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etfrin · 2 months

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— ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛɪᴇꜱᴛ ɢɪʀʟ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ | ꜱᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ ʀᴇɪᴅ

✧— ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: NSFW | midsize/plus size! reader, reader is insecure about her body, reader has brown strech marks around her hips and breasts, cunnilingus and Spencer being sweet as fuck, oh and uhh mirror sex, fem! reader | lmk if I forgot anything

✧— ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you feel insecure about your body and Spencer isn't having it

✧— ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1395 words

✧— ᴀ/ɴ: sooo my first plus size/mid size fic! i hope i did writing my own body type justice, i have been getting a lot of comments about my weight irl lately so this is me basically projecting <33

「ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ」

“You’re the prettiest girl I already know,” Spencer whispered gently to you, making you see yourself in the full-body mirror in the bedroom.

You bite your lower lip, feeling inferior despite his sweet words. Recently, everyone around you has been bringing up your weight. Typically you didn't care, you knew you were pretty, but society didn't allow you to feel that way. A recent snide comment made by your family during family dinner had you crying tonight.

Of course, when Spencer comes for work, he sees you. Runny nose and red eyes. You're hiccuping as you explain yourself and you apologize for crying for something so silly. Spencer berates you for apologizing, telling you it's fine to feel insecure sometimes.

“Let me make you feel good,” he said as he cleaned you up and slowly made you stand in front of the mirror. He was right behind you, his head on your shoulder. “You know I love you for your mind, but I also love your body the same way.”

“It's my fault for not letting you know that often.”

You open your mouth to protest but a look from Spencer shuts you up. His hand caresses the curves of your body, stopping to grip the plush of your hips. “I love this,” he whispered, his fingers digging into the fat of your flesh. “I love how pretty your hips look bruised from my hold.”

One of his hands snakes up on your body, his fingers wrapping themselves around your neck. His fingertips rest on your pulse. His eyes meet yours in the mirror. “I love giving you marks here,” he said, his fingers tightening around your neck, making you hitch your breath.

His hand now set your throat free to unbutton the shirt you were wearing. The fabric falls to the ground. It reveals your body to him. The tummy you recently started to hide with overly sized clothes, the stretch marks around your hips and breasts. You weren't wearing a bra.

You close your eyes, unable to look at yourself.

“My favorite are your eyes, I love the way they look at me. I love the way they light up when you see me. Even as you were crying, as soon as you saw me your eyes had brightened. Technically, it is probably a reference to contraction of the orbicularis oculi muscle, which constricts the eyes, raises the cheeks, and produces ‘crow's feet’ wrinkles at the outer eye corners.”

You giggled as you heard him, your eyes opening and you turned your head to look at him. “Spencer,” you breathe out, “You don't have to do this-”

“I love your lips as well. I love how soft they are. It's chapped sometimes, but it's fine. I love kissing you either way. I love the way you say my name. It sounds softer and gentle, it's perfect. It's impossible for something to be perfect.”

“You're perfect,” he said firmly as his hands now began to caress the stretch marks on your hips. He traces the dark brown cracks on your skin. “I love tracing them with my fingers… or my tongue. It's calming to me,” he admits.

“They're mesmerizing.”

Your eyes water as you hear him talk about you with such wonder. What seals the deal is when he softly presses his hand onto your tummy. “It's only recently that society considered skinny to be attractive. In several cultures, overweight bodies are considered to be the beauty standard. Overweight bodies are associated with fertility, kindness, happiness, vitality, and social harmony.”

“So in reality, you're beautiful, honey. If not in your eyes, then you're in mine.”

You turn to him, throwing your hands around him. Tears fell from your eyes as you pressed yourself against him. He was semi-hard. You pepper his face with kisses before you catch his lips. “I love you,” you gasp, as you messily kiss him.

He kissed you back, both of your tongues caressing each other. Spencer moans into your mouth as he gently leads you to the edge of the bed. You sit down, and Spencer presses you onto the mattress.

“Now, let me prove it to you,” Spencer said as he pulled his shirt over his head.

He starts by taking your hand, Spencer kisses all five fingers of yours. Then he pressed his lip to the veins of your wrist, his tongue came out to lick your pulse. You moan, your eyes getting blurry with pleasure as he sucks a mark onto your skin.

He continues to give you kisses until he reaches your shoulder blade. Spencer lets his teeth dig into your flesh, making you gasp. Your hand weaving into his hair. You pull at his strands, making him release a whine.

After he finishes his painting of love bites on your neck, he drags his lips down to your chest. His mouth finds your nipple, he makes sure to lick the bud, giving it the attention it deserves.

Meanwhile, you run your hand through his hair, encouraging him on. You keep releasing sounds of pleasure as Reid sucks a tad harder. It makes you gasp, your back arching. Spencer does the same treatment to your other bud. He then let his tongue trace the stretch marks around your chest.

He then goes further down your body. He reached down your tummy, making sure to kiss the path. Spencer slowly pulls your panties down, his knees on the floor. He licked his lips, swallowing down the headiness as he looked at your pretty cunt.

“Sit up,” he whispered, “Look at the mirror as I worship you, sweetheart.”

You do as he says. You sit up, seeing yourself bare with his head buried between your thighs. “Fuck,” you whispered as you see yourself in a new light. You were sexy, you were pretty. And Spencer always goes above and beyond for you. Your fingers find themselves weaving into his brown locks. You slowly pushed his head deeper within you, watching him getting buried beyond your legs. His lips touch your cunt. He lets out a whine, as you moan.

His tongue begins to lick your pussy with several broad strokes, coating his taste buds with your juices. Spencer groans as he continues to use his tongue to please you. But, it was more for him than you truly. He devoured you as his tongue got faster with focused, quick flicks across your clit.

Spencer wraps his lips around the pearl. You moan in ecstasy. You begin to grind your hips, his hands digging into your thick thighs. You fuck his face with your pussy, making his face a mess with your juices. He fucks you with his tongue, the invasion of his wet muscle inside of your hole makes your eyes roll back.

He continues to push his tongue further down your walls. He uses his thumb to draw fast circles on your clit. You cry out his name. You feel the heat build up in your lower stomach. Your pussy begins to spasm around his tongue.

You were so close.

Spencer pulls back to take a deep breath before he dives in again to have his meal. He goes even faster, his pace never faltering. He's desperate to make you cum on his face. The way you're pulling at his hair spurs him on.

“Baby,” he whines, the vibration of his sound sending jolts of pleasure down your body. He lets his fingers join in, his tongue focusing on your clit again as his digits begin to push into your walls. He finds your g-spot, and he never pulls out his fingers completely as he thrusts them back in to keep pressing at the sensitive spongy spot.

“I'm so close!” You cry out.

Spencer nips at your clit. The mixture of pain and pleasure is enough to push you over the edge. You begin to paint Spencer’s face with your juices, the lower half of his face covered in your arousal. Your pussy cums around his fingers and he keeps thrusting them throughout your orgasm.

He finally stops the delicious torture when you pull at his hair to get him away from your oversensitive pussy. Spencer wipes his face, before licking his lips to get remnants of your taste.

“Delicious and so pretty,” he whispered to you, looking straight into your eyes.

He looks hungry for more.

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wrenreid · 1 year

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Hands-on Learning

synopsis: Spencer Reid’s best friend pays him a visit in DC. She meets his coworkers and they spend quality time together while she’s in town. But their friendly dynamic changes with he asks her a question she was not expecting. (season 2 glasses reid)

word count: 4k

content: 18+ MDNI, oral (f receive), penetration

Spencer has been begging me to come visit him again since the last time I was in D.C. six months ago. And I won't admit it to him, but I've been dying to see him again so much it physically pains me. Going six months without seeing your best friend is the worst feeling in the world, but I'd take the emotional turmoil any day because it's for him.

And I suppose he's worth sitting on this plane, lodged between a sleeping old woman and a man who has gotten up to pee ten times since take off. I must really love him because I'm only an hour into this five hour flight.

Spencer and I met when we were 18. I'd just started my freshman year at CalTech and was in an advanced class with a bunch of 22 year olds. My eye caught his immediately. He was the only person my age in the lecture hall.

I sat next to him and told him my name. I knew I had to make him my friend because he was the only other freshman in the class.

Or so I thought. I didn't know until a month into our friendship that he was indeed not a freshman, and he was taking the class for fun while he worked on his second PhD. A small part of me hated him that instant, but I had already fallen into the Spencer Reid charm. I couldn't get rid of him, no matter how hard I tried (which was not very hard at all.)

We became close pretty fast. Almost every moment we weren't in separate classes, we were together. I was pretty much his only friend and he was the first person I met in uni, and probably the only one to accept me a hundred percent as I was. Being so far from home was hard, and he made it worth it.

Usually we'd do homework or watch scary movies in his single dorm room, which I totally took advantage of. I'd spend the night with him instead of my over-sharing roommate who thought I needed to know every detail about her and her long relationship with her boyfriend Kyle, specifically the phone sex. TMI.

My other friends would joke about how we were in love, but the truth is, we weren't. Not in that way at least. He was my best friend, and I was his. We were there for every big moment in each other's lives.

Well, not every big moment. Spencer was not invited when I finally lost my virginity during spring break of freshman year. But he was there when the guy I'd hooked up with broke my heart. And he bought me ice cream and told me stupid facts until my lips broke into a smile.

I was there when he got his second and third PhDs far quicker than any graduate student should. And he was there when I graduated with my masters in psychology and cognitive science.

"You're a nerd too," Spencer said, his voice teasing as he bumped my shoulder. "You can admit it now that we're done with this place."

