She has a costume emergency I have to help with. Are you good putting the rest of these up?"
"U—Um, yeah. Yeah, go."
Y/N smiled and grabbed her bag, thanking him as she walked past and left him behind.
He heard her call back as her figure was etching itself into his brain, ready to remain there until the end of time. "Can't wait to see your costume!"
Luke and Tara were having a conversation that he was supposed to be paying attention to, but Spencer's mind was still occupied by Y/N and her... outward display of sensuality.
Her voice was echoing in his brain, replaying over and over how she'd dressed up for him. And the longer he tried to wrap his brain around everything, the more he wound up confused. Where had her forwardness even come from? Had she been actively interested in him this whole time and he just hadn't seen it until now? A possibility, but why had she chosen to go to that extreme rather than just tell him the truth? Maybe she'd just found being overtly sexual an easier tactic than others?
Or maybe, in the end, she was just messing with him. Even though Derek had moved away, it was entirely possible that he'd somehow concocted one of his ridiculous pranks and roped Y/N into helping him since he wasn't around to do it himself. A smart move, though it was highly unlikely.
Spencer just didn't know what to do. Depending on how the rest of the night went, he was probably just going to have to muster up the courage to ask her what her intentions were. And depending on what she says, he was going to have to figure out what he wanted from their relationship... Did she want just sex? Did he want just sex? Did she want to go out with him? Is that something he would want as well?
He was just about to mull it over when Penelope's boisterous laugh sounded from the other side of the room. Spencer looked up, eager to see if Y/N was with her, since she'd been called away on a costume emergency. Penelope was dressed as a devil, red sparkly horns on her red-streaked, curled hair. She was dressed head-to-toe in a red dress and shoes that felt very much like her, with feathers and sequins, and her makeup was also red and black and absolutely glittery.
And sure enough, behind her stood the woman who'd been occupying Spencer's mind for the past hour and a half. Though, she wasn't dressed as a schoolgirl anymore.
He found himself swearing under his breath as he took her in, shimmering where she stood, dressed in all white.
She was an angel.
An actual angel. Her hair fell loose around her, accessorized with a headband with a golden halo attached to it. Her dress was still pretty form-fitting, though nowhere near as scandalous as her previous outfit. It was long and flowed out at the bottom until it hit the floor, a ring of gold at the hem. The sleeves were also long and bell-bottomed, accented with gold at the end.
And from where Spencer stood, even that far away, he noticed the glitter that surrounded her eyes, gold to compliment the color on her dress. Her lips were still bright red, and her glasses were gone. And the wings... As small as they were—most likely to keep from taking up too much space—they stood out in any crowd, purely white and outlined in gold, just like the rest of her outfit.
Why had she changed? Did... she actually change at all? Had he truly only imagined their encounter hours ago?
"Any... specific angels crossing your mind?" Spencer heard Luke say, punctuated with a pat on the shoulder.
He blinked and looked at him. "What?"
"Y/N... She makes a pretty good angel, eh?"
"Uh, yeah, I—I guess so."
Luke and Tara laughed, obviously amused by all of this. But they hadn't seen her earlier. They hadn't been there to witness her seducing him and acting like she'd done it a million times over. They didn't know what she was doing to him, inhabiting every corner of his brain and driving him mad trying to figure it all out.
But it wasn't uncommon for his friends to tease him about the female attention he got sometimes. And when it was obvious that he was flustered, they kept the friendly teasing going. And every time, he settled on leaving it alone, because he knew it would pass and he wouldn't have to worry about it again, at least until the next woman hit on him in public.
And Y/N? She worked with them. As long as she was in his head, he was afraid he'd never stop being flustered in her presence.
So he had to know. He had to talk to her and see what was going on, no matter how awkward it might get.
For now though, it was Halloween, and he was going to spend the night with his friends while doing the very rare amount of drinking and the more frequent amount of laughter.
The night didn't come without a few looks in Y/N's direction, though. She never came up to him directly, though a few times he'd catch her looking at him. And each time, she'd wave and continue on her merry way, laughing with Emily or doing some silly dance with Penelope in their coupling costumes.
Honestly, if earlier hadn't happened, he would have thought nothing of it. She was being completely normal. Happy, friendly... Simply Y/N, as he'd known her for the past year and a half.
He just finished saying goodbye to JJ, who was leaving early to go trick-or-treating with her kids, when she finally approached him. At the sight of her getting closer, her otherworldliness making his blood go warm again, he tried to compose himself. After all, there was no way she'd do anything sensual in public like this, right?
"I didn't get a chance to compliment you on your costume yet," she said brightly, her voice not carrying that higher tone from before. "You make a very believable zombie."
He looked down at his tattered clothes, a small laugh escaping him. "Thank you... It's no high-level makeup job, but I tried my best."
When he looked back up to her, the shimmer of her makeup basked her in a glow that made it incredibly hard to breathe. She really was pretty. Still sexy, of course, but in an understated way this time.
