which smutty spencer fic would you like to read the most?
due to my extreme overthinking and a few ideas i’ve had on my own, i have an abundance of spencer fics. sooo, i’ve decided to take votes on which to work on first to clear out my drafts. pls lmk!! and i’ve also included snippets w the tags for each below ;)
which fic do u prefer?
post prison! husband! spencer coming back
teacher’s assistants! spencer & reader
spencer w baby fever
reader proves to spencer she thinks him talking is hot
Remaining time: 14 hours 56 minutes
nsfw below cut!!!
OPTION ONE: POST PRISON SPENCER
includes: praise, very affectionate fucking, hurt/comfort, love, unprotected piv, married! spence and r, switch! spence & r but all soft
“fuck, baby, i need you,” spencer breathes out against my lips, wandering hands holding my shoulders as he pulls away enough to look at me.
he’s so pretty. he always has been. since he was 23 and i first met him with penelope, he’s always been pretty boy, even without morgan’s insistence on the nickname.
he’s a different kind now though. scruffy hair, stubble, a wild look in his eyes, more broad and muscular. he was driving me absolutely crazy with how he looks now, like a starved man.
i nod, breathless. “yeah, yeah, whatever you want, okay,” i ramble, letting him guide me to the bedroom. he stands by the bed, waiting, and i carefully climb on, perching myself near the edge but moving backwards as he goes to climb on top of me.
he kisses down my jaw, neck, collarbone, all the way down to the valley of my breasts, his kisses ravenous yet reverent.
“do you know how many days i waited for you? i spent every night, every day, doing nothing but thinking about you, but god, i missed this the most. being able to actually touch you,” he murmurs, voice breaking and softening into a whisper at the end. “i just need to be close to you,” he adds, more vulnerable, moving back up to kiss me again.
OPTION TWO: TEACHERS ASSISTANT SPENCER
includes: nerdy! spencer, early seasons! spencer, whining, begging, dry humping, reader making moves on him, semi perv! spencer
“spence?” you ask softly.
his head snaps up, startling. “uh- yes?” he mumbles, blinking quickly.
“are you… okay?” you frown. “you seem distracted. do you need to go home-?”
“no! no. no, i’m fine,” he stutters. “just… the case really got to me i guess,” he tiredly smiles an apology at me.
you suck in a breath. “can i… help at all?” you murmur, placing a hand on his knee.
his eyes practically pop out of his skull. he whimpers, and you can feel heat burn in your stomach just at that. he’s already hard, straining his slacks. you internally pride yourself on that before returning to the mission at hand.
“seems like you’ve got a… big… issue there,” you whisper breathily, gesturing at his crotch.
spencer squeaks. “oh! oh, i- oh god. oh my god. i’m- i’m so sorry, i’ll-“ he rambles anxiously, looking around for an escape.
you grab his wrist gently. “spencer. it’s fine. you’ve lasted a lot longer than i thought you would. and i’ve been waiting,” you laugh a little.
he’s confused, it’s written plain all over his face in the lines of his furrowed brow and his soft mouth pulled downward.
“spencer. i’ve been trying to get with you for a while now,” you confess, laughing again.
“i- oh. what? why?” he asks rapid fire, narrowing his eyes.
patience drawn thin, “do you wanna kiss me?” you deadpan.
spencer blinks. “uh…yes-“ he can’t get another word out before your hands are on his face, pulling him in.
you kiss him hard, like you’re trying to force the proof of your want for him through your lips. he freezes. slowly, he melts, kissing you back, hands coming up and settling on the back of your head.
he grabs your waist, trying to pull you closer. you slide off the desk and into his lap, straddling him. you both suck in a gasp as you adjust, grinding down onto his aching erection.
“ffffuck…” you breathe out, hands sliding to his shoulders to steady yourself, digging in slightly. spencer’s eyes are shut tight, body tense as if focused.
but you’ve been nothing if not one to push the limits. especially his. so you roll your hips down onto his again.
OPTION THREE: BABY FEVER SPENCER
includes: breeding kink, talk of pregnancy, talk of babies, body worship, praise, creampie
that had been all it took for you. your awkward, geeky, ever so sweet and thoughtful boyfriend holding tiny henry in his arms- and quickly assuring him how he’d never let him go to some school- you don’t even remember because your mind went blank and your womb was now VERY unhappy you weren’t carrying spencer’s child.
“fuck,” you muttered, shaking your head. but it stuck. you could already feel the familiar heat start to curl in your stomach.
the whole ride back, you were zoning out.
spencer, meanwhile, was freaking out.
you’d barely closed the door before you were on him, kissing him hard and needy and desperate.
“mph!” he made some shocked, muffled noise against your mouth. you tangled your hands in his hair and felt him melt against you, his noise of shock turning into one of pleasure.
you only broke apart to kiss his jaw and neck, needing to feel more of him under your mouth.
“ah- angel- angel, what is this?” he asks, hands fisting in your shirt. “i mean, i- i’m not complaining, it was just out of nowhere…?”
you pull away, looking him dead in the eyes. “i wanna have your babies,” you state.
and before either of you knew it, you were pulling spencer to the bedroom, kissing him between him mumbling protests and statistics and blah blah blah while your whole body was screaming touch me touch me touch me.
OPTION FOUR: SEXY YAPPER SPENCER
includes: fingering, cunnilingus, soft dom!r, service sub! spencer, riding, praise
“you’re hot when you talk,” you state, reaching out and twirling a piece of his hair.
he flushed. “…hot? really…? that’s the word you’d describe me as when i’m talking?” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.
“yes, that’s exactly the word,” you declare.
he still looked a little disbelieving, his brows furrowed and eyes narrowed slightly.
you moved a little closer. “you want me to prove it to you?” you whispered.
“so, how do we prove me talking gets you… aroused?” he asks shyly, eyes darting around.
“well, what are the usual statistics?” you breathe out.
“um… elevated heartrate, increased temperature and blood to the surface of skin, shallower breathing…” he offered, finally looking up at you.
you raised your eyebrows. “well? go ahead and check all that.”
he swallowed thickly, and you watched the movement of his adam’s apple. he slowly reached up, fingers gently pressing into your neck for your heart rate. “… your heart rate does appear to be elevated,” he whispers. “additionally, your face is flushed, and your skin is warmer than usual to the touch. your breathing…” he pauses, leaning in to listen, “does appear to be more rapid.”
you smirk. “see, i can be right too,” you tease. “but y’know what the most obvious clue is to tell if i’m turned on?” you leaned in, “is if i’m wet.” spencer’s eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up. “you wanna go ahead and check that for me, baby?” you ask sweetly, leaning back on the couch and spreading your legs.
Summary: A small town cop decides the best way to flirt with you, is to pick on Spencer.
"He's pretty odd, isn't he?" He says it like it's a joke. Loud enough that the whole room is subjected to his arrogant voice, pointedly nodding his head toward Spencer who isn't even back to his own desk after being very rudely cut off.
Spencer, for his part, says nothing. It's not the first time he's been called 'odd', nor the worst thing he's heard. But the jab still lands and he'd really rather it wasn't being pointed out to you, of all people.
The air around you shifts, your mood now completely soured, not that the guy is actually paying attention enough to notice.
Bad enough that he'd been irritating you since the team settled in, deciding he just had to 'share information' with you, or 'ask for tips' while seated directly beside you at the small desk.
Plopping back down in the chair and outright interrupting a "fun fact" Spencer had come to share, and offering another mediocre cup of coffee that you still don't want and completely ignoring what he'd done.
"Yes, I suppose he is pretty odd," you reach for your coffee, past the styrofoam cup he brought over, knowing he's going to turn toward you, continue his little 'jokes' with a grin "-and it's wonderful."
Confusion is a quick response once whats-his-name that you don't care to remember even while you're here registers.
"He's genuinely the smartest person in the room, like you're busy telling yourself you are." You lean back in the cheap office chair as much as it will go and continue.
"His offhand 'fun fact of the day' holds more interest in one sentence than you have since we arrived." Garnering more than just your own team's attention is something the dude no longer seems happy about.
"He can read an entire book in fifteen minutes, which I'd bet is more than you'd read in the last fifteen years. I guess that could be odd to you."
The chair rolls backwards almost enough to clink against the desk behind you from the forced as he stands up with a huff that's about as impressive to you as he is.
You take a sip of the coffee you'd gotten with Spencer on the way into town, lukewarm but just to your taste as your short-lived companion leaves the room.
It's only when you notice JJ staring at you, smiling to boot, do you realize that multiple people are, and quickly decide not to look where Spencer is sat.
Just sip your coffee, read over the case. Mumbling a quiet "Wonderfully odd," to finish it.
From the moment you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, he knew he wouldn't last long. He could have cum with just the visual of you undoing his belt, pulling the zipper down with your teeth. Never in his entire life has be paid closer attention to the details of your hands, fingers gently pulling him out of his boxers, your lips, tongue... your tongue, the tip of which is currently sliding just under the head of his cock, skillfully stimulating all the nerve endings on the underside of his length, spots that pulse pleasure through him that he didn't know was even possible. The quiet moans spilling from his lips, muffled by his own fist, are music to your ears. You'd want him to be louder, if only the others wouldn't hear on the other sides of the walls. Your nails dig into his hips where they're slipped into his waistband, and the feeling makes his back arch. He sacrifices some of the stimulation in favor of lacing his fingers through yours, his impending orgasm causing him to need the grounding. His eyes roll back as he approaches the edge, and the feeling of his cock twitching inside your mouth as you take in every drop of cum that pulses out of him is astronomical. It rolls through his body, licking through him, vibrating hot. You continue your ministrations until he's to the precipice of overstimulation, hips twitching with each pass of your lips, your tongue, cleaning him up. "L-let me help," he offers, wanting to be useful despite how limbless he feels. You chuckle, mouth closed, slowly crawling your way up until youre hovering above him. You smile, something devious and all beautiful. You tap his chin, and he raises it, expecting, maybe, a kiss. He parts his lips and you grip his chin before spitting his cum back into his own mouth, an action that has his eyes widening, cheeks burning red, and cock twitching again unexpectedly. You smile, laugh, and press your lips to his. The makeout is hotter, sticker than hes ever experienced and he doesnt have time to think about hygiene when all he wants is to be inside, inside, inside you.
pls pls pls send in requests for him!!!! i love this stupid little nerd i need to fuck him so bad
“shhh, sh-sh-sh-sh-sh,” you whispered, pressing your finger to spencer’s lips. “baby, you really think too much. why don’t you just… turn it off, huh? turn that big beautiful brain of yours off,” you coo, nimble fingers working quickly at his belt.
“i- it’s not- not- ah!” he stammered, voice breaking into whimpers as you cup his growing bulge through his boxers. “ngh- god,” he groaned, his hips bucking up as you rubbed your thumb over him, feeling him grow in your hand.
he moaned in response, cock twitching as you freed him from his boxers. “oh, look at you, so pretty, so big…,” you murmur, stroking him slowly, running your thumb over his leaky slit.
he whined, big doe eyes rolling back in his head as his hips jerked. “oh- please!” spencer cried, fingers digging so hard into the couch cushions that his knuckles were white.
you slid down onto him, both moaned in tandem as you worked his length into you. “fuck, spence, god, you feel s’good,” you moaned, rocking your hips. a broken string of high pitched moans and whimpers were your only response. you giggled a little, tucking his hair behind his ear. “mm, is it working? where are you now?” you grin, giving him a test bounce, lifting your hips up and dropping them down.
“oh!” he cried out, hips gripping onto your hips desperately as you immediately threw yourself into a brutal pace. “please please please, angel, god, i need it,” he slurred, eyes rolling back in his head. “oh- oh,” he moaned, hips bucking up. you could feel him twitching inside you. god, was he already close?
“spence baby, are you close?” you murmured, stilling.
“no! no, no don’ stop,” he cried, his fingers digging painfully into your sides.
“ohh… i see, you’re already all pussy drunk and needy, huh?” you giggled, squeezing your walls tighter around him, causing another broken moan to escape.
“s’close,” he whimpered, cock pulsing inside you. all it took was a few more bounces before you felt him cum inside you, hot and pulsing as the thick ropes of his release spilled out of him, accompanied by the prettiest moans and jerking and twitching of his hips.
“oh, such a good boy…” you murmured before grinning wickedly at your poor boyfriend. “too bad i haven’t cum yet though.”
Summary: You and Spencer have been working at the BAU for so long that everyone jokes you two are in sync; somehow you can figure him out through a glance. This superpower isn't always a blessing you've learned.
