#spencer reid soft angst

[stairain]

Down by the Dock.

After telling Spencer how distant he's been, he's determined to prove just how close he can get with you.

Warnings: Soft Dom Spencer, slight angst, creampie, breeding kink, gentle sex, praise, nicknames, missionary. 

WC: 4.3K

You were sitting on the edge of the dock, lightly skidding your feet into the water of the ocean as you looked onward at the sunset. Swirls of orange, pink, and purple overtook the sky as you sat on the damp wood surface, right outside of you and Spencer’s beach house.

This was supposed to be a romantic getaway from your daily lives, a time where you could be with him as much as you wanted and needed, however, that still didn’t deter the dull ache in your chest. 

A few minutes passed, and you heard footsteps padding closer to you. Spencer walked out onto the deck with a blanket over his shoulder and his hands in his pockets. He saw you and smiled.

"Hi. Ready to watch the sunset?" He asked, gesturing to the blanket he had brought for you. You look over your shoulder at him and give him a solemn smile.

“Yeah..” Turning your head back to the sky, you bring your legs to your chest, tucking your knees under your chin.

Your boyfriend sat down next to you, wrapping the blanket over your shoulders and putting an arm around you as he did so.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly, his tone filled with concern. You take a deep breath and let the crisp evening air flood your lungs, you look away from him as you bite your lip. 

“I don’t know, Spence..”

"Do you want to talk about it, baby?” He asked gently, rubbing your shoulders and looking at you with a gentle and comforting expression. He had always wanted you to feel the same comfort around him that he felt around you. He wanted you to know that you could come to him about anything. Spencer always did whatever it took to make you feel better, and this was no exception.

He would do anything for you, no matter what it was.

You turn your neck to look at him with glossy eyes and quickly look away. “Are we okay..?”

With a nod, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. He smiled comfortingly.

"Of course. We're always okay.”

He said quietly, holding you close after the kiss. He felt a sense of responsibility for you that he had never before felt for anyone else, and he wanted to make sure that you felt safe around him. He wanted to make you feel loved, cared for, and understood, so he held you close to him. 

"What can I do to make us better than ‘okay’”? He asked, knowing you needed comfort. You shook your head at his words and sniffed.

“I-I don’t know.. Just been feeling like we’ve been drifting, recently..”

Spencer’s heart broke at your words, and he held you even closer.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

He mumbled, rubbing your back slowly in a comforting, soothing way. "How long have you been feeling that way?” 

You let yourself be held by him, and you could feel the tears running down your cheeks, soaking into the blanket he had wrapped around you.

“You’ve just been so busy with work and I know how important it is, b-but I just- I don’t know.. feeling not so important to you, you know?”

He nods as he wiped some of the tears from your eyes with a soft expression of remorse.

"I should have realized sooner. I'm sorry, sweetheart.” He whispered sweetly, stroking your face with his hand. "I don't want you to feel like my work is more important than you. Because in the end, if I had to choose, I'd only ever choose you."

Taking a few staggering breaths, you nod at his words. “Thank you, Spence.. I’m sorry for all of this.” You look down at your hands and begin to play with your nails to distract yourself.

"Stop apologizing, sweetheart. You're allowed to express your emotions. And I'm here to support you, no matter what. Don't be afraid to come to me."

He whispered, his tone filled with understanding and kindness. He gave you a soft smile, wanting nothing more than to help ease your pain. "This was my fault. Not yours. I should’ve noticed earlier on. And you're not alone; I'm here for you. Always."

With another nod, you look up at him and gaze into his eyes, admiring how the colorful sky reflected beautiful light on his features. “I love you, Spence.”

His heart fluttered at your words, causing him to blush ever so slightly. He placed his hands on your cheeks gently, leaning in just slightly and kissing you softly on the lips.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

He whispered gently, holding you close after the kiss. He was grateful to have you in his life, and he hoped you knew just how much he cared about you, how much he loved you.

As soon as he had broken the first kiss, it had only left you wanting more. Hearing his confessions of pure, unbridled love and care for you made a deep passion inside of you ignite. 

You look at him with a faux pout on your mouth.

Spencer chuckled softly at the pout on your face, and leaned in again, kissing you gently on the lips, this time kissing you a little more passionately than the first one. His hands rubbed your back gently, and he ran a hand through your hair, pulling you closer to him as he kissed you. 

As the sun began to set below the horizon of water and the two of you continued to embrace and kiss the other, he reluctantly pulled away and got up to kneel beside you.

“Come on, love. It’s getting cold out.”

In one swift fluid motion, he lifted you up in the air, as if you weighed next to nothing; he carried you through the house and into your shared bedroom, laying you down on the bed gently. 

As you lay against the bed, you sprawled yourself out against the plush material of the cold blankets and pillows, and looked up at him with adoring eyes.

Spencer’s breath catches in his throat when he gets a good look at you laying there, all his. He crawled onto the bed on top of you, getting as close as he possibly could. With wide eyes of his own, he stares into yours before whispering against your face. 

“Are you alright with this, sweetheart?” He whispered, his voice was low and husky, full of passion. When careful fingers find your waist, you all but melt into the soft touch.

You could feel his breath on your skin and the heat his strong body radiated off. The look on your face was one of pure need. The need to be taken care of, to be cared for, to be worshiped. 

You nod, swallowing. 

He smiled and began kissing your neck, moving down to your collarbone as he ran his hands up and down your body. He did just as he knew you needed, and he cared for you, as he always did. You were the most important person in the world to him, and you knew he'd do anything you asked to take care of you, to love you, and to show just how much he meant it when he told you he loved you more than life itself.

Shivers ran through your frame at the feeling of his large warm hands running over your cold skin. The window that was facing the water wasn’t helping with the chill you felt, but you knew Spencer would warm you up in no time.

His warm hands moved over you in a gentle, comforting way, as he placed numerous tender kisses on you, on your neck, shoulders, chest, everywhere he could reach. His kisses were full of love, passion, and affection, and they were meant to take you to a place of total bliss. You knew you could always count on him to make you feel loved and appreciated, and he did it better than anyone else in the world could. He did everything he could for you, and he would always be there for you.

You took a deep breath when you felt his gentle hands pull at the buttons of your shorts, and reached your hands down to help him. But he was quick to grab your wrists and gently place them against your chest, he didn’t want you doing any work right now.

“Hands to yourself baby, you know better.” 

His tone was gentle, yet still scolding. It made your mouth dry and your panties wet. You’d do anything for him as long as he kept speaking to you in that voice of his. 

“S-Sorry, Spence..”

You move your hands so they’re side by side with your head, trying to relax and let him do everything he wants to you.

“I’ll take care of you, you know that." 

He kissed your forehead softly, looking down at you with his light eyes as he continued to undress you. His hands continued moving gently, and he worked your shorts down slowly, taking his time as he did so.

A small gasp leaves you at the way you’re left in your little lace underwear, laid out just for him. And you can hear the sound of your shorts hitting the hardwood floor, and soon enough, your panties, top, and bra, would be joining it. 

"You're gorgeous, darling."

Spencer whispered gently, giving you soft kisses as he did so. With every press of his lips against your goosebump raised skin, it only further turned you on. It was embarrassing to you, how easily he was able to arouse you. But he loved it. He loved being able to get your panties soaked and your cheeks flushed with a blush, just from a few kisses. 

You heard him undo his belt and pull down his pants, taking them off and then dropping them to the floor. The sound of the hardware of his buckle hitting the wood of the night stand made you shudder in anticipation, and you couldn’t help but clench your thighs together in excitement. 

“Are you still doing okay, baby?” 

He looks at you and faintly raises a brow.

“Y-Yes.. Spence..”

He smiled softly at you, and he leaned down to give you a gentle kiss down the lower part of your neck, before he leaned back up and his hands went back down to pull your underwear down slowly.

"Good girl.." 

You squirmed in his hold against the bed as he slowly, teasingly, dragged your underwear down your bottom.

Spencer chuckled softly at your squirms. It made him know that he was doing everything right, and he continued to slowly pull your underwear down your bottom.

"Easy there, darling. You can wait.”

He softly spoke, his tone full of devotion and love as he tried to tease you as much as possible, which proved to be quite easy. You could feel the fabric being pulled away from you body, and all you could do was lay back and let him take control. 

You wanted to wince when you could feel him pulling the drenched fabric off your body, practically having to peel them off of your soaked pussy because of how wet you were. 

You felt his eyes on you, watching with eager interest. They were filled with adoration and arousal. He couldn't wait to show you how much he loved you, and the sight of you was already more than he could've ever dreamed of. 

"You're so beautiful, sweet thing..." Spencer whispers, his voice a husky tone full of passion and excitement as he licks over his bottom lip.

“Thank you.. Spence, y-you’re beautiful, too..” You shyly murmur as you stare at the ceiling, trying not to focus on the embarrassment rising in your cheeks from how hard you think he’s staring at your exposed body. 

And you’re right. His eyes are absolutely shining with fascination at just how soaked you are, from a few light touches and kisses to your neck. He reaches out a gentle hand and pushes your folds around, smearing the slicks all over your thighs and his fingers. You moan at the feeling.

"You're very welcome, darling. You look so beautiful right now.." He whispered, smiling softly and letting his eyes follow every curve of your body. He was absolutely entranced by you, and he could barely control the intense look in his eyes of wanting you more than anything in the world. 

Spencer pulls his hand away from you, and slips them in his mouth for a quick moment, cleaning your arousal from his fingers. You watch the way his eyes roll into the back of his head when he retracts his fingers out of his mouth. 

"I love you. So much."

“I-I love you too..”

The soft crashes of the waves against the dock were audible in the room, and it only added to the calming atmosphere that engulfed you entirely and made you dizzy with bliss.

As he kneels in front of your spread body, he reaches a hand out to stroke over the skin of your thigh. 

“You wanna keep your shirt on or off, baby?”

He knew you were iffy about being completely naked, even in front of him, and you can’t help the swell of your heart at how considerate he’s always been towards you. 

“Y-You can take it off, Spence.. I don’t mind.” 

And his eyes practically glowed at your words, they were filled with admiration and love, at how much you trusted him. 

With a nod, he leans over you to pull up the soft fabric of your top, pulling it over your head, leaving you only in your bra. He reaches out to play with the delicate straps. 

“And this? You wanna keep it on, my love?”

You shake your head hesitantly, you trusted him completely, and wanted him to know just how much. 

His hands reach behind you, and your body arches under him to help. A small smile quirks on his lips at the sight, and he begins to unclasp your bra. 

And once he pulls the lacy undergarment off of you, he tenderly rubs the fabric between his fingers as he stares down at your fully bare body. He licks over his lips and sets the bra gently on the floor next to the rest of your clothing. 

“My god, baby.. You’re incredible.” 

And with the way his voice is utterly dripping with sincerity and pure adoration, you believe him. A small smile of your own creeps onto your face at his praise. 

“Thank you, Spence..” 

He nods, feeling far too emotional to speak at this moment. Kneeling back, Spencer goes down to pull down his own underwear, and even though it's a sight you’ve seen numerous times before, you couldn't ever bring yourself to get tired of it. 

As he threw the thin underwear onto the floor, his thick and heavy cock sways with his body, and god did you need him so badly it was starting to hurt. 

His hand wraps around his member, and he bites his lip at the feeling. You’re forced to watch him give himself pleasure with a pout, because you know you can make him feel better than that hand of his, even though it’s the same hand that’s brought you to countless orgasms before. 

You rub your thighs together in hopes of some relief, and he chuckles when he realizes just how desperate you’ve become. He grabs himself at the base of his dick, and slowly passes it through the slippery folds of your cunt.

The feeling of being entirely coated with your arousal makes his head spin, and it makes your breath grow short. The blunt tip of his cock buts against your sensitive clit and you’d be ashamed to admit that it was already bringing you so close over the edge. 

“P-Please.. Spen-” 

“Shh shh, I know, baby..” 

He’s quick to shut you up, because only he knows what’s the best for you, and right now, he’s giving it to you. 

Spencer rubs his head over your hole, before slowly, so slowly, pushing himself inside of your warm walls. The intrusion makes you wince, he’s always been big, and somehow he always made it fit. 

With each inch he sheathes inside of you, the fuller and fuller you feel. You can feel yourself tightening involuntarily around him, and you can hear just how wet you are when you do. With each squeeze of your pussy around his cock, and quiet squelch can be heard, you were so wet that you were already leaking around him.

And when he’s entirely engulfed inside of you, his pelvis pressing into the sides of your thighs, your legs wrapped around his back, he throws his head back at how warm you are. It’s almost burning him, and he can’t get enough of it, even if you him fuck you forever. 

But he’d still be a foolish man to ever deny the offer.

The man gently caresses your soft skin as he forces himself to stay still inside of you, despite how hard it was, and despite how much he just wanted to fill you over and over again with his cock, then once more with his searing hot cum. 

“Let me know when, baby. O-Okay?”

His voice is wavering at how much control he’s trying to instill, and you’re not doing too hot either. Your body is trembling against the sheets as you try to adjust to the intrusion and keep your release at bay. 

After a few soft cries and moans from you, and a few more groans and heavy sighs from Spencer, you clench around him to let him know you’re ready, and the feeling makes him keel over your body, caging your head with his arms. 

“Fuck, baby..” 

His fingers intertwined with yours beside your head, and began to shallowly thrust into your weeping cunt. 

Looking down was a big mistake, you soon found. Because the second you leaned up slightly to watch the way he fucked you, you threw you head back almost immediately. 

After noticing this, he does the same. He bows his head down to look where your two bodies meet, and he lets out a guttural moan at the sight. 

“God, look at you, angel.. You’re swallowing me right up.”

You shake your head at his words and squeeze your eyes shut. Because you know if you look again, you’ll be trembling and cumming on his cock that instant you see the way his thick cock pushes into your greedy cunt. 

Spencer’s having a hard enough time as is holding himself back, just watching the way he disappears inside your pretty pussy has him rolling his eyes back into his head. Seeing the way your slick arousal has turned white on his length because of how much he’s been encasing himself inside of you. 

The fingers that are intertwined with yours leave your hands, and reach down to hold you in a firm grip at your hips. He uses them to pull your body down against him, further humping his cock into your drenched hole. 

He begins to rub the sweat slicked skin of your hips as he still fucks into you so lovingly.  

His touches were so gentle and comforting that it almost made you feel drowsy. You let out a soft yawn and felt your eyelids grow heavier with each tender pass of his cock inside of you.

Spencer was quick to notice this, and pat you lightly against the side of your face, forcing you to look up at him.

“Come on baby, stay with me. I know you can do it..”

His voice was full of so much emotion it made you want to cry. The way he talked to you like you were precious to him never ceased to make you absolutely melt under his gaze.

With a nod, you blinked a few times to bring yourself back to full consciousness, and lolled your head back against the plush pillows as your swollen lips pushed out a soft moan.

“There you go.. that’s my sweet girl..”

Each roll of his hips into you drove you crazy, and the way he was making you feel was out of place with how tenderly he was making love to you. He made you feel like your body was on fire, like at any given moment, you’d be gushing around his cock and soaking his skin and sheets. 

You clench around him to pull him even deeper inside of you, and he groans loudly at the sensation. You were so close already, he might as well have gotten an award. 

Spencer readjusts his body to plant his knees firmer against the bed, and leans down to wrap his arms around your waist to lift your lower body against his own. He began to fuck into you quicker now, just how you needed it. A whiny whimper was what you granted him in response. 

He nodded, and a shudder ran through him at how amazing you felt around him, and how utterly beautiful you sounded and looked.  

“Anytime you need to, baby.” 

Sounding breathless, he grinds his body harder, faster, and longer into yours. You’re sucking him up like it’s your job, and feel him yanking you closer and closer to your release.

Your hands gripped at the sheets, your nails digging into them in a substitute for Spencer’s back. You didn’t want to hurt him right now, not when he was taking care of you like the most delicate thing to ever exist, definitely not.

“I-I love you s-so much.. So so much, Spence..” 

You pathetically yet lovingly confess to him through a moan, and your eyebrows scrunched at the imminent orgasm that was quickly washing over you.

“Oh baby.. I love you too, more than anything.” 

His voice is full of adoration, and you can hear the way he’s fighting off cutting himself off with loud moans and groans of his own. 

Your body trembles as your cunt gives one last greedy swallow of his entire length, and you can practically see the back of your skull with how hard your eyes are rolling. Warmth. Warmth is all you feel. 

You’re gushing around him, feeling your release spill out of you around him and coat your thighs and drip down to your ass. Your orgasm sends you into a state of euphoria, and after your body turns stiff from the impact, you go entirely limp in his hold, moaning and whimpering endlessly. 

“My sweet baby.. You did so well.” 

He whispers through your noises, and starts to push into you quicker, chasing after his own very close release. With your orgasm still wracking through your fragile body, he can just feel the flutter of your pussy around him, begging to be filled with his cum. 

“Baby- Baby I’m gonna cum.. W-Where?” 

His voice sounds absolutely desperate, like if you didn’t answer him in the next second he’d explode. 

Crying out through a moan, you squeeze your cunt harder, pulling him deeper and deeper where you needed him most, where you needed him to claim you, and show you just how sorry he is for being so distant. 

“I-Inside.. Now, Spence.. Oh–Please, I need it so bad.. Please…” 

Spencer shakes his head at your response, as if it drove him crazy. And truthfully, it did. Nothing sounded more appealing than absolutely filling you to the brim with his thick, warm, cum. He needed it inside of you, probably more than you did. He wanted to stuff you with his release, praying to god your body would take his seed into you, and give you the family you always yearned to have. 

You deserve it. You deserve everything. 

Is what he chants to himself in his head, it wasn’t like he needed any help believing it, he just wanted to make sure he did a good job of showing you just how devoted he was towards you, and how far he'd go just to make sure you’re happy. 

With one final push into you, he locks himself inside of you, and keeps himself there. He’s so fucking deep inside of you that you can feel his tip blowing a kiss to your cervix, and yet the both of you craved he could get deeper. A primal moan left his mouth, accompanying your whines of pure pleasure.

Spencer’s hips stutter against your thighs, and you feel him lose all of his control at that moment. He’s pouring his release into you, shooting thick ribbons of arousal and coating your walls. 

And he was tucked so far into you, that none of it leaked out. So he pumped you full of cum, and forced your body to take it, take it as your own. 

When his release starts to subside, he lets out a soft laugh and squeezes at the flesh of your waist. 

“You alright, love?”

You wordlessly nod, and swallow the spit pooling in your mouth. You lean up on your forearms to look up at him with a gaze full of unmistakable admiration and adoration. He returns it. 

With a breathless moan, he starts to slowly pull out of you, but you’re quick to protest. With your legs against his back, you pull him closer to you, and force him back inside of you. 

“Stay, Spence.. Please..” 

He looks up at you with a crooked smile and tilts his head to the side. With a slightly trembling hand, he reaches it up to your face and moves some of the sweaty hair stuck on your face out of the way, and leans down the best he can to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“Baby I honestly think I’m stuck inside of you at this point, you don’t have to worry about that.” 

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #dom spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #dom spencer reid x reader #dom!spencer #dom!spencer reid #soft dom spencer reid #dom spencer #spencer reid angst

[rianavi]

the cold

spencer reid x f!reader

content; tooth rotting fluff, oblivious spencer, awkward spencer, best friends but crushing, mutual pining

summary; after a case in alaska the snow is too thick to get a plane ride back so you and the team spend another night in a small motel. the only thing is, spencer doesn’t know if he can take another night of sleeping on the floor in your shared room. and you cant stand seeing him in pain.

based off 05x21

hotch enters the motel with a heavy sigh and a shake of his head. “they said it’s to heavy, we’ll have to stay another night.”

the team sighs and jj and emily disperse, going back to their room, followed by rossi.

spencer stays standing behind the chair you sit in. hands tucked inside his pockets and tongue poking his inner cheek.

derek takes penelope by the hand and leads the way to their room while hotch stays behind to call strauss.

you stand - finally - and begin the tread to the bed thats been holding you for the past three days.

you don’t expect spencer to catch up to you considering youre a fast walker and he’s been dealing with back pain this whole case.

it had given you a feeling of guilt, you and spencer were sharing a room with a single bed and you had lost the fight to sleep on the hardwood floor.

all you wanted was to invite him into the bed with you, under the comforter and cuddled into you as you cling onto each other for warmth.

but you were scared and knew he would never agree to it. so you kept your mouth shut and turned away from his shivering body on the floor.

tonight would be different though.

you couldn’t stand seeing him in agonizing pain any longer, tonight you would finally build up the courage and invite him into bed with you.

when you got to your destination you grabbed a pair of pajamas and made your way to the bathroom.

just as you closed the bathroom door you heard spencer enter the room and sigh before seeing the shadow of his feet walk past the bathroom.

you turn on the sink to wash your face and hands, then changing into a pair of pajama pants and an undershirt.

when you exit the bathroom you make sure to leave the light on as to spencers fear of the dark.

you find him changed into his sleep clothes and making his bed on the floor.

before the chance was taken away you speak softly, “spencer,”

he looks up at you with his big eyes and carved features that make you weak in the knees.

“i’m not letting you sleep on the floor again, it’s way too uncomfortable and i can tell that it’s bothering your back.”

his eyebrows tug together, “well there is no way im letting you sleep here instead.”

the thought of him taking the pain just so you wouldn’t have to has your heart clenching and stomach turning.

“that’s not what i’m saying. there is more than enough room for both of us on the bed.”

you can see the way his cheeks redden and his posture tenses.

at first you think he’s gonna turn you down but then he speaks.

“y-yeah sure.”

youre taken aback to say the least but you smile brightly and make your way over to the bed.

you pull back the covers and fluff the pillows to your liking before crawling under the blanket and waiting for spencer to join you.

he does so slowly and awkwardly, he lays stiff and flat on his back staring up at the ceiling.

you laugh softly at how scared he looks before turning on your side to face him.

“better?”

he nods softly, and pulls the comforter up to his neck while shivering.

“you know.. if we huddle close together the body heat from us will warm each other up.”

“usually im the one speaking facts.”

you laugh at that, airy and light. he smiles at the sound and overcomes his fears by grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers.

you gasp lightly at the coldness of his hand before smiling at him and squeezing his palm.

the air is less tense now and you both can breathe normally now.

“spencer?”

he looks at you for the first time this night and hums in acknowledgment.

“can you hold me?”

he releases a breath before pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around your waist tightly -like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life-

you smile into his neck and wrap your arms around his neck while your hands land in his hair.

“youre very warm,” he speaks softly

you laugh again, tickling his neck. the warmth of his breath hitting your forehead. he places a soft kiss there and you smile into his neck, tightening your grip on him while sleep overcomes you both.

#criminal minds #fanfic #smut #spencer reid #november #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #i wanna die hes so cute #i would kill to hug him #imagine how soft his hair is #ani speaks

[golden1u5t]

honeymoon | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: angst + fluff + smut(more so the beginning)

ꨄ summary: sex has always been a bad subject growing up, it was shunned upon to give into your bodies desires without being married or wanting kids. the abuse that came with this topic has caused you to hide away from it, you've never told spencer but when you do, he makes sure to make you as comfortable as he can.

spencer stopped in his tracks as he noticed you standing in the middle of the room with your head turned away from him, he let go of his shirt so that it dropped back down over his body. when he reached out and touched your arm you jumped, looking back at him with wide eyes.