And he couldn't help but bring up the difference. "You... changed."
Something sparkled in her eyes then, giving them a devious glint that inherently contradicted her costume, and the mere implications of that made him tremble, especially as she said, "Mhm... I figured the schoolgirl costume was a little too inappropriate for the workplace. And besides... I did say I wore it just... for you..."
So he hadn't imagined the whole thing... On the one hand he was relieved to know he wasn't freaking out over something that hadn't actually happened. But... on the other, what did that leave him with?
It left him with a woman who was standing in front of him, dressed like an angel while giving him all sorts of devilish feelings.
Once again she'd rendered him speechless, though now his thoughts were filled with images of those pretty, glimmering eyes above him, watching as he worshipped her between her legs... Of her hands twisted in his hair as he showed her just how much he wanted her, to show her how beautiful she was.
Those thoughts were interrupted when she got closer, toying with a stray curl that stuck out from his head. She twirled it around her finger and looked up at him, doe-eyed again as she purred, "Happy Halloween, Doctor Reid."
She was gone too quickly, whisked away by the throes of an office holiday party that, one way or another, served as the beginning to a long, tempestuous affair.
In the weeks that followed, Spencer went about his days as normally as he could, focusing on work, and getting ready for another month of teaching, where he'd be away from his friends and, therefore, also away from Y/N.
It's not that he necessarily wanted to be away from her... Yet, after constant flirting with no direction other than his dreams filling with filthy images of the two of them together and no actual outlet for it, he figured a break would do him some good. Of course, he wasn't sure what would await him when he came back—if she'd forget about all of it and give up or if she'd come at him stronger than before.
It was his final day before leave, and so naturally, Y/N had to make it hard on him. He was sure that's what she was doing.
Since it was getting colder, she strayed away from skirts, though occasionally she would show up to work in a longer dress or a shirt that hugged her in all the right places, especially on the days that he would be working with her more. She had the BAU's schedules on hand always, so she had to be using that as a way to get to him.
On those days, she often used her higher pitch when she spoke to him, and her eyes were always adventurous— they wandered over every part of his body and sometimes quickly blinked away when he caught her, accompanying an embarrassed smile. (Though, Spencer was convinced she really was absolutely not embarrassed.)
Other times she pulled the "Oops, I dropped something," trick, and "You know, it's almost Winter but it's still so warm in here, don't you think?" followed by a stretch of her body as she slowly put her hair up or dragged it over her shoulder. 
His plan was to wait until he got back from leave, assess their situation from there after he'd cleared his head for a while, and then talk to her about what the hell was going on. Though the thought of confronting her scared him a little, he knew he couldn't let this go on any longer without some sort of conversation about what was next... What it all meant. It would drive him crazy otherwise.
With all the sensual, suggestive looks and actions she was throwing at him, though, it was a wonder he hadn't gotten to that point already.
As if she'd figured this out—because of course she would have found a way to get into his brain and know what he was thinking and feeling before he could even do so himself—Y/N stood by a storage closet with a clipboard. She pretended to write things down, when in reality she was looking up at him every so often, biting her lip and crossing her legs where she stood. She looked utterly desperate for something, almost like it was painful for her to be deprived of whatever it was she was looking for.
Spencer had a sneaking suspicion he knew what that was. And the thought sent a wave of electricity through his veins. All day she'd been going extra hard in attempts to catch his attention, and since it was his final day before leaving for a month, he knew that had to be the reason why.
If catching his attention was her goal, she'd definitely succeeded.
Across the room, and across a small sea of co-workers who were head-down, going through paperwork, he caught her eye and waited, his fingers twitching like they wanted to reach out to her. She tilted her head to the side and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, staring back at him like she was in a daydream.
And sure enough, she was standing underneath a light, one singular beam that sat atop her head like a halo and bathed her in a soft glow.
Even without the costume, she was an angel... For a moment Spencer wondered if maybe she'd planed on it all from the start— making her move by dressing like an angel on Halloween for one night and then finding any way on purpose to replicate that presence without actually dressing up again. Was it a way to mess with his head, to make him believe that she was calling to him? That she would... save him somehow?
He had to know what she was doing.
So he gave in and stood up, his eyes keeping contact with hers as he got closer and closer. Before he could get to her, though, she winked and then turned around, entering the storage closet and disappearing before his eyes. Still, he followed her, desperately hoping that's what she wanted.
And with a silent prayer that felt ironic as he thought it, Spencer opened the door and entered the adventure that awaited him. Whether it would be heavenly or otherwise he wasn't sure, but either way he was ready to confront it.
Y/N had turned on a desk lamp, its orange glow the only source of light in an otherwise pitch-black space. She leaned back against a table, still standing with her legs crossed over each other, hands bracing themselves on the tabletop. "How's it going, Doctor Reid?"
"What are you doing?" he asked, almost immediately after she greeted him. Now that he was alone with her, away from unassuming eyes, he exhaled and visibly showed his confusion through pleading eyes. "Please, I need to know what you're doing..."