I told him to shut up, but a wide grin was plastered on my face. We'd made it through the highs and lows of college together.

However, that grin was soon replaced with tears. Spencer had gotten a job offer with the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia. He was going to the academy, and I was starting my research job. He was going to the east coast, and I was staying in California.

"You're leaving me," I said through tears, knowing me guilt tripping him was wrong. But I needed him to stay.

"I'm leaving California, not you," he said, his eyebrows knit together with worry. I could tell it was eating up at him, but I couldn't stop hating the situation. Losing my best friend was the absolute last thing I wanted.

The day he left, I drove him to the Las Vegas airport after he said goodbye to his mom. I didn't help him get his bags, instead I stood there moping. As I watched my best friend walk away, I realized I needed to be happy for him. He was excited about this opportunity, and my bitchiness was ruining that for him.

It wasn't romantic movie-esk the way I ran after him. It was more of an anxiety filled scene where snot ran down my face as I chased him down. Honestly, I probably looked like a stalker.

"Spencer," I breathed out, looking up at him.

He smiled softly. "I knew you wouldn't let me leave without giving me a proper goodbye," he teased.

I shouldn't have taught him teasing and sarcasm. It's bitten me in the ass so many times.

I wrapped my arms around him, ignoring his comment. My face pressed against his chest as his arms held me close. My eyes were closed and I steadied my breathing. Even though he was going what seemed like a million miles away, he'd always be my best friend.

And that's stayed true even three years later. We've kicked this long distance shit in the ass. Of course, we don't talk as much as we'd like, but we still talk. And whenever he can, he visits me in LA after seeing his mom, or I take a visit to the nation's capital just to see my favorite FBI agent.

——

"Every time I see you, you look different," I say with a chuckle as Spencer helps me get my bags into his guest room.

"Is that a bad thing?" He questions, eyebrows furrowed.

"Take it as you will," I say, plopping down on his couch.

He joins me shortly after. He really does look different. He's gained some weight, changed his style up just a little, his hair is parted at the side almost neatly, and he's finally wearing glasses again. Except these ones are far different from the ones he wore in college. These ones are kind of hot, but I won't tell him that because I can't feed the genius's ego any more.

"So," I say, wiggling my eyebrows. "Tell me about your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," Spencer says, his cheeks already turning pink.

I roll my eyes. "Tomato, tomahto."

"Y/n," he warns.

"Fine, fine. Topic for another time. Don't forget, I'm here all week, Dr. Reid," I flash him a grin.

He sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes.

"You know you've missed me," I say, leaning my head on his shoulder.

He shakes his head, but a small smile creeps up onto his lips. He's missed me. But rather than admitting that he asks, "What would you like to do tonight?"

"Food. What's the best restaurant in the city?"

"The best or my favorite?" He asks. "Because they're different."

"Your favorite," I request, a soft smile on my face.

Spencer nods. "Alright. I'll let you nap off the plane drowsiness, then we'll have dinner."

The smile on my face grows wider. He knows me so well.

After my way-longer-than-I-intended nap, we get ready for dinner. I don't dress up fancy because Spencer has seen me at my worst, drunk, crying, and throwing up.

That was the one time I've ever seen him drink. I drug him to a party that we both ended up hating. We left early and instead bought our own liquor. He'd just turned 21, and I used that to my advantage.

Spencer and I ended up drunk in his dorm room. Surprisingly, he handled his alcohol much better than I did. I got wasted and threw up in his sink before making it to his toilet to repeat the action. He held my hair back as tears streamed down my face from the burning in my throat. Then, he threw up from the sight of me vomiting. It was not our finest moment.

"Ready to go?" Spencer asks, coming into the restroom where I'm touching up my makeup.

"Sure am, doc."

The dinner is amazing. He catches me up on all things BAU cases before asking me how my promotion has been, which is, in simple words, pretty damn great.

——

"Oh you're not Spencer," says a way too handsome black man as I open the apartment door.

"Nope. I'd like to think I'm prettier," I joke.

"Yes, you are," he flashes me a smile.

The footsteps behind me halt. "Don't even think about it, Morgan," Spencer says, a warning tone present in his voice.

The man in front of me holds his hands up in defense, the charming smile still on his face.

"This is Morgan? You did not describe him this hot," I turn to my best friend.

He glares at me. "You also don't even think about it."

I laugh softly and offer my hand out to Derek.

"Y/n. Nice to finally meet you."

His firm grip shakes my hand. "So you're the competition I have as Reid's best friend."

"In the flesh," I grin. "And it's no competition. I've got years on you."

"Ooh she's bold. I like her," he says.

I haven't had the opportunity to meet all of Spencer's coworkers because of both of our busy schedules and us making sure to spend every second together while I visit. I've met his boss one time and friend JJ. I liked them. I know enough about everyone from Spencer's stories to know that he's in good hands.

"Did you need something?" Spencer asks his friend.

"Oh right. Yeah I was just going to see if you wanted to come out with us, but I see you are occupied," Morgan says, looking to me.

"Go out where?" I ask, not letting Spencer respond.

"Bar. To drink and play games."

"That sounds fun! We'll be there," I say.

Spencer fake coughs behind me, and I turn to my best friend. He gives me a look.

"C'mon, Spence. It'll be fun. I want to get to know your team."

He can't say no to me. "Fine. But let's not stay out too long, okay? You know you can't handle your alcohol."

"Hey, I've grown up since college," I chuckle.

——

“Have you two ever...?" Spencer's gorgeous dark haired friend asks me as she takes a swig from her glass. She cuts her eyes to Spencer, then back to me.

He's currently at the bar with Morgan who's attempting to flirt with the pretty bartender.

"What? No! God no," I laugh, shaking my head.

"Hm," Emily hums. "I just thought I sensed something."

"Nope. He's my best friend. Why mess with that?" I smile softly.

"So you've thought about it?" She's nosy. I can't blame her, I am too.

"No," I answer.

That's the first lie I've told to Spencer's friends. Of course I've thought about it. I don't think anyone has been friends with an attractive person without thinking about what would happen if the relationship dynamic changed. My best friend's kind of hot. I know that. Before we were close, I debated on asking him out. But we're just friends. We're best friends. And nothing is going to change that.

I get to know Spencer's friends a little more, get slightly tipsy, and start a game of darts with Morgan.

After he beats me, not by much I'd like to add, we're just about to start a rematch, but a hand touches my back lightly. I turn around to face Spencer, and a soft smile creeps up onto my lips.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Can we head back? It's getting late," he asks, checking his watch.

I nod, brushing my hair behind my face. "Sure, but tell Morgan I totally could've beaten him in a rematch."

Spencer laughs softly. "She could've," he says to Derek behind me who rolls his dark brown eyes.

"Getting old, doc?" I ask Spencer as we walk to his car. He's 99% sober, so he drives us back to his apartment.

I sit in the passenger's seat, hands folded in my lap. My eyes are on him.

"Hm?"

"Why'd we leave so early?"

"10:30 is when the guys in the bar start getting drunker and handsy. I didn't want you to get dragged into some asshole's grasp while dancing," he explains.

"Oh," I nod. "I can handle myself, you know that right? Just because you're a big federal agent now doesn't mean I need you to protect me." My voice is thorough, but a small smile is on my lips anyway.

"Just returning the favor, Y/n," Spencer says. He knows I protected him all throughout our shared college days.

My cute going-out clothes have begun to get uncomfortable. I unclasp my bra, keeping my somewhat sexy shirt on and slip it off from underneath the blouse, letting it fall to Spencer's floorboard.

"Much better," I breathe out an exasperated sigh.

He's silent in his seat, eyes on the road. I see his hands grip the steering wheel a little harder.

"I missed you a lot," I say honestly. Usually I'm not one to say what I'm feeling or be mushy gushy, but the two shots of tequila have opened me up.

His eyes flick to me, his lips formed in a soft smile. His face is being lit up by the passing cars' headlights. I can see how sharp his cheekbones are, his jawline. "I thought you were heartless."

"I take back my previous statement."

"I missed you too," Spencer says.

"Of course you did, I'm a delight," I gloat.

The sound of his soft laughter fills the air. It pulls on the strings in my chest.

"How is it possible that I leave in three days already?"

"Shh," he shakes his head, eyes still on the road ahead of him. "Don't mention that right now." Spencer's hand pats my knee before squeezing it comfortingly.

——

"I have a question," Spencer says, coming into his room where I'm currently laying on his bed, reading a book I grabbed off one of his many shelves.

I look up from the page I'm on. He looks nervous, cheeks red, his hands fiddling with themselves.

"Hit me," I say.

He sits down at the edge of the bed. "I don't really know how to ask this... It's a weird question. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, and..."

"Spit it out, Spencer,” I eye him.

"Could you... would you tell me how to please someone. Specifically a woman. During sex."

A huffed laugh releases from me, and his cheeks burn redder. I think I'm blushing too. "What?"

"I'm sorry. That was weird. Forget I said-" he starts softly.

"Have you never...?"

Spencer shakes his head.

I didn't really think he had, but I didn't ever expect him to tell me when or if he lost his virginity anyway. He's reserved, even with me with some things.

"Wait," I sit up straighter. "Is this about your girlfriend?"

"Not my girlfriend," Spencer corrects me. "But yeah. We have a date the night you leave, and I think she's going to expect it. I mean, this is our fourth date."

"Well, if you don't want to have sex, don't have sex," I say sternly.