"sweetheart? are you alright?" he asked, wrapping his hand around your wrist and guiding you to sit on the bed. you leaned onto his shoulder and sighed, intertwining your fingers with his.

"it's our honeymoon- people have sex on their honeymoon!" you sat up and looked down at the ring on your finger, not yet used to the feeling of it weighing on your finger yet but you knew that you would eventually get used to it just like you would get used to the new last name.

"sex isn't a requirement to have a honeymoon, its just something people do to feel good and connect with their partners. there are some people in the world that are completely uninterested in sex. don't feel obligated, honey."

spencer honestly wouldn't mind if you didn't ever want to have sex, he went majority of his life without it, he was just grateful you're in his life and he's able to call you his wife. he wants you for the rest of his life, with or without the sex.

"no, that's not it." you huffed, sitting up from his shoulder and averting your gaze to the big window in the hotel room you were both staying at. your room was a suite, a wedding gift from rossi, so you could see over the busy city below.

"do you remember when i told you that i grew up in a very toxic household?" spencer nodded his head, you let out a small laugh because he remembers everything, it was a question you didn't even have to ask. "well, sex was a very touchy subject. i was always told that women were just to have children, that we couldn't do it unless we were married and ready for kids. but i'm not- i don't want any children right now and i don't want you to think badly about me because of it."

you brought a hand up to try and stop the tears that were streaming down your cheeks. it was no use though, the second spencer reached up and cupped your face with gentle hands, the floodgates opened. he didn't try to force you to look at him, he knew that you would when you were ready, you were putting yourself in a vulnerable position.

"i would never think any less of you because of that. you know that, angel." spencer's voice was soft, as if he was talking to a scared child. he ran his thumb over the skin under your eye, wiping away those salty tears that escaped.

you leaned into him and buried your head into his chest, hands grasping at his shirt. spencer's hand fell onto your back and started to rub soothing circles while you caught your breathe and calmed down.

while he held you like that you started to imagine how he would hold you in bed, how his hands would gently caress your skin, how he would make you feel safe and comfortable with him. you knew he would do all those things for you, you knew he would do anything you wanted. all you had to do was ask him and he would move in a heartbeat to make sure you got it, no matter what it was.

though, you were still having a lot of doubts and you needed to gain more confidence in yourself before you were willing to shed layers of coverage from your body, bring your guard down and let him into the last blocked off part of you.

so, for now you laid there in his arms, listening to the busy streets of the city and feeling his heartbeat against your cheek. spencer dropped his head down and rested his head on top of yours, his hand moving up your back and running his fingers through your hair.

everything in that moment was perfect, it was like when he wrapped his arms around you he somehow made a bubble of security. that's when you decided you wanted him, you wanted to bring those walls down and share yourself with him because you knew he would take care of you, he would be gentle with you.

"i want to try it." you spoke, though your voice was muffled from the way you were pressed against his chest. spencer let out a hum of confusion, pulling back and looking down at you. so you sat up and repeated yourself.

"are you sure? this is something you need to make sure you really want." his eyes scanned your face for any sign that would contradict your words but he couldn't find any.

"i'm sure, spence." you place your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, leaning forward and placing your lips on his. spencer let go of your hand and placed them on your waist instead.

spencer pulled away from your lips and instructed you to get higher on the bed. as soon as you laid back on the bed, he was crawling on top of you. you quickly discarded your shirt and started to push your pants down but spencer caught your wrist in his hands.

"patience, angel. i'll get there."

#golden1u5t #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #soft dom spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader angst #spencer reid x fem!reader fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader smut

[lefty-scribes]

sunflower

Summary: After coming home late from a stressful day at work, Spencer needs nothing more than to be in your arms in order to feel like himself again. You offer your touch to him in more ways than one.

or

melodramatic handjob :>

Word Count: 3423

Songs: ‘cry’ by cigarettes after sex may fit !!

Pairing: softdomme!reader x sub!spencer

Warnings: smut (18+ please), choking (m receiving), spencer cries xoxo, fully consensual but his reactions are described as ‘involuntary’ sometimes, sudden tense switch at the end bc it felt right idk, 65% buildup, 15% action, 20% orgasm LOL

a/n: guys the transition from comfort to seggsy just happened out of nowhere and the pacing is aggressively slow, prob making this hard to get off to. i’m sorry. also if you don’t think you should be reading this (🔞) you’re probably right ?? but please don’t tell me about it. do comment anything else though if you're feeling up to it :3

With a twist of his hand on the doorknob and a step through the door, Spencer took his long awaited whiff of home. It smelled of cedarwood and floral candles and you, and the tension released from his shoulders completely for the first time today.

He walked straight to the bedroom where he knew you’d still be up waiting for him, door open with a lit bedside light to welcome him despite his insistence that your sleep is more important. The urge didn’t even come up to wash his hands, disinfect his phone, or sanitize his work bag, being replaced instead by his desire to be in your presence.

As he’d suspected, there you were, sitting up on the bed you shared, eyes fighting to stay open as they flitted through the pages of a book. The comforter covered your legs, and only a thin sleep shirt separated your back from the headboard you leaned against, the shape of your nipples hardly poking through. Spencer hesitated to walk in and ruin the pretty picture.

When you noticed him, a fond smile grew on your face and you dropped your book to open your arms wide for him. He slowly walked over to you, stomach twisting just a little at the fear of being a bother, and started to position himself as he did whenever he needed a bit of extra comfort. He gave you a quick peck and settled down so his head rested on your lap, lying down on his side with his arm hugging your bare thighs. His long frame curled sideways by your legs under the blanket. He said nothing when you combed your fingers through his hair—just held you a bit tighter; nuzzled his cheek impossibly closer.

You broke the silence, absentmindedly separating small locks of his hair now with your fingers. “Want to talk about it?” you asked, to which he shook his head, movement still restricted by your thighs on his cheek, hating that he didn’t have more to say. Hated to have to make you pry just to hear about his day, but all the more in awe of how attuned you were to his emotions—even more than he was sometimes. Hated being moody and uncommunicative, but his brain was betraying him.

Your thumb now stroked his eyebrow, smoothing it out. Every part of him that your fingers touched relaxed in its wake, coupled with the scent of your lotion and laundry into his breaths. He finally spoke up, voice slightly muddled from his cheek against your leg; perhaps he sounded like his handwriting would sound, though he hoped he was more understandable than that.

“Per hour of sleep we lose, human blood pressure tends to increase by 3 to 5 millimeters of mercury, so you waiting up for me this late probably already caused an increase of 10 mmHg. Cortisol levels can also increase by up to 80% when sleep deprived, and your reaction time can slow by up to 500 milliseconds, which will make it more unsafe for you to drive tomorrow.” I appreciate you so much, baby, but you shouldn’t have waited up, is what he wanted to say. It never came out that way. I love when you greet me. Don’t put your health at risk for me. I’m sorry I’m late. But it always came out instead as numbers and statistics because that’s all he knows how to do, and it’s the only way his voice knows how to love, but you get it. He wants to add more.

You get him. “Stop worrying, Spence. I need to see you just as much as you need to see me. Can’t sleep otherwise,” you assured him. Goosebumps rose on his skin as you rubbed slow, pressured circles onto his forehead, massaging him properly now. Maybe your words were supposed to make him feel better, but he couldn’t shake the guilt in his gut. His burden complex weighed heavier today.

“My Spencer,” you breathed. Heat rose onto his cheeks. Your Spencer. “What do you need from me?”

He laid still on your lap, face now turned upward to memorize your own, pondering on the question. Always too scared to ask, though he knew what he needed. “Anything you’ll give me,” he whispered.

Now freshly dried from his shower, Spencer walked toward where you stayed sitting on the bed just as you had been when he arrived. He stood completely bare before you, an unlikely mix of both self-consciousness and pride filling him as you looked him up and down. The implied power imbalance of your clothed decency juxtaposed with his nude vulnerability has just occurred to him; he felt a rush in his stomach.

You pulled the covers off and spread your legs apart, then patted the space in between. Spencer crawled onto the bed as carefully as he could, trying not to shake it too much, now unsure of how long he could last. He found a seat between your thighs, the outer edge of his legs lining the inner side of your own, his back flush against your torso.

Goosebumps rose on his skin when your hands trailed up his neck, grazing his ears, then his cheekbones, to comb themselves through his soft hair. He shivered, just once. His mouth parted slightly in a shaky exhale and his head lolled back toward you, as a cat would, until it rested gently on your shoulder, full trust in you to support him. His eyelashes fluttered to a close as you slowly but firmly squeezed your fingers into a closed fist against his scalp, hair tangled within your grasp, letting the leverage of your palms against his head do the tugging. Despite the tightness of the skin around his temples, his facial muscles only continued to relax as he silently handed you all control of him. He released a shallow gasp as you gave your wrists a slow twist before releasing his hair entirely.

You slid your fingers down to his nipples, running your thumbs over them each for not long enough. He let out a sigh that must’ve released more air than his lungs had the capacity to carry in the first place. The stresses of the day began to leave with it, Spencer being overcome instead by the relief of being back in the comfort of his own home—in the arms of his beloved. Your hand was cool against his humid skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Ears ringing, he hardly heard his own voice releasing a shaky, dragged out, sh— shhhit, between gritted teeth.

Your hands trailed down even further toward his soft stomach which was scrunched into a bean-like mound from his position against you, grazing down his happy trail before ignoring his painful erection and inching toward his thighs instead. Your nails dragged gently over his inner thighs and he pried them open for you; all for you.

He whined under his breath and his legs flexed under your touch, only the duration of a single twitch, lifting his hips up subconsciously to contact your hands where he needed them most. You gently pushed him back down, wordlessly insisting on giving attention to his soft thighs, asserting that it was your pace being followed. And he couldn’t object. He didn’t want to. Always so patient with him, he longed for you to be proud of his obedience. His thighs were yours to touch, after all, and so was what rested now painfully hard between them.

His head still laying against your shoulder, you gently swiped your tongue against his ear lobe, getting his attention. You whispered to him, and he was so receptive to you. “Do you think you’re ready?”

He didn’t need to see it to know, but he glanced down anyway, his cheeks burning up to a colour he imagined matched his throbbing penis. He ached to be touched there, swallowing at the thought.

He hummed lazily in response, already lightheaded from the rush in his head. He tilted his head in slow roll to place clumsy kisses all over your face, whatever part of it he could reach, nodding continuously to please touch me, I’m ready. He thought his lips had caught your nose, cheekbones, ear, jaw… but at that point he’d already been intoxicated by your touch and couldn’t tell the difference; only wanted to taste the saltiness of your supple skin.

“Words, Spence.” With his head still turned to you, you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and nipped at it until it puffed up, drawing a light whimper from him. He arched his neck sideways to grant you access to the rest of him that your lips and teeth could reach. More of him now exposed to you, he quietly pleaded as you lightly sucked on sensitive points behind his jaw. A lone tear slipped out of his eye closest to you, and you lapped it up as it hung from his jaw.

“Ready. Always ready for you,” he choked, voice already hoarse. Your ability to take him to the clouds far before touching the most sensitive part of him only turned him on further, as well as the nurturing and patient but complete control you exerted. He was undeserving and yet eternally grateful. Swore to himself he’d spend the rest of his days trying to love you as completely as you did him.

Upon squeezing out some lubricant from the bottle in your bedside drawer, you grasped his erection in your slick hand, your other hand exploring the rest of his body, and he gasped with an unintentional jolt. From this position you two were in, it allowed the ridges of your curled palm and fingers, as well as the coolness of your wedding ring, to make full contact with the sensitive vein along the underside of his cock.

You played him like an instrument, and the sounds he made proved nothing less. You’d glide your sharp knuckles over him, barely making contact with him, much to his protest; your hand would run along the thin, elastic stretch of skin connecting his head to the underside of his cock. Or you’d bunch your delicate fingertips together at his tip, letting the widening of his cock separate them as you pushed down toward his balls. He almost wished, as the pads of your fingers trailed his length, that your fingerprints could be ingrained in his skin, if only to be claimed by you even more. His breaths grew laboured and he slowly lost the shame in his whimpers.

Your other hand moved to his lips, muffling his sounds slightly. Your breath tickled his ears, and he threw an arm back to grasp your hair or neck or whatever he could grab, trying fruitlessly to get closer for you to ground him.

He whined helplessly against your now vibrating hand, though it did nothing to quiet his volume as you so creatively played with his cock, fidgeting with him and using him like nothing. Tension was prominent between his eyebrows sewn together, and surely his forehead carried a few creases as well.

You gently ran your thumb against his bottom lip, and he instinctively pulled it into his mouth. Your thumb pushed degradingly against the inside of his cheek, forcing his mouth to open slightly. His tongue circled your thumb out of habit, and the slightest bit of spit dribbled out the corner of his lips.

The room started to smell and feel like sweat, though he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was experiencing everything and nothing all at once, sensations heightened yet brain numbed. Rare were the occasions that he couldn’t explain everything, and the times where he couldn’t think straight, but he revelled in it. Nowhere else was Spencer able to be completely defenseless and equally safe but in your arms—or hands, in this case. His guard wholeheartedly down, he cherished the privilege of being worriless and thoughtless.

His brain’s unusual absence of words and knowledge—two things which he so dutifully guarded just to feel competent—was welcomed because you were around to protect his vulnerability in the meantime.

By now, from the sweat or his own sheer lack of control, Spencer had slid down slightly so his shoulder blades were flush with your breasts; your hard nipples pressed against him through the soft silk of your nightshirt and it reminded him how eager he was to return the favour. He was leaning back a bit more, hardly noticing the ache from his weight resting on his tailbone.

The position gave you access to move your working hand even lower, gentle fingers starting to toy with his balls before moving down toward the sensitive patch of skin right beneath. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth when you hit it, hums and groans gradually increasing in pitch. Against his own will, he clenched around nothing, causing his perineum to shift against your fingers. He choked out another embarrassingly loud sound, mouth shamelessly open now, and then did it again.

You kissed his jaw. “How do you feel?” you whispered. You gave more attention to the pink head now, fingers tickling his smooth tip, thumb pressing down periodically on the ridges. Your other hand played with hair.

“You treat me so well,” he breathed, as earnestly as he could, turning his head to give a sloppy kiss to your wrist, drunk on your touch, your warmth, and you. “Love you so much,"—he swallowed—"ah— oh, f— fuck— Love what you do to me.”

“You deserve it all.”

His moans got more high pitched as you worked, and his breaths came in faster than his chest could keep up with. His hands grasped at your thighs to steady himself, blunt nails digging in.

“My Spencer baby, you look oh so beautiful,” you praised, voice dripping in sheer adoration. His eyes drew open and his gaze rolled back, then lazily toward you. Another tear slowly escaped the corner of his eye, and he wished he weren’t tearing up if only to see your pretty face more clearly. His eyebrows were still tense under the nearness of his undoing, tilted in a pleading pout.

“Please, please-please-please-please-plea— mmngh…” He pleaded and begged for release, no longer making sense of what was coming out of his mouth, eyes ever-downturned and watering once again.

He was helplessly putty in your hands, his body no longer his own, but rather a shell of just euphoria and feeling. He was floating and completely at your mercy, just as he loves to be.

“I love you, please, I—” His sentences grew choppy and more and more incoherent, his speech being mixed with unintelligible throaty noises. His chest rose and fell significantly faster than it had earlier, lips hardly separating as he mumbled a yesyesyesyes keep going yes just like that please, and his hips thrusted up to move his length further into your hand.

His desperate hands sought purchase from whatever they could grab, now tightly squeezing and scratching at your thighs. He readjusted his sweat-slicked palms as they slipped down your skin.

Your hand in his hair slid down roughly to grab his jaw in utter possessiveness, twisting it up toward you to plant a sloppy kiss on his lips. He did the best he could to return it. “Go ahead, baby,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He whimpered into the kiss, with no more capacity to spare you an audible ‘thank you’ as usual. You squeezed your working hand just the slightest bit tighter around his cock, working your way back up to his ever-sensitive pink head.

“Shitshitshitshit, fuck, oh, God. I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so—ah—” How naughty he felt. Maybe you’d tease him later about the junk coming out of his mouth, flustering him with the thought of what the neighbours would think. But as a sunflower proved its affinity to the sun and its warmth, all he could do now was gaze at you mindlessly, his neck aching at the effort. Under the dim yellow lamp lighting up the room, he embodied the sunflower’s golden glow. Its face would follow the bright star by nature and so would Spencer's, happily compelled by some force of nature to show you his authentic self as he held on so close to his orgasm. You smiled at him.

The bed squeaked under his shaking legs. Lone tears made their way down his face, free-falling now, and he made no move to wipe them. As he neared his peak, you kept your hand on his cock, hand wrapped snugly around his tip, angling it toward his chest.

You grabbed his throat with the other, fingers squeezing inward toward the two valleys around his neck that carried his precious arteries, and he felt the first spurt of cum burst through with a loud wail of surprise.

“Baby—“ he tried breathlessly, eyes still attempting to meet yours to please understand what I’m saying, please be proud of me, “baby, I’m coming, I’m fucking coming, I’m…” His muscles spasmed and sharply leaned him forward, causing your hand to obstruct his throat just a bit more, and he was thankful for it if only to ground his shaking to a minimum.

His head was pounding and his vision grew spotty as he basked in the feeling of his life, and his penis, in your hands, and the purpose with which you handled him as he prayed for this state of euphoria to not simply kill him. Though that wouldn’t be a terrible way to go.

He fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, yet still saw only white. He was burning up and held no sense of himself as his muscles twitched in waves, knees buckling, though you were there to hold him through it all. His mouth opened in a silent scream as you continued moving your hand along his sensitive length.

His panting gradually became less breathy and more audible, now backed by a throaty groan with every breath he released. Your name became the only thought in his mind, and he let it shakily slip out of his mouth, not caring how absolutely brainless he sounded. With each spurt of his release onto his chest, each involuntary clenching and thrust of his hips, he repeated it. Whether a cry of pleading, gratitude, or adoration, he wasn’t certain—but it all centred around you.

You talked him through the final stages of his orgasm with gentle murmurs of praise, pushing his hips down to forcefully guide him through it. Good boy, Spencer. Keep going. I’m right here. You got it. You’re doing great. Almost done. I love you. You’re so safe here. Your ministrations on his sensitive penis didn’t slow as you patiently waited for him, though he had to rest his hand on your wrist to slow you down, eyes finally falling closed; you obliged. His body offered you one final tremor of overwhelming pleasure.

The horrors of the day seemed to have been released with his release. But with the way you were now atop him, cleaning up the mess on his chest with your tongue, then crawling back up to his own mouth to offer him a taste, he felt his once-against stiffening cock asking for more where that came from. His aftercare be damned. No longer overwhelmed by his need for solace, this new rise of arousal was geared toward you—thanking you, loving you, cherishing you, pleasuring you in the way his words so often failed to do.

He would do for you what you had so generously done for him, and more, if you’d let him. He could give you his tongue, his length, his fingers, a toy—or whatever you wanted. Offer himself to be used and taken however you pleased. Longed to give you everything he could. He was yours, after all. 

Spencer told himself that there would be time for all that, though he always worried otherwise. Keeps it in his head, but he pleads every day that you wouldn’t end up like those he sought justice for at work, or be the body that haunted him until he arrived home to you, or the victim of a target aimed at him. Pleads every day that there would be more time.

But in the meantime, with not much else he can do, just as a sunflower would, he swears to turn his back to everything else dark about the world and follow his sun as long as he is able.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #sub!spencer #criminal minds #sub spencer reid #smut #sub!spencer reid x reader #dom!reader #softdom!reader #soft spencer #soft spencer reid #spencer reid comfort #comfort #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer x reader #angst #spencer reid angst #writing #fanfiction #fanfic

[arabellavernierwrites]

pelvic floor relaxation. s.r.

summary : after sex with spencer , you begin experiencing pain , he helps you through it.

word count : 803

warnings : mentions of sex , mentions of pain after sex , discussion of some female anatomy

a/n : hello everyone ! welcome back ! sorry i’ve been gone for a few weeks , i have been taking summer courses and haven’t had much time to write. but i am still accepting requests and would really love for you all to send some in so please ! send some requests i love writing for you ! and for me. this idea randomly came to me this evening and i wanted to write something small about it for you all to read. i am not a doctor , if you are experiencing pain after intercourse i do recommend speaking with a professional (and always pee after sex like i mention here !). take care of yourselves , i’ve missed you guys , it’s lovely to be back. have an amazing wonderful incredible day ! love you guys !

quietly catching your breath, you swung your leg over to the side, tossing yourself onto the bed from straddling spencer’s lap.

his long arms reached out, pulling you in close as you faced him, “how are you feeling?”

“good. you were wonderful, sweetheart. thank you,” you softly tucked his hair behind his ear, tracing your finger down the length of his cheek, “how about you?”

“great,” he blushed, breaking eye contact and smiling to himself, “thank you”.

he placed a gentle kiss on your lips. admiration was evident in his gaze, it practically dripped from his supple skin.

you and spencer were intimate fairly often. of course he had always been fantastic in bed, but when the two of you first met, he was rather inexperienced. it didn’t take you both long to learn what worked for the other, and after a few more times together, he pleased you in ways that men were not often able to do.

how good he was wasn’t the most important thing, though. it was the care, communication, and gentility that mattered most to you. no matter how many times the two of you had sex, he always wanted to make sure you felt safe, comfortable, and satisfied.

the same went for you. you always wanted spencer to feel good, and found ways to care for him during sex that made the experience even more pleasurable for him.

“i’m going to grab us some water, okay?” he stated quietly, caressing his large hand from your shoulder to elbow.

you nodded, a small smile on your face as you got up to go to the bathroom.

the two of you helped each other into some comfortable clothes, spencer a pair of pajamas, you a t-shirt and some underwear. a quick peck was shared before parting again.

you winced, a tight cramp pulling at your lower pelvic area. on occasion, you had experienced some post-coital soreness, but this sensation was different. feeling your muscles constrict, you bent over slightly to see if it would relieve some of the pain.

you brushed it off for a moment, using the restroom and making your way back into the bedroom when you were struck with a wave of it again.

spencer was placing a glass of water on your nightstand when he looked up, a flash of worry striking his face upon seeing you hunched over, holding your lower abdomen and resting against the doorway.

“are you alright, baby?” he asked, rushing over to you.

“i’ve got this weird feeling,” you spoke as he wrapped his arms around you, helping you into the bed, “my muscles keep cramping, it’s like a really tight, pulling sensation”

you placed your head on the pillow, closing your eyes for a second to focus yourself. spencer brushed the hair off of your forehead, taking a seat next to you.

“have you had enough water today?” he asked sincerely, placing a hand on your side.

“of course,” you replied, nodding your head.

“did you workout?” he continued, ready to get to the bottom of your discomfort.

“yesterday, yes. today, no, i didn’t” you responded.

“did you relax your pelvic floor before we had sex?” he questioned.

“spencer!” you couldn’t help but laugh at his interrogation.