He barely saw the contours of her face through dim lighting as she smiled. "What do you mean?"
"Y/N... Don't do that." He took a step closer, even though the quick beating of his heart signaled that it might have been a dangerous move. "Tell me..."
"Isn't it obvious?" she cooed, her hands coming out to toy with the hem of her frilly skirt.
As he looked down at it, he had to wonder if there really was a God out there, some higher being that sent this angel down to destroy him. How else did it stand to happen that even though it was nearing the end of November, the one day it was warm enough for Y/N not to freeze while wearing a skirt was the final day he had before leaving for a whole moth?—Before it was inevitably snowy and she wouldn't have the luxury to tease him with her skin?
She must have caught his lingering gaze on her legs, because she laughed softly, spreading them to stand a bit further apart while her fingers very lightly pushed the fabric of her skirt up. "I've been trying to get your attention ever since I got here... But you never seemed to notice. So I figured... Why not be a little more... forthcoming..."
"Y—You could have... said something," he whispered, forcing himself to look at her face. But as he was learning, he couldn't look at any part of her without his whole body going up in flames. 
By now she was walking closer to him, small, languid steps that perfectly showcased how her body could move. "Well... Truth is, I was scared... Every time I tried to talk to you, I got really nervous..." Her voice was demure, apologetic almost... Embarrassed. But it had to have just been part of the allure, right? Part of her show? "You're just so... intimidating."
Spencer swallowed, a small laugh coming from him as he tried not to collapse at her closeness. "I'm... I'm really not..."
But she laughed, finally close enough to reach out and grab his tie, which is what she did. She held the fabric in her hands for a few seconds before letting it drop, bringing her pointer finger to gently trace patterns on his chest. "Not in a mean way, silly... You're... incredibly smart, and you're good at your job... You're always so nice to everyone... And I bet you really know how to make a girl feel good..."
He found himself trembling under her touch again as she brought her hand down to meet his. She leaned up to nudge his chin with her nose as she moved his hand to the inside of her thigh. It was only the slightest of touches, nothing rushed or passionate about it. In fact, Y/N seemed more taken with the idea of using her touch to draw everything out— to make him pine for it, lose all semblance of sanity until he finally gave in and did whatever he wanted to her.
"Don't you wanna know what it feels like to touch me?" she whispered, her breath hot on his neck. Meanwhile her hand guided his own farther up her skirt, until he felt her skin getting warmer and warmer with each millimeter. His throat was dry, breath shaky as he fluttered his eyes closed and embraced the moment, embraced the guidance... "To feel how wet you make me?"
His heart practically leapt out of his chest once his hand was finally met with said wetness. Her panties were damp and oh so warm, and he couldn't stop the whine that left his throat as she pressed his fingers hard into her against the fabric. Her fingers covered his like a glove, guiding them in small circles over her clothed clit as she sighed into his neck.
"You feel that?" she asked, nuzzling into his skin. "That's what you do to me, Doctor.  From the moment I saw you, I knew you'd ruin me..."
He breathed a laugh then, finding it utterly ironic how that's how she felt. She could have just been toying with him, but there was enough longing and desperation in her voice to let him know she really meant it. She'd been waiting for him to come along and whisk her away...
So that's what he was going to do.
Spencer removed his hand from her then, walking them over to the table and pulling her right to him by gripping the waistband of her panties and keeping her still. The gasp she let out fueled him in a way that would have wrecked him if the job hadn't already been done. As he looked down at her, her body was basked in the soft orange luminescence of the desk lamp, a sight that aesthetically added to his desire and farther fueled the heat that had been accumulating in his veins, waiting to be released.
"Is that what you want, angel?" he breathed, the words even taking him by surprise. His sexual experience was far from non-existent, but it was limited enough that he'd never acted this feral before. Never had a partner ever had this strong of a hold on him, so tight that he found it a struggle to breathe. Add on the fact that he wanted to embrace that struggle if it meant being this way with her, and you had a man who was completely unraveling under the allure of one single woman until she ultimately brought forth his demise. "You want me to ruin you?"
Though he was giving in, like he assumed she wanted in the first place, Y/N hummed, tilting her head again and blinking up at him. "You know, I kinda like it when you call me angel..."
Spencer gripped the fabric tighter, and she whined. "Is it what you want?" In other words, Do you want this? 
Y/N nodded, and then he crashed his lips with hers as he tugged at her panties and let them drop to the floor in a pool around her feet. She flung her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself into him more, allowing his tongue to part her lips and explore her with liveliness. She was more than welcome to embracing it, verbally giving him praises in the form of whimpers and physical ones in the form of her hips rolling forward to get more friction.
As one of his hands found purchase under one of her thighs, he thought back to Halloween night, and how he'd imagined his head between her legs. The memory had his entire body tensing with pleasure, and without a second thought, he pulled away and dropped to his knees, looking up at her with what he hoped was the purest form of desire.