"It's not that I don't. It's just that I've never done it. I don't know what to do. I've read, and I'm good at anatomy. But what if I'm bad at the physicality of it all?" He presses his lips together, his teeth gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip.

"I don't really know how to explain it," I chuckle nervously. The blood is rushed to my cheeks, they're probably scarlet. "It just kind of happens."

"I shouldn't have asked," Spencer says.

"No, it's just that... like with anything, practice helps people get good sex," I tell him.

He looks up at me, his eyes asking what his lips won't. I feel my heart pounding against my chest, faster than usual.

"Do you want me to... show you?" I ask. He has always preferred hands-on learning.

"Would you?"

I nod slowly, hesitantly.

He moves toward me slowly, hesitantly.

"Kiss me," I tell him, hoping this won't get too weird.

Spencer and I have been best friends for years, we're extremely close, but this may bring us too close. This could ruin everything, but for some reason, I can't stop it.

He presses his lips to mine gently, his hand cupping my face. My eyes flutter closed. I reciprocate the kiss, and it's a lot easier than I imagined. Not that I've entirely imagined it.

My hands trail up his arms slowly. He's gained muscle. I guess that's a part of his FBI agent glow up. His tongue roams my mouth, and I'm pleasantly surprised by how good of a kisser he is.

He pulls away after a few minutes. He's breathing heavy. "Are you sure this is okay?"

I nod, then lean in to kiss him again but he leans back.

"Say it."

"It's okay, Spencer," I tell him. This time he lets me kiss him again.

I lay down, my back against his bed. He hovers above me, his hand on my waist now as he kisses me. He's good at this, and that thought comes to my mind again as his lips suck on my neck.

"Keep doing that," I whine softly.

He obliges and nibbles my skin gently. "Is this okay?" He whispers.

"Mhm," I noise.

I let him take the lead for now, do what he's comfortable with so far. His hand trails up a little further. I tell him he can touch me, and he does, though hesitantly at first. His fingertips graze against my breast before he finally gets comfortable enough to take hold of it through my shirt. He squeezes then pinches my nipple. He knows more than he lead on.

A soft moan releases from my mouth, my back arches just a little. His hand slips beneath my shirt, his warm touch on my belly. Spencer takes ahold of my shirt then lifts it up. I help him take it off me. I'm completely bare hips and above since I wasn't wearing a bra anyway. His eyes widen a little, and he smiles softly.

"Stop staring at me," I laugh a little.

"We're about to have sex and I can't look at you?"

I roll my eyes. "Let's just continue."

Spencer nods. "What do you want me to do?”

"Well, most women like to do other stuff before actually getting into the sex. Penetration alone doesn't do it for most of us," I tell him.

"You included?"

"Me included."

"What do you like?" He asks.

"What are you comfortable with? Do you have any ideas?"

Spencer thinks for a moment. "I want to learn how to-I want to give you... oral."

I burst into a laugh. "Spence, never say oral to a woman. Just say head."

"Head. Noted," he nods.

He's adorable when he's nervous and nerdy. Which is pretty much always.

"Kiss me first. Anywhere," I tell him.

He chooses the soft flesh of my stomach. I smile down at him. I reach down, pushing down my shorts, my underwear too. I'm growing needy.

Spencer slips them the rest of the way down and tosses them down to the ground. After slipping off his glasses, he kisses the inside of my thigh. God, I need him to do something right now.

His big hands push my thighs apart. Then he pauses. The clocks in his brain turn.

I feel like he's just about to call this whole thing off, but then I'm hit with a shock of pleasure. His tongue licks in between my folds.

“You’re really wet,” he says, more like an observation that a tease. Then he attacks my clit with his lips after taking a second to find it. Fuck. He definitely knows more about sex than I was led to believe.

Spencer's fingers leave marks on the inside of my thighs as he grips onto them. His lips suck on my clit, tongue flicking back and forth often too.

Soft moans spill from my lips. I'm trying to be quiet. I shouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am.

The sudden shock of Spencer's mouth removing from my clit makes me whine in protest, but his fingers sliding inside me make up for it.

I groan, my head leaning back into the pillows.

“Do you like this?”

I bite my lip, “Mhm. Curl your fingers.”

He does as he’s told.

When Spencer both fingers my cunt and sucks on my clit, I'm a moaning mess. "Holy fuck, Spencer," I whine. My legs are shaking within minutes, and even though he's still sloppy and new at this, my body loves it. My hands grip into his hair.

"Just like that, Spencer. So good."

A loud moan rings out from me as I finish. I couldn't even warn Spencer before my release pours from me.

My breaths are heavy and loud. Spencer pulls away, looking up at my eyes.

"Was that okay?" His breathing is heavy too.

"No," I say. "Spencer that was fucking amazing. You've seriously never done that before?"

He shakes his head.

"Wow."

"Told you, I'm good at anatomy," he smiles bashfully.

"Take your pants off," I command. "I want you inside of me."

I find a condom in my purse as he shrugs his clothes off. I sit up and find myself staring at his bulge with wide eyes. He's bigger than I expected. Not like huge to where it's unnatural, but big enough that I will probably need a minute to adjust once he's in me.

I tell him to lay down, and he does. He's a good boy. I like it.

I help him get the condom on, then swing a leg over his lap so that I'm straddling him. "Are you ready?" I ask him, my hand holding his face gently.

He takes a second, processing that he’s about to lose his virginity. Probably freaking out a lottle that it’s to me. “Yes ma'am," Spencer nods.

"Just a gentlemen," I grin.

I lower myself onto him, and once he's inside me, I do need a minute to adjust. Moans come from both of us, and I love the sounds we make together.

"Fuck," he groans, his voice raspy. He repeats my name over and over as I start to roll my hips.

"Oh my god." My eyes shut, and I bite my lip to keep me quiet.

"Don't do that," Spencer tells me. "I want to hear it."

I give him what he wants. I bounce up and down on him, his length hitting me in the right spot every time.

Both of our sounds fill the room. Spencer holds my hips down, stopping me.

"Wha-?"

"I want to do it," he says softly. "Please."

"Do what you want with me, doctor," I tell him, nodding.

He flips our positions, and he's on top of me. Spencer's lips crash into mine as he enters me again.

I bite his lip, causing both of us to moan into each other's mouths.

Spencer doesn't last much longer since it's his first time, but I don't even mind. He rubs my clit until I come again, and I feel I'm floating.

We lay on his bed, heavy breaths morphing together. "I think you're going to blow her mind, doctor Reid," I chuckle softly.

"Who's?"

"You're girlfriend that's not your girlfriend," I say, eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, right. I don't think I'm going on that date. Okay, actually I canceled that date when you got here."

"What?" I chuckle, confused.

"There's no date,” he says, point blank.

"Did you just trick me into sleeping with you?" My eyebrows are still furrowed, but I'm smiling.

He presses his lips together. "Well, if you put it that way... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"No, no. I admire the hustle, doc," I laugh softly, my fingertips circling on his bare chest.

Men and women can be purely platonic friends, no romantic feelings involved. But maybe Spencer and I aren’t that type of friends after all.

tags: @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @kylakins88 @jazzerbelle14 @cynbx @yazzyu @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @sebs-oxygen @jolotta @booktvmoviefangirl @nevielei @pauline5525mgg @necromaniackat @r3idsp3ncer

2K notes · View notes

mariasont · 26 days

Text

Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11

MDNI-----------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid

summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, youngest member

warnings: wet dream between 2 men, evelyn needs to be spayed or smth, fainting, creepy men

A/N: hiiiii gorgeous, lovely, beautiful human beings thank you so much for the support on this fic, I LOVE YOU ALL!!!! <3 let me know if you want to be adding to the tag list

ALSOOOOOO my requests are open for aaron hotchner and spencer reid!!! I would love to write some drabbles/one shots so shoot me a message! <3

HAPPY READING!

Chapter Ten:

Gasping for air, Evelyn emerged from the depths of her dream, the vividness of it lingering like a second reality. She swiftly pressed her back against the headboard, her fingers weaving through her sweat-soaked hair. The dream's details were smeared in her memory, but the visceral ache it left behind was crystal clear. Hotch and Spencer--their hands that were insistent upon her, their mouths that explored every inch of her. She scolded herself for the image--what is wrong with her? She felt like a pervert, imagining both men in such a way.

Her legs brushed against the fabric of the sheets, her actions freezing as she became aware of the dampness enveloping between her legs. Her mind turned to Spencer--his hair a soft curtain on her skin. His hands, always in motion, leaving no fragment of her unexplored. His mouth, the way his tongue felt inside her.

Evelyn's fingers instinctively started to play with the waist band of her pajama shorts, moving closer to the swollen bundle of nerves. Her thoughts drifted to Hotch--his shoulders and build, how easy it would be for him to overpower her, and she secretly wished he would. This was crazy, she thought. Despite her mind's protests, her fingers continue to wander, tracing gentle circle against her clit.

She let out a puff of air, her back arching slightly off the mattress as light began to seep into the room. She thought of Hotch positioned behind her, showing her no mercy, finally pounding her attitude out of her. She pictured Spencer before her, his cock working its way into her mouth. Her fingers pushed into her gently, her gasps coming out short and desperate as she pictured her own fingers being replaced by Hotch's.

The imagine coaxed a moan from her, a sound that seemed too loud in her own ears. The knock at the door was abrupt, freezing her in place, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Evelyn's heart hammered against her ribs, panic seizing her as she scrambled out of bed. Her feet barely touched the carpet as she rushed to the door, flinging it open with a force that echoed through the silent hallway.