“i’m being serious!” he defended, brushing your shirt off of your lower stomach, massaging circles with his thumb, “it’s important to take time to relax your pelvic floor before sexual intercourse. it can help increase vaginal lubrication, as well as increase blood flow for better orgasms, and reduce the risk of muscle straining”.

“what would i do without dr reid telling me what to do about my vaginal issues,” you grinned, shaking your head.

“i’m not telling you what to do! i’m giving you advice based on my readings,” he shrugged his shoulders as you laughed at his readings, because of course he would have his readings, “don’t laugh at my readings”.

“i’m not, you’re just cute,” you teased, “how would i relax my pelvic floor?”

“if you place one hand on your chest, and the other on your stomach, you can breathe in intervals to help it return to it’s resting rate. there are also a series of stretches and different sets of clitoral exercises that i can walk you through next time if you would like,” he rambled, his tender touch never leaving your skin.

“i might have to take you up on that,” you shifted uncomfortably at the feeling in your abdomen.

“but in all seriousness, what can i do for you?” he asked, a genuine look wiping across his face.

“i think an advil will help,” you placed your hand on top of his, ceasing the moving of his thumb, “and a hug and a kiss when you get back”.

a small, well-meaning smirk graced his lips, “deal”.

#criminal minds #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #kind spencer reid #loving spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #soft spencer reid #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid drabble #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fan fic #spencer reid boyfriend #boyfriend spencer reid

[mggsv]

My Remedy

m!reader x spencer reid (18+)(fluff)(angst sorta but happy ending)

summary: Spencer’s had a rough day at work, and you do your best to make him feel better

warnings: soft dom!reader, sub!spencer, subspace, sir kink, praise kink, milking

“Spence..? Baby..talk to me. Can you hear me?”

“M..Mhm.”

“Sweetheart..i need a clear answer. Let’s stop right here-“

“No- It’s..it’s okay.. keep going.”

His breath hitched as you kissed up his trembling thighs lovingly. Your fingers slipped deeper into your lover’s hole while you watched his glossy eyes, and the faded tear marks on his cheeks. He moaned softly..your name slipping beautifully off his tongue.

Spencer had a bad day at work that day. The way he came into your shared apartment and immediately went to the bedroom without your normal kiss was the first alarm. Secondly, it was the shower water running afterwards. You always showered with Spencer when he got off of work- no matter if you’d taken one already or not. You enjoyed the space you both shared (and washing his hair was a fever dream). You ordered his favorite too, indian food. Hell- you’d starve yourself until he got home and don’t have an issue with it, as long as it was time spent together.

“..Spence?” You frown as you call out to him. You made your way down the hall to your shared bedroom, making your way to the bathroom door. You knock twice before you heard it, faint, but as you leaned your ear against the door you heard him sniffling. “Baby..?” you speak softly, “Are you okay?” He sniffled once more, a faint “no” could be heard.

“..May I come in?” the shower water turns off, and you hear Spencer mutter, “yes..”

You open the door to find your lover sitting on the edge of the tub, looking down at his lap. “What’s wrong baby?” you ask him, taking a seat down on the floor by his long legs. you lean your head on his thigh, smiling softly when he starts to touch your hair.

“Bad day at work.” he sighs.

“We’ve all had those.” you chuckle. his hands pull gently at the strands.

“..it’s just..it was overwhelming. one case after the other i don’t sleep. i think my mental stability just collapsed, i couldn’t proceed with work and came home.” the thoughts made you frown while Spencer shuddered. “i’m sorry for ignoring you.”

“Sweetheart ..it’s okay. How about this: i draw you a nice warm bath, and get the food heated up and then we can head on to bed hm? no boring late night shows, just us in bed.” You stand up and grab his hand, which he gladly accepted. You kept his hand as you turned on the tub water, looking underneath the bathroom sink for his little aftercare basket you had.

“..Baby?” Spencer’s voice filled your ears. You look back at the red figure and raise a brow, “Yes sweetheart?”

“Tonight can we..”

And so it started, Spencer on his back while you fingered his already gaping hole. You watched intensely at the way he tried his best to stay still. Helplessly stroking his little cock, you prod your fingers at his prostate, pressing against it gently.

“feels s’ good..” he moaned, back arching just the slightest. “that’s good baby,” you cooed, biting your lip as you sped up, “i want you to feel good.”

“i wanna- i wanna cum..” Spencer’s bottom starts to twitch, that pool building in his stomach for the third time tonight, “..please sir” he begged, shutting his eyes tightly. your fingers brushed against his prostate once more and he shudders. he felt like jelly against your body. You were so hard.. but this was about making Spencer feel his absolute best.

“fuck fuck fuck-“ he choked out a groan, body twitching even harder, still, you gripped his little cock in your hand and jerked his off faster, thumb shielding his tip. “s..sir please..” he whimpered, rutting against your hand.

“be still baby. you’re doing very good for me, so good” you loom over him and smile softly, leaning down to kiss his nose. Spencer began to spew nonsense as his whole body shook, tears leaking from his eyes once more. “c..can’t hold it” he breathes deeply.

you let up, hands and all. you sit back and watch his cock shoot it’s strings. all over Spencer’s tummy. “sir…s-“ he cried out, thrusting into the air as he kept cumming. you enjoyed milking Spencer, you knew he loved it as well.

Once he calmed down, his body stilled, and you watched it relax.

“Spence…? Baby?” you murmur, grabbing a wash rag to clean his body with. You made sure to grab the aftercare basket with you from the bathroom.

“mm..” he breathed shakily. as you clean his body you notice he’s staring up at the ceiling, eyes clouded and hazy.

“Sweetheart- focus on my voice okay?”

“..mhm” he moans. you touch his body gently. washing him off and kissing each little spot. “come back to me hm? you have food to eat i know you’re hungry.” chuckling softly you kiss his forehead.

“I love you sweetheart.” you say once more

#spencer reid x male reader #gender neutral reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg x reader #mgg #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x reader #angst #spencer reid angst #male reader #spencer reid x y/n #sub spencer reid #dom reader #soft dom reader #soft dom #fluff #aftercare

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three

part five

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

[rynwritesreid]

I like the way you kiss me| Spencer Reid

A/N: So, I haven’t written smut in a good while, but I hope this okay. It’s defo romantic, but I promise soon there will be some good angst.

Summary: Spencer is nervous about being in a relationship with you, because of what his friends would think and the age gap you two had. But when it comes down to it, all that matters to him, is you.

Content: Smut 18+. Fluff. Fem!reader. Use of nicknames (just princess). oral(R!receiving). PinV.

Masterlist| request are open| navigation

Spencer Reid knew dating you was playing with fire. You were younger, and you had never been in a serious relationship. Spencer knew if his friends found out about the two of you, he would never hear the end of it. But when he was with you, he didn’t care, all he could think about was you. 

He couldn't resist the way your eyes lit up when you talked about anything you loved, or how your pupils dilated when you were looking at him, or how you laughed when he told any joke.  He was infatuated with you, although he knew he should never have got attached to you.

But despite the risks, Spencer couldn't deny the pull he felt towards you. As he watched you across the table, he couldn't help but smile at the way you crinkled your nose when you were deep in thought. Your passion for life was infectious, and he found himself getting lost in the sparkle of your eyes.

Maybe he loved you, or maybe he loved the idea of you, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed been around someone who saw life as colourful and bright, rather than how he saw it and how the majority of everyone he knew saw it. 

But if Spencer was to ever admit what he truly liked about you, he enjoyed the way you kissed him. How every kiss you gave him was memorable. He could tell with every kiss you missed him when he wasn’t around, you cared about him and that he was the last person you thought about as you drifted asleep.

As the night grew late and the restaurant began to empty, Spencer realised he couldn't keep pretending that what they had was just a casual fling. He needed to admit to himself that he was falling for you, hard and fast. The way your hand felt in his, the sound of your laughter filling his ears, it was all too much to ignore.

"I can't keep pretending that you don't mean everything to me," Spencer whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You make life worth living. Whenever I see your name flash across my screen, or every time I remember your face, I want to kiss you.”

“Spencer Reid as romantic, who could have imagined.” You chuckled, you felt the same way, but you could never put it into such words. “I feel the same way. I want to be yours.” 

“You’ll always be mine. You are perfect for me, and I am, well perfect for you.” Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your lips, feeling the weight of his confession lifting off his shoulders. In that moment, surrounded by the fading chatter of the restaurant and the gentle glow of the streetlights outside, Spencer knew that he had found something rare and precious with you. As your fingers intertwined with his, he couldn't help but smile, a genuine, unguarded expression of happiness spreading across his face.

*

Spencer flagged down a taxi, he couldn’t wait to get you home. The taxi pulled up to the curb, and Spencer held the door open for you, a small smile playing on his lips. The city lights glimmered in your eyes as you settled into the backseat, his hand finding yours instinctively. The ride home was filled with comfortable silence, the air crackling with unspoken words and promises.

Once the taxi had arrived outside his apartment, he leaped out and open the door for you. “A real gentleman you’ve got there.” The taxi driver smiled, giving you a knowing look as you stepped out onto the sidewalk. Spencer chuckled softly, a hint of colour rising to his cheeks at the driver's comment. Escorting you up to his apartment, he couldn't shake the feeling of contentment that settled over him like a warm blanket.

Once you were in the comfort of his apartment, he grabbed your face and pulled it closer to his. He gazed into your eyes, seeing a reflection of his own desires and emotions staring back at him. Without uttering a single word, he closed the distance between your lips, kissing you with a fervour that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you. In that moment, nothing else in the world mattered to Spencer except for the connection he shared with you.

As the kiss deepened, a wave of passion and longing swept over the both of you, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and desire. Spencer's hands moved gently to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek tenderly as if to reassure himself that you were real and not just a figment of his imagination.

Maybe it was out of instinct, but Spencer moved his hands down the back of your dress and felt the smooth fabric beneath his fingertips. His fingers found the top of the zipper and he slowly started pulling down, while his mouth found its way to your neck.

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. “You are beyond beautiful.” Spencer gently whispered against your skin; his breath warm against your neck.

Spencer's fingers traced a delicate path along your spine as he slowly lowered the zipper of your dress, his touch felt like feathers dancing along your skin. Every nerve in your body felt alive and electrified under his gentle caress, and you couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips.

His lips found yours once more, the kiss deep and hungry, filled with a raw intensity that threatened to consume you both. Lost in the heady rush of desire, you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as if trying to fuse your very souls together.

Spencer was never the kind of man to hurry into get you naked, he liked taking it slowly, savouring every moment and committing it to memory. His hands moved with purpose, but also with a tenderness that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you. As the dress slipped off your shoulders and pooled at your feet, Spencer's eyes roamed over your exposed skin, drinking in every curve and contour as if committing them to memory.

“I don’t how I ever got so lucky.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes filled with a mixture of adoration and desire. Spencer guided you towards the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. In the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, tonight felt more romantic, more intimate.

Spencer gently laid you on his bed, his gaze never wavering from yours. The room was imbued with a sense of intimacy and affection, as if every object bore witness to the love shared between you and Spencer. His fingers traced delicate patterns across your skin.

Though Spencer was still fully clothed, you didn’t feel vulnerable, you felt loved and adored. You felt as if Spencer was your biggest fan. But Spencer, been the gentleman he is, wasn’t going to allow you to be the only one naked. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing the expanse of his chest as he shed the fabric, every movement deliberate and filled with a silent promise.

As his shirt fell to the floor, Spencer lowered himself onto the bed beside you, his body radiating heat and a quiet intensity. His mouth left a trail of kissed down your body, igniting a trail of fire along your skin as he worshipped every inch of you with his lips and tongue. Each touch was a testament to his adoration, a silent vow of devotion that echoed through the room.

His lips started moving down your body, his lips finding your nipples and gently sucking them, his tongue flicking over them. But they weren’t the centre of his focus, because if Spencer was one thing, he was giving. He loved hearing you moan for him, how you complete surrendered yourself to him. He enjoyed knowing he had ruined anyone else for you, because he knew you the best, he knew what made you squirm. He wasn’t usually the type of man who wanted to ‘own’ something, but you were different. He had always wanted you for himself, even if at the start he was nervous.

His hands moved lower, caressing your hips, your thighs, his fingers dipping into you, the warmth of your body accepting him wholeheartedly. He felt you tremble under his touch, your body responding to his every move, and he felt a surge of power and desire within him.

Your breathing quickened, every gasp and moan a testament to the pleasure that was building within you. Spencer's eyes met yours, the fire in your eyes mirrored in his own. He knew then that this was more than just a physical connection, it was a soul-deep bond that took his breath away.

He paused, the tip of his finger hovering over your sensitive spot, teasing you. You knew what you wanted, and you could tell that Spencer knew it too. He smiled, a warm and genuine smile that made your heart flutter.

"Please," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Please, what princess?” Spencer teasingly asked, stroking your inner thigh with his fingers.

You swallowed hard; your desperation clear in your eyes.

“Use your words.” He insisted, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I need you,” you whispered hoarsely, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

His lips were soon on your clit, his tongue plunging inside you, tasting you, exploring you. Your body arched beneath him, a silent plea for him to keep going, to never stop. And he obliged, his tongue darting in and out of you, his fingers working in perfect rhythm, driving you higher and higher until you finally shattered apart underneath him. You came with a cry, your body convulsing beneath his, and he felt the wave of your release wash over him, taking him to a place of pure ecstasy.

As your body relaxed, he pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours, his face a picture of pure satisfaction. He moved up beside you, his hands steadily exploring your body, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

But Spencer was far from done. He knew exactly what you needed; he could read your body like an open book.

Spencer slowly slid inside you, feeling the walls of your body cling to him like a force of nature. He moved slowly at first, savouring every moment of the connection that flowed between them. Your body arched towards him, eager to feel him deep inside, seeking the completion of a desire that had been building for so long.

As he thrust deeper, Spencer's eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of the moment making your heart race and your breath quicken. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your body craving the warmth and connection.

He picked up the pace, each stroke more fervent than the last, the sounds of your breath and his groans filling the room. The air was thick with desire and the scent of your arousal, heightening the passion between you.

Your hips met his with each thrust, matching his rhythm and pulling him deeper into you. Every movement felt more intense, every touch more electric. In that moment, you and Spencer became one, moving as one, feeling as one.

Your fingers dug into his back, pulling him closer, every sensation heightening, every touch becoming more intense. Spencer's breathing was ragged, mirroring yours. The room was alive with the sound of your bodies moving in a primal dance, lost in each other's eyes.

Your breathing became higher pitched, signalling your orgasm was coming. You arched your back, your head falling back as you screamed his name. Spencer felt the walls of your pussy clenching tighter around him, and he knew that he was going to cum too.

He thrust harder, feeling the heat of your body engulfing him, taking him over the edge. His orgasm was explosive, shooting wave after wave of pleasure through his body. He held you close, his lips pressed against your neck, his breath still ragged with desire.

Spencer collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, his face flushed with exertion and desire. You lay there, breathing heavily, your bodies still connected. Spencer gently stroked your hair, his expression filled with love and affection. "You are my everything," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “And I can’t wait to tell the world about you.”

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#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

[rynbutt]

pierced. pt. 5 | spencer reid.

He was starting to fall for you. Hard. It made him wonder if you'd ever be safe being part of the dangerous life he led.

masterlist

cw: fem!reader, 18+ content (MDNI), smut (oral m!receiving, riding, unprotected sex - WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!!!) fluff, angst, mentions of a body (general criminal minds behaviour)

a/n: ehhehehehe

The soft rustle of sheets stirred his sleep.

Spencer kept his eyes shut as he was gently coaxed from sleep, his muscles more sore than he remembers them being last night. He let out a tired sigh, a yawn pulling from his mouth as he blinked his eyes open slowly, his eyes starting to adjust to the warm morning sunlight that pooled through the curtains. Spencer’s brain suddenly caught up, realising that this was not his room and these definitely weren’t his  sheets. 

A soft sigh caught his attention and Spencer turned his head to see your bare back, sheets pooled at your waist. Spencer’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at your smooth skin gently bathed in sunlight. It took a moment for the memories of last night to finally be released from the grips of sleep, but he remembered. Remembered the softness of your skin under his fingertips, the gentle kisses you planted along his neck and shoulder, the feeling of you wrapped around him; all of it. 

“Can I?” Your eyes were gentle as you glanced up at Spencer, your fingers resting on the buckle of his belt, waiting for his permission. Spencer’s head was spinning seeing you on your knees in front of him as he sat on your couch with you between his legs. You gently squeezed his knee, getting his attention. “Spence?”

Spencer’s face went hot, running his hands down and face then pushing them through his hair. The memories of your warm lips pressing kisses all over him sent him reeling. Spencer wasn’t exactly experienced when it came to sex and he was sure that with anyone else he would have freaked out and panicked. But with you, it felt warm and intimate, almost natural to him.

The moment you took the head of his cock in your mouth, Spencer’s mind went white, unable to form a single cohesive thought at the feeling of your warm mouth wrapped around him. You reached up to intertwine your fingers with his, prompting him to use his other hand to guide you exactly where he wanted. You beamed at his nervousness, quickly pulling off of him with a quiet pop to lean up on your knees to kiss his lips softly, calming him down, “you’re doing so good, Spence.”

Spencer reached his hand out toward you, gently playing with the ends of your hair. You stirred at the feeling, eyes blinking open as you felt Spencer’s curious fingertips ghost over the skin of your back. You smiled softly, “G’morning, Spencer,” you greeted softly, your voice laced with sleep. Spencer’s hand suddenly retracted and you rolled over onto your back, glancing at Spencer’s sleepy face as he stared at you with intense affection.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi,” you whispered back, reaching your hand out to cup his face.

Spencer was always confident in his ability to profile, to solve a case and help his team, but this was uncharted territory for him. The way you bobbed your head slowly, tucking your hair behind your ear as your other hand wrapped around the base of his cock, gently squeezing him. He had never felt anything that was somehow both sinful yet intimate and affectionate. He gently held your hair back for you and it made you want to grin and squeal with delight at how adorable he was. 

The more involuntary noises he made, the faster you bobbed your head and gently sucked at the tip. Spencer grabbed your hand, squeezing softly as you quickened your pace, his groans like music to your ears, “I…I think I’m gonna-”

Spencer’s hand came to gently hold your wrist as your thumb stroked his cheek, “feeling okay, Spence?” you asked, wanting to make sure you didn’t turn his entire brain to mush last night.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I feel great,” he looked like he was trying to suppress a wide smile, the softness of your shared intimacy making his chest bloom with warmth. 

“That’s good,” you chuckled, moving some of his messy hair out of his face. “Do you have to work today?”

Spencer frowned, “yeah, I do. I would have liked to stay here with you though. Maybe get some lunch,” he said through a sigh.

“We have all the time in the world for that, Spence.”

As Spencer came down from the intense high of his orgasm, he suddenly became mortified, realising he finished inside your mouth without much of a warning, which he came to understand a warning was pretty vital in intimate situations.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry-” 

You laughed softly, wiping the collected drool off the corner of your mouth, “don’t be sorry, Spencer. I wanted to make you feel good… Did you? …Feel good?”

“I feel like that goes without saying,” he said with a tinge of sass. 

Spencer pulled his boxers and pants back up, scurrying around the room looking for his shirt and other sock. You caught his attention when you sat up in your bed, stretching your arms over your head, your shoulder and neck cracking quietly. Spencer’s eyes glanced down your body, over the swell of your breasts and the dip of your waist. He really wishes he didn’t have to work today.

“Like what you see, pretty boy?” You teased, leaning against the headboard.

“Yes,” he replied like it was obvious.

You chuckled at his response, finally urging yourself to get out of bed. He watched your naked body saunter over to him, your hands reaching up to hook around his neck. Spencer’s hands instinctively held your waist, eyes dipping between the two of you to take in the perfect dips and swells of your body. He leaned down to plant a kiss to your lips, hands cupping your warm cheeks.

He pulled away, brows knitted together as thoughts swirled around.

“What’s going on in there?” You asked softly, your fingertips ghosting over his temple.

He sighed, “I don’t usually… do this kind of stuff.”

“What’s got you nervous?” You questioned, the gentleness of your eyes making him feel safe.

“I just, don’t want to lose… this,” Spencer whispered. “And I don’t want to just take you on one date, or think that I just want to have sex with you or-”

You kissed him gently, letting him sigh against you, “I don’t think any of that, Spence,” you reassured him, watching as he relaxed slightly under your soft gaze.

“...Do you want to come to Rossi’s dinner party with me next Friday?” Spencer suddenly asked. “As my date,” he clarified.

You grinned, “I’d love to.”

Spencer knew this was going to stay in his mind forever. He watched as your breasts bounced in front of him, one of his hands coming up to rub at your pierced nipple while the other wrapped around your waist, holding you steady as you bounced on his cock. You let out soft moans as Spencer’s hips met yours, your hands wrapped around his shoulders, nails scraping against his skin. 

“You feel- so good,” he whined out, his breath hot against the column of your throat. You moaned softly, feeling the warmth bloom in your belly. You grabbed Spencer’s hand that was pinching at your nipple and trailed it down between your bodies, pressing his thumb to your neglected clit.

Spencer was a fast learner, you showed him what you wanted and he complied, rubbing small circles on the swollen bud. You let out a loud whine at the feeling, tipping your head back as Spencer kissed your shoulder, gently biting the skin between your neck and shoulder. 

“Don’t stop,” you moaned quietly, your slick forming a white ring around the base of his cock. Spencer’s head was spinning as he tried to hold on for you, making you feel as good as you made him feel when you were on your knees in front of him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whined, bouncing faster and faster on his lap as you tipped over the edge, prompting Spencer to rub tighter circles on your sensitive clit.

“I’m gonna- again-” Spencer groaned against your shoulder, his arm around your waist tightening until you were pressed tight against his chest. You held his head and kissed him as he finished inside you, his hands gripping your hips as his own hips stuttered against you. 

Spencer was breathless as he panted against you, sweat forming a light sheen over his skin. Your thumb traced softly beneath his lashes, “you’re so pretty.”

Spencer walked into the bullpen with a slight airiness to him that did not go unnoticed. Spencer made himself a cup of coffee at the kitchenette, his second cup of the day after sharing one with you before he left. Morgan glanced at him sideways as he made his own coffee, noticing the slight confidence that Spencer never usually exuded.

“Fun night, pretty boy?” Morgan asked, stirring his coffee. 

“Was pretty normal,” Spencer lied, trying to remain inconspicuous, which proved to be rather difficult when mostly everyone he knew and worked with were profilers.

“Normal, hm? You just seem… very relaxed,” Morgan replied.

“Am I not always relaxed?” Spencer questioned, glancing at Morgan.

“The Reid I know is usually wound pretty tight,” Emily interjected, placing her empty mug in the sink. Spencer dropped his spoon on the counter.

“Am I being interrogated?” Spencer asked, eyes narrowing at the two of them.

Morgan and Emily pursed their lips, shaking their heads. Emily raised her hands in surrender, returning to her desk. 

Morgan took a sip from his coffee, “nice hickey.”

“Shit,” Spencer slapped a hand over his neck, pulling on the collar of his shirt to try and cover the evidence of his late night escapade. 