Tags: fluff with a drop of angst, mention of kidnapping, all the regular Criminal Minds tw, workplace romance, they're both oblivious and everyone else is suffering, reader is down bad (aren't we all), idiots in love, friends to lovers.
w/c: 3k
Notes: In my head, all the shorts I write are using the same reader character. I don't know if I'd ever write a long multi-chapter fic with an overarching plot, but I'd consider it if you guys are interested. If you enjoy pls interact; it's greatly appreciated (pls lets bring back old fandom culture)
Tag list: @nevermorexlee, @cloudie-angx1
You and Spencer have been inseparable since you joined the Bureau; you can't remember a time before him. Maybe it was because you two were close in age, being some of the youngest on the team, or maybe because opposites attract. You weren't exactly sure how it even started, to be honest. The change was so discreet you almost missed it yourself: long nights in the office turning into long nights in his apartment, picking up his coffee from the breakroom in an effort to be nice turning into after-work outings to local cafes he swore up and down were the best.
It was nice, comforting even, to know that no matter what, you had him in your corner. Always just behind, exactly where you needed him. After a certain point, the rest of the team started to notice, Morgan being the first to catch on, slowly followed by Garcia, then Prentiss, JJ and Rossi. Even Hotch would smile as he saw the two of you through his office window. You perched on the corner of Spencer's desk, absentmindedly playing with the trinkets he kept scattered along its surface, the boy genius talking your ear off about whatever topic he decided was interesting that day. You never really minded either; you loved his voice and the way his eyes lit up when he spoke so passionately about experimental physics or the history of the ballpoint pen.
To the amazement and mild horror of everyone else, you two were simply the bestest of friends. Friends who would fall asleep next to each other on the jet, your head resting on Spencer's shoulder, his own head on top of yours. Friends who went to conventions together dressed up as the characters from Doctor Who. You blindly following Spencer around because, let's be real, you knew nothing about the show— only that it made him happy.
Friends who had become so accustomed to each other's tells and the subtlest of behavioural changes, you could communicate with a single glance. A skill that was especially helpful in your line of work, during interrogations or speaking to victims' families.
Any high-intensity situation where a single sound could get any one of you killed.
The main ones you learned were simple but effective: “trust me”, “I have an idea”, “something’s off”, “you ok?”
You realized you could do this completely by accident when working on a local case one time. You and Spencer had been assigned to work out the victimology, pulling any and all connections you could, the evidence board a mess of sticky notes, red string and marker. It had been hours, and you both were exhausted. JJ had already tapped out, opting for a nap on the couch in her office.
You'd have joined her if Spencer hadn't convinced you he was close to a breakthrough. People's lives were on the line, and you couldn't afford to lose your train of thought, unfortunately not even for a nap. By the third cup of coffee, you had basically gone nonverbal; your legs kicked up on the corner of the conference table as you sifted through a file in your lap. Spencer sat on the floor, his back resting on the side of your chair. His head slowly but surely found its way into your lap, tilted upwards, appreciating the glasses that sat askew on your nose bridge. Your fingers ran through his precious brown curls, nails grazing his scalp. After another moment of silence, you closed the folder and tossed it—perhaps a tad aggressively back onto the desk. With a long exhale, head tipping back, mimicking Spencer's position, you closed your eyes, just resting them you told yourself. You felt a shift in your lap only to look down and catch Spencer's gaze lingering on you. With a quirk of your eyebrow and the smallest tilt of his mouth, the two of you burst into smiles.
What?
Nothing…
You're a bad liar, you know that, right?
Maybe, but you look tired.
At that moment, Garcia pushed past the doors, mumbling something about the geographical profile before freezing completely. In sync, you both looked over in her direction, her mouth gaping and shock written all over her face.
You were the first to break the silence, “You have something, Penny?”
“Uh, what is going on here?” She gestured frantically, glitter pen in one hand, amplifying her distress.
You hummed in confusion as she continued, answering your unspoken question.
“You two are positively adorable but a little bit freaky at the same time. It was so quiet in here, I thought the room was empty.”
“Freaky?” Spencer quirked his head at the word. The letters felt foreign coming off his lips as he repeated them back to himself.
“Yes sugar, you are sitting in here with pretty girl having a full conversation with nothing but your eyes.”
“Huh,” you didn't even realize what had happened in the moment; with Spencer, it just felt natural. Your gaze found his without a second thought; you were pleasantly surprised to find Spencer’s eyes already trailing on you, the ghost of a smile plastered on his face.
Poor Penelope, once again left out of whatever mind palace the two of you had constructed. Squealing in excitement as she left the room, and the two of you to your stolen glances.
It came up a few more times after that, once again freaking out the rest of the team in the process. You all were flown out to South Padre Island to investigate a string of murders where the unsub was targeting college students. Hotch thought it best to send in you and Spencer for the interrogation. In an attempt to seem less intimidating, Spencer had taken the lead, pacing behind the boy, hand in his pockets.
“Why don't you tell me about the fight you had with the first victim?”
“I don't remember.”
“You don't remember?”
You sat quietly in the corner of the sparse room, simply observing.
For what exactly … well, you didn't quite know. Something was off about the case; your partner's theory was solid, but it was the suspects themselves that felt almost out of place in the dominant and submissive dynamic the team had profiled.
The back of the metal chair pressed up against the corner wall as you faced the scene in front of you, one leg crossed over the other, finger pressed to your lip, deep in thought.
“That guy was pretty big.” Spencer rounded the corner, putting himself between the boy and you.
“So?”
“Adam, guys like you and me aren't exactly the fighting type.”
You were confident in the profile; it was the girl from the hotel as the dominant that didn't fit. You had spoken to her earlier in the day, and she didn't seem the type. Sure her and Adam were close, but beyond that, you weren't certain.
“You see, now I'm really confused, because you just told me that you don't remember the fight.”
And then it hit you: for a split second, Adam’s eyes shifted, and someone else was staring daggers at you from beyond where Spencer stood in his line of sight. Shivers ran up your spine as you stood from your seat.
“Spence.” The words fell sweetly from your lips, your eyes finding his with the subtlest shift. Instinctively, he turned halfway over his shoulder.
Did you see that?
You saw it too.
Yes.
Spencer's eyes widened a fraction before falling back to Adam, muttering to himself. The new information bubbling in his brain as he deconstructed what he already knew, arranging this new piece into his mental puzzle.
Swinging the door open, you left the cold metal room behind, quickly finding Hotch, Rossi and Morgan on the other side of the two-way mirror.
Once the door shut behind you the words rushed from your mouth, “He has a personality disorder.”
“You sure?” Rossi quirked his eyebrow.
“Yes, he just split in front of Spencer and me when we cornered him about the fight; the dominant is his alter.”
Hours later, as the pieces started to come together one by one, matching the profile to a T, the team could finally relax for a moment. Sitting in the precinct, Morgan to your left and Spencer to your right, you sat in comfortable silence, eating noodles from paper takeout containers.
“You know, you two are like the twins from The Shining.” Morgan piped up completely unprovoked, disturbing the quiet you so desperately needed in that moment. With a long, overly dramatic exhale, you swivelled in the chair to face Derek’s direction.
“How so? Because if you try and make the comparison logically, we have very little in common; for starters, we are of opposite gender -”
Turning, equally disappointed towards Spencer, “He doesn't mean literally, Spence.”
“Oh?”
“It's that freaky eye thing you two do; all you're missing is matching polka dot outfits and you'd scare Penelope half to death,” Morgan enunciated his point by waving his chopsticks in our general direction
“Are we still on that? I told her I was sorry; the guilt was eating away at me and it wasn't even technically my fault.” The words fault were accompanied by air quotes that, in your professional opinion were extremely necessary. Causing Morgan to crack a smile, shaking his head at the two of us.
Bastard.
Spencer spoke up again, drawing both our attention back to him. “Yeah, she banned us from her office for a whole week, called it her mind control protection procedure.”
“You would know all about that, wouldn't you, pretty boy.”
“Shut up.”
Watching Morgan ruffle Spencer's hair as he walked away, you couldn't help but laugh.
Moments where the team could simply rest were few and far between, but equally rewarding, especially after a long case where things worked out, and the victims got to go back to their families.
It was those moments that made up for all the inhumanity you dealt with on the daily. It almost gave you hope, almost.
One of these fleeting moments of solace was on the jet back from a case in San Francisco. To kill time, Hotch, Reid, JJ and Emily were deep into a game of poker. Morgan and yourself sitting just behind the group, pretending not to listen because, as Morgan so eloquently phrased it, “there is no way Reid isn't cheating.” As for your reason, you've lost so many games to Reid that watching others relive the same fate makes you feel slightly better about yourself, plus it's hot watching him win with that stupid smug smile on his face.
But no one needed to know that last part.
Spencer was sitting in one of the aisle seats, JJ taking the window on his side, while Hotch and Emily sat directly across from them at the table. This allowed for perfect peeking at the latter's hands of cards. As the game intensified, you got up out of your seat, leaning over the headrest to peek at the game; Emily’s whines acting as enough motivation.
You had a crystal-clear view of Hotch's cards. Paired with the community cards on the table, he had four of a kind. By the looks of it, he could win depending on what Reid's hand was; Emily's cards were straight garbage, and JJ's tell was gonna give her away.
Leaving two, the stoic team lead Aaron Hotchner and the Vegas-raised card counter Spencer Reid.
JJ taunted, wiggling her eyebrows, “Prentiss, you can always walk away now.”
"Ha, and let you lose to Reid? Fat chance."
At the mention of his name, Spencer spoke up, "You know, statistically, it's better to fold a weak hand. Seven-two offsuit, for example, only wins against a random hand about thirty-five percent of the time."
With a huff and roll of her eyes, Emily folded in defeat. “There is a lot to hate about you, Dr. Reid.”
Leaning over in his chair towards the aisle, Morgan chimed in, “You're only learning that now, Prentiss.” Poor Emily slouched further into her chair at the teasing. Soft laughter escaped your lips as you took in the look on her face still perched over Hotch’s shoulder.
“Don't you dare tell him,” the man in question warned, staring straight ahead, not once breaking eye contact with the boy genius.
Mustering all the innocence you could in your voice, “Who me? I would never.”
“Oh yes, you most certainly would.” JJ used her hand to muffle her laughter.
“I would not, and I'm appalled you think so low of me,” with an upturned nose, you turned away from JJ in protest.
Morgan, no longer pretending to ignore the game, pulled one of his headphones out of his ear. “Yeah, pretty girl, no one is buying your act; for a profiler you suck at lying.”
“Again, I'm very offended you think me a cheater; that’s Reid’s title, not mine.”
“Unfortunately, you lost reasonable doubt when you learned to speak with the man through your eyes.”
Finally, coming to your defence, Reid chimed in, “You know it's actually not considered speaking because speaking is defined as the action of conveying information or expressing one's thoughts and feelings in spoken language. And as you can see, there is no auditor element involved. What you're referring to is better defined as - ”
“I fold,” JJ announced, interrupting Spencer.
“What? Why?” Emily sat up straighter, mouth agape.
“Honestly, just to get him to shut up,” the blonde shrugged.
Finally looking over to Spencer, you caught him staring, a smirk tugging at his lips, the corners of his eyes crinkling. You knew what he was thinking, proving your theory right in the process.
I won.
Quick enough that you thought no one would notice, your eyes met Hotch's hand once more before returning to Spencer.
Unfortunately, this superpower of yours didn't last very long in sweet memories. You knew there were risks involved in your line of work; hell, in the last few years you could count on one hand the number of team members who've been kidnapped, held hostage or had unimaginable losses in their lives due to work.
You just never imagined it would happen to you.
Which, yes, is a stupid thing to think in hindsight. But if you're constantly gazing into the abyss waiting for it to swallow you whole, what chance did you stand at all?
The metal scraped against your exposed skin. You didn't remember where your clothes had gone; all you knew now was that you were shivering in a thin tank top and panties, your hair a tangled mess while an array of blue and purple decorated your face. If you closed your eyes and pretended for just a moment, it was a galaxy where the semi-healed yellows and greens were like little stars.
Curled in the corner, knees to your chest, the cuff around one wrist dug into your flesh, anchoring you to the corner of a nailed-down table. God, you were so stupid. Why did you leave Emily? You should have waited before leaving to check the other side of that damned warehouse.
Maybe then she would have heard you scream when the unsub bashed your head into a wall. Maybe, just maybe.
The distinct sound of clicking brought you back to reality, tired eyes wandering over to the tripod set up just behind a glass screen. The tiny red light of the camera mocked you as it continued recording you as it had since last night.
You think at least… it was dark when he grabbed you.
This was torture, Spencer thought to himself. He sat next to a frantic Penelope as she typed something into her computer. He was barely paying attention at this point; it had been almost six hours, and they still couldn't find you.
The team managed to triangulate a search zone, but even with that, it wasn't possible to break down every door in search of you. His leg bounced involuntarily as he watched the video footage the unsub had sent them; his only comfort was that it was live and you were still breathing. Sitting alive somewhere in a dingy room.