He looked up at her, admiring the way her face looked in the dim light, as he lifted one of her legs and placed it on his shoulder. Still keeping eye contact, he tilted his head and kissed the inside of her leg. But eventually he let his focus lean to immersing himself in her pleasure, tearing his eyes away from hers and completely shifting his head to face her leg. His lips trailed upwards, taking his time to remember the taste and the feel of her soft skin. 
The higher he got, the heavier her breathing became, and it wasn't long before he fully had his head under her skirt. She tried to move the fabric so she could see him, but he gripped her wrists and pinned them at her sides, eliciting a laugh from her that quickly turned into a whimper once he brushed his nose over where she ached for him.
Without being able to stop himself, Spencer inhaled, breathing her in and letting out a shaky breath as he inched closer and involuntarily closed his eyes, completely wrapped up in her like he'd never felt before. He was intoxicated by her, even more so when his mouth finally made contact with her dripping cunt.
Feeling her shudder above him was almost as heavenly as the way she tasted, sweet and bitter and oh so delectable. He'd never craved anything more than her in that moment, his tongue lapping her up and making a point to taste all of her. He explored and worshipped and praised her just how he'd imagined he would, though now that it was actually happening and he'd really had a taste of her, he wasn't sure he could ever go back.
Not that he wanted to. Especially as she whined and rolled her hips against his face, seeking more pleasure as she tried to be quiet in the closet.
Spencer, though he knew the importance of keeping it quiet right then, couldn't say he was the same way. Since his head was hiked up her skirt, and his sounds were muffled by her skin, he was as loud as he wanted to be, groaning into her and mumbling praises in between while catching his breath. He reveled in the feeling of her wetness coating the lower half of his face and the sounds that both pairs of her lips were providing. It truly was better than any symphony or choir he'd ever heard, and if he could spend the rest of his life down there, worshipping at her altar and giving her everything she desired, he would have.
But they were at work, and if they were gone too long, it would get suspicious.
So, as much as he wanted to draw out her pleasure—and by association, his own—he focused on getting her to her peak, flicking his tongue out over her clit and letting her hips rock forward to get her exactly where she wanted to be.
He knew she was about to come when she stopped whining and whimpering altogether, the leg she had draped over his shoulder curling and tightening around him to keep herself steady.
His tongue was relentless, keeping at what it was doing while Spencer imagined what her face must have looked like. Were her eyes rolling to the back of her head or were they squeezed tight? And her mouth— was it hanging open? Was her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she attempted to keep herself from yelling out? And as her hands struggled in his grasp, trying to escape most likely in favor of gripping his hair, he imagined them tied up above her head, attached to his bedframe as he took his time, drawing out every little sound she could have possibly made until she was just as unraveled as he was.
And then her grip loosened all around him, a whiny sigh escaping from her mouth, and Spencer reluctantly drew himself away from her. He dropped her leg from his shoulder and licked at his lips, tasting as much of her as he could before he had to return to work. And then, when he was moving to remove his head from under her skirt, he caught sight of her panties on the ground, picking them up and sliding the garment lightly up along her leg as he stood.
The only thing was, he wasn't putting them back on her.
No, they hung loose between his fingers as they tickled the inside of her legs, and when he finally stood tall enough to tower over her again, he got as close as he could to her, bringing the fabric up between her legs, right where he'd just been, and pressed them firmly to her sensitive pussy.
"Time to clean you up, angel," he whispered, swiping his hand forward and doing exactly that. Y/N whined against his mouth, faintly tasting herself on his lips as he cleaned her.
He kissed her then, gently, removing his hand from under her skirt and depositing the damp fabric right into his pocket.
If Spencer hadn't known already that he was done for, he would have figured it out right then, when he pulled back far enough to see the high, blissed out look in her pretty eyes. She blinked at him and sighed, telling him one final thing before she pushed past him and walked out into the office with no underwear and half-wobbly legs.
"I miss you already, Doctor..."
He missed her, too.
The month-long leave was supposed to assist in letting him clear his head, but the longer he was away from her, the more it drove him mad. Occasionally he'd still taste the sweet tanginess of her on his tongue, and no amount of coffee could rinse it out. Sometimes he'd be grading papers and daydream about hearing her whimper out his name as he took care of her.
It didn't help that she also sent him texts, little things that would have sounded innocent to anyone else but had a way more promiscuous meaning to the both of them. They mostly involved the discussion of angels, of course, as she left him with a quote or a song lyric, and other days with a fact about a specific angel.
Today, the morning before classes started, she sent him, She's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see... Spencer didn't know what it meant, what it was referencing, but it was innocent enough that he didn't think anything of it until lunch rolled around and he checked his phone to see another text.
...When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets.
He couldn't stop thinking about it. All day, even as he was trying to distract himself by lecturing, all he could see in his mind was Y/N. Sometimes with her angel costume on, but mostly with nothing on, her body fitting into his like a puzzle piece as she sighed out his name like a prayer.