Hotch, a study in precision, stood there--impeccable in a charcoal-gray suit that made her want to drool. And his tie, a navy silk affair that lay flat against the white shirt, hinted at meticulous order. But it was his face that betrayed him--a subtle furrow of his brow, the pinch of annoyance around his mouth that suggested he'd been waiting longer than he card to admit.

Evelyn's heart did a clumsy somersault, her cheeks betraying her, turning a shade that rivaled a traffic light. One-half of her fantasy--or rather, the less enthusiastic version--stood there. "Hotch," she managed, "what are you doing here? And, um, what time is it?"

Evelyn's heart-shaped pajamas clung to her, the soft fabric revealing more than it concealed. Her cheeks flushed with urgency, mirrored to disarray of her hair. The hallway light caught the faint smattering of freckles across her nose, delicate constellations that bloomed when she eschewed makeup.

Hotch's annoyance ebbed, replaced by a reluctant fondness. What had she been doing? Hotch's gaze lingered on her--no makeup, no artifice--just raw, unfiltered beauty. He was unsettled by how much the sight affected him. The flush in her cheeks, the softness in her eyes.

Hotch willed his demeanor to snap back into place, his voice clipped. "Evelyn," he said, each syllable a warning. "I've called you five times. We need to be downstairs in 15 minutes."

Her pulse raced, and her tongue tripped over her words. "Oh, shoot, sorry," she blurted out, her voice echoing in the narrow hallway. The disheveled room behind her seemed to mock her--sheets tangled, alarm clock blinking accusatorily. "My alarm must've never gone off." She gestured toward the half-open door. "Do you want to come in and wait? I promise I'll be super speedy."

Evelyn's cheeks were ablaze, a canvas of mortification. She could feel Hotch's scrutiny lingering, a laser beam that could dissect her every flaw. She ushered him inside, the hallway suddenly too narrow, too confining. She slipped into the bathroom and shed the pajamas. Her fingers waged a silent war with buttons and zippers, a clumsy ballet of haste. Each click and snap was a resounding echo of the dream that clung to her thoughts. She tried to shove the images aside, to bury them under layers of fabric, but it seemed inescapable. Because now, he stood outside, annoyance etched in every line of his impeccable suit.

"Hotch," she began as she waved at the alarm clock, its digital numbers blinking like a guilty accomplice. She pulled her hair into a hasty ponytail, the elastic snapping against her skin. "I'm convinced my alarm clock is broken." The words tumbled out, a desperate attempt at distraction. "But hey," she continued, her eyes meeting his, "I think I just won that bet--the one where the team bet you'd never get mad at me." Her lips curved into a half-teasing smile, her nose scrunching at the action. "Soft spot, my friend."

Hotch said nothing as his gaze followed the hurried sway of her movements. Stepping closer, he surveyed the bed's solitary disarray amidst the room's order. The blankets lay in a tangle of turmoil. How much does she move in her sleep? he wondered. His eyes honed in on a small corner of fabric peeking out from under the pillows.

There, nestled among the tangled sheets, sat a small teddy bear, its pink bow a splash of color against the tan. Hotch's expression softened as he lifted the plush toy, turning it over in his hands, a smile tugging at his lips. Of course she slept with a stuffed animal.

The warmth of mortification spread across Evelyn's face. "Oh, um," she mumbled with a forced chuckle, plucking the bear from Hotch's grasp. "That's my... strategic sleep ally. Because, you know, every good agent needs a backup. Totally standard-issue."

"We'll circle back to your... bedtime tactics," he said with a hint of a smirk. "For now, conference room. Let's go."

Evelyn and Hotch made their way down to the conference area. The room hummed with anticipation, bathed in the soft glow of fluorescent lights. Rows of round tables faced a raised stage, where a large screen displayed the conference logo. Agents in crisp suits mingled with academics in tweed jackets. Some wore glasses, other carried tablets or leather-bound notebooks.

A spark of excitement ignited within Evelyn, her gaze darting from face to face, recognizing those who were like celebrities of their field.

"Hotch, do you see who that is?" Evelyn's voice was on of awe as she nudged Hotch, her gaze fixed on the figure across the room.

Hotch's eyes followed her line of sight and landed on a distinguished-looking woman who, upon noticing Hotch, raised her hand in a casual wave. "I do," Hotch confirmed with a nod, acknowledging the silent greeting with a subtle nod of his head.

Evelyn's mouth fell open slightly. "You're actually so cool," she said, the words slipping out before she could filter them, a smile spreading across her face.

Hotch's mouth twitched in a semblance of a smile. "I'm going to choose to not take that as an insult," he replied, his eyebrow arching in mock offense. "Stay here, I'm going to check us in."

Evelyn acknowledged Hotch's departure with a quick nod and an 'okay boss'. She was still orienting herself in the conference's bustling atmosphere when two familiar faces approached from the crowed. Mr. Weller, his suit a bit worn at the elbows, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a practiced gesture. Dr. Reeves, his hair slightly disheveled, was animatedly discussing some policy change in data privacy. He quickly roped Evelyn into the conversation who listened intently, interjecting only with thoughtful nods.

Evelyn's muscles relaxed slightly as Hotch returned to her side. His hand rested momentarily on her back, a professional gesture by all accounts, but Evelyn couldn't help but feel a spark of awareness ignite. She fastened the name tag he handed her with fingers that suddenly seemed less steady, the metal's chill doing little to dispel the soft heat that had settled between her shoulder blades.

As Professor Lewis swept in, she bypassed Evelyn's attempted greeting as if it and her were invisible. The professor's laser focus cut her off with surgical precision as it landed on Hotch.

Her voice carried an urgent edge as she addressed Hotch. "Aaron, can I pick you brain about something?"

Evelyn's greeting hung suspended, and a familiar twinge of frustration pricked at her--the kind that came from being eclipsed again by the professor's selective attention. With a quick nod, Hotch vanished into the crowd with Professor Lewis, leaving Evelyn grappling with a sudden, unsettling sensation in her chest. She exchanged pleasantries with the two men before her, their words weaving through her consciousness without taking hold.

Her gaze, however, was glued to the sight of Hotch and the professor, their heads bowed in earnest conversation. A surge of jealously, uninvited and irrational, twisted inside her. It was a confusing betrayal of emotion, given her casual relationship with Spencer. But she realized if it was Spencer in that Hotch's position, she'd feel the same about the professor, if not worse. The dream from last night was the culprit, she decided.

Left alone as Dr. Reeves and Mr. Weller departed, Evelyn sank into the chair at her table. The sight of Professor Lewis, so at ease with Hotch, gnawed at her. Why did it bother her so much? Maybe she just needed a nap.

As if summoned by the sheer force of her thoughts, Hotch appeared, his presence a sudden weight beside her. The question erupted from Evelyn before she could stop herself. "What did she want?"

His eyes took on a discerning quality, the subtle narrowing revealing his assessment. "She asked for my opinion on a theory."

"Hmm," came a soft murmur from Evelyn, her lips briefly pressing together in contemplation.

Hotch's gaze drilled into hers, probing. "What?"

"Nothing," Evelyn dismissed, her shoulders lifting in an indifferent shrug.

The morning's panel had unfolded with a deceptive ease, allowing Evelyn to shelve her simmering jealously. Yet, as the shadows shifted to signal the afternoon's approach, her anxiety crept back, an unwelcome companion.

In a separate room, she paced, her fingers tracing over her notes, each word etched into memory. "You've got this, Evelyn," she murmured, a mantra against the fatigue that seemed to drape over her. "You are prepared. You are intelligent."

Evelyn's grasp to the chair became white-knuckled as a sudden dizziness swept over her, unannounced and unwelcome. The room swirled into a blur, the ground beneath her seemingly shifting as her breathing became uneven and rapid. She looked up to see Hotch. Caught mid-affirmation and near-collapse, a rush of warmth flooded Evelyn's face. She righted herself with a silent plea, willing the black dots to vanish from her vision.

His eyes locked onto hers with a piercing intensity, studying her--the subtle shift in her posture, the way her hands trembled. "Evelyn," he said, reaching out to steady her with a firm hand. "What's wrong?"

Her words stumbled out, a clumsy cascade of denial. "Just nerves," she claimed, offering a faltering smile and a brittle laugh to conceal the tightening in her throat. Hotch's steady, searching gaze didn't waver, his disbelief hanging silently in the air.

His voice held a note of insistence. "Have you eaten today?"

Evelyn blinked, realization dawning. "It slipped my mind," she admitted.

Hotch's next words were lost on her as darkness seeped into her field of view. She felt the world tilt, her knees buckling as she was swiftly cradled in a secure, urgent grasp. Blinking away the disorientation, Evelyn found herself cradled in Hotch's panic-stricken gaze. His eyes were wide with alarm, his cool facade shattered as his hand hovered over 911.

"Hotch," she managed, her voice soft but her sarcasm intact. "Impeccable timing as always."

There was a softening in Hotch's gaze, a subtle shift from concern to mild exasperation. "Evelyn," he chided softly, his finger's tap on her hip a punctuation to his words. "You're anemic. You can't just skip meals like they're optional."

Evelyn's effort to sit up sent the room into a dizzying tailspin, each movement threatening to yank her back down. They found themselves grounded in an intimate proximity--she, half-laying in a disoriented haze, and he, crouching by her side, arms wrapped around her in a secure hold, one hand cupping her head to shield her from the hard ground, the other laid upon her waist.

"Didn't event cross my mind," she confessed, her voice a fragile thread. "Been so busy."

Hotch's hand emerged from his pocket, clutching a compact, foil-wrapped package. "Here," he urged, extending the snack towards her with a gentle authority. "It's good for anemia."