By the looks of it, you had taken a pretty bad beating, but he was grabbing onto anything he could at this point to console himself.
Watching intently, he noticed your eyes drifting toward something just beyond the lens. The camera had to be somewhere inside the room. The unsub was obviously recording his crimes to relive some fantasy, preserving them as trophies to satiate himself in between kills. Or maybe it wasn't the recordings themselves he wanted; maybe it was knowing someone else was watching.
“Reid, honey. Are you ok?” Penelope hesitated for a moment, giving him a once over concern written all over her face. She looked at him as if he were fragile, breakable at any given moment.
“What?”
“You're gripping the armrest pretty tight…” his eyes drifted down to his hands, his knuckles turning white from the pressure- well, more so the pressure being applied to the capillaries in his skin.
“Oh, I didn't - sorry, Garcia.” Reluctantly, he let the chair go, slouching instead.
“We’ll find her.”
“That's not what I'm worried about, Garcia.” The girl hummed in response, waiting for him to continue.
Suddenly the feed picked up as a man’s torso flashed into frame, drawing them both back to the screen, watching helplessly as he dragged you from your spot on the floor by your hair. You kicked and fought back before he dumped you right in front of the camera; bracing yourself on your forearms, breathing heavily as you stared at the floor, refusing to look up. Shouting filled the room as you shook your head side to side, silent tears spilling from the corner of your eyes as he heard something shatter in the distance.
In a quick motion, the man grabbed you by the chin, forcing your head up from the floor, now staring directly into the camera.
Spencer's heart shattered right then and there. Not because some brute was laying hands on his girl, but because of the look in your eyes; your lip trembled almost imperceptibly.
I'm scared.
And in Garcia's little office, there was nothing he could do to console you. No way to meet your gaze and let you know he saw you—that you weren't alone—that he was sorry.
AN: i scoured reddit comment sections to decipher if october 12th or 28th was spencers birthday, and it seems like everyones divided but im going with the 28th bc it makes more sense and works better for me k thanks
warnings: established relationship, mentions of infertility, angst with comfort, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, some suggestive comments
the day you found out, it was a day you couldn't forget, one that made you sick to your stomach. a hot, summer day in june, making your brain even more foggy, your mind more hazy. you saw it in his eyes, when you told him you couldn't have children. spencer was heartbroken. when your doctor had told you that your hormones were imbalanced and she was concerned about your fertility state, you almost wanted to plug your ears and reverse time- pretend you never heard her.
you knew how badly spencer wanted children. he'd been talking about it more and more recently. you had engaged with the speculative plans, laying on the couch with him while he played with your hair, discussing boy or girl names. what the nursery would look like. you closed your eyes, holding back tears, even thinking about it.
when you told him, you offered a breakup. the words felt like vomit out of your mouth, at the mere suggestion. you knew, without his statistics, people staying in relationships where they weren't getting the outcome they wanted, could only lead to a hellish ending. he told you no, of course not, and that this wasn't your fault. but you could see through him. you didn't need to be a profiler to do that. he was hurt. he gently asked you about the odds of reversing the infertility, to which you shrugged. your doctor said it was possible. it would take time. you weren't sure how long.
spencer remained normal, after that. somewhat. there were times, you knew what he was thinking and he didn't have to say anything. a movie or tv show with a child or a pregnancy, he would take on a look that he sometimes have after cases, something between distraught and removed. or when you went to jjs' housewarming party, seeing his godson, the affection he showed the child, as if it was his own.
it hurt you just as much, knowing what you couldn't give him. jj had came up to you that day, after watching you come back from the bathroom and freeze in the doorframe seeing him with henry.
"he doesn't hate you for it, you know."
"you know." it wasn't a question, a statement, of sorts. but you should've assumed, because he works with people who read emotions for a living. one of them was bound to figure out something was wrong when you told him.
"he was particularly upset after a child was killed on a case a few weeks ago." she stood side by side next to you, the both of you watching spencer. "you shouldn't hate yourself either."
"i don't feel like i deserve him." a confession you hadn't even let yourself hear, but you listen to yourself saying it. she squeezed your hand, telling you not to be so harsh on yourself.
you lie awake when he's gone on cases now. the calls don't soothe you, in particular. his 'i love you's' and 'see you soon' make you feel empty, not because it's from spencer, but because you think he doesn't mean it. you try not to let on, not to bother him with your own feelings, because he's also affected by this- you see it, you know it. you don't want him burdened by your emotions too.
there was a specific time in late september. he was away, you were home. he had called in his hotel room, you weren't doing particularly well, if that was the understatement of the century. you selfishly let him soothe you to sleep, telling you he'd be home to talk to you about it soon, to not worry, and of course, he loves you so much.
he stuck to his word when he came home a day later, finding you laying on the couch, watching a rerun of some tv show that's been on in the background of your mind.
"hi angel." he kneels down in front of you, kissing you gently. he holds your hands in his, searching your eyes, looking for the emotions he had heard on the phone call not too long ago.
you give him a weak smile. "hi spence."
his voice is soft. comforting. "wanna tell me what's wrong?" you know he knows. making you admit it is his way of working you through your emotions. you resist shaking your head. the words are hard to form, hard to even speak, because they seem ridiculous.
"i don't feel like i'm making you happy, you staying with me. without a child. knowing i can't get pregnant." his face doesn't change, doesn't give you an exasperated look. he instead kisses your hands, the back of them, each one, before he cups your face with his palms.
"i'm happy with you no matter what. you are so," kiss. "so," kiss. "important to me."
your heart flutters. the warmest your body has felt in months. you kiss him back tenderly.
"let me show you." a smile smile creeps onto his face, one that makes you blush no matter how many times you see it.
october was spencers favorite month. not because it was his birthday month, but because halloween was almost here. he spent too much time decorating your home- not that you cared. you liked seeing him this happy, in his element. usually you helped, but you'd been feeling nauseous, so you stayed on the porch and watched instead.
"spooky gourds here-" he points to a place in the mulch. "-or here?"
"there." you point to the latter.
he pushes his sunglasses up on his nose. "that's what i was thinking."
despite your wave of sickness, you had felt feral for spencer recently. not that he wasn't normally attractive to you, but anything mundane he would do, made you cross your legs a little tighter, praying the feeling would subside. you chalked it up to your period coming soon.
except, your period was a week late. your hormones were off, as your doctor had so kindly let you know. so you brushed it off.
a week turned into two. spencer had just left for a case. you figured, if you were going to take a chance on a pregnancy test, now would be the best time- he would never see your false hope and you could throw away everything immediately, because the odds were so low anyways. it was most likely just a fluke from your body.
buying the test felt so foreign to you. the way the box felt in your hands, just felt heavy and unnatural. like it wasn't supposed to be yours. you stared at the stick, as if it were going to give you a negative just by opening it. you could almost feel the mockery from it, laughing at you for even assuming you could think you were pregnant. but you did it anyways, peeing on it, laying it on some toilet paper with shaky hands. you didn't want to look at it again.
you sat against the bathroom wall, on the floor, heart torn between a speed you couldn't keep up with or slower than normal. it was a case of hope. you didn't like hope, because everytime you had expectations that hope had caused, you were let down. your mind was replaying the negative line over and over again, forcing yourself to get up, to finally glance at the test.
you glazed over it, starting to wrap it up, before pausing. that couldn't be right. the tremor returned to your hands as you sat the test back on the counter, the two lines staring right back at you. your finger traces the lines, jaw trembling. that really couldn't be right. you rushed into the kitchen, grabbing your car keys, driving back to the drugstore. another box, with two tests, speeding back home. you wonder if you should've bought multiple brands, to test the validity of it.
you do it again, peeing on both sticks, laying them down flat, timing them. double lines. your mind told you it was wrong. it was a fluke, there's a defect in pregnancy tests. maybe there is a recall you don't know about. this can't be real.
october 28th.
spencers birthday, neighborhood trick or treat. you sit with spencer as he eagerly hands out candy to the neighborhood kids, dressed up as a zombie with face paint and his own hand made costume. your heart warms as he fist bumps a little boy for his doctor who costume.
you slip a kit kat from the bowl and crunch into it, as he sits back down, slipping an arm around your waist. "couldn't have asked for a better birthday." you know his birthday was the least of his concerns, but for your love of them, he entertained it.
"i have one last gift for you. from me personally."
"i told you no gifts." he sighs.
"it's hard to take a zombie seriously." you hand spencer a small box, wrapped in pink and blue stripes. an intentional choice on your part.
he raises an eyebrow, before untying the ribbon, peeling off the wrap. he lifts off the box lid, furrowing his eyebrows. you can see the moment his eyes change, his breathing shifts.
"what's this?"
you can't help the smile forming on your face, your cheeks forming a deep red. "spence."
he looks up at you, his lips slightly parted. his eyes are brimming with tears. "you're really pregnant?"
you nod, biting your lip to keep your own tears from spilling over. "i found out a few weeks ago. i wanted to save it for today."
his lips find yours before you can register it, the box dropped to his side. you can feel his tears against your cheeks.
"your zombie makeup is running into my mouth." you giggle.
"i don't care. let me love you." he mutters. "gonna drag you into this house and show you just how much i like this present."
Might be a weird request, but could we get a fic where the reader has a headache or migraine and Spencer decides to help relieve the reader’s pain by eating her out because he remembered reading a theory that orgasms can help relieve headache and migraine pain, and he tests that theory out because he hates seeing the reader in pain?
⋆.˚ Headache.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader
Your boyfriend Spencer has the perfect remedy for your headache.
ellie talks - my first request, yay! (also, not weird at all!) this one was so much fun, thank you so much for requesting this! i can't wait to do more requests so please send me any ideas you have! also i just thought i'd say that i'm actually only on season 2 of criminal minds which is why i tag s1!Spencer in all my fics because thats the only Spencer i know, and don't know how accurate it is to the later seasons
wc- 1.3k
cw- s1!Spencer, oral f!receiving, established relationship
The soft, rhythmic scratching of Spencer’s fountain pen against his journal was usually the exact kind of white noise that could put you to sleep. Tonight, however, every stroke felt like a tiny needle pressing into your temples. You winced, shifting on the couch and pressing the heel of your hand against your forehead. Spencer noticed instantly, the scratching stopped, and a shadow fell over you as he leaned forward, his hair falling into his eyes. “Hey, you alright?” He asked softly, “You look uncomfortable.”
“Just a headache,” you muttered, keeping your eyes squeezed shut. “It’s a really bad one, I think the office lights finally broke my brain.”
You heard him set his journal down on the coffee table, the couch cushions shifting as he moved closer, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. “Likely a tension headache or an early stage migraine.” He said, his voice dropping into a soothing, low tone. “Have you taken any ibuprofen?”
“An hour ago. Didn’t touch it.” You groaned, pulling a throw pillow over your face. “Just let me hibernate until morning.”
Spencer let out a breathy laugh, reaching over to the table by the side of the couch to dim the lamp, picking up the remote to switch off the television as he brought his hand back to his lap. His fingers tapped against his knee, a dull, rhythmic thud against the fabric of his pants. “Actually,” He said tentatively, sucking his teeth as if he were hesitant to continue, but ultimately deciding to go ahead with his idea anyway. “There’s a much faster, non pharmaceutical alternative.”
You peeked out from under the pillow, one eye open. “If you’re about to suggest a weird herbal tea mix or acupressure points on my feet, Spence, I love you, but no.”
“No, not tea,” he said, a faint flush creeping up his neck, though his eyes remained locked onto yours with absolute sincerity. He cleared his throat, his fingers curling against his knees. “During an orgasm, the brain releases a massive surge of endorphins and oxytocin. Endorphins act as natural analgesics, effectively binding to the opiate receptors in the brain to block pain signals. A study found that up to forty-four percent of migraine sufferers experienced total relief after climax.”
You blinked at him, the sheer absurdity of his delivery temporarily distracting you from the throbbing in your skull. “Spencer. Are you trying to analyze my headache into a hookup?”
“I’m presenting a clinically proven, neurological solution,” he countered, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He pulled the pillow away from your face, letting it land on the floor with a low thud. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your jawline, his breath warm against your skin. “And as your boyfriend, I feel a distinct medical and personal obligation to assist with the administration of said solution.”
“You’re ridiculous,” you whispered, but you didn't pull away as his hands slid down to your waist, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles through your shirt.
“I’m efficient,” he corrected softly as he nudged your knees apart, sliding off the couch to kneel on the floor as he settled between them. “Just close your eyes. You don’t have to do any of the work, let me take care of it.”
The pain in your head was still there, but the sudden, heavy warmth pooling in your stomach was rapidly taking over. Looking down into his bright, intensely focused eyes, you realized you didn't have the energy, or the desire to argue with his logic.