And to think, he had one more week until he would see her again.
But then he was looking through his students' quizzes, small sheets of paper with some terminology and matching definitions they needed to pair together. Since there were only about five minutes left until the class was over, he let his students spend the rest of the time how they chose, not really in the mood to burn himself out speaking when he knew it was only a matter of time before he slipped and said something about Y/N that he shouldn't.
The next quiz he grabbed was folded in half, unusual, but he opened it and was looking to go about his merry way regardless. But then he saw a post-it note right in the middle of the paper, reading She's an angel, my only angel, and punctuated with a pair of red lips.
The first thing he did was drop the pen that was in his hand. Not like he did it on purpose, though, he was pretty sure all joint and muscle function was lost upon reading the handwriting he knew so well, and a reference that only she could make.
And then he looked up, eyes scanning the sea of students to find her. She had to have been there, right? A few of the students found it odd that he was just looking through all of them, but all he was worried about was finding her.
And there she was.
Y/N had tucked herself all the way in the back, her eyes locked directly onto him. She winked then, when she knew she had his attention, and all Spencer could think about was how it must have been another dream. Her texts from earlier had gotten to him more than usual, and because of it, he was seeing her everywhere, seeing what he wanted to see.
Even though he wanted to keep looking at her, to try and figure out if she was really there or if she was just a figment of his devilish mind, he didn't want anyone to catch him. To anyone else it would look like he might have been staring at another student, and with the lust he knew was definitely swimming in them, the last thing he wanted to do was get in trouble like that.
So, to his dismay and reluctance, he slipped the note into the drawer beside him and quietly finished grading, even though he was longing to see how else he could let Y/N destroy him.
Even as the bell rang and everyone filtered out, Spencer kept his head low, refusing to look up until everyone was gone and only one person remained.
The quieter it got, the harder he could feel his heart beating. And then the only thing that cut through the silence was that unmistakable, angelic high pitch that would surely never fail to bring him to his knees.
"Did you get my note, Doctor?"
Only then did he allow himself to look up, and when he did, seeing her closer to him than she'd been in almost a month now, it was like the stars aligned. "Yes," he whispered, getting out of his seat and walking around the desk to be as close to her as possible.
She laughed and met him in the middle, nearly trapping him between herself and the desk. Her hands reached out to grab at his suit jacket and he wished that she'd touch him somewhere else. Anywhere else, just to feel the soft warmth of her skin.
"And my texts?" she cooed, taking another step and actually trapping him between her body and his desk.
"Y—Yeah, I got them."
"Oh, good. I've been thinking a lot about how you left me..." She slid her hands then, under his jacket and across his stomach until they reached his waist. "The second I got in my car to go home, you were already on your way here... And I couldn't help but wonder what you were doing with my panties..."
They were currently back in his hotel room, in the drawer and laying atop of his own clothes, a vision that had him reeling, wondering if she was wearing any now. So he asked. "Are... Um..."
Well, he tried to ask, anyway.
Y/N caught on, though, beaming at him as her hands removed herself from him and slipped up her skirt. "You wanna see the pair I'm wearing now?"
"Y/N... There's... Someone could come in, I..."
She clucked her tongue. "Oh, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble, don't worry. I'll just... Give you a quick peek."
She didn't wait for him to respond, lifting the hem of the skirt and stepping back so he could see the front of her underwear, which were white and printed with black cursive lettering.
As soon as he exhaled, loud and obviously very turned on at the sight in front of him, she dropped the skirt and smiled. "You like them? I needed to buy a new pair since you felt the need to steal my others..."
Spencer really didn't know what to say. All he knew was that his body was on fire, and the tightening of his pants was extremely dangerous since he had another class in a half hour and there wasn't enough time to take care of it unless they did something right now. And even then, they were in a public area with hardly anywhere to go. His best bet would be to go to the bathroom and be as inconspicuous as possible to take care of it himself. Or, Y/N needed to leave immediately so he could settle down and just let it go away on its own.
Unfortunately, he seemed to have a hard time denying her of anything.
Which was why he didn't stop her when she sunk to her knees.
As she undid his belt, looking up at him  with sparkling eyes, she spoke to him. "Honestly, I had every intention to just make out with you a little, just enough to satiate myself until I can see you again next week, but... Well, I'm wearing lipstick, and I wouldn't want to embarrass you."
He'd made out with a woman before, who'd worn lipstick, and surprisingly it was pretty easy to remove, so he knew she had to have been lying as some part of a bigger scheme, but... he couldn't quite figure out what that was. Obviously she had plans to take care of his erection for him, so why make up the story?
But then she kept talking, only slightly pulling down his pants and palming him through his underwear. "And then I thought about how pretty you'd look covered in lipstick kisses, and, well... It's always good to start somewhere, don't you think?"