Morgan chuckled as he sipped his coffee, walking back toward the meeting room and finally releasing Spencer of his questioning, “Come on, lover boy. We got another case.”

Cases barely bothered Spencer so deeply. He was able to compartmentalise pretty well, treat every case as a case and not get emotionally involved. Sure, there were a handful of times when he got over-involved in some things, but he was rarely ever bothered. 

When he and Emily were assigned to visit the dump site of a body and begin a profile, he was fine until he saw the body. She was a young woman, mutilated and dumped by a river. The problem was, she looked like you. 

Spencer felt his heart thumping in his chest, he knew it wasn’t you, but she shared a lot of her features with you. And that deeply bothered him. Emily noticed Spencer’s behaviour the moment he hesitated getting any closer to the body. Spencer cared about you, he liked you a lot and had a deep desire to protect you, especially after the intimacy you shared the night before.

“You okay, Reid?” Emily asked from where she was crouched down by the woman’s body.

Spencer sighed quietly, “yeah. Yeah I’m fine.”

“Take a minute, I can handle this,” she replied. 

Spencer glanced at her, “No, I’m okay. She just-”

“-looks like Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

Emily sighed sympathetically, “go see her when we fly home. It’ll make you feel better.”

Spencer nodded, his lips forming a tight line. The other victims in the case didn’t look like you, just that one girl, he was able to bury the feeling for the rest of the case but he was antsy to get back to Virginia so he could see you.

You sat on your couch eating ramen you bought from a place you discovered recently, eyes glued to the TV as you watched a pretty terrible soap opera that you dare not turn off. You were far too invested in the ridiculousness of it to turn it off.

There was a sudden knock on your door. You turned the volume of the TV down, putting your ramen on the table in front of you. You walked over to your door, peering through the peephole. You were pleasantly surprised to see Spencer.

You opened the door, “Spence? I didn’t think you were back until-”

He suddenly crashed into you, your sentence falling flat as he wrapped his arms around you, pressing his cheek against your hair. You hugged him back, hands gripping his shirt and holding him close. His sudden appearance made you nervous, wondering what prompted it.

“What’s going on, Spencer?” You asked quietly, pulling away from him to cup his cheek.

“I just needed to see you,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper. You frowned sympathetically, deducing it was probably his most recent case.

“You want to talk about it?” Your voice was gentle.

“Not right now,” Spencer said, “...Can we just stay like this?”

You nodded, “of course we can.”

Spencer spent the night holding you close, revelling in the feeling of your heart beat and the sound of your quiet breathing. He had just found someone who listened to him intently, liked the things he liked and liked him. He knew the fear was somewhat irrational, but the idea of losing you upset him, made him think irrationally, which was something that never happened to him. 

You stroked your hand through his hair, your warm fingertips soothing his nervousness and helping him calm down. He felt safe in your arms and it made him wonder if he deserved your kindness and your gentleness. 

Was it right for him to drag you into his dangerous life?

a/n: watch this become my whole personality

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black @dreamsarebig @anuncalledbridge @fioletowelowe @ladylincoln @spencerreidsgf420 @bollzinurmouth @scarlettssub @ipseitydelrey @donttrustlove @mcntsee @ruziazyn

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid #emily prentiss #derek morgan #criminal minds x you #criminal minds spender #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff

[pathologicalreid]

next of kin | S.R.

disaster strikes and you and Spencer try to take custody of your younger sister

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: actually might be gn! but i'm too scared to say it is. death, orphan-ing, funerals, child custody issues, blood, general cm violence, like actually an abhorrent amount of death. sorry i killed your parents for the sake of my fanfiction can we still be friends? word count: 3.33k a/n: this is the fic that this post is about. i am in fact my own worst enemy. i hope y'all like it actually genuinely i am most definitely overthinking this. if your name is maya im sorry that sucks.

“What did your parents say?” Spencer asked, walking into the conference room that the local precinct had offered to you.

You had been staring blankly at your phone since you got off the call with your mother, “Uh, they said thanks, but no thanks.”

The uneasy feeling had settled in your stomach as soon as you found out the team was being called to your hometown, and you had been nauseous ever since you found out the UnSub’s pattern.

Married couples with an older child who had moved out and a younger child who was still at home.

Your little sister was a surprise, you had incorrectly assumed your parents were done having kids.

Until today, you wouldn’t have traded Maya for the world, but now you sat in fear of your family being targeted by a serial killer. Hotch had offered them a protective detail, but they declined. Self-righteous as they were, they told you it wouldn’t feel right for them to accept help that couldn’t be offered to everyone.

Clenching your jaw, you stood at the table, “I’ll go by later and check in on them.”

Spencer had met your family twice by now. Last Christmas he had tagged along to meet them and celebrate with your family before the two of you spent New Year’s with his mom. Then, while your sister was on Spring Break, they flew out to Virginia, and you and Spencer had shown your family around Quantico and the District.

Maya had loved Spencer, partially because you loved him, but mostly because of his magic tricks.

“Do you want me to go with you?” He asked, stepping up next to you and placing a hand on the small of your back.

You sighed and shook your head, “No, not if you’re needed here.” You reached up and cupped his cheek, smiling softly, “Thank you for offering, Spence.”

He nodded affirmatively, “If you change your mind,” he offered. Gently, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before the two of you returned to the rest of the team.

The fact that your parents lived only five minutes from the police station gave you some relief, but you still felt tightly wound. Everyone had noticed. You just needed this case to be over.

The porch lights were on when you got there, and you used your house key – which you had never taken off of your keychain - to open the front door. “Hey, kiddo,” your dad greeted from the couch. A peek into the kitchen showed you that your mom was wiping down the counters. It all felt so eerily normal.

It was dark by the time you had gotten there. Maya was already asleep, but you tip-toed into her room anyway and kissed her goodnight before going back downstairs. Once you had hugged both of your parents and told them you loved them, you made your way back to the police precinct.

By nearly three in the morning, there was no new information, and the team was starting to consider calling it a night until the police chief got a call.

“We just got a call. Lady reported shouts coming from her neighbor’s house at 86 Meadowbrook,” he informed you, putting his hands on his hips and looking around at the team.

None of them even spared him a returning glance, everyone’s eyes were on you.

Blinking rapidly, you nodded assuredly, “I have to go get Maya.” You didn’t even recognize your voice even as you said it. It couldn’t have been your voice. That was the rasp of someone far away from you.

All of the other voices around you were muffled, you couldn’t hear what people were telling you, let alone understand them.

Maya. Maya. Maya.

Brown eyes. There they were, right in front of your face. “Let’s go get her,” Spencer whispered.

You had been speaking out loud. Repeating your sister’s name like a prayer without even realizing it.

Hotch let you go with them, but he made it abundantly clear to you – and the rest of the team – that you weren’t working this case anymore.

Surrounded by reverent voices in an SUV, JJ drove while Spencer stayed in the back with you. He held your hand tightly in his.

The house was closed off with police tape. Bright yellow plastic fluttered in the wind as you watched your team and other emergency personnel enter and exit. At your insistence, Spencer went in to get Maya, it felt like it had been hours before he walked out, carrying her in his arms.

Carefully, he brought her to you, and you pulled her close to your chest, blocking her eyesight as two body bags were brought out of the house.

You didn’t hear anything after that. You just let yourself be moved to wherever you needed to be, holding your kid sister as she cried for your parents.

They had to take their bodies to the hospital even though they were already gone, and you needed to be the one to confirm their identities. Spencer stayed with Maya while you were busy. She had cried herself to the point of exhaustion, you were grateful that she was sleeping, and then you felt cruel.

By sunrise, she was still asleep, and you had been set up in that same conference room from earlier. Sitting across from you was a social worker, a representative of the state. Your lips had parted in shock as you looked at her, “What do you mean they denied my request?”

In an attempt to be helpful, JJ worked with you to file an emergency request for custody of Maya, and the case worker had just told you that the request was denied. “The state doesn’t believe your request is valid,” she told you.

Your mouth went dry, “I don’t…” you glanced over at your little sister. “Our parents were murdered last night, and they won’t let me take custody of my sister?” You asked indignantly, peering at the social worker. It wasn’t her fault, somewhere in your grief-ridden brain you knew that, but you couldn’t help the feeling that she was somehow your enemy.

“They don’t believe you can provide her with a stable living environment,” the social worker, Brittany, explained.

Narrowing your eyes, you responded, “A stable living environment like a foster home? I’m her sister. We’re family – the only family each other has left.” You stood up, excusing yourself for a moment before walking out of the precinct. Once you were outside, you promptly hurled into the bushes.

That was how he found you, to the side of the building with your hair haphazardly moved out of your face, dry heaving into the shrubbery. Gently, Spencer placed a hand on your back before starting to rub small circles on your back, “You should eat something, love.”

You just shook your head in response, you weren’t hungry. “They won’t let me take her,” you whispered morosely, straightening up, you kept your back facing him.

“What?” He asked, his hand abruptly stopping its movement on your back.

Taking a deep breath and sitting on the curb, you looked up at Spencer. “The state thinks I’m not stable enough to take her in,” you said, resting your chin in your hands.

Your boyfriend crouched down so that he could sit next to you, “Are you going to challenge it?”

“Of course I am,” you cried. “But what happens to her in the interim, Spence? She gets placed with whatever foster home here and I go back to Virginia? I see her when the family court resolves this in two years?”

Treading carefully, Spencer cleared his throat, “What are you going to do?”

Defeated, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m…” your voice trailed off. “My parents are dead, Spencer,” you murmured softly, tears welling in your eyes.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around you, “I know, darling. I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t think I can do this alone,” you whispered, leaning gently into him.

Spencer turned to kiss your temple, “It’s a good thing you’re not alone then. I’m not going anywhere.” He waited for a moment before continuing, “Give me something to do. Give me a job to take off of your shoulders.”

In the end, you let Spencer take over funeral planning. He thanked you for trusting him before the both of you went back into the precinct.

You had just hung up with a family lawyer who had offered to take your case, letting your phone drop to the floor, you let your arms hang at your side. Someone had taken Maya to get breakfast while you spoke with the lawyer.

At the sound of the phone falling to the floor, Spencer stepped into the conference room, letting the door click shut before him. “Hey, what did he say?”

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you took in a deep breath, “Um, he said he’d be willing to take the case if I could put together a case plan to present before the judge.”

Before that phone call, you didn’t know what a case plan was, you could’ve gone your whole life without knowing what a case plan was.

“I need a year-long plan for how I’m going to prepare to have Maya in my custody, but he said a year is the best he can do,” you said, staring blankly at the wall ahead of you. “A year?” You whispered aimlessly, “I’m not waiting a fucking year to take custody of her. I have to take her home, Spence. I have to.” It wasn’t your intention to snipe at him, but you felt like you couldn’t help yourself.

The events of the last twelve hours threatened to take you down, but you had to stay strong for Maya.  

Taking a shaky breath, you looked up at Spencer, “Why is it that every time I convince myself that it’s going to be okay, I get tossed to the ground again?” You asked him.

Maybe because you weren’t fully convinced. Maybe it was because it had only been seven hours. You needed to remind yourself of that.

“She’s a ward of the state?” Spencer asked for clarification, holding you tightly.

Nodding absentmindedly, you rested your head on his shoulder as he swayed gently. “She can stay with me until after the funeral, and after that, she has to go with the social worker.”

The sad look on Spencer’s face told you that he was running out of ideas, and you were coming to the very same conclusion. “We could get married,” he offered.

“Stop, Spence,” you said, shaking your head. You couldn’t believe this was where he was going.

He shrugged helplessly, “I’m serious, Y/N. If we get married, they might think we’re stable, as a couple. They might give us custody.”

Your shoulders slumped, “I don’t want to get married just to get custody of my sister.” It certainly wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Spencer, just not like this.

He nodded understandingly, “I know, but I’m just saying. If that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it.” Placing a comforting hand on your knee, the two of you sat in silence for a moment. “Do you have any ideas?” He asked you carefully.

Looking through the blinds of the conference room, you saw the rest of the team coming back to the precinct. Setting your jaw, you nodded, “I might.”

Opening the door, you had Maya go in with Spencer while you approached your Unit Chief. “Hey,” Hotch said, a glint of sympathy in his eyes. “How are you holding up?” He pulled you away from the people, wanting to give you privacy.

This wasn’t fair, they were still working on an active case. A case that was disturbingly close to you, and yet, you felt you were out of options. “I need a favor,” you blurted to him, wringing your hands. Your nervous energy made it impossible for you to stay still.

Hotch nodded, “What do you need?” He asked, studying your composure with the eye of a profiler.

You took a deep breath, “I was… I need you to call in a favor with someone. Anyone, really. The state won’t let me take custody of Maya, but I can’t let her become a ward of the state. Not when I’m right here, ready, willing, and able to take her.”

“Okay,” he responded, not even pausing to think about it.

Taken aback, you looked at him curiously, “I- that’s it? I had groveling prepared.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly as if he was trying to tell you it wasn’t necessary. “You’ve been a part of this team for years and not once have you ever asked for anything in return for everything you do for everyone else. This is the least I can do,” he told you.

You couldn’t help it. Overwhelmed, you tackled Hotch in a bear hug, “Thank you.” Your voice was low, “Thank you so much.”

Succinctly, Hotch hugged you back before you pulled away, “I’ll go make some calls.”

It was the smell.

The smell that you’d sensed countless times before on the job, the metallic tang of the blood. It should’ve been mostly dried by now – you supposed you were more susceptible to the scent, considering it was your parent’s blood, but it put you on high alert.

Emily had brought you by so that you could pack a bag for Maya, but you found yourself stuck on the landing. To one side, there was your childhood bedroom and Maya’s room. On the other side, there was your parent’s room.

“Y/N?” Emily called your name from downstairs, “Are you alright?”

No, you wanted to say, but you bit your tongue, scanning the house you had grown up in. “This doesn’t belong here,” you told her, glancing behind you as she made her way up the staircase.

You didn’t have gloves, so instead you pointed at the figurine that was resting on the bookshelves, a little bear facing in the direction of your parent’s bedroom door. “This is in the wrong spot?”

Nodding, your eyes followed the ceramic bear as Emily picked it up with a gloved hand. “It’s mine, it should be in my room,” you informed her. Your parents never changed anything about your childhood bedroom, not since you moved out. “It was like it was watching them,” you thought aloud.

“Do you think the UnSub did it?” She asked you gently, her voice was low but steady.

Blinking rapidly, you kept your eyes focused on the figurine, “Little Bear,” you murmured, “They called her Little Bear.”

Emily shook her head in confusion, dark hair swaying as her head moved. “Who was called Little Bear?”

Dropping the bag you had packed to the floor, you buried your face in your hands, “I should’ve seen it sooner.” The victimology, it all suddenly made sense to you. “When I was a kid, there was a family like mine. A brother who was in his twenties when his parents had another baby, a girl. They called her Little Bear.”

Realization dawned on Emily’s dark features, “Like this bear?”

You picked up the bag and started making your way back down the stairs. “Their mother made those figurines. The parents died in a fire two weeks ago – they left everything to the younger sister. It was all over the news. God, I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

“Hey,” Emily said sympathetically, “You had other things going on. None of this was your fault.” Her voice was stern, harsher than you’d ever heard her, as she pulled out her phone and called the team.

Your teammate drove, passing the police station on the way to drop you off. They left for the takedown, and you felt yourself floating into the precinct. Maya was waiting in the conference room for you, watching cartoons on someone’s laptop.

Kneeling in front of your little sister, you tapped the space bar, pausing the video. “Hey, kiddo,” you whispered, reaching over, and smoothing her hair away from her face. “How are you feeling?”

She had cried herself to sleep earlier, and you felt like you hadn’t been around enough. Maya sat up on the couch and rubbed her eyes, they were red, but not teary. “I miss mommy,” she told you, pouting slightly.

You nodded gently, moving to sit next to her before you pulled her into your lap. At six years old, she was all gangly limbs, just starting to grow into her own person. Just old enough to understand death, “I know, baby. I miss them too.”

“They wouldn’t lemme go home,” she continued, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I wanted Thumper,” she whined, sounding younger than she was.

Looking up at the light, you silently begged for your tears to go away. “I got him for you,” you told her, reaching into your bag and producing the small stuffed bunny that you had given her as a baby.

You savored the way her eyes lit up as she grabbed the stuffed animal from you.

“So, you and Thumper are gonna come to stay with me in Virginia. Do you remember going there? You said you liked it?” You kept smoothing her hair back as she held her toy.

She was silent for a moment, “Will Spencer be there?” She asked quietly.

Smiling slightly, you nodded, “He and I live together, so he’ll be there with us.” Slowly, you started rocking back and forth, trying to soothe the both of you simultaneously.

“As long as he doesn’t pull money out of my ear,” she answered succinctly, shutting her eyes as she leaned up against you.

There was approximately an hour before you watched the team return to the precinct, slowly, you laid Maya down on the couch before walking out. “It was a clean shoot,” you heard Rossi tell Morgan, and one look at the rest of them told you everything you needed to know.

The team went back to the hotel, and Spencer filled you in on the funeral arrangements he had made on your behalf. You were about to try to get some sleep when Hotch approached you and told you he needed to speak to you.

“I called a good friend of mine on your behalf, and he gave me some information. We were able to work out a plan,” he told you, sitting across from you in the hotel lobby.

You were about to tell him that a case plan wouldn’t work, but he held his hand out, telling you to wait.

He nodded before he kept going, “He was able to file an emergency request to grant you temporary custody of Maya, and it was granted.”

You felt sick to your stomach, “She’s mine?”

“Temporarily, you’ll have to take care of some formalities back in Virginia, but you have full custody of her,” he informed you. “You’re being granted family leave, and I’ve encouraged Reid to apply for it as well,” Hotch told you, reaching out and placing a hand on your shoulder. “I am… I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through this but thank you for coming to me when you needed the help.”

You nodded absentmindedly, your head still whirling with the information that you had just been given. Stumbling, you walked back to your hotel room that you were sharing with Spencer and Maya.

The funeral was planned, the custody issue was solved, all there was left to do was…

“Baby?” Spencer said softly as you swung open the door, “Everyone else took Maya to get ice cream, I figured it couldn’t-“ his voice broke off at your first sob.

Everything you had held in came bursting out, all of the grief and stress and exhaustion nearly knocked your legs out from underneath you.

But Spencer was there to catch you.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds hurt/comfort

[stairain]

Mommy's Boyfriend.

While dropping off your son at school, the last thing you expect is your ex-boyfriend Mr.Reid to be his teacher.

Warnings: Soft Dom Spencer, Mother reader, Your child is unnamed don't think too much about it, make-up sex, cunnilingus, begging, gentle-ish sex, doggy style, light choking, cream pie, he loves you too much. 

WC: 7.1K 

It was the first day of school, and you were dropping your son off, walking through the hallway and holding the little boy's hand. As you passed through various rooms, you smiled at passing teachers and students. When you finally make it to your son's classroom, you kneel down and kiss his forehead before saying a few encouraging words to him, patting his back before urging him into the room.

"I'll see you in a few hours, love.."

You say to him as he walks away from you. When you stand up, you're not at all expecting Spencer to be standing there behind you. The two of you had broken up just before summer started, and although you knew he was a teacher, you were really hoping you didn't see him today.

What are the chances he’s your son's teacher? Apparently very high ones.

You give him a forced polite smile before trying to walk away from him as quickly as you could.

As Spencer watches you go, he’s hit with a wave of shame, guilt, and disgust. He should never have let things end the way he had. He should’ve tried to fix things but, instead, he had just given up. It was something he would never forgive himself for. He decides that he’s not going to let you go without at least knowing that he regrets his actions. He walks after you.

"Hey."

You hear him, and the clicking of your heels against the floor speeds up as you try to get away from him as fast as possible.

"Wait.." He says in a calm, firm, serious voice with a hint of a pleading tone. He picks up his pace and is quickly closing the distance between you two. When he moves closer to you, he reaches a hand out to plant on your shoulder, trying to stop you. 

When you shrug off his hand, he purses his lips and quickly runs in front of you, so you're forced to stop. You blink at the quick movement and look up at him with eyes full of undercover malice. Pushing your tongue into your cheek in annoyance, you quietly snap at him, so as to not attract a crowd.

"Can I help you?"

Spencer looks at you with eyes that are full of regret, sadness, shame, and longing. He takes a small step closer to you. You can see that he’s upset, but most of the emotions he is feeling are negative ones directed at himself. He looks like he wants to hug you and cry at the same time, but he is restraining himself, far too scared to make you even angrier at him. Even in all of his sadness and regret there is still a little bit of love in his eyes, and it looks like he’s about to cry.

You bite your lips as the look in his eyes still never ceases to make you melt. With a small shake of your head, you speak.

"Listen, it's been great seeing you, but I just came to drop off my kid, alright?" You push past him and start walking towards the front doors, not wanting to be around him any longer than you already have.

Spencer reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can make it to the door. He looks at you with pleading eyes, still full of the same negative self-loathing emotions, but there’s a glint of hope and love in them.

"Wait–please." He says, his tone now urgent. "I just need two minutes of your time; to explain."

You take a deep breath and look down at your watch before you look back at him. "Don't you have a job to do?"

Spencer takes a deep breath and his eyes narrow before his expression softens again. "Yes, I do," he says.

"But, I'll go to work every day for the rest of my life. Please, just two minutes of your time." He looks desperate and pleading but, if you refuse again, he seems like he’ll let you go.

It hurts you to admit it, but his words make your heart swell. If there was one thing he was always good at doing, it was putting you first. But ironically, that's what got the two of you here in the first place. With wavering eyes, you look around before sighing, and agreeing.

"Two minutes." 

A huge wave of relief washes over Spencer and he can't help but smile a little bit. He walks you to a quiet place to talk. Once you are out of earshot of everyone around he looks at you with regretful eyes, and his voice begins to crack a bit.

"I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you and I am so sorry for the way I treated you. I was too caught up in my work and didn't give our relationship the attention it needed and I regret it every day. Please, forgive me."

You shake your head and look down at anywhere but him, because you know the second your gaze locks with those puppy-dog eyes you've always adored, all of your progress of "getting over him" in the past few months would go to waste in a heartbeat.

"I-I don't know, Spence.."

You hadn't even noticed the way you referred to him as his nickname you always used to call him, too caught up in your emotions to acknowledge it now.

"Please," His voice sounds desperate, like he might break down any moment now.

"I would do anything to fix what I have done. Please, just give me one more chance. I will never take you or our relationship for granted again. I love you."

As those last few words escape his lips his voice breaks and he looks like he might just get down on both knees and beg you. He looks completely ready and willing to show you, not just tell you, how sorry he is and that he can and will make things right.

Raising your chin a little to look at him through teary lashes, you run your thumb along your waterline. With a heavy sigh, you finally find the courage to look him in the eyes.

"You have a class to teach, Spencer. I'm sorry."

"I'll call in sick. I'd walk away from my job in an instant if it meant I got you back."

His voice is desperate as it breaks again and tears well up in his eyes.

"Please, love. Just give me a chance."

He looks heartbroken, and this is probably the most emotional, intense, and passionate he has ever been about his love for you and it's hard for you to resist. You’re sure you'll be making a mistake by saying no, but at the same time, you feel you’ll be making an even bigger mistake by saying yes.