"Fine," you breathed, a breathless smile catching on your lips. "But if this doesn't work, I'm writing a very bad review."
"I accept those terms," Spencer murmured. He leaned in to kiss you, slow and deeply thorough, his hands already sliding purposefully up your bare thighs, leaving a trail of sparks that made you forget all about the pain. His fingers curled under the hem of your shorts, pulling the fabric down over your legs, dropping them to the hard wooden floor with a soft thud. His lips pressed against the inside of your knee, brushing against your skin softly as he let out a soft hum that vibrated up through your thigh, right to your core. You sighed, your head tipping back against the cushions of the couch as he moved his mouth higher up your thigh, his tongue dragging across your skin gently.
His nose brushed against the edge of your underwear as he kissed his way higher up your thigh, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your underwear, the lace soft against his palms as he moved it down over your hips, dropping it on top of your shorts. Your hand pushed into his hair as he maneuvered your thighs apart, lifting one over his shoulder before anchoring one hand on your hip to shift you closer to the edge of the couch, the other moving between your legs, using two fingers to part your lips. He hummed as he dipped his head lower, his tongue dragging a long line towards your clit before his mouth closed around the bud. Your toes curled against the back of his shirt, fingers twirling around his brown locks as his tongue flicked against your clit. Spencer moaned against you, the sound vibrating against you, sending a jolt of electricity through your spine.
His fingers slid down, his middle finger tracing your entrance before slowly sinking inside. You opened your eyes, lifting your head to look down at him, watching the way his eyebrows furrowed as his tongue circled around your clit, matching the languid pace of his finger moving back and forth, curling upwards, stroking your g-spot slow and soft with each movement. You gasped as your head dropped back against the cushion again, your hand wrapping the back of his head to hold his mouth against you. Spencer smiled against you as your hips rolled against his face, arousal dripping down his chin as his tongue flattened against your clit, his ring finger slowly eased into you, keeping the pace tender as you moaned louder, your other hand curling into the cushion behind your head.
“Feeling better?” He murmured, pulling his mouth away from you by an inch, his lips brushing against you.
“No don’t stop-” you whined, pulling the back of his head until his mouth was against you again, feeling his smile as he resumed flicking his tongue against your clit. His eyes closed as he focused on his rhythm, responding to each roll of your hips, each moan from your lips, each time your fingers tightened in his hair. Your breathing grew ragged, your chest heaving as your stomach tightened, your thighs bracketing his head as his pace picked up a fraction. Your head grew dizzy as the pressure built in your thighs, Spencer’s fingers massaged the sensitive spot inside you as he sucked your clit into his mouth, moaning softly as your back arched, the vibration only tightening the coil in your gut more.
Your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers tugged in his hair, your thighs pressing against his ears, trapping him against you as pleasure rippled through your body. Your toes curled, moaning loudly as your chest heaved, the muscles in your thighs and calves tense. Spencer’s pace didn’t slow, keeping the intensity as you squeezed around his fingers, the pressure of your thighs around his head, hoping to keep your high going for as long as he possibly could, until you were writhing in overstimulation, pushing at his head with giggles between heavy breaths.
He finally lifted his head, withdrawing his fingers from you before opening his eyes to meet yours as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh, before resting his cheek against your skin as you ran your fingers through his hair, your eyes trailing over his face, his glistening chin, the adorable, satisfied smile on his face. “Was my theory correct?” He hummed, his fingers tracing along your hip gently.
“When are your theories not correct, Dr. Reid?” you breathed, the words leaving your mouth between heavy breaths as you reached down to pull him upwards. He laughed softly, crawling up onto the couch to lay between your legs, his head resting on your chest.
You consider yourself to be a fairly level-headed person. You don’t have road rage episodes or get into petty arguments. Hell, you face down the worst human depravity has to offer without flinching.
Naturally, you find your breaking point in young smiley intern. An intern who happens to be a little too friendly with your boyfriend. Spencer of course, is none the wiser- or if he is, he’s painfully bad at doing anything about it.
As you walk back into the bull pen with your third coffee of the day, you see it immediately. That intern- Emma? Eva- No definitely Emma, with her chair rolled far away from her desk, now thoroughly in Spencer’s space.
You know his body language well. The stiffness in his posture and occasional rapid blinking read as clear discomfort. He’s always been easy to fluster, especially in the company of an attractive woman. You two have been dating for a year and he still gets adorably red in the face when you flirt with him. But there’s a difference between flirting it in the private of your own shared apartment versus in the middle of your workplace.
Your jaw clenches when you hear Emma laugh a little too loudly as she touches his knee, but you keep your cool as you walk through the bull pen. Spencer’s an adult, he’s in a relationship, he has the ability to set boundaries, to tell her-
You watch her reach forward and adjust his tie. He freezes with an awkward smile, one of his hands lifting and pausing in the air uselessly.
You don’t even realize that you’ve turned to march towards his his desk until his eyes widen as they meet yours. You can’t tell if they’re saying ‘please help me’ or ‘please don’t be mad’. Probably both.
He opens his mouth as if in a last ditch effort to alleviate the situation, but he’s too slow as you stop in front of the two of them, clearing your throat as you set your coffee mug on his desk.
“Excuse me.”
She turn and looks up at you, her smile fading slightly, but not quite enough for your liking.
“Oh, Agent uh… can I help you with something?“
“Did your desk move, miss…?” You question, your voice even.
“Uh Robbins- Emma Robbins.” She gestures to her desk, “and no, it’s just over there.” She smiles politely, clearly unaware of the danger she’s in.
You hum curtly, your voice dripping with condescension, “Wow, that’s so interesting. There must be something wrong with your chair, it’s drifted nearly ten feet away.”
Her smile drops more, a look of confusion starting to take its place.
Spencer is still frozen in his seat, glancing between the two of you.
“What?” She almost says with a laugh, as she looks at Spencer before turning back to you. “We’re just talking… is there a problem?”
You cross your arms and forward slightly, voice lowering, “My problem is your clear lack of physical boundaries in the work place. With a superior no less-”
Spencer says your name but you shoot him a look that shuts him up instantly.
Emma on the other hand is now slightly taken aback, saying, “Lack of-?” She huffs. “Dr. Reid and I are friends, it’s fine-“
“No, it’s not fine.” You snap quietly. “This is the FBI. Act like it. You barely work here and you’re already begging to get fired, so I suggest you take yourself down the hall to HR and ask for a refresher on the concept of personal space. If that’s too hard for you to wrap your head around, then I suggest you consider a different career path.”
She scoffs, “Too hard? I graduated at the top of my class!”
“Well it doesn’t show.”
Her face reddens and her eyes flicker to the floor at your beratement. Your words are cold, your gaze even colder.
“Did you not fucking hear me? Get up.”
She only spares Spencer a quick glance as she stands.
You step forward and bite out quietly, “and if I ever see you lay a fucking finger on my boyfriend again, I will make sure you never take a step in this building again. Got it?”
She stares at me tensely before turning away and fleeing the bullpen.
You take a breath and glance around. Only a couple people look up from their desks as she leaves. You weren’t too loud. She didn’t deserve that much humiliation… and you don’t like other people in your business.
You sit down in her abandoned chair next to Spencer, deflating with a sigh, as if the confrontation completely drained you.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Spencer speaks quietly, those puppy dog eyes softening your gaze instantly.
You huff, straightening back up, “I did. She was making you uncomfortable.” You look away and mumble, “and it’s not like you were doing anything about it…”
“I- I’ve tried.” He says weakly.
“Hey.” He says a little more firmly, putting his hand on your shoulder, getting you to look back at him.
He gives you a small tense smile. “I wasn’t sure… I didn’t want to say the wrong thing or- or misjudge…”
You look back over at him, “Spencer, it doesn’t matter what she meant by it. You’re allowed to say you’re uncomfortable.”
“I know… I’m sorry.” He swallows, fidgeting with his hands, “You’re mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you… okay maybe a little bit, but I’m already getting over it. It’s not a big deal okay?”
He nods silently.
“Hey, I mean it.” You put Your hand over his as he drops it from your arm. “I might’ve been a little out of line there too.”
He squeezes your hand gingerly, just for a moment before letting it go. Neither of you are big on PDA. Especially at work.
“…I think you made her cry.” He bares his teeth awkwardly.
“What?! I did not.” You voice raises an octave in your protest.
“She turned right down the hallway instead of left. Left goes to HR, right is towards the restrooms. Based on her behavior-“
“Okay, okay. I went too far I get it.” You let out a huff. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.” You say, running a hand over your face.
“It’s okay.” He says softly, biting the inside of his cheek in hesitation.
“It was kinda…” he trails off with a slight blush.
“Kinda what?”
“Nothing, uh- I don’t know.” He says quickly, scrunching his nose like he’s trying to readjust his expression.
Your eyes narrow and you lean your elbow on his desk, “Well now I have to know.”
“Can I- can I just tell you later?” His expression is endearingly pleading.
You hum, considering the request.
“Fine. Later.” You sit back up and grab his arm so you can look at his watch.
2:57pm.
“How many more files do you have left to review?”
“Four. Why?”
“I only have a couple left. I bet we could get out of here early if we lock in.”
“My average time spent reviewing a file averages to about twenty-three minutes, your average is about fifty-five, so we’re likely to to both be done by five ‘o-clock.”
“Ugh, its so depressing that we consider that getting out early- wait you time how long I take on files?”
“I did when we first got together. Maybe before that.” He clears his throat before talking quickly with his hands, “I uh- I wanted to be able to estimate what time you would get finished so I could alter my work pace to get done at the same time as you.”
“Why?”
“So I could walk you to your car.”
Your heart melts at his little unsure smile and you have to hold yourself back from kissing him silly.
You smile back with a softness that’s only reserved for him, before saying, “Well then, I’m gonna get back to work so we can go home soon.”
He nods, “good… me too.”
You stand up, grabbing Your cup of coffee from his desk.
“But I still wanna know what you were going to say earlier.”
He gives another silent nod before ducking his head down, retreating into the file on his desk. You smile at the poor attempt to hide his blush as you walk back to your own desk.
-+*~.-+*~.-+*~.-+*~.-+*~.-
“It was kinda hot.”
“Hmm?” You turn around and look at him as you shut the door to your apartment.
He shrugs off his messenger bag, fiddling with the strap before setting it down.
“Uh, earlier, you wanted to know what I was going to say,” he wipes his hands on the front of his pants before adjusting his glasses. Words fall out of his mouth in quick succession, “It was kinda…hot, what you said to her- Emma- er I- I mean that intern girl… well not what you said technically, but what you did… uh actually why you did it.”
You take a step closer to him with your brows raised in interest. “Oh… really?”
Spencer smiles awkwardly and ducks his head, “Honestly I feel a little bad about it… I mean I’d rather not derive pleasure from others discomfort, but I-“
You reach down and loop your pointer fingers through the belt loops on the front of his pants and pull him closer, making him fumble over his words.
“I- I um…” he trails off.
“Hm?” You hum in question, glancing down at his lips.
“I uh,” he chuckles softly as your action scrambles his thoughts, his cheeks pink.
He clears his throat.
“Nothing… I- nothing.” He breaths out, glancing down at your lips and swallowing tensely.
You finally close the distance between your faces as you lean in. You lips move soft and slowly against his as you release his belt loops and slide you hands up to cradle his face.
Spencer’s hands automatically find their way to you hips for just a moment, before his arms wind their way around your body, pulling you closer. His lips are soft and eager, his shyness from a few seconds ago melting away.
When you part, he has that hazy blissful look in his eyes. It makes you want to eat him.
“You don’t have to feel bad. I promise I won’t tell anyone.” You run your thumbs over his flushed cheeks gently, your voice soft.
He smiles sweetly and whispers, “okay.”
“Besides… you’re a better person than me. I promise.”
He hums, still just looking at you dreamily.
Your brow furrows indignantly, “Hey you’re supposed say ‘What? No no! You’re such a good person!”
He laughs, snapping out of it slightly, “You are a good person. Just a bit intense sometimes... and a little intimidating… and smart… and really pretty… and-“
You cut him off with another kiss, more intense this time… apparently just like you.
summary: you know you shouldn't sleep with spencer, he is your roomate after all...yet you both can't stay away...
pairing: spencer reid x roommate fem!reader
warnings: 1k words 18+ MDNI, porn with no plot, unprotected p in v, soft!dom spencer, brief fingering, kinda forbidden love if you squint (god i'm awful at warnings, you fuck okay?)
(any series spencer is applicable, picture used does not necessarily depict fic spencer)
“This really is the last time” You told Spencer whilst his hands tightened in your hair. His lips attached to the sensitive part of your neck.