His stomach did flips when she traced his dick through the fabric covering it, gently with her middle finger. And then, looking into his eyes from below, she pulled it out and slowly stroked it with her hand, a low hum coming from her throat. "Mmm, I can't wait to mark up this pretty cock..."
That's when he lost all semblance of control, a strained groan falling from his lips, coming from the great depths of his chest, just from her words alone. And she took that moment to lean forward and press the gentlest of kisses to the base of his dick. She held her lips there for a second or wo before removing them and moving just a little higher, her eyes never leaving his face.
Her kisses trailed higher and higher, centimeter by centimeter until she reached his tip, where she ever so slightly flicked her tongue over the slit at the top, tasting his precum. And then gave him one final kiss—one final red mark.
The temptation to grab her hair and hold her there while he fucked her throat was strong, but as he looked down at her, she was examining her handiwork with a seductive hunger that made him realize that no matter how strong his urges got, she would always be the one in charge. Even if she acted all innocent and submissive, she was the one who held the key to his sexual desires, and therefore she was the only one who had the ability to unlock them.
So, he contained himself as she looked up at him, winked, and quickly tucked his hard dick back into the confines of his pants.
And when she stood up, she leaned up to his cheek and pressed another kiss there, leaving behind a red mark and all all his sanity with it, quickly turning away before he could catch her.
"See you later, Doctor," she called over her shoulder before she disappeared out the door.
Spencer let out a long, unsteady breath, debating on whether or not he should take care of his situation in the bathroom or right there in the classroom, behind his desk and into the trash can underneath it while he still had ample time to do so.
He sat in the chair about a minute later, his hand moving furiously under the desk as he breathed out hushed whispers of her name.
No matter how badly he wanted more alcohol in his system, he wasn't going to allow it. After one drink he was already starting to feel the affects, veins buzzing right along with the low hum of the music from inside. The single streetlight above him provided only the dimmest of lights as he took deep breaths in and out, focusing on the bitter cold from the December air and the soft pelting of snowflakes upon the skin of his cheeks.
Y/N's touch still burned him, right along his inner thigh where her hand had firmly rested while they and the rest of their friends ate dinner at the bar. All night so far, she'd been teasing him to no end, whether it was a brush of her hand against his crotch or a tiny kiss on the shoulder when no one was looking.
How no one had figured them out yet was a mystery.
Spencer rubbed his hands together, trying to keep them warm when he felt it. She was behind him.
"You've been out here for a while, Spence, is everything okay?" Even when she wasn't speaking to him in her angelic higher pitch, he still felt like succumbing to the sound her voice regardless.
He turned around to face her, and sighed. It figured that even surrounded by a street that was covered in brown-tainted snow, she wouldn't have let it taint her beauty. He was convinced that no matter where she was or what she looked like, she'd always be perfect— capable of knocking the breath out of him every time he looked at her. "Honestly, you've been driving me crazy."
"Oh," she said, her eyes slightly shifting to the ground. "Maybe I... did take it too far, I... I'm sorry." The slight tinge of embarrassment and maybe regret that filtered through her voice nearly ran him to the ground— How could she ever believe that he would feel overwhelmed by her? Sure, to some extent, he was extremely overwhelmed by her, but it was never a negative thing.
"Oh, angel, that's not what I meant," he explained softly, taking a few steps towards her.
She lifted her head, eyes doe-eyed and sparkling, though not as they usually were. This time they were swimming in a softness that made him yearn for her even more. "What?"
"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm absolutely mesmerized by you... Y/N..." Spencer brought a hand to lightly caress her face, and when she leaned into his touch it made him so warm he thought it would melt all of the snow. "I can't get you out of my head, and I... I don't know if I ever want to. I mean that."
"Y—You're not... weirded out or anything?" she asked softly. "That I just... sprung all my feelings and my lust out onto you all at once? B—Because I know it was sudden, and I came on really strong so fast, I just... I thought you liked it, and so I just kept going, but really I should have stopped and... I don't know, asked if you were okay with it..."
He'd seen this softness in her before— When she watched over JJ's kids in the office sometimes, and when she helped Penelope set the table for their 'family dinners'. Every time, on the rare occasion that she actually went on cases with them, when she helped JJ comfort the families who'd lost their loved ones, he saw it. And even through all the lust, that sweetness in her soul was what truly made her an angel. Even though the lust is all he'd been swimming in since Halloween, deep down he really knew that it was only a small part of who she really was.
So, he said to her, "Y/N, I'm enchanted by all of you. I don't... I don't know what happened to make you want to come on strong to me, but... I'm glad you did. Believe me when I say, there is nothing about you that would scare me away."
He didn't know how she was feeling, but she practically visibly melted at his words, right in front of him. "You really mean that?"
With a smile, Spencer stepped even closer and brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. "Of course I mean it, my angel."
She laughed then, her hands wrapping themselves over his waist. "Your angel, huh?"
"Mhm... If you'd like to be..."
Y/N leaned up and pressed her lips to his in answer, firmly and with all the sweetness she had nestled inside her soul.