You almost laugh at his words, but you stop yourself before you do. If you laughed in his face right now, you know he'd absolutely be crushed. With a sad smile, you sniff. 

"Don't do that, Spencer."

With one last look at your watch, you barely think about the next words that leave your mouth. You were just saying whatever he wanted to hear, you couldn't help it. Even after everything, you just wanted to please him.

"Listen, I- School ends at three, right? When I come to pick him up, we can talk more, okay?" 

Spencer is absolutely thrilled by how things just went. He fully expected you to just walk out on him, and he wouldn’t even blame you. He tries to hide the happiness on his face but he's unable to prevent himself from letting a small smile creep onto his lips. He nods his head in agreement.

"Three o'clock," He says in a calming, but still emotional, voice. "I'll be right here." He looks over you for a second before he turns and walks away, still clearly full of hope and optimism.

And you're left in the room by yourself and your thoughts as he walks out. You know this is a mistake, and you should've just ignored him and went on with your life, but it was too late now. In a battle with your heart and your head, you think you're going to let your heart win.

As the day passes, you're running errands and doing some work of your own, but your mind is somewhere else. 

It's only two thirty, you've got another half hour until you see him again, and you feel your nerves race through your body. As you sit in your car in silence, the sound of your heart pounding in your chest rings in your ears, and it taunts you.

You can't help but feel excited as you think about finally getting the chance to talk to him and try to work things out despite knowing full well that this is a bad idea. Part of you still wants to run, but the idea of having him in your life again feels like a dream come true and it’s hard to resist that kind of temptation when it is just within your grasp.

At three o'clock Spencer is waiting at the school, just as he promised, hoping you won't change your mind.

Taking a deep breath and shaking out your hands, you get out of the car and begin to walk towards the entrance of the school. All of the other children and parents were walking back to their own cars, and you remember then that your son had after-school sports, and he wouldn't be going home with you now.

At least it gave you and Spencer more time to speak. As you walk closer to him, the pounding of your pulse fills all of your senses, and you force a polite smile on your face.

As you approach him he smiles and hugs you. His arms are warm and comforting, and just having him hold you again makes you feel better. You can tell he is nervous too, you can see it in the way his eyes are darting around and how he keeps fidgeting his hands. You can also tell that he’s trying to keep his composure and has the same polite smile you do. He's trying to act like things are normal and like he isn't just dying of impatience for when you two can go somewhere to have a serious conversation.

With a small push to his chest, you break the hug with an awkward chuckle. His touch felt so nice, so comforting, but it was too much for you right now. You clear your throat as you stand in front of him with your arms behind your back and stutter as you speak.

When you push him away you can see a little bit of hurt in his eyes before it’s quickly replaced with understanding and patience. 

"I-I forgot that.. I forgot my son has soccer practice now.. So I don't have to pick him up for a few hours.." Your voice is wavering and sheepish, and you sound so unsure of yourself. The woman you were this morning, strong and unwilling to speak to the man in front of you was traded for a whole new persona, one that couldn't help but fumble under the gaze of Spencer.

"I see." He says in a calm, comforting tone, "Then, what would you like to do? Where would you like to talk?" As he speaks you can see him relax a little bit, but he is still filled with nervous energy, but it's clear that he’s trying to help you calm down.

And before you can stop yourself.

"We could go back to my place.."

When you say those words a huge smile makes its way across Spencer's face. He nods in agreement and takes your hand in his. You let him hold it.

"Your place, it is." As he speaks he leads you to his car and opens the passenger side door for you before getting into the driver's side himself. He turns to look at you to make sure you've gotten in safely and smiles again before turning forward to drive from the school to your house. As he drives, your thoughts race. You start thinking of all the ways this could go wrong, and they outweigh everything that could go right. 

It almost hurts your heart that he still remembers where you live, without a GPS or directions. It's like he never really forgot, how could he? It's all muscle memory to him.

As Spencer drives, a wave of nostalgia hits him hard. He can't help but remember all the sweet moments you have had at your place. He remembers the long nights, and the quiet mornings. He remembers the way you used to make him feel.

Then it hits him, these are the same feelings that made him make the huge, dumb mistake that got him in this situation in the first place. If he doesn't want to lose you again he’s going to have to do everything in his power to fix his mistakes and do everything he needs to do in order to make you happy.

Pulling into your driveway, you swallow before unbuckling yourself and stepping out of the car. You don't wait on him as you're walking up the pavement to your front door, pushing it open and walking inside.

Spencer gets out of the car and follows you inside, closing the door gently behind him. He walks over to you and looks at you with intense love and affection in his eyes. Before you can speak, he gives you a long, passionate kiss. For those few seconds he is able to forget everything and all he can think about is just how much he's missed you and how much he loves you. When he finally pulls away, you can see how hard he had to try to pull himself away in the first place, he missed the taste of your lips on his. 

"I love you.."

You gasp against his lips when he breaks the kiss, and the way your eyes widen almost rivals the moon. The nerve of him, you thought. But when his hands reach up to cradle your jaw, you can feel the anger fizzling into pathetic dust and you pull him in for another bruising kiss.

Spencer kisses you back passionately and his arms wrap all the way around your waist in the embrace. A wave of calm crashes over him as he holds you close to him because nothing feels better in the moment than being close to you again.

After a few minutes of kissing you he pulls back just a little bit to look at you and breathlessly speak.

"I missed you," he says, a little breathless, "So much."

Your eyes are full of passion and vexation towards him and you all but growl out your words. 

"Shut up and kiss me." Grabbing the collar of his dress shirt, you deal another violent kiss to him.

"Yes, ma'am."

Is all he can say as he moves in again. He had to pry your mouth away from him for air, and he leans in to kiss you again, but this time, instead of going straight for your mouth he makes his way to your neck. He’s leaning over slightly as kisses your neck, your ears, and your jaw in a playful move that has more passion behind it than playfulness, but you can still tell he is trying to tease you. 

Growing impatient and letting months of pent up emotions control you, you grab his hand on your head and forcefully move it down to your ass, putting your hand overtop of his as you make him squeeze your rear.

Spencer lets out a gentle groan at the feeling of you gripped in his hand, and grabs the handful roughly, digging his fingers into the denim of your jeans. 

"Now, can we talk?" His voice is gravelly and breathless. 

You’re pushing his body back until the backs of his knees hit the couch, and he sits down on it. You sit down next to him and begin to kiss up his neck, one of your hands moving to hold his jaw steady.

"Go ahead.." You murmur against his neck as you press a wet and sloppy kiss against the goosebump raised skin. 

Spencer lets out a small chuckle at how much you seem to be enjoying this. He's loving every second of it and he just smiles as his eyes start to go a little bit cross-eyed as he leans back into you.

"Stop that. I don't think I can hold a coherent thought like this."

His voice is half serious and half playful, still filled with the same passion and lust for you it has been the whole time.

"You're a genius, figure it out." Your voice is low and teasing as you bare your teeth against the flesh and nibble at it, leaving small, red marks.

Spencer groans a little bit as a shiver runs down his spine at the feeling of your teeth against his skin. His eyes go a little bit more cross-eyed the longer you do it to him.

"Please," His voice is a little bit breathless and it's unclear if he is asking you to stop or if he's just asking you to take a little break from it so he can finish his sentence. "I'm begging."

Despite his words, you continue to suck at his neck, determined to mark him as yours once more. He was right, you two needed to talk about it, but you were a little preoccupied at the moment. Smiling against his skin, you lick over a fresh hickey.

“Haven't changed much then, Spence.."

Spencer lets out a small noise that is part moan, part whine, and part laugh. His eyes are just about completely rolled back into his skull at this point.

"I can't talk at all while you're doing this," His voice is strained but it's clear he is trying desperately to keep a playful tone to it. "You're not going to make this easy are you?" You can hear him take a deep breath as he is just barely able to calm himself down enough to give you a warning. 

"Nothing about this is easy, love.." The pet name just slips from your mouth, as if it were a habit. You don't dwell on it for too long as you lift yourself onto his lap and continue to kiss and mark his neck.

Spencer moves slightly to make it easier for you to sit on his lap and he lets out a soft sigh when he feels your weight against him and once again he can't help but smile.

"Baby," He says, his voice getting just a little bit more sincere now as he gives you a soft kiss on the cheek, "Please..." he asks one last time with pleading in his eyes.

"I have a lot to talk to you about. I'm not sure how you feel about everything but I promise it will be okay if you let me explain."

With a final press of your lips against him, you pull back and rest your hands on his shoulders. 

"Speak then."

The man takes a deep breath and speaks with the most sincerity you have ever heard in his voice.

"I am truly, truly, sorry for what I did to you," His voice cracks at the end of the word ‘you’ as he gets emotional again. He takes a few more deep breaths to compose himself before tearily speaking again. You can see how much he means the things he is saying and how much it hurts him having to tell you this.

“You didn’t and don’t deserve anything I did to you. I was wrong, and I’m sorry."

You had hoped the cloud of lust that sat between the two of you was enough to distract and mask the real reason why he was here, and you sigh. The arousal in your body fades and is quickly replaced with solemnness.

"I didn't deserve it, and I so badly want to hate you, Spencer." He reaches a hand out to run through your hair as you talk, and you lean into his comforting touch. "I spent months wanting to scream at you, yell at you for how you treated me. I wasn't even going to talk to you today, really.."

At your words Spencer's eyes fill with regret. He can only imagine how hard and awful the past few months must have been for you and to know he is the one who put you through it all makes him feel like he's a monster.

"I can't blame you, I know I'm a terrible person.. I really do." Spencer's voice cracks and tears start to form in his eyes too, he looks at you with a sad, pitiful look in his eyes. "You didn't deserve any of it, baby. I don't know what I was thinking.."

You tilt your head to the side at his words and pout at the way he's putting himself down. With a slightly trembling hand, you reach to wipe the tears forming in his eyes.

"You're not a terrible person, Spence. Just.." Taking a deep breath, you actually think about your response this time. When you come to a conclusion, you don't know if it's the right one or not. "Just, promise not to do it again, alright?"

Spencer watches you as you wipe away the tears that have formed in his eyes. He looks up and meets your eyes with some of the most pure love and devotion he has ever had. He slowly nods his head in agreement as a small smile starts to form on his face at your response.

"I promise, my love... I will do anything to make up for what I've done."

His words are filled with so much love and compassion it almost seems impossible that he is the same man who hurt you so many months ago.

You slowly nod and swallow, and try to push away the already rising feelings of sadness and regret.

"Can I kiss you without being interrupted, now?"

Spencer chuckles a little and nods.

"Of course you can... I've been dying for one." He gives you a playful wink and a playful shove to your shoulder before turning to kiss you deeply. When he pulls away his eyes are filled with the same passion and desire you have always loved, and a bit of the same lust you felt earlier as well. He smiles at you as he leans back on the couch and wraps his hands on your hips. 

"Come closer. I've missed you so much."

A warm feeling fills your body at his words and you grab the back of his head to tug him into a hot and heavy kiss, full of pent up emotions of anger, lust, love, and hurt.

Spencer moves in for the kiss with just as much desire and lust as you. He lets out a small, playful moan as you pull on his hair, he grabs your waist as you kiss him and a small smile forms on his mouth.

As your lips break apart he catches his breath for a minute but he seems unable to resist you for too long as he pulls you in again for another kiss, this one even stronger than the one before and his hands start to wander under your clothes to the small of your back. Just one moment seems to be too long without his arms around you and his lips on yours.

A sigh of satisfaction pours from your mouth into his, and the feeling of his hands on your bare skin was a sensation you've gone far too long without. His fingers swirling up the flesh of your back feels like it's burning you in the best way, and you're all too eager to finally connect with him again.

Moving your hands to take off your shirt, you pull away from the kiss, much to his disappointment. As you tug the fabric off your body and over your head, you're left in your bra and jeans as you look up at him through long lashes and sultry eyes.

Spencer gasps at the sight of you and it takes all of his restraint not to just pounce you like an animal. A grin washes across his face and that devilish glint returns to his eyes once more.

“You are more beautiful than I ever remembered,” He says in a way that is both flirtatious but also full of love and adoration. He smiles as he looks up at you. 

“Will you allow me the honor of taking those off of you?”

"Please.." Is all you can mewl out, lust washing over your entire body, just ready to be his again.

At your words, Spencer's eyes light up with excitement and he smiles widely before getting off the couch and kneeling down in front of you. He slowly reaches out to the clasp of your bra and undoes it before slowly sliding it down your arms and off of you. He doesn't even try to hide his joy, it's evident in just how much he's smiling and the glimmer in his eye.

"You're still so perfect, my love... Just like a goddess." He whispers as he reaches to undo your jeans and unzip them.

You lift your bottom a bit off the couch to help him pull your pants down your legs, moaning softly at the cool air hitting your skin. Your arms cross over your chest, not used to being exposed like this after so long.

Spencer can't take his eyes away from you as he takes in your body again and a deep, content sigh escapes his lips as he looks at you.

"God.. You're more beautiful than I ever thought was possible," He whispers in amazement as his eyes take in your exposed body. "And you're just as beautiful on the inside too. I’m sorry it took me so long to understand that.."

You can feel your breath hitching at his words, and a warm blush spreads over your cheeks, and you slowly lower your hands from over your chest, and rest them next to your bare thighs. You're only left in your panties now, sitting on the couch as he's kneeling in front of you.

Spencer's heart speeds up and he breathes heavily as he takes in the view in front of him. It's almost a little overwhelming, but all he can manage to do is take it in and admire you as he is left speechless for a moment. Finally, he comes to and he slowly moves in to touch your thighs. He takes his time and caresses them softly with his fingertips.

At his soft soft, you flinch slightly before letting your body relax. You trusted him, even after so long.

You can see the care and love in every soft caress that Spencer deals to your delicate body. His slow, steady touch is done with an intensity and a passion that almost seems to radiate off of him and you can feel it as his fingertips glide over the skin of your thighs. You don't know if you have ever felt someone be so delicate, slow, and methodical with something before but it’s beautiful, almost like he was dealing with a piece of art. 

Subconsciously, you feel yourself slowly spreading your legs as you watch his large hands move towards your body, and take the bands of your underwear in his fingers. He looks up at you for approval.

Spencer's breath catches in his throat and you can see his jaw practically hanging open as he's overwhelmed by the view that's in front of him. "You're beautiful, darling.." He says like it's a prayer. He lets out a soft sigh, and he nods in approval before slowly taking the bands off and peeling them down your legs.

You moan now that you're fully exposed in front of him, and all previous confidence you had in you has completely dissipated under his intense glare. Once the air flushes against your bare, soaked cunt, it makes you shudder with a shiver. 

Spencer's eyes narrow down on you and they burn with passion and emotion at seeing you there on the couch in front of him, all spread out and ready for him. He's lost in you for a minute and you can see it as his breath hitches and his jaw is still hanging half open. He still moves with deliberate, slow, and gentle touches as he moves his hand to the top of your thigh.

"Baby.. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He whispers breathless, almost as though he is stunned by just the sight of you.

Moving your legs, you hook your calf around the back of his head, pulling him closer to your spread thighs, and there's a devilish smirk on your face.

He’s caught aback by how you pull him closer to your core and his eyes go wide at the gesture. He seems a little bit surprised but in the end he doesn't argue, instead he lets out a small chuckle and moves in closer to the point that the front of his face is pressed up against your thighs.

"What are you doing to me, love?" He asks innocently with a smirk of his own as he looks up at you with an amused smile on his face. His warm breath is ghosting over your glistening hole, and it makes you all the more desperate for him. 

“Making up for lost time.” 

You pull him in closer with your leg latched around him, urging him to get on with it already. You hadn’t slept with anyone since the two of you broke up, and you never really had time to take care of yourself. But that’s what he was there for. 

“Guess I better get to work, then..”

Spencer huskily spoke before leaning down and encasing your puffy clit between his spit slicked lips. The sensation instantly made you arch your back and jolt away from him, but he was quick to wrap his hands and arms under your thighs and over your hips, forcing you closer.

As he pulls you closer, his long wet tongue peeks out from his mouth and licks a broad stripe up your cunt, tasting just how much you missed him. With each lick, he was lapping up at your juices like a man starved, moaning at the way your slick coated his tongue. 

Your lips were parted in a high pitched mewl, and you squeezed his head tighter with your legs. It made him dizzy, being suffocated by your shaking thighs and your gushing pussy, and he couldn’t have asked to be anywhere better. 

The wet muscle between your folds was pistoning in and out of you like heavy machinery, working you just the way you needed. You could feel your cunt contracting around him, further gushing your arousal on his tongue. 

Spencer was breathlessly moaning into your core, not being able to contain it. He was agonizingly hard in his pants, and it took everything in him to pry himself away from you. When he does, he deals one last slow, tortuous lick up your folds, before licking his lips and backing away. 

You look up at him with pleading eyes, and he was already working on lifting you from the couch, quickly making his way into the hallway and where he knew your bedroom was.

You could feel your still soaked cunt rubbing against the silky fabric of his shirt, and couldn't help but grind your hips down against it. You had been so touch starved, that even this tiny bit of satisfaction made your breath catch in your throat.

He gently laid you down on the bed, making sure your head was rested against a pillow, before he practically tore the buttons off his shirt trying to take it off. And his pants were no different, the leather of his belt slid against the fabric of his dress pants, and as soon as you heard a small clank of metal against your floor, his pants followed suit. 

When he was fully undressed, and crawled over your body until he was caging you underneath him, and the sight of his slightly sweaty hair falling over his face made your chest heavy with emotion. 

Spencer leans down to kiss a line from your chin to your jaw, before stopping at your ear and lowly whispering into it. 

“Think you can let me take care of you again, like old times?” 

And it’s almost like his voice has put you under a trance, because before he can even finish, you’re nodding. It didn’t matter what he asked of you, you’d always say yes. 

He lifts himself away from you with a small mirrored nod, before hoisting you by your waist and flipping your pliant body around, and propping a pillow under your stomach and hips.

The cool material pressed against your sweat sheened skin made you sigh, and his rough hands traced over the curves of your hips and ass like he was trying to relive all the nights that he used to have you like this; plush ass bent over in front of him, soaked cunt begging for attention, spread legs practically inviting him between them. 

He swallows at the memories, and has a hard time convincing himself this is actually happening again. But he doesn’t dwell on it for too long, whether or not you’re really in front of him, or he’s just dreaming again, he can’t leave you like this. He loves you too much. 

Trembling hands find the heavy bobbing length of his cock, and he grabs himself at the base, shakily squeezing in order to urge himself to not cum immediately. You deserved better than that. You deserved so much better than everything he could give you, and he promised himself he’d somehow redeem himself. 

There wasn’t a better time to start than now, he thinks to himself as he tilts his hips forward to rub the leaking tip of his member against the silky folds of your cunt. And thank goodness he’s kneeling, because the second he felt soft, wet flesh against him, he would’ve collapsed. 

“G-God.. Missed this..”

You lift your head slightly from where it’s pressed against the pillow, and look back at him with a lazy smile. Your voice is slighted muffled against the fabric, but he understands you.

“Didn’t get laid over the summer, Spence?” 

You lift your ass higher, arching your back further so he would get the memo to fuck you already, and with a shake of his head and the cant of his hips, he’s easing himself inside of you, inch by inch. 

“N-No.. Was always yours, love.”

The smile slowly falls from your face and you turn back around to bury your face in the pillow, trying to play it off with a pleasured sigh. 

The two of you had stayed loyal to one another, despite everything. The thought made your heart swell and your cunt clench. He was unmistakably yours, and he always would be, no matter what. 

The squeeze of your hole around him forced him inside of you quicker than he had planned on, and he had to bite his lip, breaking skin, to stop himself from finishing right there and then. He grunted as he tried to regain control over himself, and pushed himself the rest of the way inside of you.

When he was buried to the hilt inside of you, your eyes rolled back into your skull and you bit at the pillow to stop yourself from screaming. He filled you so perfectly, just as he used to. It felt right, like he belonged nowhere else but entirely swallowed by your cunt. 

Spencer mutters out a few curses to himself before he’s draping himself over your body, pressing his firm chest against your damp back. His mouth is right by your ear, and you move your head to the side a bit to hear him better. 

And hear him better you definitely do. You can feel the heave of his chest as he breathlessly begins to withdraw his cock from inside of you. The rub of his veiny, long length dragging along your soft walls had you cursing like a sailor. 

As his breaths and moans quicken, so does the shove of his hips against your ass. He was so deep inside of you it was a miracle he was even able to pull himself out of you, but he managed to do it just fine. There were no complaints from you whatsoever as you felt him imprint the image of his tip right against your spot with every thrust he dealt to you. 

Your hands were planted out in front of you, gripping at the fabric of the comforter when his own came and fully encompassed them. Spencer intertwined your fingers together as the visceral sound of your pussy sucking him deeper and deeper filled your ears. 

Every time he humped into you, your clit brushed against the pillow, and it only made your cries of pleasure grow louder. The friction was dizzying, and you unknowingly clench around him impossibly tighter. 

And he just about loses his mind at that moment. When he’s sucked flush against your body, he goes cross eyed and squeezes your hands in his, as if trying to ground himself. A guttural groan leaves him and it’s a few more moments before he’s panting in your ear as he starts to move once more. 

He pulled back his hips to let his cock slide halfway out of you, before forcing himself back into that tight drenched cunt of yours. You can feel the spurt of arousal that leaks out of you at the force of his thrust, and you writhed at the feeling. 

Your body shakes underneath his as the combined feeling of grinding yourself down against the pillow and how deliciously his length abused your cervix and puffy folds drives you mad. You were gasping for air, trading your desperate moans and whines for a chance at breathing.  

“Sp-Spence.. Baby–please.” 

There wasn’t one single thought in your brain that knew what you were begging for, but somehow, Spencer knew exactly what to give you.

“L-Love you so much, sweet thing..” 

He moans out to you, then he leans down unbelievably closer to you. He lets go of one of your hands to wrap his own around your neck, grabbing at your throat as gently as he can to urge your face up to kiss him. 

It’s a little hard to catch his lips with yours, as with each plow into you sent your body forward, along with how heavily he was breathing. But when you do, the two of you seal your lips together in a passionate, burning kiss. 

His grip around your throat tightens a bit, and it’s enough to entirely set you off the edge. With one more ground of your hips against the pillow, and one more stamp of his cock against that little spongy spot inside of you, you’re suddenly soaking everything around you. 

The wet noise of your release is all you and him can hear, as you’re spraying your arousal all over his hips, his cock, your thighs, and those poor sheets underneath the two of you. Your eyes cross almost comically at the feeling of your orgasm rushing through you, and Spencer is doing no better.  

As he feels you squirt all over him, he curses into your ear and his entire body goes rigid. His hips still and he pushes himself as deep as he can possibly get before dumping everything he’s worth right into your soaked velvet core, sending ribbon after ribbon of his cum right against your cervix. 

“F-Fuck.. Fuck.. fuck..” 

All you can think about is how full you are. His cock is miraculously still hard inside of you, even though he’s emptied everything he’s got into you, and his thick cum is practically fighting for any room left you’ve got inside you. 