“Sure it is” He mumbled against your jaw, his hot breath making you feel weaker at the knees.
You said the same thing to him a week ago. Both of you knew this wasn’t going to be last time. Ever since you came home slightly tipsy and horny, seeing Spencer walk out of the shower with his towel hung low around his hips, hair messy and wild, your brain said fuck it and removed his towel and sunk onto your knees.
The next morning he approached you as you were cooking breakfast. Didn’t say a word, just slid his hand in your hair behind your head and kissed you like you were the air he breathed, before picking you up and putting you on the counter, taking off your shorts and proceeding to eat you out like you were his last meal.
You both knew if you were fucking that day as soon as you woke. It would be in the air, the slightest imperceivable shift in the atmosphere of understanding that would lead to the both of you ravishing each other on the sofa before you even said one word.
Today was one of those days. He walked out of his bedroom, looked you in the eyes and you knew. Nothing needed to be said as it was apparent in the way he looked at you.
Spencer's hands were holding you up by the back of your thighs as he walked the both of you to his bedroom, kicking the door with his foot, all without breaking the kiss. His colleagues said he was uncoordinated, you failed to see where they came to this conclusion.
He placed you down on the bed, his body sliding in between your legs instantaneously. The heels of your feet rubbed down the back of his calves as your fingers twisted in his hair.
You palmed him through his thin boxers, his hips jutting forward to chase the friction, moaning against your mouth. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip before your tongue glided in.
Spencer’s cock twitched under your palm, already half-hard and thickening fast as you rubbed him through the thin cotton. He ground down harder, letting you feel every inch of him swelling against your hand while his tongue pushed deeper into your mouth, hot and insistent.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear and yanked them down in one rough tug. He didn’t waste time, two thick fingers slid straight through your folds, finding you already slick. He circled your clit once, twice, then pushed one finger inside you, curling it deep as his thumb kept working that sensitive spot.
He pumped his finger in and out, before sliding in another, the wet sound of it filling the room. His free hand shoved your shirt up, exposing your chest, and he leaned down to suck one nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing the stiff peak while his fingers kept fucking you.
You arched up into him, legs spreading wider around his hips. Your hand slipped inside his boxers and wrapped around his bare cock, stroking him from root to tip, thumb swiping over the leaking head. Spencer groaned into your breast, hips jerking forward into your fist.
He pulled his fingers out, brought them to his mouth, and licked them clean before shoving his boxers down just far enough to free himself. The thick length slapped against your inner thigh, hot and heavy. He lined himself up, rubbing the head through your wetness a few times, then pushed in with one steady thrust until his hips met yours.
Spencer didn’t give you time to adjust. He started fucking you hard and deep, the bed creaking under the force of his thrusts. Each snap of his hips drove his cock all the way in, the head hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. Your nails dug into his back as he buried his face in your neck, biting and sucking marks into your skin while he pounded into you.
“Still think this is the last time?” he growled against your throat, voice strained as he kept driving into you. His hand slid between your bodies to rub your clit in tight circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The wet slap of skin on skin grew louder, your pussy clenching around him every time he bottomed out.
He shifted his angle slightly, grinding down harder on each stroke, and your orgasm hit fast—your whole body tightening as you came around his cock, pulsing and squeezing him. Spencer fucked you through it, pace never slowing, chasing his own release while you trembled beneath him.
Living with Spencer was like living with Dr Jekyll, the composed, kind and well mannered man who asked how you were. Sex with Spencer was Mr Hyde, the man who ignored all reasoning and fucked you until your legs were sore. The polarity between the two was a mental whiplash to decipher. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.
He drove into you quicker now, the sound of skin on skin slapping in the otherwise silent room, eyes interlocked. Mouths inches apart as you shared the same air. How could something be so intimate with so little words shared between the two of you? You didn’t know, you didn’t care.
His cock hardened within you, you squeezed your walls tighter in response. He thrusted hard once, twice, three times before he spilled into you with a low groan, dropping his head onto your forehead. You interlocked your feet at his hips, keeping him locked in place.
You saw the second Mr Hyde left and Dr Jekyll returned, his eyes changing from dark brown, almost black to light honey hazel. Lust changing to tenderness. He rested on his elbow as he pushed one strand of hair away from your face.
You did the same, moving one curl away from his eyes, tucking it gently back into place. It was only then did you realise that this really should be last time, not when he’s looking at you with so much admiration you don’t know what to do with it.
But you know there will never be a last time.
a:n I got horny so I wrote this to make me feel better :) might make this into a short fic series with no real plot, just an excuse for me to write smut
-Mistie xx
Taglist (comment if you want to be added): @sweet-t33a @unlikelylovebarbarian @cocoabears.
(5 times people wrongly assume that Spencer and his best friend are a couple, and the 1 time they actually are)
spencer reid x f!reader ft jemily if u squint
(she/her pronouns used for reader-insert)
5+1 best friends to lovers - fluff
wc: 900
my ao3 // my mastertag
1. When Spencer first started at the BAU, he didn’t bring any decor for his work desk. He claimed that it’s not necessary for his job performance and that it would only be a distraction. Eventually, he brought a few figurines and a singular framed photo. Derek pointed at the picture, one of Spencer grinning at a woman with her tongue stuck out, and asked him about his girlfriend.
Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
2. Rossi hosts a birthday party for Aaron and encourages the team to bring anyone and everyone. So I can send more people home with leftovers, he’d said.
Spencer brought his best friend, and it’s the first time he’s introducing her to the team. As is every event that Rossi throws, the dress code is formal, so she’s wearing a dress and heels. Spencer has a suit on, with a tie that matches the color of her dress. She holds onto his arm as they ascend the front stairs to the house.
Emily and JJ are in the foyer, helping each other remove their coats, as she and Spencer enter. He introduces her to them, and she shakes their hands while keeping one on his forearm.
Emily asks, “How long have you guys been dating?” and they laugh like she’s told a joke.
She looks over at JJ with perplexity. The blonde woman just shakes her head.
3. At the FBI/Secret Service softball game, she comes to cheer them on wearing a shirt that says Go FBI! on the front and Reid on the back. She shouts and claps for everyone, but she’s especially loud for Spencer. After his first attempt at bat results in him striking out, she shouts, “It’s okay! You’ll get ‘em next time!”
Spencer’s cheekbones are flushed, certainly just from being out in the sun, as he sheepishly waves at her from the dugout.
A woman next to her in a Secret Service T-shirt leans over and asks her what it’s like to be married to an FBI agent, and she laughs and shakes her head, “Oh, we’re not together.”
She misses the bewildered gaze the woman gives her. She’s too busy wordlessly asking Spencer if he needs more water.
4. They’re sitting on a quilted blanket in the park, pulling sandwiches and cubed fruit out of a picnic basket. It’s a beautiful Spring day, one of the rare ones where the frigid Winter cold has worn off and the deep heat of Summer hasn’t set in yet. They both brought books to read, but they’ve been abandoned next to them as they talk and laugh around bites of their lunch.
An elderly couple approaches them and tells them how sweet they look, and the man shares that this park is where he took his wife on their first date fifty years ago.
They smile politely and inform the couple that, no, we’re not dating, and they chuckle and shake their heads at them.
The man looks pointedly at Spencer, “Don’t waste any more time, son.”
Spencer stutters, “Y-yes, sir.”
5. Spencer is away on a case, somewhere. He can’t remember where. The last thing he can recall is trailing behind Derek as they entered an abandoned house. There was a loud noise, possibly a gunshot, before Spencer collapsed and everything went dark.
When he opens his eyes, everything is blurry. He’s surrounded by EMTs, being wheeled on a gurney, and the bright flashing lights of the ambulance are hurting his eyes. Around the oxygen mask, he starts mumbling unintelligibly.
A woman near his head tries to stop him from pulling the mask off and hears a woman’s name coming from his mouth just before she reorients it.
“You’re okay – someone will call your girl at the hospital.”
He’s so out of it that he doesn’t think to try to correct her – he just nods and sighs in relief.
*** She steps off the elevator at FBI Headquarters and looks around for Spencer. A smile rises on her face once she spots him, and he hurriedly packs his satchel before rushing out of the glass doors to greet her. Bending down to kiss her cheek, he takes her hand in his before leading her back into the sliding silver doors, talking animatedly about the new spot he wants to try for lunch.
The team watches the scene unfold, and Penelope is exasperated as she throws her hands up and asks, “Are we all seeing this?”
When they return from the new sushi restaurant, they don’t notice that JJ and Emily have just pulled into the parking lot, as well. Their eyes track Spencer as he leads her back to her car with a hand on her lower back, murmuring things in her ear that have her giggling.
The two women climb out of JJ’s SUV, and they can’t tear their eyes away as Spencer softly closes her door and leans his forearms in her open window. Emily gasps as he juts forward to press his lips to hers, and JJ grabs her arm when they hear him say, “I love you. Drive safely.”
They stand a few spots away, frozen in place, as she pulls out of the lot and Spencer waves goodbye. With his hands in his pockets and his head tilted downward, he doesn’t notice his coworkers staring at him until he’s a few feet away. His eyes squint at their incredulous expressions, and he shrugs, “What?”
Emily points to where her car just was, dully saying, “Best friends don’t act like that.”
He laughs and informs them they’re not just best friends anymore. Well, we’ll always be best friends, but she’s my girlfriend now, too.
summary: they say love is the most powerful drug there is, and when it comes to spencer reid, you're shown just how powerful addiction is. you try to ignore your feelings for your fellow profiler, but as the days pass, your feelings get harder and harder to ignore... until one night, you can stand it no longer
genre/tags/CWs: there is plot, and it follows the same morbid qualities as a REAL CM episode, so there are heavy mentions of suicide, murder, rape, abortions, the foster system, evisceration, organs, hostages, threats, knives, blood, dead bodies. now onto the fun stuff. SMUTSMUTSMUT, porn WITH plot, dom!Spencer, sub!reader, squirting, no physical description of reader besides female anatomy, oral (m receiving), p in v, creampie, breeding kink? how did that get in here, reader and Spencer both have repetitive habits mentioned OFTEN, DIRTY talk, like filthy, like nasty, maybe ooc Spencer dialogue but I can picture him saying it all, coworkers to lovers, workplace romance, nothing bad happens to Spencer or reader!! they are safe!!, this is NASTY so read with caution
a/n: this is based off the dom!reid x sub!reader workplace romance request I got! not every request I get will be this long I just like ate it up so hard, so thank you anon for your gorgeous freaky mind giving me ideas, and I am SO SORRY I FORGOT IT WAS ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, my freak pervert brain took hold of my writing reigns... forgive me
w/c: 8.7k (WHOOPS)
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
They say that there are three main chemicals that manufacture the feeling of initial attraction in the brain: dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine. That there’s a million factors that can contribute to the attraction you feel towards your fellow man. Childhood development, proximity, subconscious pattern recognition– all of these things make up the scientific explanation for why one person becomes more enticing than the next. All of this, you knew. But none of it could save you from devolving into madness when it came to Spencer Reid.
You were a professional, someone with standards. You’d attended- and subsequently obliterated expectations at- the FBI academy. You had years of field profiling experience under your belt. And yet, Dr. Spencer Reid seemed to reduce you down to one thing:
Needy.
Spencer was a, too, a professional. He was a man of incredible intelligence and excellent at profiling. Which is why you were such a problem – because you would have moments where you were anything but subtle about your attraction. You’d gaze at him with utter lust during debriefs, bite your lips and bat your eyes at your desk after a conversation. You weren’t outright sexualizing him, nor were you openly flirting. But with his expertise in body language, you might as well have been stripping him right there in the bullpen.
It drove him crazy.
Spencer had a reputation of composure, but you were driving him over the edge. He noticed. Every time you lost your composure, he noticed. And you knew it, too. You felt a little ashamed, like a schoolgirl with a crush, you were inconsolable when it came to your absolute desperation for your unit’s resident genius.
-
You were on a case now, and you and Spencer had been sent together to meet with the medical examiner. There was an unsub targeting women who had given up their children for adoption, eviscerating them before dumping them in lakes unweighted. You decided to drive, hoping that the details of the case and the attention the road demanded would keep your mind from wandering. You were capable of being normal around Spener- in fact, you would consider him a very close friend. You’d talked for hours in the past, but as of late your tolerance for surrogate hookups had expired, and your vibrators simply weren’t enough, so being around him was becoming difficult.
“Do you think we’re looking for a child abandoned by their birth mother?” You asked, thumb fidgeting with the wheel as you drove.
“It’s definitely a possibility. There’s so much rage in the kills, at least as much as we’ve seen in the photos. The unsub could see himself as a sort of vigilante for children who were unwanted,” he replied. “In the year 2005, there were at least 146,172 finalized adoptions across the United States– children are given away every day. The question is, why now? What stressor would make the child start killing years after they were presumably given up?”