But the longer they stood there outside the bar, kisses growing warmer and hungrier with each passing second, Spencer realized that he didn't want her sweetness any longer, not tonight anyway. He cradled her face in his hands, feeling the fire in his veins come alive when she whined into his mouth and willed herself closer.
Before he could say fuck it and decide to take her right there outside, he pulled away, still needing her but not entirely willing to get themselves caught for public indecency.
Y/N spoke before he got a chance to, her higher pitch coming back and almost bringing him to his knees.
"What do you say you take your angel home and show her a good time?"
She didn't even get a chance to close the door to his apartment before he was on her, his hands tugging at her coat to get it off.
It was a frenzy, at least while they were stripping. Jackets and boots and scarves were strewn across the entryway and leading into the living room, until each of them only had two layers: their regular clothes and what they wore underneath. And that's when they finally allowed themselves the luxury of wrapping their limbs around each other.
Her legs wrapped around his waist as he grabbed ahold of her ass to keep her steady. For added support, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him the whole way to his bedroom, but not without a few stumbles. Either way, they were so quite literally wrapped up in each other that the imperfections didn't matter.
Like she could ever come with imperfections... Spencer thought as he set her down, immediately bringing his hands to the back of her dress.
Meanwhile she unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling around so much that he thought she might choose to rip it open, and selfishly he wished she would have. But she got it open without tearing any buttons, and the fabric slid easily off his shoulders at the same time her dress slid off her own.
He was going to kiss her again, but once he caught a glimpse of what she'd been hiding under her dress, there was nothing he could physically do but rake his eyes over her figure and pray for forgiveness for all the devilish things he wanted to do to her.
It was a white set, all lace that was detailed to look like feathers as it hugged every curve of her body perfectly. She wore a set of garters that attached to the panties, which he was pretty sure were crotch-less and outlined in a pretty gold shimmer.
"I knew you'd like it," Y/N drawled sweetly. The pure innocence that dripped from her tongue would have thoroughly wrecked him had her appearance already not taken care of that. And she seemed to understand how immobile he'd become at the sight of her, because she moved of her own accord, gliding over to him and reaching her hand out to undo his belt. "I'm gonna take your silence as a good sign..."
"You're stunning," he breathed, just barely, and she gave him a smile through softly biting her bottom lip.
"You're too good to me..." Her hands pushed down his loosened slacks and waited until they fell to the floor. And then she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his underwear and leaned into his neck. "And I think your kindness deserves a reward..."
Her lips gently pressed to his neck before she dropped to her knees once again, and as she descended, her hands and his underwear did the same, leaving him completely bare and open for her to do whatever she wanted. No matter how badly he longed to throw her on the bed and get to showing her just how much she'd inhabited his every fiber of being, he didn't dare stop her as her tongue darted out and licked a featherlight line along the length of his hard cock.
He let out a sigh and twitched at her touch, a feat that must have pleased her, because she smiled and hummed happily as she repeated her action. Only, this time her tongue was more firm on him— not teasing anymore, but it brought him to damnation all the same.
And then she fully wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, slowly gliding herself down until he hit the back of her throat.
The sound he made was inhuman.
She wasted no time then, bobbing her head at a steady rhythm and moaning around him as she did so. It didn't take long for saliva to start gathering above her chin and dripping down onto the exposed area of her breasts, just above her bra. Occasionally she would hold him at the back of her throat and choke as she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and the sight of his little angel happily crying with his dick in her mouth sent Spencer into a tailspin.
But as tempting as it was to paint the back of her throat white, he knew he'd prefer to take that action to a more interesting place. So he pulled away from her and breathed out, "Please, not yet..."
He looked down at her as she smiled, wetness coating her skin in the form of tears on cheeks and saliva on breasts. Her hands rested at the tops of her thighs, even as she stood up and blinked a final stream of tears down her left cheek. "Why, is there somewhere else you'd rather fill me up?"
"Please," was all he said, his breathing labored as he imagined what she would feel like.
Thankfully she seemed to take mercy on him— Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bed, where she laid him down at the headboard and straddled his thighs. "As much as I love spreading my legs for you, I think I'd much rather take a ride..."
"Anything you want," he told her, his eyes traveling up the length of her body as she got comfortable. She was, in fact, wearing crotch-less panties, and the feeling that coursed through him at the sight of her glistening pussy in decent lighting (AKA when he wasn't under her skirt in a storage closet) sent him straight to Hell all over again.
He sighed out as she played with herself, gliding her fingers delicately along the planes of her body, from her thighs to her clit, and eventually she gripped his dick to line it up, lifting her hips above him.
"Are you ready?" she asked gently, rolling her hips to slick him up with her arousal.
"Always ready for you, angel..."
The pet name sprung her into action. She sunk down slowly onto him, and he willed his eyes to stay open so he could watch as her mouth dropped open, eyes rolling back into her head as she moaned out deliciously. He let out a groan himself, the feeling of her tightly wrapping around him like velvet almost too much to handle.