Wet. Wet would be the only word to describe the scene you’ve found yourself in. Your body goes limp against the soaked bed, and his sweat drenched body finds itself at the same fate as he collapses against you. The hand around your throat loosens and snakes its way back to your lonely hand, intertwining them once again. 

The both of you are panting against each other's faces for god knows how long, and neither of you have moved a muscle. You can feel his cum dripping out of you, running down the expanse of your thighs to join the puddles of your own arousal that pool against the bed. 

With a groan, he slowly pulled out of you, and it was like pulling the plug to a well, because the second his cock left your hole, a gush of a mixture of your arousals flowed out of you.

He chuckles at the sight, while you just moan softly. Spencer lays down right next to you and pulls your body against his, so you’re chest to chest. He reaches to move your sweaty hair out of your face, pressing a warm kiss against your sticky cheek. When he speaks, his voice is strained and you wouldn’t be surprised if he had lost his voice. 

“You know, he was talking about you during class today..” 

The slight rasp and squeak in his voice is problematically attractive to you, but you don’t think you could deal with another orgasm after flooding your own bed. 

You shake your head and groan softly at his words. 

“Oh god, what’d he say?” 

“He kept saying to everyone, ‘Mr.Reid is Mommy’s boyfriend!’” 

The tone in his voice heightens as he tries his best to imitate your son's words. You groan again and close your eyes. 

“And I’m guessing you didn’t say anything to him about it?” 

Your voice is strained and laced with faux annoyance, but he sees right through it. Spencer huffs out a small laugh and presses a kiss to your forehead. With the arm that’s holding you against him, he squeezes your shoulders lightly, as if to tease you. 

“Course I didn’t, can’t embarrass him like that..” 

Rolling your eyes, you sigh and he pulls you closer to him as you shake your head.  

“You’re the worst, I hope you know.” Your tone is playful and teasing, but you can feel yourself relaxing in his hold, allowing yourself to savor the moment for the time being. 

“Maybe, but at least I’m ‘Mommy’s boyfriend’ again..” 

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #dom spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #dom spencer reid x reader #dom!spencer #dom!spencer reid #soft dom spencer reid #dom spencer #spencer reid angst

[chvoswxtch]

slumber party

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader x derek morgan x spencer reid

summary: while en route to a case, the four of you let off a little steam.

warnings: all of them. every single one of them. swearing, a lil angst, derek morgan's smile, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 3.3k

a/n: let's be real. you didn't come here for a plot, and I didn't write one. enjoy this slutty vision I had in the shower. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

The jet was quiet apart from the sporadic sound of pages being flipped and Spencer’s occasional soft noises of either being intrigued or perplexed regarding details of the case, deciphered only by their volume and pitch. Hotch had read the same paragraph on the report at least seven times, and there seemed to be some kind of disconnect between his tired eyes and unresponsive brain. Letting out a quiet irritated exhale and diverting his attention to the top of the paragraph yet again, a soft noise caused his ears to perk up.

Finally looking up from the report for the first time in half an hour since he originally sat down, creases furrowed in the midst of his forehead when he glanced towards the other end of the jet and caught sight of you. From where he sat, all he could see was the back of your head since you seemed to be facing the back of the seat you were in, which he found extremely odd. But as he craned his neck, he noticed a familiar pair of hands on your hips and instantly clenched his jaw.

“Son of a bitch.”

The second Hotch shot up out of his chair, Spencer finally tore his own eyes away from the report and turned his head to follow Hotch’s angry march down the aisle of the jet with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. Now that there were no obstructions in his line of sight, Hotch had the full view of you sitting topless on Derek’s lap with your skirt bunched up around your waist, grinding your hips down in a slow but sensual rhythm. Derek’s hands were firmly grasped on your hips to help guide your movements, and his face was buried into your exposed chest.

“Morgan you greedy fucker.”

The sound of Hotch’s angry voice booming in the comfortable silence caused you to immediately tense up and stop moving, but Derek wasn’t having any of that. He gripped a little tighter onto your hip and gave your ass a light smack, pulling his head back to look at you with that dazzling smile of his that could make anyone weak in the knees.

“No no no no, keep goin’ baby girl. Don’t worry about him. You just keep doing what you’re doing…that’s it.”

Derek leaned his head back against the seat, looking over at Hotch with that same charming grin on his face. His warm chocolate brown eyes were glazed over with lust and had been eclipsed into half moons of pleasure. 

“Sorry Hotch, she just looked too goddamn good.”

“What’s going on back-oh.”

As Spencer took his place beside Hotch, his eyes immediately went wide at the sight he was met with. He seemed to be completely mesmerized by the erotic flow of your hips while you languidly rode Derek’s cock as you sat topless on his lap. While Spencer was bewitched by the spell of your hips, Hotch was furious. The stern look that seemed to be his default expression was unaffected by the show taking place before him.

“Morgan, you know the rules-”

“Come on, Hotch. We still got another hour before we land. Lighten up a little. You know, some stress relief would do you a whole lotta good.”

Before Hotch had a chance to respond, Spencer was already stepping forward and unbuttoning his cardigan.

“You could’ve at least asked us to join.”

Derek let out a soft chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down your smooth thighs as he flexed his hips upwards to match your pacing.

“Hey, you were the one more invested in exactly how many trees there are in the Acadia National Park than you were in the beautiful woman on the plane, pretty boy.”

“Well if I had known-”

Letting out a frustrated huff, you stopped moving and placed your hand over Derek’s mouth before turning to look at Spencer and Hotch over your shoulder.

“Boys, you know I hate it when you argue. It makes me dry up.”

Spencer dropped his forgotten cardigan on the chair behind himself, his attention solely fixed on you again. In the dim lighting of the plane, you could just barely see that the green flecks in his honey eyes had deepened into a wicked hue. He ran his fingers gently through your hair before cradling your face in one hand and starting to unbuckle his belt with the other, all while looking at you and dragging his tongue along his bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, we can get you wet again.”

“Not if you’re all standing around bickering instead of fucking me.”

Hotch wasn’t giving in, no matter how badly he wanted to. It was late, he was exhausted, he was beyond sexually frustrated, but above all he was fucking stubborn.

“There is one rule on this fucking plane. When we are en route to a case, we are focused on the case. Playtime is for after.”

Brushing Spencer’s hand away from his belt, a smirk tugged across your lips as you looked up at him and began to unbuckle it yourself, which only caused him to bite down on his bottom lip seductively. Throwing a glance over your shoulder at Hotch, you could visibly see just how pissed off he was, but as your gaze wandered down south, you could also see the outline of his impressive cock starting to strain against his pants. Sinking your teeth into your own bottom lip, you looked up at Hotch through your, flashing him a sultry smile while you teasingly unzipped Spencer’s pants slowly.

“Aw, come on, Aaron. If anyone needs some relief, it’s you. Just come have a little fun with us.”

The hardness in Hotch’s glare wavered only slightly at the provocative sound of your voice. It was an unrelenting struggle to keep his eyes focused directly on yours and to not let them roam over your body. If he let his gaze wander for even a split second to see the way your nipples were peaked from the cool air in the cabin, the way your soft hand was caressing Spencer’s cock through his pants, or the way your ass moved against Derek’s lap while you fucked him, he would break. While Derek began to flex his hips upwards a little harder to fuck up into you now that there was no longer a reason to stay quiet, you were pulling Spencer’s cock out of his briefs and leaning over to take him into your mouth.

Before he could watch you wrap your lips around Spencer’s tip, Hotch quickly looked away and stormed off towards the other end of the jet, dropping into his chair and loosening his tie with a hardened scowl on his face.

“You’re all getting written up.”

“For what?”

Derek's protest was only faintly heard since Hotch’s blood was now pounding in his ears like a high school marching band, and throbbing in other places. 

“Insubordination.”

There was a slight growl to his voice as he barked back at Derek, not even bothering to look up as he angrily began to look through the case file again, but he couldn't focus. No matter how hard he tried, all he could hear was Derek and Spencer praising you in tandem as they each took an offering from your body, and the soft noises of gratitude that flowed from your lips. It was absolute fucking torture. He thought about palming himself through his pants, just to get a little reprieve without alerting any of you to his moment of weakness. But he was so fucking angry with all of you, he didn’t even want to give in.

His mind was a jumbled concoction of juxtaposed thoughts, none of which had anything to do with the case in front of him. Hotch wasn’t sure why he was so pissed off right now. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if he had joined in, it wasn’t like the four of you hadn’t done it before. It certainly would’ve put him in a better mood. But this was a big case, and Strauss had been on his ass more than usual lately, and things at the BAU had been so chaotic that the team was getting split up just to keep up with the influx of cases coming across JJ’s desk.

Maybe it was a mistake not to send you with Rossi, JJ, and Prentiss. The air always shifted when you were alone with him, Reid, and Morgan. It was inevitable. Maybe that’s why he ordered you to come with him, because even if he didn’t want to consciously admit it, subconsciously he knew that this was exactly what he needed. He needed you, and the peace that you brought him.

The sharp sound of a smack landing on flesh caught his attention, and Hotch looked up to see that the three of you had moved to the bench directly in his line of sight. Derek had his head thrown back as pounded into you from behind, occasionally smacking his hand against your ass while he grunted about how tight and wet you always were. Spencer held your hair back while he fucked your mouth, watching you as he moaned praises of what a good girl you were. Your face was obstructed by Spencer’s back, but Hotch could hear how much you were enjoying yourself, and he couldn’t look away.

As Derek and Spencer came in unison, Hotch gripped onto the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned stark white, and he inhaled a sharp breath that he let out slowly through his nose. Gritting his teeth, he glared down at the blur of black ink on the pages, listening to the sound of your angelic laughter and kisses being exchanged between the three of you. Why was he doing this to himself? Why hadn’t he just fucking given in and joined?

While Spencer was sitting on the couch with his pants around his ankles, head back against the window with a blissed out look on his face, Derek snaked his arm around your waist and pressed a soft kiss to your neck before whispering into your ear.

“Do me a favor, baby girl. Go take care of grumpy over there.”

Letting out a quiet giggle, you turned and brushed your nose against Derek’s before kissing him softly.

“Already ahead of you, D.”

Discarding your skirt completely, you dropped it in Spencer’s laugh and planted a quick kiss to his lips before sauntering down the aisle of the plane, completely naked. Hotch glanced up when he caught the smell of your familiar perfume and looked at you with a halfhearted glare. All you could do was smile at the sight of his thick brows furrowed and the permanent scowl that he always seemed to wear. You both knew he couldn’t stay mad at you, and he didn’t even put up a fight when you made him lean back against his seat so you could sit on his lap. 

“Why are you so mad baby, hm?”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you ran one of your hands through his dark brown hair, giving a gentle tug at the root which earned a quiet grunt from him. As you leaned in to place featherlight kisses along his jaw, you could feel his body physically relax, as well as how much his hardened cock was straining against his pants. But despite the giveaways from his body, Hotch wouldn’t budge. He didn’t make a move to touch you, and he didn’t speak. He was always the hardest of the three to break, but you knew exactly where his weak points were.

“Oh, you don’t wanna talk, huh? That’s okay. I’d prefer to do something else with my mouth right now anyway.”

Gently biting down on his earlobe, you felt his thighs tense up beneath you and a quiet grunt sound from his chest, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. As you got off his lap, you slowly got down onto your knees in front of Hotch and unbuckled his belt. Since he was already in a sour mood, you decided to skip the teasing, and honestly you were so turned on yourself that you didn’t have the patience for it.

He was trying so hard not to give in while you were pulling the leather of his belt out of the buckle, and even as you were unbuttoning his pants and tugging down the zipper, he was trying to appear completely unbothered while looking at the case files. But the second he felt your luscious lips wrap around the throbbing head of his cock that was slick with pre-cum, he completely lost it. 

Letting his head fall back against the seat, he closed his eyes and his lips parted as he focused solely on the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue sliding against the underside of his sensitive tip. In that moment he completely forgot whatever he was mad about. Every single coherent thought in his head vanished, and all that was  left was you.

You don’t mind when he slips his hand into your hair and grips at it roughly, or when he starts to push his hips upwards to seek out more. It was rare that Hotch ever gave in to his selfish desires, and you were all too eager to let him. The sight above you was one you wished you could frame. His dark brown hair was messy from you running your fingers through it and his eyes were peacefully screwed  shut. There was a twinge of heat covering his cheeks, and his lips were parted further as heavy pants and soft whimpers escaped. Those little noises only make you want to steal more of them from the man that was normally so stoic and closed off. 

All of a sudden, Hotch roughly pulled at your hair causing you to moan around him. He grunted while leaning down to slip his hands under your arms, pulling you up from your knees and shoving all the reports off the table in front of him carelessly onto the floor. He grabbed you by your hips and lifted you up onto the table, and you immediately spread your legs wide for him to slot through. Without wasting another second, Hotch pulled you towards the edge of the table and easily slipped his thick cock inside your drenched pussy. Both of you moaned simultaneously at the contact, and he only faltered for a second before he started to aggressively snap his hips against yours.

Faintly, you can hear Derek whistling from the other side of the plane and the sound of him clapping as he calls out to Hotch.

“There he is. Come on, Hotch. Give us a show.”

When you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, Hotch wrapped one of his large hands around your throat and lightly squeezed. You can tell he’s still frustrated by the feral way he’s fucking you against the table, but you can feel just how badly he needs this release. Sneaking one of your hands down to play with your clit, you only get away with it for a few seconds before Hotch roughly smacks your hand away and tightens his grip on your throat. He replaces your hand with his own and starts to furiously rub quick circles over your sensitive clit, tearing a sharp moan from your chest. You can feel how close he is already by the way his rhythm starts to falter. When he speaks, his voice is so low and husky that it almost sounds like a growl.

“You insatiable little slut. You haven’t come enough already? You think you deserve to come again after the way you’ve been acting?”

“Aaron-”

“Shut up.”

The only thing you can hear over the obscene sound of Hotch’s thighs smacking against your ass with every powerful thrust and the lewd squelching of his cock disappearing over and over inside your tight cunt is the dark chuckle that sounded from Spencer before he spoke.

“Uh oh, someone pissed off Daddy.”

The way you moan Hotch’s name nearly has him combusting right there. When he starts to rub your clit harder, your jaw becomes unhinged and hangs open, but nothing comes out. You can’t speak, you can’t even make a sound. Hotch grunts as his pace becomes even more fervent and brutal. He was fucking you with everything he had, using your body to expel every ounce of pent up frustration, and you were already ascending into the clouds.

“You wanna come so fucking badly? Then do it.”

The tightening of your cunt around his cock sends both of you over the edge, and both of your moans seem to echo in the small space of the cabin. Hotch continues to fuck you wildly through his orgasm, gripping onto the edge of the table to steady himself. Once he starts to slow down after emptying himself inside of you completely, the blissed out smile that replaces the frown on his mouth makes you giggle, and it causes him to finally open his eyes and look down at you with an arch of his brow.

“What?”

“Better?”

Hotch just stares down at you for a moment with slightly narrowed eyes before he finally gives in, his lips parting into that wide grin that you love so much but rarely get to see. Taking a moment to catch his breath, a light chuckle leaves him as he gazes down at you with softer eyes this time and brushes your hair away from your face gently.

“You know, the whole point of me being your boss is you’re supposed to actually listen to me.”

“You of all people know I listen very well.”

The sultry tone of your voice and the implications behind it caused Hotch to smirk, and you can feel the effect it has when you feel his cock twitch inside of you. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against your own and gave your ass a light smack.

“When you’re being a good girl and not such a brat.”

A soft noise of surprise left your lips when he smacked your ass, and you giggled while grabbing his face in your hands to pull him in for a soft and slow kiss.

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

Rolling his eyes, Hotch reluctantly pulled out of you with a soft hiss and helped you down from the table. He ran one of his hands through his hair and took another deep breath before tucking his softened cock back into his pants.

“Alright, everyone back to work.”

“Wait, everyone got to fuck her but me, that’s not fair.” 

Hotch glanced down at his watch on his wrist before looking over at Spencer, shooting him a pointed look when he caught the slight pout on Spencer’s lips.

“We’re landing in twenty minutes and we still need to prep.”

As Spencer began to protest, you walked over towards him and placed your hand on his chest, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek with a mischievous grin.

“Don’t worry, Spence. I’ll share a room with you tonight, and you can fuck me all you want.”

Spencer’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas, but Derek and Hotch immediately began to protest as they shared a look before staring at the two of you with looks of frustration.

“Whoa whoa whoa-“

“That’s not-“

Spencer wrapped his arms around you to pull you in, bending down to kiss you deeply while grabbing a handful of your ass to squeeze tightly causing you to giggle. He nipped at your bottom lip before turning to look at Hotch and Derek with a smug smirk.

“Don’t worry. Unlike you two, I know how to share. Maybe we can all have a slumber party.”

tags: @mars-rants-a-lot @ninejlovebot @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @avencol

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x f!reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner smut #derek morgan #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x female reader #derek morgan x fem!reader #derek morgan x f!reader #derek morgan fic #derek morgan smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x f!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #aaron hotchner x you x derek morgan x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x reader x derek morgan x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x female reader x derek morgan x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x fem!reader x derek morgan x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x f!reader x derek morgan x spencer reid #criminal minds

[golden1u5t]

jj’s confession | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: angst

ꨄ summary: the aftermath of jj’s fuck up 

the second the team got back to the office, you ran to spencer and pulled him into a hug. spencer hadn't been expecting you to be at the office when they got back from the case. you pulled back and cupped his face, your eyes scanned his face to make sure he wasn't bruised up or anything.

"i was worried about you." you mumbled, you continued to check him out until you noticed how unfocused he was. you tried to shove it off as him responding to the effects of the case but when you followed his gaze and looked over your shoulder, you knew that wasn't the case. even though jj was with will, she had her eyes focused on spencer.

you had known about spencer's old crush on jj and you'd accepted it and moved on, he'd told you that you had nothing to worry about when it came to their friendship and since you trusted him, you believed him. you took a step back and let your hand fall down to your sides, you looked back at spencer and cleared your throat.

spencer finally looked at you for the first time since he'd walked through the door, you figured it was because ji's attention was directed somewhere else. when spencer's eyes met yours, you could tell something had happened between them while they were gone. his eyes were filled with guilt as he stared at you, he knew he was going to have to tell you about it but he wasn't prepared for your reaction. so he reached for your hand, you let him take it.

"i'm tired, we should get going." he attempted at giving you a genuine smile but it never reached his eyes, you stayed silent as you watched his eyes dart over to her for a brief moment before turning back to you. "we can get takeout for dinner, your favorite place."

you pulled your hand from his and let it fall back to your side. you weren't that much of a crier but god, you sure felt like you could cry a river as you watched your relationship start to crumble right in front of you. "no, i think- i think you should tell me now what happened between you two.” 

"can we just- can we not? not right now, im tired."

"no, i need to know now if im going to be leaving here by myself tonight." spencer sighed before pulling you away from everyone else and into a more secluded area.

"when we're being held hostage, the unsub made us- he made ji tell a secret she'd never told anyone before." he ran his hand through his hair before stuffing his hands in his pockets. "she told me that she loved me but i'm not-"

"do you love her back?" you bit the inside of your cheek, spencer's silence was like a stab to the heart. tears welled in your eyes and a sudden wave of anger washed over you, he didn't even have the decency to look you in the eye. "god, spencer, fucking answer me!"

he couldn't, his words were lodged in his throat. spencer hated seeing you break down in front of him, he hated knowing that he'd put you in such a vulnerable position when he knows how much you hate being vulnerable.

"i don't know! i don't- i don't know what i feel for her. i don't even know if she was being honest or just making it up, plus, she's married and-and she has kids." you scoffed and shook your head, you took a step back and put your hand out when he tried to reach out for you. "y/n, please."

"me or her?" spencer just stared at you, once again not being able to answer you. "; think i should go, call me if and when you figure this out."

you turned around and headed for the door, you didn't miss the way jj looked at you as you passed. you thought spencer would at least come after you, explain that he didn't need to think about it and that he loved you, but he didn't.

#golden1u5t #myrarants #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #sub spencer reid #soft dom spencer reid #dom spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader angst

[reiding-writing]

Omg imagine Reid being incredibly touch starved and literally having this very primal craving for affection to the point it's all he can think about but he cannot for the life of him get over his fear of germs and it's just all this angst and ahh

deprivation [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer needs support. He needs it. But he for the life of him just cannot reach out for it himself. And after one particular case, you make an effort to try and quell is emotional rampage.

WARNINGS: germophobia, self deprecation, touch deprivation, emotional breakdown

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: ANGST, hurt/comfort

wc: 2.8k

masterlist!!

a/n: great minds must think alike because i was actually already working on this when the request came in😭

i made this less angsty than originally planned, but i hope it suffices nonetheless the less, thanks for the request! <33

Spencer Reid was exhausted in every sense of the word.

His muscles ached, his head pounded, and he was so burnt out he didn’t even have any thing to say when JJ had incorrectly mentioned a ‘fact’ about a certain sub-species of butterfly that was supposedly native to Oregon.

His exhaustion only proved to get worse as the jet took off for Virginia, but the unfortunate rampaging of his own mind proved any chance of him sleeping on the flight home impossible.

“Hey… Are you okay?” Your voice seems to echo across the silence of the cabin despite you practically whispering to avoid waking your teammates, and Spencer’s eyes flicker up towards you, clearly not having expected you to be awake.

You stand up from your seat, walking down the aisle to take a seat on the sofa next to Spencer, his head resting in his hands as his eyes followed you. “You’ve been really quiet since the case ended,”

“I’m fine…” He said the words, but it wasn’t reflective of his tone of voice. There was something there. Something more, something beneath the words.

A sadness.

An uncertainty.

And if you listened to his voice, not just to his words, you’d hear a hint of pain, a deep seeded sense of misery that he was concealing beneath the usual layers of stoicism.

“Spencer you’re talking to a professional profiler, which I don’t even need to be to know that you’re not okay.” You can’t help the soft sigh that escapes your mouth, turning to sit sideways to face him properly.

"I'm fine," He said the words again, and this time they held a touch of force. But the words did not match his tone, still pained, wounded, and silently pleading with him to just be honest with you.

And as the words came out of his mouth, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if hoping that what he was feeling would be gone by the time he opened them again.

But when they fluttered open through his eyelashes he was still on the sofa of the jet and you were still sitting there and he still felt miserable.

“If you don’t want to talk about it then I won’t pressure you,” You dejectedly resign yourself at Spencer’s insistence, leaning your left side against the back of the sofa. “But just know i’m here for you if you ever want to get something off your chest okay?”

"It's just...It's just-" He paused, biting his lip as if unsure about what he was about to say. He knew it may be dangerous to let himself slip. So he considered his words carefully before he spoke again. "...it's just been hard...I’m so stressed and...I'm...feeling vulnerable. And I don't like it. I don't like it at all."

“Everyone’s gonna feel like that at some point Spence, especially in our line of work,” You tilt your head slightly at him, a soft expression painting your features that matches your tone.

"I know..." He said, " But...I don't like feeling like...like i can't cope. Like I'm scared. That's not who I am. I'm supposed to be the rational one. The smart one." Spencer dragged his palms up his face and back over his hair, leaning back against the sofa with his head leaned back against the wall.