You were silent, thinking about everything you knew about the foster care system and what happened to kids when they outgrew their placements. Finally, you arrived, parking fairly close to the door of the morgue. As Spencer exited, you turned to grab your jacket from the back seat. It was a brisk day, and you knew morgues weren’t known for their warmth, either. When you went to reach for your door handle, you found that Spencer had come to open it for you. You flushed slightly.
“Oh, thank you! I could have gotten it,” You said, and he shrugged.
“It’s the chivalrous thing to do. Actually, did you know that while door holding was popularized by knights in the Victorian Era, Greek men used to carry their wives on their shoulders to prevent them from dirtying their clothes?” He asked, offering you his hand as you stepped out. You felt distinctly princess-like, and could easily get used to Spencer taking care of you, opening your doors, opening your legs…
You blinked hard before looking to meet Spencer’s gaze. You were blushing, and Spencer tensed, ever so slightly. He licked his lips before turning his head towards the door. He had dropped your hand, and you immediately put it in your coat to make up for the loss of his warmth. “That’s really interesting, Spencer,” you said, and meant it.
When you met with the M.E. she began to describe the victim’s injuries. “She died from loss of blood, a class three hemorrhage from this slash to her throat. She was found in a lake, which explains these notches here– the environment began to deteriorate the body right before it was found, probably from something in the water that was hungry enough to approach.”
Spencer’s face wrinkled in confusion. “So she didn’t die from the evisceration? Was it done postmortem?”
The medical examiner paused. “My guess? It occurred very soon after the throat was slashed. However, it would only take about 2 minutes to die from blood loss after a gash this deep, so there’s a chance the victim was still alive, but they definitely wouldn’t have been conscious. After about 15 seconds, she most likely passed out.”
You sighed. “So not quite torture, but still an extremely violent way to kill. Was there any signs of sexual assault?”
The woman shook her head. “There is something to note, however. Though a lot of the internal organs were damaged during the evisceration, there was extensive injury to the uterus, gashes not aligning with the other cuts.”
Spencer nodded curtly. After a few more questions, you both made your way out. The details of the case fresh in your mind, you wanted to discuss with Spencer before you forgot anything.
“No sexual assault and a water burial points to a female unsub, but the cause of death was so extremely violent and messy. If there was no sexual motivation, this unsub would have to have incredible amounts of rage and privacy to attack in this way,” You mused, and Spencer nodded, casually going to open your door before you got the chance. You again were caught off guard. You’d been sent alone with Reid before, and never had he acted this way. It was a small change in behavior, but noticing changes in behavior was your job. You gave him a small smile before climbing in. Something heated in your core, and butterflies fluttered in your abdomen. You took a deep breath before Spencer entered the car, trying to keep your composure. This was going to be a long case.
-
When you and Spencer returned to the police station, you met with everyone and began to relay your information. There was very little difference in the appearances of the women, the MO consistent with every kill. Forensic countermeasures, no witnesses at the dump site, and no apparent connection between the victims besides the obvious physical resemblance and the fact that they all had kids put into the system. That was, until Garcia called.
“Hey, Babygirl. What do you have? You’re on speaker.” Said Derek, setting his phone on the table.
“Hey sweetness. I did what you asked, and there’s no links romantically between the woman, so no sharing baby daddies over here. All three women had their cases sealed as no-contact, but I didn’t want to come up completely empty handed– so I did some more looking and I think I found out how the unsub is targeting his victims.”
Spencer cut in, raising his hand. “Actually, Garcia, when we visited the medical examiner, we floated the theory that the unsub is a woman due to the apparent lack of sexual interest and mode of disposal.”
Garcia let out a small gasp, “Oh, that is not good.”
“Why?” Spencer asked, face scrunched.
“Because all three victims attended support groups for women who put their children up for foster care.”
You stiffened, and your mouth dropped slightly.
“Oh, my god,” You said. Everyone looked at you as you placed your hand on the table. “She’s killing herself.”
-
After realizing the unsub was targeting women who represented herself, the team decided to do more research into why the woman would attack others instead of actually killing herself.
“Guilt for leaving the child is the most obvious option, but it doesn’t make sense that simply putting the baby up for adoption would have triggered her like this. She likely knew that she wouldn’t be able to care for the baby upon finding out she was pregnant. But if she’s stable enough to recognize that something about her situation makes her an unfit mother, then it feels like we’re missing a part of what’s triggering her. She cares enough for her child to try and give it a good life that’s not with her. That doesn’t sound like someone who is capable of this level of violence.” Emily mused, and you nodded.
Spencer came up beside you, standing behind your chair. Your hair went on end as he joined the conversation, hand resting on the chair only an inch away from the back of your neck. You imagined him resting his hand on your neck instead, snaking it around to the front and squeezing while he directed your gaze upward. You swallowed hard and sat up straight in your chair. Spencer looked down at you from where he stood for only a moment, and you worried he could read your mind. He smelled good, you could tell from his proximity. He was so intoxicating, and no matter how hard you tried, your mind couldn’t find its way back to the conversation. You nodded as if you were listening, but his looming presence had you nervous, paralyzed. He had that effect on you– he was your greatest distraction. Once you registered that he had finished speaking, you stood abruptly and said, “Excuse me,” you muttered, before cutting beside him and making a beeline for the coffee pot.
Spencer’s brow furrowed, and Emily quirked her head. “Is she okay…?” She asked.
You grabbed a styrofoam cup and decided to pour some water from the cooler. You breathed deep– your feelings for Spencer were becoming suffocating. You stood from your bent position at the spout when you felt a hand on the lower-middle of your back. You startled, and almost spilt your water. You held your heart and felt it twist when you met the ever-enveloping gaze of Spencer Reid.
“Oh! You- you scared me.” You said, looking down at your cup, but Spencer moved to include his face in your line of sight.
“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been acting strange… you space out a lot and you’re back to biting your lips. Is there something on your mind?” He asked, eyes slightly darkening before he slipped his voice in a lower, softer tone. “Someone on your mind?”
Your eyes went wide and you bit the inside of your cheek to make sure you weren’t having another dirty work dream. But lo, this was real.
“Spencer! Why would you ask me that? I’m fine,” You said, but Spencer cocked his head.
“That wasn’t a no.” He stated simply, his furrowed brow catching your attention. His thinking face was something you’d always admired— but now his quizzicality was turned on you, and it made you sweat. You quirked your head slightly and narrowed your eyes. Two could play this game.
“Why do you care?” you asked, turning the question on him once more.
Spencer blinked and he wet his lips. Before you could give him the chance to reply, you pressed him again. “You’ve been licking your lips. It’s a nervous tick. You did it when you held my door, too. Were you nervous then, Reid? Do I make you nervous?” You asked, a challenge in your eyes. Despite your brave face, your heart was pounding and you felt heat gathering below your belt. You wanted him to take you by the lips and work your biting attitude out of you. When he didn’t reply, you let yourself smile like you’d won.
“That’s okay. We don’t have to do this here, hm?” You said, and Spencer’s gaze darkened. Just as you went to walk away, Spencer moved his hand from your back to your arm, grabbing your tricep and stopping you in your path.
“You’re right. We’ll finish this later.” He said after he moved close to your ear before walking ahead of you back to the conference room the team had posted up in.
Oh, fuck.
-
That night when you got back into your hotel, you turned and closed the door behind you as quickly as you could. You panted heavily and closed your eyes. The rest of the night there were no further developments in the case, and you all felt defeated. More than that, every time you were in a room with him, you felt Reid’s eyes burning a hole into the back of your head, always watching. You felt like a deer in headlights, trapped in wait. You pushed off the door and threw your go-bag onto the bed, searching frantically for the item you had most shamefully added within the last few weeks.
A small pink mini-wand. It was the quietest toy you could find, and you were paranoid of your coworkers somehow hearing you fucking yourself over the sexy genius none of them knew you wanted. Or, you thought none of them knew. All of the members of the BAU had suspected your feelings for months.
You threw your clothes off your body, stripping down into your underwear and walking to the bathroom to turn on the shower. The toy was waterproof, thank goodness, because you were aching to take care of yourself and didn’t want to wait until you were showered to do so. After taking off the rest of your layers, you stepped inside, feeling the warm water trickle down your body. You clicked on the wand, and gingerly pressed it to your throbbing clit. Unfortunately, you heard a noise that made you jump and hurriedly turn it off.
It was knocking, on your door. You groaned and turned off the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping yourself before angrily going to see who it was. You left the toy on the bed, just around the corner from the door, out of sight. You looked through the peep hole and blinked in surprise when you saw it was Spencer. You adjusted your makeshift cover before cracking the door just so.
“...Yes, Spencer?” You asked, pinning him with a look of annoyance as he noticed your distinct lack of real clothes.
“We just got to our rooms, and you’re already naked?” He asked, and your face flushed red. It was as if he knew that a shower was only half your motivation, like he could see the hot pink vibrator waiting for you just out of sight.
“You make it sound so weird! I was in the shower. What do you want,” you said, less like a question and more of a statement of annoyance.
Spencer narrowed his eyes. “But your hair isn’t wet?”
You rolled your own and glared. “I had only just got in before someone came knocking on my door, apparently just to bother me. Goodnight Spencer.” You went to close the door in his face.
“Wait,” he said, jamming his foot in the frame before you could close it.
You groaned and opened it again. “Spencer, what is it? I’m literally naked. Let me close the door.”
It was his turn to pin you with a look. “If you were literally naked, I wouldn’t be standing out here.”
Apparently, Spencer didn’t recognize the innuendo in his statement, or if he did, he refused to amend it– he just let out a heavy sigh while your mind ran wild with the musings of what he could have possibly meant by that.
“I have a theory about why the unsub started killing surrogates,” he said, and you blinked. “I started thinking about the reasons most women put up their children in the first place. Poverty, indifference, drug use-”
You cut him off. “Spencer! If you need to talk about this so badly, come inside. I don’t like standing here in just a towel.”
Spencer let out a sigh of relief and gave you a look that said, ‘Finally.’ You moved aside and began to walk over to the room when you felt a jolt of panic shoot through you. In your frustration and anxiety to get out of the doorway, you managed to forget you left your very neon pink toy square on the bed. You let out a yelp and tried to reach for it before he noticed, but it was too late. You panicked, and began mumbling.
“AH! I’m sorry- sorry that’s- I was just.. It’s just, it was just in my bag I wasn’t-” Your ramblings were cut off by Spencer stopping you.
“Hey! It’s- it’s fine! I don’t care!” He said, looking at the wall, giving you time to put it away. “Approximately 52.2% of the American female population have used a vibrator in their lifetime…and about 45% of American men, it’s normal! I- not that I’d care anyways.” he said, and you felt the hair on your arms stand up. The thought of Spencer using a vibrator, or using one on you… You coughed and turned to face him.
“Um. Thanks. Sorry. One second,” you said. You moved to the bathroom to change into the pajamas you had laid in there earlier, leaving Spencer alone in the bedroom. Your face was red and hot, and you felt something between embarrassment and lust fill your chest.
While you were in the bathroom, Spencer had his back turned to the bathroom door, biting his lip and trying to will away his growing erection. Of course you brought a vibrator on this trip– you were trying to kill him. After the little stunt you pulled earlier, he’d spent the rest of the day trying to forget about how soft your skin was, and how badly he wanted to take you back to his room and show you exactly why he cared if someone was on your mind. When he heard the door open, he turned to face you and prayed to every god he’d never believed in that he didn’t have a noticeable boner.
“Okay, so.. I was.. Thinking. About why children are put up for adoption. And then it dawned on me– most women who’ve been raped but don’t want to abort will give up their child.” You nodded, now distracted by his credible hypothesis.
“It’s a good start, but that still doesn’t explain why she’s killing now. Unless…” Spencer cocked his head, hanging on your words. “Reid, what percentage of rape victims are revictimized in their lifetime?”
Reid paused, before squinting. “Sixty-six percent, why?”
“Spencer. What if she was revictimized, and impregnated again?”
Spencer's arms jolted in realization. “The thought of having to carry another child to term that she’d have to let go might have been too much, but she might be unwilling to kill herself because-”
“Because she’d be killing the child in the process.”
“And that’s why she’s killing the surrogates!”
You and Spencer both immediately went to leave, and you grabbed your badge and gun as you beelined for Hotch’s hotel room. You practically ran down the hall, reaching his door and rapidly knocking. Hotch answered, still in his suit from earlier in the day when you and Spencer both blurted out, “We know why she’s killing surrogates.”