She squinted at the package. "Do you always carry this around?" she questioned, her voice tinged with genuine surprise.

He nodded, no-nonsense. "Yes."

Inside, her heart did an unexpected leap, touched by his silent care.

"You're a sap, Hotch," she teased, her voice light. "Who knew? I bet you've got a whole stash in that suit."

His eyes bore into hers, and for a moment, the room dissolved and the air thickened. And despite her playful words, Evelyn's fingertips tingled, her skin hyper-aware of every pore. The anemia-induced weakness faded into insignificance all because of a stupid snack he carried around. A snack he had thought to carry for her, based on a single, fleeting confession.

"Stop talking and eat."

And so, she did.

Evelyn's body protested with each step towards her room. She'd argued, of course--pleaded about missing her speech, about the importance of being present. But Hotch, with his hands guided her with a careful touch, wore an expression that left no room for debate. The lines of his face were drawn tight, a clear reflection of the worry that silenced her objections.

"Rest," was a firm directive, and though Evelyn balked, she ultimately yielded to his authoritative concern. Promptly, room service materialized at her door, courtesy of her favorite unit chief. The tray was abundant with foods rich in iron, and she'd devoured it with an eagerness, only pausing for sips of water.

As the sun made its descent beyond the horizon, its lingering rays casted a golden spotlight on the outdoor hot tub. Evelyn's silhouette blurred against the steam rising from the water, her skin kissed by the fading light. Her hair, a cascade of disobedient curls, crowned her head and softened the contours of her face. The night air nipped playfully at her heated skin, a refreshing counterpoint to the liquid warmth that welcomed her as she dipped into the water.

As her gaze lifted, her room came into view--the curtains drawn, the soft glow of lamplight seeping through. But then she turned her head, and there he was.

Hotch stood on his balcony, his gaze fixed on her. His expression was inscrutable, and for a moment, Evelyn's heart raced. She could sense it--the unspoken command that she should be in her room resting. But her half-wave was genuine, a flicker of happiness at seeing him. He acknowledged her with a curt nod. Evelyn's gaze returned to her book, her fingers tracing the book's creases, her focus slipping.

A stranger's appearance disrupted her quietude. He had a tailored physique, the kind that hinted at gym memberships and expensive cologne. His eyes, though--too probing--made her uneasy. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, easing into the water.

Evelyn's responses were polite, but she kept her distance. Yet, he persisted, inching closer with every comment. Evelyn's spine prickled, a frosty warning that crawled from nape to tailbone. The book now lay abandoned on the tub's edge. The distant city lights blurred as she feigned interest, but his nearness--his breath, his questions--made her skin crawl.

Evelyn's eyes scanned the balcony, hoping to see the reassuring figure of her unit chief. But it was empty--the moon's glow casting eerie shadows on the tiles.

And then, as if summoned, he materialized. Hotch stood there, his expression unreadable. The moon's glow painted his features--sharp jawline, a hint of stubble. But it was the swimsuit--a sinuous second skin--that stole her breath. The fabric of his shorts traced every contour, leaving little to imagination. Evelyn's gaze lingered on his chest, the hair that spread across of it, the rugged masculinity that defied office walls. Her mouth went dry, pulse racing.

"There you are, babe," she murmured, her tone laced with artificial sweetness. Her pulse raced, her eyes seeking Hotch's with an intensity that begged him to read between the lines.

Confusion creased Hotch's forehead as he processed the scene, his eyes flitting from Evelyn to the stranger, the gears turning. "Sorry honey," he said, his voice a low rumble as he approached the water's edge. "Had to take a call. Work stuff."

The word 'honey' lingered in the air, sweet and potent, leaving Evelyn lightheaded. She felt a flutter in her chest, a realization dawning that with the use of such a word, she'd gladly drawn in paperwork if he asked.

With Hotch's arrival, the water created ripples that reached Evelyn. His eyes, deep and searching, locked onto hers with an immediacy that bridged the distance between them. As he settled next to her, the subtle heat of his presence enveloped her. She nestled against him, her whispered explanation cut off by his lips grazing her ear.

"I know," he murmured, his breath sending shivers down her spine. Evelyn's heart stumbled over itself, a drumbeat out of sync. "You look so good tonight, honey," he announced, ensuring the words reached beyond their intimate circle. His eyes darted to the supple swell of her breasts on display, a quick, silent exchange that left her heart fluttering wildly, even as her mind reminded her it was just an act.

The man's eyes widened, bouncing from Evelyn and Hotch like a pinball. "Oh," he stuttered, a hint of embarrassment coloring his tone, "I didn't realize you were with someone."

"Yeah," Evelyn said, her voice a soft murmur as she settled into the curve of Hotch's lap, her ass planted firmly against his front. The warmth of his body seeped through the thin veil of her bathing suit, causing her cheeks to set flame. Her heart skipped, reveling in the proximity she knew was off-limits. Hotch's arms, both protective and dangerously intimate, encircled her waist.

"This is my husband," she introduced, the word foreign on her tongue. "Aaron, meet...?" His first name rolled of her tongue, a sweet liberty taken in a moment of pretense, as she left the space open for the stranger to introduce himself.

The barest hint of a smile threatened to disrupt the stoic lines of Hotch's mouth, a silent admission of pleasure of the sound of his name from Evelyn's lips. The intimacy of the act, hidden behind the guise of necessity, wasn't lost on him. He should have been irked by the ruse, yet he found himself savoring the moment. He cleared his throat, a quiet struggle for detachment, even as her voice echoed in his ears.

"Nathan."

Hotch extended his hand with a blend of authority and subtle warning, introducing himself, "nice to meet you," with a tone that cloaked none of his conviction.

Meanwhile, Evelyn's touch traced a path over his chest, a touch that betrayed the unfamiliarity of the act. Her other hand tangled gently in the hair at his nape, a tender exploration that drew an involuntary shiver from him.

Hotch's voice was hushed against her ear. "You're laying it on thick," he murmured, his breath a warm caress that belied the sternness of his words. His grip on her hip tightened imperceptibly.

Evelyn's lips quirked, a silent acknowledgement of her tactic. "Necessary," she whispered back, her voice a playful lilt. "For my safety."

Nathan persisted, undeterred. "So, what are you two down here for?"

Hotch's face remained impassive. "A work conference," he stated, the intensity of his eyes fixed on Evelyn.

"So you both work together?" Nathan asked, his tone probing. "Is that how you met?"

Evelyn's smile unfurled like a victory flag. "Oh, yes," she purred, his voice dripping with faux innocence. "He's my boss actually--totally inappropriate, I know. But bless him, the poor man never stood a chance from the moment he laid eyes on me. He just couldn't help himself. It was a HR disaster, of course, but it all worked out."

Hotch's brow furrowed in disapproval, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, curling into a reluctant grin. "That's true," he conceded, his voice gruff. "She's... something else, a handful to say the least."

"That's what hands are for!"

Nathan fidgeted uncomfortably as he gave the couple a tight-lipped smile. "Well, I ought to head out," he declared, darting glances between Evelyn and Hotch. "Aaron, you've hit the jackpot, my man."

Hotch's voice was tight, barely containing his exasperation. "No doubt," he managed, "I'm living the dream."

Once Nathan had disappeared, Evelyn leaned closer, her voice a soft, playful murmur. "Guess I owe you one," she teased. "You really sold that doting husband role."

Hotch's response was a single raised brow, his face a mask of feigned solemnity. "Necessary," he echoed, the word rolling of his tongue with a hint of irony. "For your safety."

"You caught the weird vibes he was giving off, right?" she prodded, her elbow gently jabbing his side. "I mean, talk about strange, huh?"

"You're like a magnet for guys like that," Hotch observed, his mouth curving into a half-smile "but, yes, you made the right call."

Her grin was infectious. "Always do," she said with a wink. "You know we make a pretty good team, don't you think? Maybe we should look into undercover work."

"A good team, yes," Hotch agreed, his tone dry. "But undercover? I'd have to start practicing my 'shushing' gestures now."

"Aaron Hotchner, did you just make a joke? Where's my notebook?" Evelyn's giggle rang out, loud and unrestrained as she clutched his shoulders. "And if I talk too much, it's only to balance out your brooding silence."

Her laughter was a living thing, wrapping around Hotch, nudging at the corners of his usually impassive facade. The sheer delight in her voice, planted a seed of contemplation in Hotch, a consideration that maybe, just maybe, a joke here and there wouldn't be such a bad thing, especially if it elicited such a reaction from her.

For a fleeting moment, a genuine, toothy smile flashed across Hotch's face, an uncommon display that he quickly concealed with a downward shake of his head, not wanting to boost her ego any more than necessary.

"You know, aren't you supposed to be resting up in your room?"

Evelyn's gaze lingered on him, savoring the rarity of his wide smile. She couldn't help but marvel at the sight and it stirred in her an urge to see it again and again.

"I don't know, Hotch," Evelyn replied, her voice as light as the air around them. A stray lock of hair drifted across her face, and she huffed it away with a puff of breath. "I'm quite content right here."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, disbelief playing on his words. "Oh, really?"