“I don’t like being scared,”

And there, again, in that simple sentence was another hint of the hurt that his apprehension hadn’t managed to fully hide. “I’m meant to be better than that.”

“Spencer just because you are a functioning genius does not mean that you’re not allowed to be scared, that’s a part of what makes you human,” Your face furrows as you become increasingly concerned for Spencer and his mindset.

"I-...I know..." He said the words, but the underlying message was clear. He might know that he was supposed to have emotions and he might know that expressing them is healthy, but there was a part of him that was screaming at him to suppress them.

To bury his feelings and pretend to be the robot that his childhood (or lack thereof) had forced him to be.

He wasn't trying to be resistant, he was just...afraid.

“When was the last time you cried Spencer?” The question blurted it’s way out of your mouth as your concern for Spencer only continued to grow.

"Why would you ask me that?" His tone of voice was almost affronted by the question as if he were a little wounded that you had brought up something so sensitive.

He swallowed back the lump in his throat, and you swear that you could see his eyes glass over even in the dim lighting of the cabin. “Because i want to know exactly how much pent up emotion you’re dealing with right now,”

You make a conscious effort to relax your features as you look at him, sighing softly. “Please answer the question…”

Spencer took a second as he deliberated whether or not to answer your question, staring blankly across the cabin so he wouldn’t have to look at you.

"958 days ago."

He said the words coldly, but you could hear the emotion in the way he spoke them. This is the moment when he finally cracked. When he finally realised that hiding the way he felt wasn't a sustainable solution.

And its was also the point when he started to break down. The tears finally started to flow, and he couldn't stop them as much as he tried.

“Spence…” You reach out a hand towards him, but you barely get it up out of your lap before he firmly stops you.

"Don't..."

The words come out of him sharply, but there's something in his tone that saying the opposite. There’s a note of desperation in them. A plea. A cry for help. Because he wants you to touch him, he needs you to. But he's resistant to the idea, he keeps resisting it. “80% of communicable diseases are passed by physical contact. I don’t want to get sick.”

You curl up your hand into a ball as you let it fall back into your lap, pursing your lips as Spencer uses his statistical knowledge to stop you from touching him.

You knew he had an aversion to touch. That he was hyper aware of practically any illness that could possibly be transferred through human contact. You knew that he kept himself at a physical distance from everyone for a reason.

But you also knew that despite all of that he needed physical comfort. Words just weren’t going to cut it.

“It’s okay to need to be comforted…”

"I can get through this myself." He cuts you off harshly, and if you didn’t know that he was obviously mentally struggling his tone would’ve cut you deep.

He's in pain.

He's miserable.

And he's been alone for too long.

He needs emotional intimacy. He needs the affection and comfort of his friends.

He just can't bring himself to actually say that.

“Spencer, let me comfort you. please.” You bite the inside of your cheek as your eyes follow a tear that falls down his face, leaving a water streak in its wake.

“It’s not healthy for you to ball yourself up like this,” You plead desperately with him to let down his emotional barriers and just let you help him.

"There's nothing wrong with me." His words are still cold, but he's wavering now. His shoulders are lowering, his hands loosening from fists to lying flat on either side of him.

He wants you to touch him. He wants the affection that he's been deprived of for so long. But there's still that part in him that's resisting. The voice in his head telling him he can't.

“There doesn’t have to be anything wrong with you for you to need comfort Spencer,” You attempt again to hesitantly reach out a hand towards you, but your advances are again immediately shot down.

"Please.. Don't touch me." His words come out weakly. He's desperately resisting, but the tears are still flowing down his cheeks and you can tell that he’s trying not to completely break down.

“…Are you sure?” You hand retreats back to your side the second he denies you, but you both know he’s not entirely convinced of his own boundaries.

"I'm sure."

He's lying.

The tears were still streaming down his cheeks, and even one quick look at his eyes could tell you that he was desperate to be touched.

He was craving human interaction. But the words were still coming out of his mouth. He wasn't ready yet, not quite yet.

Your hand falls to the gap between the two of you on the sofa, a few inches left between his hand and yours as you suppress a sigh at the clear desperation coating his face despite his denial of your touch.

But you don’t want to overstep the boundary, even if he’s not 100% sure of it himself.

He stares back at you, still resisting the urge to reach out for your hand, even though he's not sure why. He knows that he would feel better if he could grab you and put his head on your shoulder, letting the weight of all of his problems wash away.

But there was still the little voice in his head shouting "Don't. Don't touch them. Don't." And he was struggling. Fighting with every inch of his being for self-control.

As the two of you fall into a slightly tense silence, you make a small movement to breaking Spencer’s self made barrier as you edge your pinky finger towards his own, just barely brushing his skin as you keep your eyes plastered on the opposite wall.

His eyes follow your fingers as they inch their way closer and closer to his. And when - at long last - you make contact, Spencer freezes. Time seems to just stand still as his eyes are transfixed on the single point of contact between your fingers and his.

He doesn't move, he doesn't speak. He just watches.

Over 200 breeds of bacteria are passed through people’s hands for every second they’re in contact.

But he can’t seem to pull himself away.

Because this is the connection he seeks. This is the release he needs. And finally, finally he gets it.

You continue to gently bridge the gap as your pinky finger links itself with Spencer’s, squeezing it with a gentle pressure as you try desperately to stop your eyes from averting back to him.

The second your finger links with his, a dam of emotions breaks. The tears flow faster and he lets out a whimper in the back of his throat.

As soon as you touch him, he leans into the feeling and turns his hand over, pressing his palm and his other fingers against your own, wanting more, needing more of this sensation that he's been starved of for so long.

You respond enthusiastically at his acceptance of the contact, interlacing your fingers together and giving his hand a soft squeeze as you finally bring your gaze back towards his face.

“You’re going to be alright Spencer…”

The moment your hand falls into his is a moment of sweet release. The flood gates have opened, the dam has broken, and there are no barriers between him and the overwhelming emotions he's been forced to bottle up.

And as the dam breaks so too does that small, insistent voice telling him to reject contact. That small voice that tells him he can't have physical affection.

Because that small voice is wrong.

And when you squeeze his hand he brings no hesitation into melting into you completely and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You immediately shift to accommodate Spencer’s weight against your body, breaking the contact of your hands to pull him into a firm but comforting embrace, rubbing soft lines up and down his back as the other held his head against your shoulder.

With tears still flowing down his cheeks and his head buried in your neck, he lets out a soft, contented whimper.

His body relaxes in your embrace, and just lies there in your arms.

He's safe. He's finally safe, and it feels good. He no longer needs to hold himself together. And for the first time in years, he feels loved.

“I’ve got you…” You whisper the affirmation softly into Spencer’s hair as you rest your nose against the crown of his head.

He lets out more soft whimpers, his body relaxing as he leans into the comfort of your embrace, finally allowing himself to just let go.

He takes in big breaths, drinking in your scent as he tries to slow his breathing. He's still crying, but the tears aren't so severe anymore. He's finally started to calm down.

You lean backwards against the seat to support both of your weights comfortably as you focus on soothing Spencer through his emotions, running your fingers gently through his hair and massaging softly at his scalp.

The soft strokes against his head bring a wave of shivers, but they aren't like the shivers that he had felt when he'd been shaking so much.

These are better, these are warm and comforting, and it was like the tension was leaving his body from his head all the way down to his toes.

It feels good, it feels right.

Your touch was healing, and his whole body is relaxing in the gentle massage of your fingers.

“when was the last time you got a full night’s rest Spence..?” The question is soft against his ear as you continue to gently scratch and massage Spencer’s scalp, pulling him slightly towards you with your other arm to secure him safely in your lap.

“I… A while ago…” His words were hushed and sleepy, the exhaustion evident in the slight rasp that was present in his voice. He's been so caught up in the case and the work that he hasn't given a moment's thought to taking care of himself.

He's running on caffeine and willpower. He’s exhausted.

“You should get some sleep…” You carefully adjust the way yo two are sat until you are lying flat on your back with Spencer splayed out on top of you, burying himself in your presence at every point possible.

“I will…”

He's lying.

And based on the fact that his eyes are still squeezed tight against you and the way he's practically buried his body into yours it's clear that even he knows that he's lying.

There's no way that he can sleep right now. Not when he's finally feeling safe. When he's finally found comfort. He plans to bask in it for as long as possible.

“I’ll still be here when you wake up Spencer,” You know that he knows that you know he’s lying. “Get some rest,”

"But-"

He wants to hold this moment, to cling to this moment, trying to delay the passing of time just a little longer.

"I-“

He falters, realising that he's fighting against losing an argument that has already ended. He forces himself to breathe in and out in a slow and deliberate way as he resigns himself to the inevitability of falling asleep.

“…promise?”

He sounds less like a genius and more like a scared child when he says those words. A child who wants to be reassured. Who wants to be told that everything will be okay. That he'll be taken care of when he wakes up from his slumber.

“I promise.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #asks 🫶

[springtyme]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐍𝐨 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 ♡

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐞

Spencer Reid x f!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist

Previous chapter || Main masterlist || ao3 || Next chapter

summary: After having worked for the BAU for two years, you have seen and experienced a lot, but after a series of murders of young married couples, you’re asked to do something that you never had thought you would have to do; going undercover, as an expecting, married couple, with Spencer Reid.

word count: 4.6k

warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Angst and fluff. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Coworkers to lovers. Undercover as a married couple. Pretend pregnancy. Not set at a specific time, but definitely somewhere in the early seasons. Reader uses she/her pronouns. Mention of canon-typical violence. This chapter has not been proofread, and I'm honestly not that proud of how it turned out, but I'm just exited to get further into the story <3

Spencer glances over at you as he notices your head start to nod, he can’t keep the small smile from his lips as he sees that you have drifted off. He reaches over to adjust his jacket, making sure you are as warm and comfortable as possible before he focuses back on the road. 

He can’t help but feel a wave of protectiveness wash over him, knowing what lies ahead for both of you. Having to go undercover, pretending to be married, to be in love, to be expecting a child together… It is a lot, to say the least. 

For a second he can’t help but imagine that the two of you actually are married, that he isn’t giving a colleague a lift, but that he is driving home with his wife. Not to be creepy, just to… to what? To practice? To get used to the idea of being so close to you, of having to maintain that facade? In this moment, with you sleeping soundly on the passenger seat of his car, it’s strangely easy to imagine it.

But as quickly as the thought comes, he pushes it aside, feeling guilty for letting his mind wander in that direction. The two of you might have to act like a married couple soon, but that does not mean he should think like that. If there is one thing he’d never want to do, it is to make you feel uncomfortable. You have agreed to the assignment, not to him inappropriately using the scenario to imagine things. 

And it’s not like he has ever dared to entertain the idea of actually being in a romantic relationship with you. After all, you’re just his colleague, someone he respects and admires for your compassion, intelligence and dedication to the job. He also knows that you would never see him like that, and why would you? He is just the socially awkward genius who can barely keep a conversation going without tripping over his own words.

But as he drives through the silence of the night, with only the soft hum of the engine to keep him company, he can’t help but feel a sense of closeness to you that goes beyond just a professional relationship. As the car continues its way back to D. C., Spencer can’t help but steal glances at you, now and then, your features relaxed in sleep. Despite the seriousness of the situation ahead, despite the weight of the assignment on your shoulders, you look so peaceful in this moment.

As the city lights of D.C. come into view, Spencer can not help but feel a sense of gratitude for your presence in his life. He knows that this assignment will test the limits of his abilities and his emotions, but having you by his side gives him a sense of comfort and strength. And as he pulls up to your apartment building, he gently reaches over to softly shake your shoulder, gently waking you from your slumber.

“Hey, we’re here,” he says softly, watching as you slowly stir awake.  

You blink a few times, rubbing your eyes as you sit up in your seat. “Oh, we made it already? That was fast,” you mumble, stretching your arms.

“Yeah,” Spencer nods, a small smile on his lips, the drive had taken the time it always does, but to you it must have felt like it passed quickly cause you were asleep for most of it. 

“Thank you for the ride, Spence,” you say, gratitude shining in your tired eyes. 

“No problem. It’s not like I could let you take a cab back.”

You smile at him, the warmth evident in your expression. “Okay, but still… I really appreciate it.” 

Spencer just softly shakes his head at your words. “Anytime. Now come on, I’ll walk you to the door.”  

You nod in appreciation, grabbing your purse and slipping on your shoes before following Spencer out of the car. The two of you walk the short distance to your door in comfortable silence, the night air crisp and cool around you, Spencer’s jacket still draped around your frame.

As you reach the door, you turn to face Spencer, a small smile on your face as you hand him back his jacket. “Thanks again, and sorry I fell asleep on you. I guess I was more tired than I thought,” you say, looking almost a little sheepishly.

Spencer waves off your apology, he is just happy That he could help and make sure you got home safely. “No need to apologize, you needed the rest. Now go get some more, I have a feeling we have some demanding days ahead of us.” 

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” you nod with a sleepy smile on your lips. “Good night, Spence.” 

“Good night,” he replies, watching as you unlock your door before waving goodbye. He offers you a small half-wave back, the gesture ending up more awkward than he had intended to, but you just smile warmly back at him, before stepping inside. 

Spencer stands there for a moment, watching the door close behind you, feeling a strange sense of longing in his chest. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he turns on his heel and heads back to his car. 

· · · · ·

You kick off your shoes as soon as you step inside your apartment, letting out a tired sigh as the soles of your sore feet hit the floorboards. All you want to do is to crawl into bed immediately, to wrap yourself in the warmth of your blankets and escape into the blissful embrace of sleep. But you trudge off to the bathroom, fumbling with the zipper at the side of your dress. You need to remove your makeup and brush your teeth and you also want a shower to wash off the day before you can fully relax. 

You let out a little sigh as you finally free yourself from the tight fabric, and shred yourself of your underwear, before stepping into the shower cabin. You feel how your tense shoulders loosens up a little as the hot water cascades over your tired body, washing away the long day and the weight of the impending assignment. You let out a sigh of relief as the steam envelops you, the water soothing your aching muscles and relaxing your mind.

The calming and familiar scent of your shower products fills your nostrils, soothing your senses as you finish washing off. As you step out of the shower, you wrap yourself in a fluffy towel, quickly drying off and lotioning up before heading to your bedroom. You slip into your favorite pajamas, the soft fabric hugging your skin as you crawl into bed, feeling the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you.

The events of the evening begin to replay in your mind as you step into the darkness of your room, the weight of the upcoming assignment looms overhead, but you take a deep breath, pushing aside the worries and the uncertainties for now, all you want to do is get some rest before the intensity of the case takes over your life completely. You collapse onto your bed, feeling the exhaustion of the day wash over you. The warm comfort of the soft duvet is reminiscent of the warmth of Spencer’s jacket and you can’t help but feel a small smile grace your lips. 

Despite the seriousness of the situation ahead, you feel a sense of reassurance knowing that it is Spencer that will be by your side. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to drift off into a peaceful slumber, the thoughts of the assignment and the challenges ahead temporarily fading into the background as you embrace the sweet serenity of sleep, wanting a couple of hours of respite before the storm of the case begins.

Four hours is what you end up getting before the shrilling sound of your phone pierce through the silence of the room, jolting you awake. It’s Hotch, sounding just as tired as you are feeling while he explains that you’ll have to go to the headquarters at Pennsylvania Avenue later. It turns out that, due to the extensive nature of the case, you and Spencer have to get greenlit from the higher authorities before you can be sent undercover. 

So that is how you end up spending most of your weekend at the J. Edgar Hoover building. You have to go through a psych evaluation, and get your gun qualifications renewed even though you just got yours renewed a couple weeks ago, and a mandatory course in basic undercover protocol. You don’t get to see Spencer in the two days that you’re going through the evaluation process. It’s a bit weird knowing that he is somewhere in the same building as you, going through the same process, and not being able to see him. 

By Sunday afternoon, after you have gone through your last evaluation, you get told that you have been approved. You had never been really worried that you wouldn’t, most of the things like psych evals and gun qualifications are formalities you have to go through on a semi regular basis anyway, but it is still a relief to know that you have been approved and you’re also ready to focus on the actual case again. 

As you finally leave the building, the sun is setting in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the city as you make your way to the metro station. You can’t help but think of Spencer as you ride the train back to your apartment. You wonder how he’s been doing, if he’s been feeling the same nerves and exhaustion as you have been going through the approval process. 

By the time you step off the train and make your way back to your apartment, the sun has dipped lower in the skyline, casting long shadows over the street as you step up to your door, the key turning in the lock with a satisfying click as you step inside. The exhaustion of the weekend hits you all at once, and you feel the weight of the upcoming assignment pressing down on your shoulders as you make it up the stairs and into your apartment. You let out a tired sigh as you kick off your shoes and drop your bag on the floor. 

You quickly change into comfortable clothes and make yourself a cup of tea, finding a small sense of comfort in the familiar routine. You sink into your couch, wrapped in a blanket with your cup of tea in hand as you let the mild aroma of the tea soothe your nerves. The calm before the storm has settled over you as you sit in the quiet of your apartment, the warmth of the tea seeping into your bones while you take a moment to reflect on everything that has happened over the past few days and what’s to come.

You have become so used to living alone, to come back home to your empty apartment at the end of the day, and for the most part, you’ve liked it that way. But as you sit in the silence of your living room, a part of you can’t help but feel a twinge of loneliness. As you sip your tea, you can’t help but think of Spencer once again. 

You wonder if he is also now settling in at home, if he is feeling the same sense of anticipation and nerves that you are feeling. You are happy that you don’t have to go through all of this alone, and even happier that you will go through it with a friend. It is reassuring to know that the one you have to go undercover with is someone you trust completely, even though the nerves have started to kick in. 

With a deep breath, you finish your tea and set the cup aside as the late afternoon turns to evening outside your window. You should probably get some food, you contemplate cooking something for about five seconds before you decide to order some take out instead. 

Having called to place your order, you settle back on the couch, flipping on the TV to distract yourself from the thoughts swirling in your head. You find a mindless comedy to watch, letting the laugh track of the show fill the room as you wait for your food to arrive. 

After you have eaten and as the evening wears on and the darkness outside your window deepens, you decide to turn in for the night, the exhaustion of the day catching up to you once again. 

You wake up the next morning feeling slightly more refreshed, the weight of the assignment still looming but by now you have now entered that focused mindset that you always slip into when a new case is at hand. You go about your morning routine, getting ready for the day ahead, knowing that it will be a busy one as you prepare for the undercover operation. Soon you’re in your car and on your way to the office. 

Hotch has organized a briefing for you and the rest of the team this morning after which you and Spencer will have your own briefing, going over the details of the assignment and setting the expectations for the operation. You’ll be assigned your cover identities and the roles you’ll be playing and go over the plan of action and the timeline for the operation. 

As you pull up to the FBI building, you can feel the anticipation building in your chest, the gravity of the situation settling in once again as you make it inside, heading to the conference room. The team is already gathered when you arrive, the air in the room buzzing with a sense of purpose as the briefing begins. Hotch goes over the details of the case once again, outlining the specific details of the murders and the profile of the victims. 

As the meeting comes to an end, Hotch dismisses the rest of the team, leaving just you and Spencer in the room. He turns to the two of you, his expression serious and determined, but he is quick to soften up as he begins to speak.

“I want to thank you both again for agreeing to take on this assignment. I know that it’s a lot to ask, and I appreciate your dedication to the job and your willingness to take on this task,” Hotch starts, his voice filled with gratitude. “The evaluation team from D. C. had a lot of good things to say about you two when they rang me to let me know that you had been approved.” He adds with a small smile. “Told me if I wasn’t careful they’ll try to recruit the two of you for undercover work full time.”

You and Spencer share a look, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

“Said that eidetic memory of yours could make for the perfect deep cover operative, Reid,” Hotch adds, turning to Spencer with a small smirk. 

You can’t help but smile either as Spencer blushes at the compliment, his cheeks turning a shade of pink as he shifts in his seat. You secretly love it when Spencer gets flustered, he looks so adorable when he does, and it’s nice to see him get recognized for his abilities. 

“We have your identities ready,” Hotch continues, making you and Spencer sit up straighter, the seriousness of the situation settling in once again as Hotch passes you each a folder filled with details of your new personas. You and Spencer quickly scan through the files with curiosity. “We have determined that it’ll be safe enough for the two of you to keep your first names, but the two of you will now be the Baker’s. You met in college and got married last year. You’re expecting your first child and are now moving from the east coast to California for work. Your identities have been fabricated to fit the profile of the victims, we’ve done everything to make them as appealing for the unsub as possible. Your main objective is to draw out the unsub and gather evidence that will lead us to their capture. As you already know, we have good reason to believe that the unsub stalked the victims for some time before committing the murders, so we need you to act as a convincing couple that fits that profile.” 

You and Spencer nod in understanding as you go through the details quickly, taking note of the background stories you’ll have to maintain during the operation. 

“I have full confidence in both of you, I know you’ll be able to handle this assignment with professionalism and dedication. Remember, your safety is our number one priority. We will have agents nearby at all times to ensure your safety. We have arranged for you to move into a safe house in the area where you will spend most of your time. You’ll have constant communication with the team or local authorities, and we’ll be monitoring the area to ensure your safety,” Hotch explains, his expression serious but reassuring.

You nod in acknowledgment, but something seems to be bothering Spencer. “It says here that I’ll be working at the local college,” Spencer says, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Well, yes. You’ll be working as an assistant professor in engineering as part of your cover. We believe the unsub is targeting educated couples, so having you work in a university setting will make you more appealing as potential victims.” Hotch explains. “We have fixed everything with the university, and you have a PhD in engineering so it’s a fitting cover for you.”

“But it says Y/N will be staying at home?” Spencer adds, looking over at Hotch with furrowed brows. 

“Yes, that is correct,” Hotch confirms.

“So I’m just expected  to leave her alone all day... That doesn’t seem like a good idea, what if something happens while I’m not there?” 

“I understand your concern, Reid, but as I said, we have a team of agents that will be monitoring the area at all times, this is all part of the operation. We have calculated the risks and we have concluded that it is a safe choice to make. Your absence during the day will make you both susceptible to the unsub’s advances, which is our goal in drawing them out. We have taken all necessary precautions to ensure your safety and we will have agents nearby in case of emergency.” Hotch says, his tone gentle but firm. “We have security measures in place to ensure Y/N’s safety while you are not there, and you will have constant communication with her and the team. It’s important that you both stick to your cover identities in order to draw out the unsub and gather the necessary evidence. The unsub has only attacked when both partners are present, so if anything it should be more safe.”

“Okay, but-” Spencer begins, but Hotch speaks again.

“Again, I understand your concern, Spencer, and it’s valid,” Hotch says, his tone softening. “I appreciate your dedication to the safety of your partner. But we have taken every precaution and all of this has been thought out thoroughly. We believe that this is the best course of action. Your safety is our top priority, and we will have every precaution in place to ensure that both of you are safe at all times. Just trust the plan, trust your training, trust the team and trust  each other.”

Spencer nods, though his concerns are still evident in his expression, his jaw slightly clenched. You can see the conflict in his eyes as he processes Hotch’s words. A stretch of silence settles over the room, you are not sure if you should say anything or not, but you can see that Spencer is deep in thought. You are moved by his concern for your safety, but you trust Hotch and the undercover specialists have everything planned out and under control. Before you can say anything, Hotch speaks up again, this time addressing you. 