-
The team descended on the scene, previously dreary from a lack of sleep but now pumped with adrenaline. After calling a much bothered Penelope to have her work her technological genius, you asked her to pull records of women who reported being revictimized recently that also recently began prenatal medications. There was only one name: Erika Hawley. Derek led the infiltration, kicking down the door to reveal an empty house, but a lit basement. You called, “FBI! Erika Hawley, come out with your hands up!”
The basement door remained shut, so it was broken into. In the basement, Erika was found with another woman from the support group, knife to her throat. You put your hands up as you approached.
“Erika… put the knife down. I cannot imagine the amount of pain you are in right now. But Erika, she hasn’t done anything.” You kept your voice calm. Behind you, Spencer had followed, and he had his gun trained on the woman’s head, ready to do whatever necessary to protect you. His heart hammered in his ears as Erika spoke.
“I can’t take it! It’s not fair!” She screamed, tears running down her face. You looked at her with utter sympathy, and took another slow step.
“Erika… I know you have a good heart. That’s why you feel trapped, right? In your own body, because you’re unwilling to abort your baby. And that’s your choice, and I’m so sorry you have to go through this a second time. But the woman in your arms… is not you. Killing her won’t undo your hurt. Her name is Ashley Sullivan, and she has a family. Erika… It’s time to let her go.”
Erika’s eyes filled with tears before dropping the knife and releasing the woman from her grasp. As soon as the knife hit the floor, you moved forward and kicked it towards Spencer. When it was out of reach, you handed Spencer your gun and moved to hug the woman. She collapsed into your arms, and you consoled her before gently telling her to turn to be apprehended and reading her her rights.
-
Once Erika was arrested, you flew home the next day to rest before returning to the office the day after to finalize all of your paperwork. What had happened with Erika was devastating, but despite everything that happened, all you could think about was how Spencer came to your room that night. About how he had seen your toy, sure, but mostly about how he had a breakthrough and came to see you. He thought the best thing he could do with this important information… was to gather your opinion because he thought you would be to help.
God, he’s sexy.
Your bedroom was as messy as you had left it before you embarked on the trip, and you decided to clean it some before relaxing the rest of the day. You knew as someone who took the lead in the arrest, you’d have some of the most paperwork to do tomorrow, second only to Hotch. You groaned, and began to put the dirty clothes and strewn about accessories away. Once your room was clean, you grabbed clothes to bring to the shower with you and turned on your CD player.
-
When you exited the shower, you went back to your room, and grabbed the very same vibrator from the go-bag you’d set in the corner. You threw yourself onto your bed, still naked and needy. You moved to press it to where you wanted it most, and you whimpered when you felt the sensations on your clit. It was the pressure you’d been desperate for for days, and your hips bucked slightly. You circled around your core, letting yourself give into the fantasies that flooded your mind.
There, in your head, it was Spencer giving you your relief, moving over your clit to coax your orgasm out from you. You moaned, and clicked the button to make the vibrations more powerful. You pictured him: curly hair, beautiful hazel eyes, sweet voice. You pictured him kissing your thighs, your lips. You felt your orgasm quickly build.
“That’s it, just focus. You’ve got this, you’re so pretty… doing so well, there we go…” You bucked your hips into the pleasure. But you found that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t cum. It was agonizing - waiting on a crash of pleasure that never crested. You lay there for an hour, whining and pleading before getting frustrated and throwing the vibe across the room. You didn’t know what was wrong– you’d spend your whole LIFE giving yourself orgasms, and now suddenly, it’s not enough? But really, you did know what was wrong. What you needed.
In utter desperation, you went to your underwear drawer. You pulled out a purple lace set you’d bought on sale, and put it on.
This was a bad idea.
This was a terrible, horrible idea that could potentially ruin one of the best friendships you’d had in a long time.
…
You didn’t care.
-
You pulled into Spencer’s apartment parking lot, parking and marching into the building– a woman on a mission. You walked into the elevator and pressed the button, hands shaking slightly. The sun was setting, you hadn’t eaten, and you knew what would happen if this went awry. But you were losing it, and if this didn’t go well you’d probably end up ruining things some other way in the coming weeks, unable to do anything but ogle him. You had become well and truly obsessed with this man. He had bewitched you, and you had to do something about it.
Taking steps so broad you were nearly jogging, you hurried to Spencer’s door, fist raised to knock before you paused– what if he wasn’t even home? What if there was someone inside with him, someone he had kept secret? You decided to take the leap before you could psych yourself out, knocking one, two, three times before taking a step back. Your foot tapped the floor, looking all around the hall. You must have gone completely crazy.
It was taking too long. Maybe he had looked through the peep hole and saw your face, backed away. He didn’t want you like you wanted him, he didn’t need you like-
“Hello?” Your head whipped to his front door, meeting his beautiful hazel eyes immediately. Your face was red, and terribly, your mind when blank.
“Is everything okay?” Spencer asked, face twisted in concern. You hadn’t called ahead- at least, he was pretty sure you hadn’t. He was too busy fisting his aching cock to the memory of you to check his phone, lest a new case or some random news article interrupt. He was still hard, using the door to shield his lower body. However, upon realizing it was only you, his worry overtook his consciousness of his boner and he opened the door all of the way to step out and greet you.
This immediately came back to bite him, as your greedy gaze flicked downwards for just a moment before meeting his gaze again. Then there was something in your face, something hungry and almost primal. Spencer’s tongue flicked across his lips instinctively as he fought his body’s urge for his dick to twitch.
“Yes. Well- no. Spencer…” You searched for the perfect words. Nothing too straightforward, but you didn’t want to seem aloof. Then, it hit you.
“We have a conversation to finish, yeah?”
-
It was about the cheapest shot you could’ve taken, but somehow, it worked. Spencer opened his door further, stepping aside to let you in. You let out a deep sigh of relief, but before you could figure out your next move, you found yourself boxed into the corner of Spencer’s doorway, his arm trapping you in close to him. You found yourself trembling, but not with fear. You had felt Spencer behind you the night you took down the unsub, and knew he wouldn’t hurt you. At least, not in ways you didn’t want. You looked up through your eyelashes at him, and swallowed hard.
“You’re right. We do have a conversation to finish,” He said, voice low. “And I’d love a reply from my earlier question, but I think I have a more pressing one now. You could’ve called, texted. We could’ve talked on the plane or the night before we flew home. Your pupils are dilated, your face is flushed. You’re breathing fast and your pulse is…”
Air caught in your throat as Spencer brought a gentle hand to your neck, pressing down slightly. You fought the urge to moan, his proximity making you dizzy. His fingers were warm, and you wanted to take them into your mouth, suck on them while he kept speaking to you in his deep saccharine voice. “At about 95 beats per minute. So tell me; what really brought you here? Because I’m not stupid enough to believe it was just to talk.”
Spencer’s confidence when he spoke to you had your knees buckling, and he grasped your chin and forced you to keep eye contact. Your brain was slowly turning to mush, but Spencer needed to hear you say it– say what he hypothesized had brought you here. He’s spent the last few months in limbo, wanting you desperately, but caring too much about your relationship — as friends and coworkers – to act on what he could read in your eyes. But you were in his home now, in his territory. He was at his most comfortable now, and he had to hear you say that you wanted him, too.
“Come on,” he cooed, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip. “Talk to me.”
Your eyelashes fluttered and you let out a soft, breathy whimper. You couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Spencer,” you started. “You asked me… if I was distracted because I was thinking of someone. You were right. Spence, you’re all I think about. Actually, I can’t think around you– at least, nothing appropriate. And sometimes, I think you feel that way too. But sometimes, I think that maybe… you don’t think about me at all. But Spence…”
He held on your every word, searching your eyes, begging to see truth in them.
“I need you. It’s gotten to the point that I can’t-” Your face burned. You tried to look away, but Spencer turned your head back towards him once more.
“Can’t what, Angel?” The nickname broke your resolve.
“I can’t cum, Spence,” you whispered, turning your gaze at the ground, simultaneously embarrassed and more turned on than you’ve ever been in your life.
Spencer’s body went completely on edge, and he felt his every nerve buzz to life. His cock ached and strained against his pajama bottoms, and he could wait no longer. He crashed his lips into yours, a beautiful, passionate display of absolute obsession. Kissing Spencer felt like being the most relaxed you’d ever been, while simultaneously being lit on fire. Something ignited inside you, while a smaller beast finally could rest, knowing you were where you were always meant to be— in Spencer’s embrace. You moaned, unabashedly, taking his tongue into your mouth. Spencer’s hands grasped the sides of your head, trying to close any and all distance between you. Your hands grasped onto his shirt, fisting the fabric. You were so happy, you could cry. You’d wanted this for so long. Spencer never wanted the kiss to end– he felt complete when in contact with you. However, his leaking head was now making a pool of precum in his boxers, so he pulled away. You whined softly at the loss of his lips on yours, but then he bent to pick you up, bridal style. Despite his appearance, he was fairly deft, and had a good enough grasp on physics to make lifting you nearly effortless. He looked at you, eyes dark and sultry. There was a promise inside them that had your pussy twitching in anticipation. He took you to his bed, where he put you down into a sitting position.
“I need you to understand something, angel,” He said, hand coming to the side of your face, brushing it sweetly with his thumb on your cheek. You leaned into the contact, doe eyes meeting his stare intently. “Once we start, it will be extremely difficult for me to stop. The flood of dopamine acts as a filter prioritizing desire over rationale. Not- not that I’d ever do anything you didn’t want. But it will be…” He swallowed thickly, looking to your lips, then back to your eyes. “So, so agonizing. I need you to tell me now if this is really what you want to do, because it might kill me if I have to pry myself away from you.”
You were putty in his hands. All of his words sounded like the most beautiful melody you’d ever heard. Your hand reached up to grasp the one holding you, and giving in to your earlier fantasy, you moved his thumb over to your mouth to wrap your lips around it. He might as well have been made of sugar, he tasted so sweet. You kept your gaze locked on him as you nodded slowly, swirling your tongue around his thumb. Spencer let out a low sigh before abruptly removing his digit from your mouth and grasping your face, hard. It didn’t hurt, but the command in the action was clear.
“Use your words, angel. Don’t make me ask again.”
You swallowed.
“I want this, Spencer. I want you. Please, I need you.”
Spencer smiled a condescendingly sweet smile and tilted his head.
“Good girl, that wasn’t so hard?” He loosened his grip on your face and moved it to the back of your hair, tangling at the nape of your neck. You let out a soft whimper and titled your head back just so.
“You’ve been driving me crazy, you know that? Anytime I try to get work done and you’re somewhere eye-fucking me in the corner.” Spencer used his free hand to pull the drawstring of his pajama bottoms undone, pulling them down to free his cock. It was red and leaking, covered in shiny precum all over the tip. He took it into his hand, squeezing the base to try and relieve some of the pressure. Your mouth watered and you instinctively went to take it into your mouth, but Spencer’s hand in your hair kept you in place. He began to stroke it slowly, tantalizingly close to you but just out of reach. He tutted and shook his head.
“You want to make me feel good? Want to make it up to me for all those nights I had to come home and touch myself to the thought of you?”
You whined, nodding your head as much as you could as he held you. After a few moments of agonizing waiting, he finally smiled and said, “Okay, Angel. Go ahead.”
You moved forward, his hand still on your hair, but allowing you to move freely. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the head of his cock before giving it a soft lick. Spencer let out a soft laugh at your affection in a moment so sensual.
“So sweet for me,” he praised, and you giggled before dipping your head to lick up his length from base to tip. He shut his eyes and released a shuddering breath. You opened up to take the tip into your mouth, slowly lowering yourself. He was bigger than anything you’d had before, and you hesitated slightly at the size. He rubbed soft circles into your scalp, and you moaned around him.
Spence tipped his head back in pleasure, letting out unsteady whimpers as you sucked him slowly. Your mouth was warm, your tongue dragging on the underside of his dick right along a vein. You felt so much better than his hand, better than anything he'd ever known. You were losing yourself in the motions, almost high on the knowledge you were making him feel good. As if he could read your mind, he began to praise you again.
“You’re doing s-so well,” he choked out, and your clit buzzed with want. You moved faster, your head bobbing in a steady pace that drew his orgasm near. Not wanting to finish so soon, he tugged on the back of your hair again. Unfortunately, you resisted, staying where you were. Drool dripped from your lips, messy from the act. You whimpered, slightly frantic, like the thought of not having his cock in your mouth anymore caused you grief. Spencer was surprised by your defiance, and brought his other hand to your chin, holding you still while he pulled out of your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks when he did so, desperate to get him to stay.
When he pulled his cock free from your mouth, it was shining with spit and twitching. He’d gotten so close to cumming in your mouth, and he cursed at the loss of feeling. He pinned you with a look. “You think you can decide what you get from me, after the way you’ve been behaving?” He released you, finally, and stepped out of his bottoms fully before taking off his shirt. He looked at you and gave a slight nod of his head.