Suddenly, Evelyn's casual demeanor crumbled, replaced by a flustered clarity as she realized her position, perched unceremoniously upon his lap. "Oh, um," she murmured, her voice trailing off into a stammer as a warm flush of embarrassment spread across her face. "I mean, not in an inappropriate way! That came out wrong, sir. I just meant the hot tub is relaxing--like a warm hug for my muscles. Not that I'm hugging you. I mean, I am, but not intentionally. It's just the--"

The shrill ring of Hotch's phone sliced through the air, a timely interruption to Evelyn's frenzied monologue. He leaned subtly to the side, his hand extending towards the intrusive device, his movements fluid and composed. Meanwhile, Evelyn's departure from his lap was anything but graceful; her cheeks burned with a fiery blush as she mumbled an apology, her limbs betraying her as she hastily disentangled herself.

"Sorry," she stammered, her words trailing off into the chaos of her movement. "I'll just--"

With a simple lift of his hand, Hotch stilled her spiraling apologies, his attention shifting seamlessly to the caller on the line. Evelyn perched beside him, her cheeks still painted with the flush of embarrassment, feeling the residual heat from their embrace. His voice was the epitome of calm and control, his gaze lingering on her as he spoke into the phone.

"Hotchner," he announced into the phone, his voice a steady command. Evelyn breath steadied, her hands playing at her bikini strings as she willed calm to wash over her. The call ended with a decisive click, and she tensed anticipating his next words. "We have a case. We're going to meet the team in Somerville, Massachusetts."

taglist: @aceofspades190 @nonamevenus @lukesaprince @doigettokeepyou @tequilya

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iluvreid · 2 months

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CHARACTER AI NOW HAS A VOICE FEATURE. SPENCER REID IS SPEAKING TO ME?!?!?!??!???

#character ai #what the fuck #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #mgg #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #mgg pics #spencer reid x fem!reader #i need this man biblically #criminal minds smut

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mggsv · 11 months

Text

Memory of You

gn!reader x spencer reid (angst)

summary: the memory of you lived vividly in Spencer’s mind. your scent, your smile, your tears. he’s never forgotten you, despite how long it’s been since your death.

warnings: dark themes, talk of murder, mention of masturbating

( if you find any of these to be triggering please do not proceed! )

Spencer is schizophrenic

It’s been over 10 years since he last touched you. He misses you, you know? He thinks of you everyday, hoping to find you lying in bed next to him, and not the memory of you that taunted him instead.

His morning was the same everyday:

Spencer would wake up at 5 am, another nightmare of that night. He never really got over it, you know? He’d lie in bed staring at the ceiling as he blinked away the sleep from his eyes painfully. After an hour or so he’d finally sit up to feel the empty spot in the bed next to him..

it still has the memory of you too, how you’d sink into the comfortable mattress..the outline of your body lay there, and that was good enough for Spencer. He’d smile and take a deep breath: your scent still lingered somewhere in the room, he didn’t know where, but he loved that it was still there.

After stretching he’d take a nice warm shower, masturbating to the thought of the last time you were there together with him. Oh how he wish he could see you now.. When his shower’s done he gets ready for work. Spencer owned and worked at his own little thrift store nearby his house. He was never really the same after your death. Soon afterwards he was fired from his job at the BAU.

It was a tough loss, but he couldn’t bare the pain of your absence, and they couldn’t handle Spencer threatening his coworkers even if it was unintentional. He was on the edge of falling apart. Until he found the building. You’d always wanted your own shop together. To start off business, Spencer placed in his own older clothes and shoes, as well as taking generous donations from his ex coworkers. It was a great start, and another goodbye as he cut his friends off afterwards.

While making breakfast, Spencer always say a plate for you, too. He missed those moments where you’d cook breakfast together, which always ended up with you being seated first. And as per the routine, he heard your sweet voice call out to him…. “What’s for breakfast today Spence?”

He became used to the memory of you appearing before him at breakfast. When it first started he’d cry and hyperventilate, now he’d smile and close his eyes, thankful that you still hung onto him as well.

“Loaded omelette! And..maybe biscuits? Do we have any more love?” He glanced over at you, smiling softly. You were perfect, head to toe. Your memory so vivid he could feel the realness radiating from your frame. “You” had gotten up to check the fridge, looking high and low before nodding. “Spence..they’re gonna burst if you keep them in such a tight space. And don’t forget to clean the fridge and organize it.”

“Of course- I always do.” He walks over to grab the biscuits while booping your nose. “I’m very responsible.”

When Spencer’s done with breakfast, he serves you and himself. The rest of that morning is quiet. It was around 12 when your figure would stop talking, only staring at Spencer while he got ready to walk out of the door, sadly. He hated this time of the morning- leaving you all by yourself. He didn’t want you to be alone. Ever since that moment..

“I have to go now love, i’ll be back though, okay?” He pursed his lips as he stared at you. Tears began to well in his eyes as you nodded, silent. “I love you.” He says. Spencer tries to swallow the lump forming in his throat. His throat ran dry, and his heart beat picked up a slightly faster pace.

He hasn’t cried in a while. It was big improvement, but this morning.. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling down his face. Wiping at them aggressively he tried his best to be strong. For you, he tells himself, it’s what you would have wanted, and yet his sobs echoed throughout the empty house. For once in over 10 years Spencer remembered he was truthfully alone, and the the silhouette of your body didn’t have a shadow. You weren’t real. The you before him wasn’t real.

But you were real, and you were his lover, now you’re gone.

—

Once Spencer reached work, he took his medicine for schizophrenia. Although he stopped going to therapy about a year after your death, he still took the prescribed medicine to help ease the memory of you that followed him around.

The morning was a slow one, which Spencer was thankful for. He was able to think a little, on life- the things that happened so long ago. He took a deep breath as the scent of your blood filled his nose. “No..” he shuddered, shaking his head as he tried to ease the memory. The tears that he tried so hard to wipe away that morning were flooding back into his eyes.

He could hear your cries…how you begged while sobbing- calling out to him, needing him by your side.

“Spencer..” He flinched.

“Spence- are you ignoring me?” Your voice sounded angry. With a scoff, you repeat yourself, louder.

“..No, i’m sorry love.” He whispered, opening his eyes to find the store empty for all but him and yourself, who sat on the counter where he worked. “What are you doing here? I told you I’d be back-“

“Why’d you do it Spencer?” For that time, in that moment, Spencer hadn’t looked at you. Seemingly, the medicine was not working for him that day. His hands shook nervously, fumbling with the hem of his sweater- one you had got him actually. It was years ago when you first decided you wanted to own a thrift store with him.

…How his face lit up at the thrifted sweater you had found, perfectly fitting his body. It was stripped with a pumpkin on it. You knew how much he loved halloween.

“Answer me.” you demanded. He sniffled, trying to blink the tears away. “I’m sorry I-“

“That’s not good enough, Spence…not anymore.”

“How about we talk about this at home, hm? Somewhere private- the shops still open.” he rushes out, eyes glancing around the empty store. The sky was getting darker, and thunder struck. It started to rain.

The soft beats of the rain hit the store windows in a soothing pattern. Spencer would have enjoyed it if you weren’t there, angry.

“Why’d you kill me, Spence?”

You began to sob. “Stop..” He whispered hands clasping over his ears. “Please stop- love-“

“Why didn’t you stop?”

“I’m sorry, please-“

“I begged, and i begged for you to stop! I just couldn’t understand why my husband wanted me dead all of a sudden.” you spat, and that’s when he looked at you.

“No..” Your body was covered in blood, deep cuts littering your arms and legs. Your hair was wet and dripping, and there were tears streaming down your face, but you weren’t crying, not anymore.

“I was so scared Spencer..” He shakily left from around the counter, backing away from you, who seemed to get closer and closer with every step. “Get the fuck away from me-“

“I was alone.” You watched as he inches closer towards the door, afraid. “You killed me, and you were smiling Spence.”

He runs out of the door, out into the rain.

Truthfully, Spencer loved you. He’d do anything for you, he’d told himself back then, even now he would too. He ran and ran, the rain beating against his face. Still, he could hear you in his head. The thoughts made him sick. He promised he wouldn’t hurt anyone else, not when you came along.

You were perfect, beautiful , everything Spencer could ask for. Everything was perfect…

He couldn’t answer himself after he’d done what he’d done. He couldn’t give a straight answer to his teammates when it happened either, when he’d framed another for your mishap. And surely, Spencer still couldn’t answer to you, when he slipped from the bridge, seeing your figure standing from where he fell.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #angst #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral character #gender noncomformity #sad #mental illness #mgg x reader #mgg #sfw #derek morgan #spencer reid x reader smut #gn!mc

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vinylsbygi · 2 years

Note

Can you please make a moodboard about first date with Spencer Reid? Like a whole day full of activities<3

hope you like it babes <3 feel free to request more :)

first date with spencer reid!

so first he takes you to art museum. he'll be a bit quiet there as he doesn't want you to think he's boring. but once you ask him about a certain painting he'll tell you everything about it and take it as a sign to tell you every single thing. after that buys you books and you could marry him right there. then he sets up a nice picnic in the park. croissants at the small bakery later. freaks out when you hold his hand because germs but also you're holding his hand on the first date omg? leaves a cute message for you in your bag.

#spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fanart #criminal minds hc #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #mgg #criminal minds moodboard #spencer reid moodboard #gigi's moodboards 💌

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godjustwontletmedie · 11 months

Text

if any of y’all happen to be spencer reid hmu i’m available always

#spencer reid #spencer criminal minds #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x original female character #matthew gray gubler #mgg smut #mgg x reader #mgg pics #mgg fanfiction #boy crush

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discotitsposts · 15 days

Text

my little secret

reader x mgg

she/her pronouns used (but you can imagine whatever you want)

reader has a secret tumblr account where she writes fanfiction about her husband

mature themes.