"Ohhh, you fill me up so good," Y/N sighed, gently grinding her hips in slow circles as she finally had all of him inside her. "Just like I knew you would..."
Everything she was doing, between the gradual increase of the speed at which her hips rolled and the way she looked down at him with pure desire, had Spencer wondering what he'd ever done without her. What had he known before knowing the feeling of her nails gently digging into the skin of his stomach as she rode him, before knowing the sound of his name falling from her lips in a whisper? It couldn't have been anything good, because as far as he was concerned, she was as good as it would ever get.
But at some point it felt like he needed to take more. She was giving him her body, offering it to him like the most precious gift she had to offer, and yet he wanted to tear into it and leave nothing behind except her voice, calling out his name into the heavens above. He longed to give her something in return, something that would leave her just as ruined as she'd left him.
And, as always, she could tell.
Y/N laughed seductively as she leaned down, her hips still rocking into his. Her lips pressed a gentle kiss to his before she spoke. "Everything alright, baby?"
All he could do was let out a broken moan as she clenched around him on every upstroke.
"Aww... You want more? Huh, you wanna lay me down and give it to me good? Show your little angel what it feels like to be fucked so good she can't even speak?"
"Don't... tempt me," he was finally able to choke out, and she laughed.
"Aww, come on... Show me what you got..."
Spencer wasn't sure when he actually did it, but one second she was nipping at his bottom lip, challenging him to take control, and the next he was on top of her, her legs spread as wide as they could possibly get as he rocked his hips into her at a deep, bruising force.
She laughed amusedly through whimpers of pleasure, her hands spreading out at her sides like wings as he gave her everything he had. Looking down at her, head thrown back and hair fanned around her head like some sort of angelic crown, he soaked it all in and wondered if this was what Heaven was— the feeling of her succumbing to his lust, the sight of her lost in the throes of weeks of pent-up sexual tension that never entirely got released, the sound of her near-incoherently whining at how good he was...
If it wasn't Heaven, it was surely something pretty damn close.
He was almost there, tension stretching out inside the pit of his stomach, when Y/N grabbed one of his hands and brought it to her lower belly. He felt himself slamming into her at full force every time, the small bump against his hand bringing him further along the road of release.
"You feel that?" she whined, keeping his hand there. "You know what that means, don't you?"
It could have meant a lot of things, but his brain was too far gone, lost in in the fog of pleasure to even begin to think about what it was. But then she answered for him, and it was just about the hottest thing he'd ever heard come from her mouth.
"It means I'm all yours... to do whatever you want with... to fill me up with your cum as much as you want... maybe turn your little angel into a mommy..."
With a loud, guttural groan, Spencer held himself still, deep inside her, and gave her every last drop, his hand remained pressed firmly to her stomach. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost feel his cum spilling out and filling her to the brim through the barrier. She pulsed and came around him at the same time, warmth spreading between the two of them like a drop of water would soak through fabric, until it completely enveloped them like a heavy blanket.
And then they'd given everything, their bodies clinging to each other for dear life as they settled into the gentle aftermath of such a heavy feeling of ardor. Their breaths slowed and their lips explored each other tenderly, hands doing the same until, finally, they felt themselves drifting off.
Spencer dreamt of Heaven that night, glimpses of a future he'd always longed for with other people, but that he would get to spend with her.
A wedding dress, white, but haloed by a gold fog as the woman wearing it glided along the aisle and made her way to him.
A house, small, but fenced in and just perfect enough for the two of them and the baby that was on the way.
A picnic table, damp, but drying out in the sun as it gradually became littered with plates of birthday cake and a little candle that was shaped into the number 3.
A woman, old, but beaming as she showed a photo album to her multitudes of grandchildren, telling them stories about the wonderful life she lived with her husband who always called her Angel.
And when he woke up, seeing that old woman as she was now, sleeping in his bed as the sun beamed through the curtains and basked her in a heavenly light, he knew what Heaven really was.
It was her.
@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9
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An Inconvenient Affection - Series Masterlist
Last Updated 06/July/21
(updates Tuesday’s at 9pm UTC)
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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:  I’m so excited to be starting my second series. I’ve got the first few chapters written and the whole thing outlined already so I’m hoping to keep to a regular posting schedule (Tuesdays at 9pm UTC)
I really hope you enjoy it, let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist, and as always, reblogs, comments, tags, and messages really keep me motivated and excited to write <3
Read it AO3 here if you’d prefer 
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Category: Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, Smut, Fluff, Angst
Warnings: Cursing, Adult Themes, Smut in Later Chapters, Alcohol Consumption, Stalking, Adultery, Criminal Minds Typical Violence
Word Count: TBA (Roughly 10 Chapters)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
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moon-light-jukebox · 2 months ago
“What Plot!?” - [Reid x Reader]
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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?”
“It’s fine.”
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.”
Shit. “Oh…I’m…sorry?”
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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