“We have an undercover specialist coming in to help the two of you going through your cover stories, but I was also told that we have a styling team coming, and I believe they asked me to send you by them. They should have arrived by now, so why don’t you get that done now and then you and Reid can focus on going through your cover stories in more detail later.”

You nod, understanding that Hotch wants to speak with Spencer alone. You grab your folder and stand up from your seat, getting ready to leave, but not before you reach out and give Spencer’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, offering him a small smile before turning to leave the room, ready to meet with the styling team to finalize your cover identity.

· · · · ·

Spencer watches as the door closes behind you, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside of him. He trusts Hotch and knows that the team has everything under control, but he can’t help the knot of worry settling in his chest. 

He knows that this assignment is risky, and he knew it when he agreed to it. But for some reason, the revelation that you will have to be alone for hours during the day, vulnerable to potential danger, weighs way heavier on him than he had anticipated. He knows that you are more than capable of handling yourself, but the thought of leaving you alone is unsettling to him. 

“Are you okay?” Hotch’s voice breaks the silence, pulling Spencer out of his thoughts. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Spencer replies, his voice tight with emotion. “I guess it is just getting real now…”

Hotch nods in understanding, his expression sympathetic. “I know this assignment is tough, Reid. And I’m not going to lie, I don’t like having to send you two into this, but I have full confidence in you both. You are both capable agents and I trust that you will handle this operation. And remember, you have a team behind you.”

“I know, and I trust the team and I trust you too.”

“That’s all I ask, Reid,” Hotch replies. 

Spencer nods, but he can’t shake the uneasy feeling in his body. A stretch of quietness falls over the room. Spencer. He does trust Hotch, just as he trusts the team, of course he trusts you. He is just not so sure that he trusts himself. That he will be able to pull this off. How is he ever going to be convincing as a husband? He might have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187, but he lacks the social skills and experience in romantic relationships that would be necessary for this assignment. 

And the thought of having to act like a married couple with you, of having to maintain that facade, gives him a weird feeling. It’s a strange mix of emotions, and Spencer can’t help but feel a sense of unease at the idea of being so close to you in such an intimate context. What if he messes up, what if he can’t handle it? He takes a deep breath before he finally breaks the silence. “I’m not sure I’ll be good at this, I don’t think I’ll be able to convince anyone that I’m married.”

Hotch gives him a reassuring smile. “Of course you can. You’re a great agent, and I know you’ll be able to adapt and handle this assignment. We have established that you trust everyone involved in this operation, so I need you to trust yourself as well.”

Spencer takes a deep breath, nodding in acknowledgment of Hotch’s words. the room falling quiet once again as Spencer absorbs everything. “It’s going to be fun to dive into engineering again,” he finally says, attempting to lighten the mood. Hotch chuckles at his attempt, knowing that Spencer is trying to shift the focus away from his worries. Spencer wouldn’t be Spencer if he didn’t try to find some sort of comfort in knowledge and logic.

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Hotch replies, giving him a small smile. “Just remember to stick to your cover story, trust your training, and work closely with Y/N. You two make a great team, and I have full confidence that you’ll be able to handle this assignment together. You’ll have support every step of the way.”

Spencer nods. He knows that this assignment will push him out of his comfort zone, but he also knows that he has a responsibility to the victims and their families to do everything he can to bring the unsub to justice. And if that means stepping into a role that he’s not entirely comfortable with, then he will do it. For them. He also has a responsibility to you, to ensure your safety. 

After a moment of quiet reflection, Hotch stands up from his seat. “We’ll reconvene later for a more detailed discussion of your cover stories. For now, why don’t you take a break, maybe get some coffee.”

Coffee does sound really good right now, Spencer has barely slept in the past few days and he feels the exhaustion catching up to him. With a nod of acknowledgment, Spencer stands up from his seat, his mind swirling with thoughts. Taking a deep breath, Spencer exits the conference room and heads towards the break room to grab a much-needed cup of coffee 

· · · · ·

The image in the mirror is truly bizarre, you can’t stop staring at the reflection of yourself, turning to inspect the surreal sight from every angle. “I look… pregnant,” you finally mumble, placing your hands on the fake bump. 

The padded prosthetic bump that has been attached to your body under your dress is surprisingly realistic, making you look like you have just entered the last trimester of pregnancy. It’s a strange feeling, feeling the weight of it against your body as you adjust to the added bulk. You can’t help but feel a mix of awe and discomfort at the sight of your altered appearance.

It is like getting a glimpse into a parallel universe, one where you’re married and about to have a baby, so far from the life you are currently living. 

“Well, that is the goal,” the woman from the styling team laughs. “Just be happy you don’t actually have a little one in there tap dancing on your bladder non-stop,” she adds with a grin.

You chuckle at her comment, but you can’t help but feel a little surprised that you actually wouldn’t mind it that much. You are nowhere near the point in your life where you are ready to have children, but the thought of having a family and sharing that kind of connection with someone does bring a sense of longing to your heart. 

But you quickly push those thoughts aside, that is a can of worms that you don’t need to open right now. Right now, you have a job to do, and you have to focus on being the best undercover agent you can be. You give yourself a mental shake, trying to banish the strange mixture of emotions that is suddenly swirling inside of you. 

“Yeah, that must be quite the experience,” you reply, offering her a smile as you try to shake off the unexpected surge of emotion. You turn away from the mirror. “You got everything you needed?” 

The woman nods with a smile. “Yes, everything seems to fit just right,” she reply, looking at you with a reassuring smile.

“Great, then I should probably get back to the briefing,” you say, feeling a sense of relief that everything, so far, is going smoothly with your cover identity. You quickly change back into your regular clothes, feeling the weight of the fake bump disappear as you slip out of the dress. 

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡ edit: it would especially be nice if you reblog when you ask to be added to the tag list ♡

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[avis-writeshq]

03 — labyrinth

summary: “uh oh, i’m falling in love”/“thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it right around?” pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining warnings: drug usage & addiction, talks about relapsing, therapy, tobias hankel, talks about weight (not reader’s), panic attack/night terrors wc: 3.8k a/n: as always, special mention to @astrophileous for beta-reading SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

“Are you okay?” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you gently lay a hand on Spencer’s forearm. You offer a soft squeeze of reassurance, your gaze meeting his. 

He nods dismissively, averting his eyes but not shrugging your hand away. His tone is cold as he responds, “I’m fine.” 

You know better than to believe him. Ever since his kidnapping a few short weeks ago, he’s been acting strangely. His eyes are sunken, bloodshot most of the time, with dark bags beneath them. He’s lost weight, not that he wasn’t already skinny to begin with, but he’s thinner than usual. He gets distracted more easily, he doesn’t spout out about random facts or statistics, and he’s now almost always irritated about something. 

He’s been spending more and more time at your apartment, not that you don’t blame him. The two of you would spend your mornings at the dining table, eating half-stale cereal and sipping coffee from the premium machine you splurged on a couple years ago. The closeness is nice, and at times it feels a little too domestic to be platonic, but you’ve learned to control yourself around him. 

You open your mouth to say something else (you’re mainly hoping to call him out on his behaviour), but he moves his other hand on top of yours, lightly pressing your fingers. Your mouth goes dry and your cheeks flush at the contact, effectively making you go quiet. He glances at you, his face softening and for a moment you could have sworn you saw the ‘old Reid’ resurface.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your ear, his voice wavering with each syllable. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Even before you were a profiler, you prided in being able to read people well. Spencer is no exception to this; he’s always been easy to read, and his tells are only obvious to the trained eye. In other words, in your long five years of knowing him, you could smell his lies from a mile away. You don’t comment on it, just allowing yourself to bask in the comfort of his touch and the warmth he exudes. 

The two of you head off to work minutes later, climbing into your car with you in the driver’s seat. He holds your hand the entire time. 

*** 

Spencer thinks he’s going to throw up. The moment he gets onto the plane, he thinks he’s going to hurl. He locks himself into the bathroom, fumbling with the little vials of clear liquid in his satchel. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this a secret for– he’s always been a bad liar– especially from a team of profilers. He gathers that they probably already know.

His vision blurs and his head grows foggy as soon as he feels the liquid enter his bloodstream. He squeezes his eyes tightly, relishing in the artificial feel of serenity when there’s a knock on the door.

“Uh… Spencer?”

Fuck, he wants to scream as he scrambles to put everything back in his bag. Not you. Anybody but you.

“In– in a minute,” he responds hurriedly, flushed and woozy from his high. He feels nauseous again and he wonders if he should actually just throw up to make the story more believable.

“Um, okay? I was a little worried; you’ve been in there for a while. Did you need anything?” You ask again through the door as quietly as possible, glancing at where the team were sitting. “Water? Tea?”

He swings the door open, and his voice is a lot harsher than he expected it to be. “I’m fine.”

He almost misses the way you step back uncertainly, and the way your fingers twitch at your side. Almost. He knows you don’t believe him. He knows that you know him better than anyone and at times it scares him. He feels like Pandora’s Box and it’s only a matter of time before you release the demons within him. His heart lurches as he watches the way your face falls into confusion and hurt– hurt that he is responsible for. 

“I’m fine,” he repeats, softer now. “Just– just tired.”

He watches as you pause and give him a once over. His breath hitches in his throat as he feels your eyes over every inch of him, and for a second he feels incredibly exposed. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” You say slowly, cautiously, and you reach a hand out to gently graze against his forearm. “I’m here for you.”

The contact is enough to get him to calm down, and his shoulders visibly relax and his eyes close for a moment. He nods, looking at you with a softness he didn’t even know he could muster.

“I know,” he responds, touching his fingers to yours. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” you respond with a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You pause for a moment before nodding towards the seats of the plane. 

Spencer follows you there, sitting beside you and as he relishes in your warmth and, in your company, he doesn’t feel quite as lost. The nausea begins to dissipate and he suddenly feels a lot lighter– and it’s not because of the drugs. This is different, a better different. A different he could get used to. The pressure from the plane doesn’t seem to affect him as much anymore, and his ears are no longer ringing. 

He leans into your touch, his head pressed against your shoulder and his eyes begin to close. He feels your fingers gingerly hold his own, squeezing lightly in an effort to help him relax. It works. It always works. He feels the way your thumb grazes against the back of his hand and he feels both full of air and breathless at the same time. 

“You okay?” You ask into his hair, continuing to rub your thumb back and forth against his hand. 

He nods, not being able to bring himself to speak. He’s tired, so unbelievably tired, and he thinks that if he speaks he’ll begin to cry. He doesn’t realise that his grip on your hand has tightened.

“I’m not going to leave you.” He hears you whisper, squeezing his hand back.

He only brings himself to nod again, trying desperately to ignore the way his heart flutters in his chest. Uh oh. He’s falling in love.

***

Spencer knocks on your door at half past two in the morning, eyes bloodshot and feeling as if he was suffocating. He doesn’t want to be alone. At least, he doesn’t right now. He would usually enjoy the feeling of solace, considering that it was unlikely he would be able to experience those moments, but lately it feels as though he is lost inside of his own mind. He misses the moments where his head would swirl with unnecessary statistics, or random animal facts that he knows you adore. Now, the only thing stuck in his mind is the rush of the high– and the plummeting feeling of the low.

He holds a breath as he watches your feet come to a stop at the door before the doorknob jiggles and opens. His eyes hesitantly meet yours and he swallows thickly. 

“Can I come in?” He asks, the words barely a whisper. 

“Yeah,” comes your response, and you open the door a little wider. “Yeah, Spence, of course.”

He watches as you boil water and prepare two cups of tea– one chamomile and the other peppermint. He sits on the couch, fiddling with his fingers and his eyes darting around nervously. 

“Spencer.”

Your voice echoes through the room, and suddenly he feels very grounded. He forces his eyes to meet yours and he feels himself stop breathing. Have you always been this beautiful?

“You haven’t been yourself lately,” you say, setting down the cup of peppermint tea in front of him. “Talk to me.”

He laughs humourlessly, sipping at the scalding tea and he grimaces at the burning sensation. “You sound like a therapist.”

“I studied as one,” you counter, dipping your teabag up and down in the cup. “The others… they can’t say anything. But I’m leaving the BAU soon, so I’m technically allowed to ask you this without any federal obligations.” 

“I don’t know–” he begins to deny, but stops short at the way you give him a warning look.

“You’re high right now, aren’t you? And you were on the plane.” Your tone isn’t accusatory, but he expects it from the words that leave your lips. Your gaze softens as you continue. “It’s because of him, isn’t it?”

He flinches and he knows there’s no way out of it. “I tried.”

“I know.”

“I just– I can’t and I want to and I wish that I was… that I was stronger.”

“You are strong.”

He shakes his head. “I should be able to get over this. Get over everything he did to me.”

“Spencer, you were kidnapped and drugged and then you came back to the BAU like nothing even happened.” You pause and lick your bottom lip. “No one is expecting you to get over it, especially not this quickly.”

He doesn’t respond, a strange sense of deja vu filling him at your words and he sits rigid on the couch with his hands in his lap. His eyes don’t leave your face, his gaze shifting from your eyes to the curvature of your nose and then to your lips. For a split second, he wonders how they would feel against his, or how they’d feel against his neck. His head goes heavy at the thought and he pushes them away.

You don’t seem to notice where his eyes have settled, or you’re very good at acting as if he isn’t staring at your face because you continue to speak. “Well,” you say slowly, putting the cup of tea onto the table, “it’s a good thing I’m leaving the BAU then, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if I can do this job without you,” he confesses, shifting his eyes downcast as he stares into his tea. 

You laugh a little, and he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “You act as if I’m dying or something.”

“I’m serious,” he presses, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I want to be happy for you. And I am! But at the same time I feel– I feel so selfish for wanting you to stay.”

He feels you sit beside him and he instinctively leans into your touch, burying his face into the space between your neck and shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, Spence,” you whisper, rubbing comforting circles on his back. “And I’m always going to be there for you. Promise me you’ll remember that?”

He nods deftly into your neck, breathing in the smell of your perfume. 

“Spencer.”

“Promise,” he mumbles, an arm wrapped around your waist. “I know. I promise.”

You hum in acknowledgement. “Good.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, but for once it’s no longer the uncomfortable silence you were tormented with back home. You could feel everything from his hot breath on your neck to the way his fingers squeeze your sides as if you’d disappear if he held you any looser. 

“We still need to talk about this whole issue at some point though. You know that, right?” You murmur into his hair.

“I know.”

“We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to stay over?”

“… please.”

***

It has been two weeks since you finished up at the BAU and started work at a clinic, working as a children’s therapist. It’s been a good change of pace for you; a lot slower and much more routinely. The hours are a million times better, and you find that you’re able to get home before seven on most days. The amount of free time that’s been handed to you is something to get used to, now that it’s no longer filled with completing paperwork or getting onto a plane. 

Despite all the positives, it feels strange not seeing your former team everyday. It feels strange not being able to see Penelope’s brightly coloured outfits, or Derek’s dumb jokes. You missed Emily’s sarcasm and JJ’s stories about Henry, and you missed seeing Hotch’s rare smiles whenever he sees someone in his team succeeding. A lot of the time you find yourself craving Rossi’s famous pastas accompanied with special wine. But most of all, you miss seeing Spencer in his element every single day. 

He’s been doing better, or so he says. He’s been going to self-help groups and you’ve been sending him summaries of help books written by former addicts. It seems to have helped because he’s been acting more and more like Spencer Reid than a weird limbo version of him. He still spends a lot of time at your place, sleeping on your couch despite your constant protests. He ends up taking turns with you after you bribed him with multiple chocolate donuts. 

Although he insists that he’s been doing better, his constant night terrors say otherwise and more often than not you find him sweating and sobbing in his sleep. Today is no different.

“Spencer,” You whisper, shaking his shoulder firmly. “Spence!”

He jolts awake, sitting up so quickly he almost knocks his forehead with yours. He groans, his fingers flying to his eyes as he rubs them. Fresh tears slip past his closed eyes, spilling down his cheeks and you pull him into your arms. 

“You’re okay, I got you,” you murmur, rubbing soothing circles against his shoulder blade as he sobs. 

He keeps repeating the words “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t want it” as he sobs against your shoulder, clutching your shirt in the palms of his hands. 

“Breathe in,” you guide gently, running your free hand through his hair, “breathe deep… breathe out…”

He takes in a shaky breath before exhaling through sobs but he continues to follow your guide. He wraps around you tightly, taking deep breaths in before releasing them. After a few minutes of steady breathing, he finally speaks.

“I relapsed yesterday.” 

He expects you to push him off and start screaming. He expects you to start yelling at him for not being able to control himself and for wasting all his progress. He reckons he deserves it. But you don’t do any of those things. 

“That’s okay,” you respond, squeezing his hand. “Have you talked to Meredith about it?”

Meredith Gray is a therapist you introduced Spencer to. She’s a good friend of yours and specialises in addictions as well as post traumatic stress disorder, and she even wrote her final thesis about it. Even though you work in different fields, the jobs cross over a lot when there’s speculation that a parent could be sick. After explaining the situation to her, Meredith was more than willing to take Spencer as a client.

Spencer shakes his head, the guilt creeping into his chest and lacing his words. “No… I have an appointment with her tomorrow though.”

“Okay, good,” you nod, continuing to rub soothing circles on his back. “Relapsing is normal. It’s just another step to healing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.”

“But–”

“It’s normal,” you repeat firmly. “You acknowledged it, and you told me. That’s good, Spence, better than most people.”

He’s quiet, his nose brushing against the soft skin of your neck before he speaks again. “Did you know I’m scared of elevators?”

You can’t help but laugh at the change of conversation and you squeeze his hand. “No, I didn’t.”

“Morgan and I got caught in one the other day. On a case,” he muses. “On average, elevators are inspected once or twice a year, but some could go up to three years without inspection. There are approximately ten thousand elevator related injuries per year, and twenty seven deaths.” 

“Now I’m never going into an elevator again,” you respond with jest, poking his cheek. “It’s late. Take the bed, Walter.”

He huffs. “It’s your turn.”

“You need it more than me.”

“I’m not fragile.”

“I never said that you are.”

“(Y/N).”

You give him a pointed look. “Spencer.”

He stares at you for a moment, holding your gaze before he swallows and looks away. You watch the way his Adam Apple bobs in his throat and you suddenly feel faint. 

“Take the bed, Walter,” you repeat, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Please?”

He says your name again, and he reaches up to rest his fingers against the collar of your pyjamas. Your breath hitches and you can’t help the way your cheeks grow warm and your head starts to spin. His touch is gentle, his fingers brushing against the skin of your shoulder. You resist the urge to shudder as you relish his skin against yours.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, pleading, and his eyes glance from your collar to your eyes. 

“You hate sharing beds,” you remind him.

His thumb grazes against your jaw and his face is so close to yours you could count his eyelashes. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that he was going to kiss you. But you do know better, so you avert your gaze and push the thoughts out of your mind. An indescribable look flickers on his face but it is gone as quickly as it had appeared. 

“It’s okay if it’s you,” he says earnestly, and you find yourself agreeing because how could you say ‘no’ to that?

You climb into bed, one leg outside of the covers because everything felt so warm, especially with his arm wrapped around your middle and his breath against your shoulder. The thin line between platonic and romantic love has blurred indefinitely now, and at times like these you feel as if it has disappeared entirely. Guilt creeps into your veins as you feel him bring you closer to him, his nose buried into your shoulder. Is this considered coercing? He’s in the middle of healing, working towards sobriety, and here you are taking advantage of his vulnerability. Well, technically you’re not ‘taking advantage’ of him if he seeks you out first but it still feels inherently wrong. Morally wrong, maybe. 

It takes you another thirty minutes to fall asleep, your head rushing with thoughts and questions as you do. He’s gone when you wake up in the morning.

***

“Someone is looking happy,” Derek comments with a teasing grin, slinking an arm around Spencer’s neck. 

It has been about a week since the ‘sleep in the same bed’ incident and he was promptly whisked away to a case in Nevada. He felt guilty about the whole ordeal, considering he wasn’t in his right state of mind at the time. It still made him feel like a sleazy college student who had a one night stand with some random person and then bolted (even though there was no contact of that sort that night). Despite his initial guilt, his head is spinning with the sheer peace and comfort that he experienced when he was sleeping in the same bed as someone. And that someone was you! He could barely even believe it. It all felt so right and perfect… and the way you would shuffle closer at times… it was enough to get his heart racing (he thinks that it’s terribly cliche and horribly cringe-worthy, but therapy has told him that he needs to ‘embrace’ his gross sappy feelings).

“What? No– I mean yes but–”  Spencer coughs in response to Derek’s teasing, clutching the strap of his shoulder bag. 

Derek cackles at his fumbling, grinning ear to ear. “Alright, so… is it a girl?”

“What?!” He shrieks, his voice raising by two octaves as he does. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Oh so there is a girl,” Emily joins in with a smirk.

“There is– there is no girl,” he responds briskly, his cheeks burning in embarrassment.

Derek hums in thought, a mischievous look in his eye. “Did you catch up with Lila again?”

“No!” Spencer bristles at the thought. Ever since he almost destroyed his friendship with you over her, he hasn’t even bothered to give her a call. “I haven’t seen her since her since– since her case.”

“What about that girl you picked up at a bar?” Emily offers with a sly laugh. “What’s her name again?”

“Austin,” Spencer recalls instantly, his cheeks flaring up again as soon as she says her name. “B-but I haven’t spoken to her either!”

JJ rounds the corner, all too happy to join in the fun (much to Spencer’s chagrin). “I bet it’s (Y/N),” she says with a knowing smirk. 

Spencer considers his brain to be a well oiled machine of facts and logic. It’s one of the only things he could rely on– and the only thing people seem to respect him for. As of late, his ‘well oiled machine’ hasn’t been functioning as well as he would have liked, but that doesn’t mean it’s not functioning at almost full capacity. But JJ’s comment, no matter how well functioning his brain was, rendered him speechless. 

“Looks like you hit the nail on the head, JJ,” Derek cackles, clapping Spencer’s shoulder. 

He lets out a small grunt at the contact, almost stumbling over his feet before he catches himself. “There is nothing going on between (Y/N) and I. We’re just friends.” The words taste bitter on his tongue and he resists the urge to cringe.

“Sure,” Emily says with a short laugh. “Totally believe you. How long did it take for you to realise you’re in love with her?”

JJ snickers along. “Yeah, before or after you had that make out session with Lila?”

Spencer groans at their relentless teasing, covering his face with his hands as they walk along to the bullpen. They’re definitely a lot calmer once they enter their official place of work, but it still doesn’t stop the way they poke fun at him through sly smiles and tasteful words. 

“There’s nothing going on between us,” Spencer reiterates with a frown. “She knows just how difficult this job is; she doesn’t deserve to have to deal with it again.”

“Isn’t she the one who’s supposed to decide that?” Emily asks gently, no more teasing in her tone. She’s always been good at giving advice.

He pauses at that, a frown etched upon his features. His mind rushes with memories; the constant leaving, the torture, the trauma, the drugs… his fingers run through his hair. 

“It’s not a good time right now,” he explains softly.

“When will it ever?”

He doesn’t meet her gaze.“I don’t know.”

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