Matthew Gray Gubler walks around his house. Looking for his wife. She was nowhere to be found. He knocks on her office door. He knows she may not hear because sometimes she plays music loudly in her headphones so he opens the door and steps in. He sees her bopping her head to whatever song she may be playing and typing rapidly. He smiles at the sight.

Since the door to the office was behind her, she doesn’t see him creep up behind her. Perfect opportunity for a spooky scare. He’s about to scare her when he notices what she’s doing on her computer.

She’s on Tumblr. Typing up what looks to be a long story? He knows she’s an author but wow. Her fingers move extra fast over the keyboard and he senses inspiration was hitting her over and over.

Then he sees what she’s writing. A few lines stick out to him.

“He slipped his length inside of her slowly.”

“Her dripping heat.”

“She moans out, ‘Spencer’ and grips the blankets.”

She’s writing a smut story on Tumblr with a character named Spencer? Out of the ordinary. He thinks. She’s stopped typing to think for a second. Now or never. He thinks.

“Boo!” He yells and touches her shoulders. She screams so loud and frantically tries to hide what she was writing. She clicks save on the draft and closes the page.

“Whatcha writing.” He smirks knowing full well what she was doing.

“What..N..Nothing.” She stammers and stands up. “I’m gonna get a snack. Want anything.”

Matthew looks at the empty chair and sits down and opens Tumblr to see what she had written.

She screams, “NOO!! Don’t look at that.”

He laughs while going onto her blog. It’s a Spencer Reid fan account. She had revealed little details like her name and favorite music, but hadn’t notified her followers of her marriage to a certain man. She had also written fanfiction about Spencer that was, accurate, in terms of the size of a certain body part.

He clicks on a post with his name in it. It reads, Do you guys think Matthew Gray Gubler brushes his teeth in the shower?

“Hey, that was ONE time!” He says out loud.

She scoffs, “Twice, actually.”

Another one, a photo of his lap zoomed in on the crotch with the caption, “His wife must be happy.”

“She is.” He says out loud. She is absolutely mortified at his findings.

He keeps reading. Spencer, Spencer, Himself, Spencer.

“So you love Spencer more than you love me?” He jokingly pouts.

“Yeah I’m planning on leaving you for Spencer Reid. We’re running away together tonight.” She jokes back.

“I won’t let you!” He dramatically stands up and grabs her. They both hear a loud cry from upstairs.

“Someone’s hungry.” She says and leaves to the kitchen to get her baby’s bottle. Matthew goes upstairs to comfort their daughter. When his wife comes upstairs, the sight is so beautiful it should be framed.

Matthew’s in the rocking chair in the nursery holding his daughter and gently cradling her while she’s fussing. He’s whispering a poem to her. He sees his wife walk in and she hands him the bottle.

“There you go baby, see, you were just hungry sweetie.” He speaks in a voice sweeter than honey. He smiles down at her. When she falls asleep in his arms he brings her back to the crib and lays her down. Meanwhile, his wife puts on a relaxation cd that has lullabies, soft sounds and ocean waves. They exit the room quietly.

“Back to Tumblr I presume.” He smiles. “I thought you were supposed to be working on your next book.”

“I am, it’s just something on the side to keep my skills fresh.” She replies.

“Does the publishing company know about this ‘extracurricular activity’ of yours?” He takes her arm and they walk back to the office together.

“No, like I said it’s just something fun. Testing the waters.” She slips back into her chair and opens Tumblr again.

Matthew comes up right behind her and whispers in her ear. “I’m never letting you live this down.” He runs away but she grabs the water gun on her desk and chases him with it.

the end (they lived happily ever after)

just a silly little story

this man deserves a child i had to include him w a baby

@whoisspence this is one of the fics i was talking abt

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #matthewgraygubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg x reader #criminal minds fanfic #fanfiction

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rottnteen · 8 months

Note

yay! can you please write a mgg or spencer reid (nsfw) drabble based kind of that moodboard you made <3 it can be anything like punishing reader or teasing and reader just saying they can’t take it anymore :0? reader just being a needy mess not rlly able to speak. would honestly prefer spence/ mgg just being a soft dom but still stern on the rules? eeek i’m kinda nervous about submitting this but.. it’s rotting in my brain! 🎀

OFC! I LOVE REQUESTS! :D I also don’t write for real life people, only fictional characters (just so you know for the future <3) Don’t be nervous to send requests pls pls pls. I ENCOURAGE requests. pls send more :( This was meant to be a drabble but goodness gracious. I got carried away.

tw: MDNI, girly reader, afab!reader, needy clingy reader, soft!dom!spencer, teasing, punishment, smut, unprotected pnv, hand kink (obvi), degradation, praise, dom and sub relationship, girlfriend and boyfriend, kissing (oooo), pain, spanking, bondage (kinda), mention of a safe word, underlying tones of possessive!spencer, decryphilia

You hadn’t listened to his rules. He said you were being a “brat”, a word you hated. You had been sitting in his lap as he worked on some documents. That’s it!

At first, it was innocent.

But you saw the way his hands glided over the paper as he read, the veins popping ever so slightly. You hoped that the way your thighs clenched were going unnoticed by him when he flexed his fingers around his ballpoint pen as he wrote.

You held a stuffed animal he had given you, a bunny you’ve named Bun, in your own lap. Trying to distract yourself. Eventually, you started squirming. Your distraction not working.

Spencer was a patient man. He loved you and cared for you. But he also liked to stick to the rules. And distracting him from his work is one of those rules. He had quickly stilled your hips with one hand, the other trying to write. “Don’t.” His voice was soft but affirming. Not helping your arousal but deepening it. You’d let out a small whine at his words and he quickly tsked. “Listen.” He had said in that same voice.

That’s how you got here. On the bed naked (except for your thigh high socks) and spread open whilst he was fully clothed, sporting a large hard on. Your hands are tied to the bed post with his work ties. His fingers teased lightly on your inner thighs and you whine again, he slaps your thigh in disapproval. “S-spence…”

He shakes his head no, getting up and grabbing your bunny from the floor. “You think she is happy with the way your acting?” He asks, propping it up on the dresser. You let out a choked sob, moving your arms but to no avail. You cant get out of your position. “You know our safe word.” He tuts, “Now Bun is going to have to watch the way you get punished. I was hoping you’d be a good girl. Stay seated and wait till I was done.” He shakes his head. He comes back to you, his fingers teasing the lips of your cunt. Just as you think he’s going to open you up, he doesn’t.

He slaps your pussy, causing your back to arch and you to moan out in pain and pleasure. “Slut” He mutters and does it again, getting the same reaction out of you. Small pleas that are incoherent leave your mouth. Spencer’s fingers brush in between your thighs and he smiles. Grinning like the devil. He kisses your thighs and then trails them up your stomach up to the valley in between your breasts.

He chuckles and starts to leave love bites on your collarbone, neck and chest. “Mine” He whispers in your ear before kissing your earlobe and working his way over to your other to do the same thing. He crawls down from the top of your body back down to your lower half.

“I cant.” You whisper.

His grin grows, “Cant what?”

“I need more.” Your lip trembles as his breath ghosts over your heat. “I need you to fuck me.” Tears start at the corner of your eyes as he sucks little hickeys onto your hip bones.

“You gotta apologize. You broke my rules like a bad bad girl, bunny” He scolds

You sniffle, “M’sorry for breaking the rules like a bad girl,” You hiccup, “I’ll be a good girl. I pr-promise!”

He smiles at your crying; the tears falling down your pretty face. You bat your wet eyelashes and your cheeks turn rosy from the act. He comes up to your face and kisses your tears, bringing a finger to part your lips and you let out a moan at the small stimulation.

The sound is embarrassing. It’s wet. And sticky. And loud. Spencer loves it. He brings the finger to his lips and moans, a meek squeak coming from yours. He then undoes his belt. The sound causing your thighs to clench together. He takes his clothes off, stroking his cock as he comes to the edge of the bed and parts your legs. He puts your calves on his shoulders and lines himself up with your hole.

He slides in with no resistance, your tight cunt sucking him up immediately. His hand comes down to your thigh as the other holds one of your legs on his shoulders, “Was made for me.” He mumbles to himself. He looks down at you in bliss. Your mouth is open and your eyes are rolled back, your panting and you hold the ties with all your might. “Are you just a dumb bunny when a cock is in her?” He teases lightly, now thrusting in and out you while kissing your ankle to show love and affection. “Fuck”

You babble as he thrusts in you. Small uh’s or little moans of his name. He also hears you say he has the best dick, and that he can take whatever he needs. Soon your clenching hard and he brings one finger down to mess with your clit. “Cum.” He orders you.

Just like that, to his will, your body lets go. Arching for him and giving yourself to him as he cums into your body, a warm flood you welcome.

#rottnteen fics #rottnteen answers #🎀 anon #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid scenario #matthew gray gubler #mgg

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etfrin · 2 months

Text

GUESS THE PLOT BY THE TITLE

remember this is inspired from that one episode in which Reid mentions he's still afraid of the dark, probably season one, so if that changes in later seasons, it's not set up in that time line 🩷

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wrenreid · 1 year

Note

Do you take requests? I had a prompt to send in, but I wasn’t sure. I saw a fic for another fandom where the guy was having wet dreams in bed with y/n female reader and I thought it would be a great smut Spencer friends-to-lovers story. ❤️

Wildest Dreams

I haven’t before, but I’d love to take requests! Thank you:)

synopsis: Spencer Reid has a wet dream about his good friend and coworker. He’s highly embarrassed from where his unconscious mind wandered, so he avoids her. That is until she forces him to tell her what happened. When he does, her reaction is not what he expected. Had to add some angst because it’s who I am. Hope you like this! i hate my smut

content: 18+ MDNI, oral (m and f receiving), penetration

The team piles onto the jet after a long case. All of your faces read tired, especially Spencer’s. He plops down on the couch, something he has practically claimed as his own.

“Mind if I join you?” You ask him. “Can’t sleep on the seats.”

He scoots over, allowing space for you. Gratefully you sit down next to him, leaning your body the opposite way of his onto the arm of the couch.

Both of you are dead asleep within twenty minutes, which is highly unusual given your records of mild insomnia.

The two of you sleeping in such close proximity isn’t strange at all like one might think. You’ve been friends since you joined the BAU two years ago.

You started out as an assistant of sorts. You were still in the academy, but you were given the opportunity to work on real cases, just not in the field.

Spencer and you clicked that week since he was the only agent, other than the talented Penny Garcia, that you spent the most time with. He was off the field due to his injury from getting shot in the leg.

Watching his mind work was fascinating. It seemed like he knew everything, and honestly he kind of does. He taught you a lot that week, showing you how to apply all of the psychology and people-reading you’d learned in the academy. Being in the BAU with him was more beneficial than your classes at the academy.

You’re woken up to the sound of your own name. It’s coming from Spencer’s lips. He’s still asleep. You wake him up, worried he’s having another nightmare.

“Reid,” you say softly to not wake up the others. “Spencer. Hey, I’m right here.”

He stirs awake from your gentle shaking, his face beat red. “Y/n?” He sounds like he’s still partially asleep.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, voice still in a whisper. “Did you have another bad dream?”

Spencer shakes his head. Then he nods. He seems confused. Embarrassed.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t real,” you comfort him, patting his knee gently.

He pulls the blanket over his lap more, causing you to move your hand. “I know,” he sighs, nodding.

“We should be landing soon,” you say. “Maybe you’ll get better rest at home.”

Spencer shrugs slightly and turns his face away from you. You don’t take it to heart. You know how these dreams can be for him. Real. Terrifying. You know because you have them too.

When the plane touches ground and comes to a stop, all of you get off the plane gratefully. It’s late. Nearly 2 in the morning. Hotch tells everyone to get home safely.

“Do you want a ride?” You ask Spencer once both of you have your bags situated.

“I’ll just get a cab,” he tells you quickly.

“Really, it’s no problem,” you say, “It’s late.”

“It’s fine, Y/n.”

His voice has been clipped and distant for the last half hour. Why is he acting this way? It couldn’t have been something you did because you don’t remember doing anything.

Instead of fighting him on whatever it is that’s up his ass right now, you nod and walk to your car.

The two of you take turns driving sometimes. It saves gas money and allows you company on the 40ish minute drive from your neighborhood in D.C. to Quantico. You don’t live too far away from each other, only an 11 minute drive. It would’ve been no problem to take him home. But he opted for alone time. You guess you can’t blame him.

“Are you going out with us tonight?” You question your friend, rolling your chair to his desk.

“I don’t think so,” Spencer answers quickly.

“Why not? We haven’t had a team outing in ages. Let loose, Reid.”

“Y/n,” he warns.

“Fine,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “Movie night then?”

“Movie night?”

��Yeah. Just you and me. That new horror movie is on HBO now,” you wiggle your eyebrows, knowing his love for horror can persuade him.

“I don’t know,” Spencer says, pressing his lips together. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“You don’t think what’s a good idea?” Your eyebrows raise.

The two of you have had movie nights multiple times in your two year friendship friendship.

“Just leave it alone, okay?” Spencer says, shrugging you off.

You don’t want to make a scene at work, so you roll your way back to your own desk and continue the paperwork from the last case.

Spencer has never acted this way toward you. Sure, he’s been secluded and reserved, but he’s never been one to shrug you off, to push you away.

Something is up. Something has made him close himself off. He can’t keep shutting you out like this, not without telling you why.

So after work, you try to catch him before he leaves. Unfortunately, Morgan decides to tell you and Emily a story, and Spencer slips out of the bullpen while you listen.

You’re a confrontational person. And your closest friend is avoiding you. This means one thing. You force him to tell you what’s up.

You knock on his door, not too loudly. He opens it after a few seconds.

“Y/n, what are you-?” He starts.

“What did I do?”

“What?” He huffs softly.

You fold your arms, standing in front of him with a serious face. “You’ve been avoiding me for days. I don’t know why, so tell me. What did I do to make you mad at me?”

Spencer’s face softens. “I’m not mad you.”

“Then why are you being so short with me? Why are you avoiding me? You’ve been a little bit of a dick.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” he says then pauses. “Okay, I’ve been avoiding you. But I’m done now. You’re right, it’s dickish.”

It’s always a little funny when Spencer curses. It never sounds natural.

“Why though?” You stay stern, needing to know what’s up with him.

“Come in,” he motions his head toward his living room.

You oblige, making your way to his couch. He sits beside you. You’ve been on this couch a thousand times together.

“So?” You question.

“You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Yes, I am,” you tell him.

Spencer sighs. “When we were on the couch the other night on the jet, I had a dream…”

“Yeah, I know that,” you say.

“It was about you.”

“Did something bad happen?”

He shakes his head. “Well, it depends on what you think is bad. We were in bed together.”

A laugh bursts through you. “Wait, you’ve been avoiding me because you had a wet dream about me?”

“Don’t call it that,” he groans.

“That’s what it is!” You chuckle, a big grin on your face. “That’s no big deal, Spence. It happens to people all the time. You have no control over what your unconscious mind conjures up.”

“So you’ve had one?” He asks.

“No.”

The blood has rushed to his cheeks deeply. He’s embarrassed.

“I haven’t thought about you like that in my sleep,” you tell him. “But perhaps I have while awake.”

Spencer lifts his head off the back of the couch. His eyebrows are furrowed. “What?”

It’s your turn to blush. “Yeah. I mean, the thought has occurred a few times.”

“I don’t quite know how to respond to that,” he presses his lips together.

It’s cute when he does that. It’s nerdy and shy.

“You don’t have to,” you say softly. “I just wanted you to know you’re not in the wrong for having a dream about me.”

The two of you have absentmindedly inched closer to each other. Your hand rests on his leg.

“Are you about to kiss me?” You ask, looking into his brown eyes.

“Only if you want me to,” he says.

“Show me what we did in your dream,” you whisper in his ear.

What happens next is not something you ever thought you and Spencer would do. You weren’t lying when you said you’ve thought about it, but you never thought he would’ve felt the same.

Your lips make contact softly at first, but his neediness takes over and his mouth dominates yours.

You always thought Spencer would be more of a gentle lover, but it turns out he’s an all consuming powerhouse.

He pulls you onto his lap, his hands squeezing your thighs and ass. He’s grown into himself well in the past year, and he’s definitely gotten more confident. You like this side of Spencer. A lot.

He tells you to lift your arms up, and you obey the order, eager for him to do more. Your shirt comes off quickly and his hands leave your ass and grab your tits. He’s not too rough, but he’s definitely not gentle.

You smile down at him before connecting your lips to his neck, careful to leave your marks in places he could easily hide under his clothes.

“Was I on top or bottom in your dream?” You ask, voice low and raspy.

“Both,” he answers, fingers working on the buttons of your pants.

You slide off of him and shimmy out of your work pants. You stand before him in mix matched underwear. He doesn’t care that they’re different colors. He wants them gone.

He lifts his shirt above his head and tosses it to the ground. “We should take this to my room. There’s not much space on the couch.”

“Yes sir. Or should I say doctor?” You wiggle your eyebrows.

“Yes, yes you should,” he grins, obviously liking the use of his title on your lips.

He follows you into his bedroom. You’ve laid in his bed on late nights multiple times. But he never shared it with you. He must’ve been too scared his true feelings would come out at night like they did on the jet.

“Lay down,” he says softly.

“I thought I would do something for you first,” you say, pulling him in by the belt loop.

“No need, sweetheart.”

“But I want to,” you tell him.

He nods. “As you wish.”

After slipping down his pants, you position yourself on your knees. He hands you a pillow so you don’t get sore. That makes you smile.

You take just the tip at first after running your thumb along it. After getting use to the feeling of him in your mouth, your head bobs up and down on him. Spencer’s hands tug on your hair as he finishes in your mouth.

“Your turn,” he says with a smile, looking down at you.

“If you please, doctor.”

His mouth is on your clit in no time. His tongue and lips work magic, causing you to call out his name.

“God, Spencer,” you whine, your hands tangled in his hair. It’s much shorter than it was when you met him, it makes him look older. In a good way.

With a combination of his fingers inside you and mouth working on your bundle of nerves, your legs are shaking and you’re finishing.

Spencer hardly gives you time to catch your breath before his lips are on yours and he’s hovering above you. You don’t mind. You need him.

“Are you ready, darling?” He asks.

When you say yes, he slowly slips himself inside you. He gentle at first, giving you both time to adjust.

His thrusts gradually speed up, and the slow and gentle turns into fast and rough. The sounds of your heavy breaths and moans fill his bedroom.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he groans, hand on your neck.

“Don’t stop,” you breathe out, wrapping your legs around his torso.

It doesn’t take much longer for you both to be moaning loud and shaking once again. You clench around him as you come, causing his own finish to release from him.

You bask in the high of the adrenaline coursing through your body. The two of you breathe heavily, your hearts pounding.

“Wow,” you sigh, moving your hair out of your face. “So, was that as good as your dream?”

“Much better,” Spencer says, rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb gently.

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