“Strip.” He said simply, tossing his shirt in the corner before crossing his room and rummaging in a drawer. He pulled out a box of condoms, and brought them over to his bedside. You were naked when he turned around, and in an instant, you were brought out of the moment at the realization. You were naked, in front of Spencer Reid. You began to nibble on the corner of your lip, and Spencer immediately picked up on your change in attitude. He came to you, and grabbed your waist, admiring your body. Your nipples peaked from the change in temperature. Spencer was nearly breathless, and he told you as much.
“You’re so beautiful, angel. I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to see you like this. Well, actually, I could. I can literally recall every time I've thought about you naked.” You let out a soft laugh and looked at the ground. His change in demeanor was heartwarming. You felt strangely vulnerable to his kindness, feeling your stomach twist in nervousness.
“Spencer,” You started, and he brushed the hair from your eyes.
“Yes, sweetheart?” He said, and butterflies roamed in your gut.
“After this, will you…” you bit your lip again, then softly smiled, remembering his pointing out your habit. “Do you think you’d want to go on a date, maybe?”
Spencer felt his heart melt a little before bringing you in for a hug. His hands trailed your back, and his still hard cock pressed against your lower abdomen.
“I would be honored,” he said, before pressing warm kisses along your neck. You let out a sigh, your hands pressed flat against his chest. He pressed you back so you were sitting on the bed once more, and then had you move so you were lying down the center of the bed.
He sucked the side of your neck, leaving dark red marks that would surely become a deep purple in the coming hours. He took one of your tits in his hand, squeezing it. He pressed a kiss to your temple, close to your ear, before whispering.
“Don’t think this means you’re getting out of trouble,” he said, voice low. It was an empty threat, and he knew it. But you didn't have to. He trailed down your body, moving to suck your nipple into his mouth while the other continued to massage the other. Your chest rose as you moved into his touch, and he smiled. His hand moved away from your tit to finally touch where you wanted him the most– where you’d wanted him months. His middle and ring finger pressed in agonizing circles, and you moaned. He dragged his fingers through your soaked pussy, the evidence of your desire collecting on his hand. His middle finger pushed through your folds to gently press into your hole, and you whined loudly.
“Spencerr…” you mumbled, biting on your knuckle to try and silence yourself. He detached himself from your chest where he was making a fresh hickey to shake his head.
“Uh-uh, let me hear you baby. You like that?” His finger pushed in deeper, curling with expert precision, and he took your hand from your mouth to hold it. The domesticity of the action had you clenching around his finger. When he drew it back, he added his ring finger, both curling and dragging along your insides. Your back arched.
“The average female g-spot,” he breathed against your skin, now kissing your hand, entwined with his. His pace quickened as he talked. “Is about 2-3 inches inside the vaginal walls, facing the ventral side of the body.”
He brought his thumb to press onto your clit as he moved his fingers, not doing much but applying pressure, moving it with the rest of his hands as he worked your core. His palm pressed up and he sped up significantly. You were falling apart under his touch. You bucked your hips, allowing yourself to get lost in the sensation of him inside of you. Spencer watched his own movements with intensity, analytical and ravishing.
“When enough pressure is applied to both the Skene’s glands at the opening of the vagina and the g-spot is stimulated, it’s theorized that many people with female anatomy…” You felt a sensation not unlike needing to pee, and opened your eyes, panic and pleasure combining in an absolutely consuming high. You were close, so close, but so was the feeling like you needed to urinate, and you panicked.
“...Will experience the phenomenon known as ‘squirting’,” Spencer finished, as you reached your orgasm. It ripped through you, your legs spasming violently. You cried out, loudly, screaming his name while he worked you. You squired along his hands, something you’d never been able to do previously. It was unlike the orgasms you’d become accustomed to. While you came, Spencer kissed your hands and spouted praise.
“Oh, good girl, good girl, that’s it… So beautiful,” He muttered. He finally stopped his movements when your body began to calm, your breathing and moans evening. He smiled widely and looked at you. When you opened your eyes, you saw Spencer, pupils completely blown out looking like the king of the world. You panted, brain short circuiting as you attempted to process what had just happened.
“How…did you know… I could do it?” You asked eventually, while Spencer gently massaged your clit. You were sensitive, but his movements worked to soothe you more than to overstimulate. Spencer shrugged and did his small half-frown, half-smile before speaking.
“I didn’t. I mean, statistically speaking, only about 5% of women in the western world experience squirting during intimacy. But I’d read about it, and I really wanted to try. I’m just surprised it worked so well.” He said. He moved to spread your legs, slotting himself between them before leaning down to embrace you. “You did such a good job listening to me. Do you want to make me feel good now, baby? I think you earned it,” he said softly, his cock pressing against your now slightly-sore entrance.
You looked into his eyes and nodded, and he went to reach for the condoms. You whined out a sound of protest before grabbing his hand.
“Wait, please- please, Spence, wanna do it raw. I’ve been so good, want you to feel all of me. Wanna feel all of you.” You pleaded, giving him your best begging look. Your other hand reached down, giving his cock a gentle tug before dragging it along your soaked folds. “I want you to cum in me, Spence, I need you to fill me up.” You were kissing his neck now, trying to distract him with pleasure so he’ll give in.
Spencer’s body and mind stalled momentarily, running statistics of the success of emergency contraception. His breath quickened, and he felt his resolve crumbling under the weight of your absolutely perverted requests.
“God, angel… how could I say no when you’re begging me so beautifully?” He sat back on his heels, taking his cock from your grasp before aligning it with your entrance. His sticky precum mixed with the fluids from your release, causing his length to slide in completely unbarred. With absolutely no resistance, his dick penetrated your hole completely, instantly bottoming out. Spencer’s mouth gaped, and you clenched hard around the change in pressure, crying out and arching your back. Spencer’s hands dug into your hips, grounding himself. He gently pulled out some, and you felt every inch as it left you, before he rocked back into you with intensity. His tip kissed your cervix, and you felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes in pleasure.
Spencer was inside of you. Spencer was inside of you, and he was inside of you raw. Immediately, you became inconsolably cock drunk, only able to think about the man you were completely enveloped by.
“S-spencer, baby, I- it’s too good, ‘s too much,” you rambled out, and you were vaguely aware of a trail of drool coming from the side of your mouth. Spencer smiled, soaking in the raw power that he had over you, wanting to do nothing but make you incandescently happy.
“Feels so tight angel, you’re so good…are you my good girl? Gonna make me cum in you?” He asked, blinking fast, your warm walls sucking him in. You moaned at the praise, and bucked to meet his thrusts, wanting more.
“I-I’m your good girl, I’m all yours, wanna be all yours forever,” you babbled, the intensity of his thrusts making you see stars. “Ohmygod, Spence, ‘s so deep,” you cried, and he let out a soft laugh. He took one of his hands and pressed on your abdomen, right where he was fucking into you.
“You feel me right there baby? Gonna – mh, fuck – gonna cum right in there. You like that, yeah? Dirty girl, want me to- ngh, want me to make it all warm and sticky? You’re filthy for me, just want me inside you so bad, don’t care what I do to you,” Spencer was the one losing it now, a crazed look in his eye as words he never thought he’d say aloud tumbled from his mouth. His moans were coming out broken, like he was about to cry. You felt your orgasm crashing towards you, his nasty words pushing you over the edge.
“S-spencer! Spence, m’gonna cum, can I cum, pleasepleaseplease,” you babbled, and Spencer’s pace became absolutely punishing.
“That’s it, you can cum baby, cum with me? Finish while I cum inside you?” He replied, his own orgasm taking over as he rutted inside of you. You saw white as you felt Spencer spill inside you, warm fluid filling you. You cried, tears falling as you felt the most intense orgasm of your life.
Spencer felt his core tense as he came, bending over and catching himself with his arms, the pleasure nearly making him dizzy. Once you had both finished, the silence settled comfortably. When he was sure he wouldn’t completely collapse, Spencer gently pulled out, his seed spilling out of you and onto the covers. Spence watched in fascination, before laying beside you and pulling you inside close. Neither of you were sure what to say yet, content to lay in the post orgasmic bliss with the person you’d both spent so long chasing. You lay like that for a while, not really knowing how much time was passing. Spencer drew lazy figures onto your back while you nestled in his chest, planting the occasional kiss to his pec. It was after a while that the feeling of Spencer’s cum drying on your body as it mixed with the remnants of your previous release began to itch, much to your displeasure. You lifted your head and met Spencer’s eyes, and a warm smile grew as you saw your feelings reflected in his gaze. There was love there, between you two. Maybe you wouldn’t say it now, but you both felt it. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, unhurried this time. It was soft, warm. You pulled back and brushed a hair from his eye before you spoke.
“Do you have a washcloth?” You asked, and Spencer’s eyes went wide.
“Oh! Oh my goodness, yes, of course! I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have made you just lay-” You pressed a hand to his lips to quiet him. You gave him a look and smiled.
“Spence, it’s okay. I didn’t mind before. I wanted to cuddle, and it’s just now bugging me.”
Spencer gave a grateful smile, happy for your reassurance. You almost couldn’t believe this was the same man who was just fucking you into the mattress, rambling about you being a ‘dirty girl’. It was as if he’d become momentarily possessed by the most lust-filled demon that there ever was. Not that you were complaining.
Spencer gently rose from the bed and went to the bathroom to grab a warm rag, coming back quickly to hand it to you. While you cleaned yourself, he gathered your underwear and brought you a shirt from his drawer that looked like it was about 5 sizes too big for him. When you quirked a brow at the shirt, he blushed a little before placing it with your underclothes on the bed beside you. He took the rag from you to clean his softening cock before dressing himself.
“I, uh, get overstimulated sometimes?” He laughed to himself before continuing. “Despite what you might now think, I actually don’t often enjoy being naked.”
You giggled at his joke and grabbed your clothes. He had redressed himself in his pajamas, and sat beside you once you had your panties and the shirt on.
“So…” you drawled. Spencer smiled and his tongue swiped at his lips. You melted a little, the habit now slowly becoming one of your favorites.
“Would you like to spend the night?” Spencer asked, and your heart soared. You weren’t going to ask, but you didn’t really feel like leaving after this relationship-altering night. “I have takeout menus to a couple places open late, mostly oriental cuisines, and I’d really like it if you stayed. It’s up to you though! I just…” he looked away sheepishly, the statement seeming silly after what you two had just done. “I really like you. I like being around you.”
If you weren’t in love before, you were head over heels now. You leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. “I would be delighted to stay. I might shower, even though we just cleaned up, I wanna get the sweat and other… fluids… off.”
Spencer sat up and offered you his hand. “You’re more than welcome to! I’ll grab you a towel, and I’ll change the sheets before we sleep. That is-” Spencer hesitated, making you giggle.
“Yes, Spencer. We will be sleeping together in your bed. Again.” He laughed at your joke and smiled.
“Right. Yes. Hopefully many more times, if I’m lucky.” You giggled again and sat up. You walked towards his bathroom and he followed, heading to show you where the towels were kept beneath his sink. Before he left the bathroom, he turned.
“Oh! Also, I can go get the emergency contraception, so you don’t have to worry about it.” He offered, blushing again before you cocked your head.
“Spence, you don’t have to. I mean, I guess you can. But I have an IUD, and it’s nowhere near its expiration.” You smiled reassuringly. “You’re a sweetie, though.”
Spencer felt a slight embarrassment creep in. You were one of the smartest women he’d ever met, of course you wouldn’t blindly risk pregnancy.
“Oh. Right. Uh, sorry. I should’ve asked earlier.” Your smile never faded as you walked back to embrace him.
“Spencerrrr, it’s okay. I promise. You were preoccupied with more important opportunities.”
Spencer laughed and hugged you back. It felt so nice to have you in his arms, like knowing you were safe there made a certain part of his brain finally go quiet.
“I’m going to go strip the bed now,” he said, kissing the top of your head. You nodded and began to take off your clothes.
“Feel free to join me in the shower when you’re done,” you flirted, and Spencer’s replying grin made you happy.
I could get used to this, crossed both of your minds, excited for whatever comes next.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
a/n: if you enjoyed this please comment or reblog! not because I want this viral, but because it literally brings me the most joy in the world when I hear all of your thoughts. I love talking to you guys and read EVERY single comment I get!
summary: your best friend had been secretly in love with you since forever. So when your date stood you up, a run-in with spencer gave him an unexpected opportunity to show you how you deserved to be treated.
warnings & tags: fluff, mutual pining, best friends & coworkers to.. idk, spencer is down BAD, they talk abt 'dating' as a general topic, dry humping, inexperienced!spencer, spencer cums too fast in his pants
w/c: 3.8k
a/n: I've been needing something sickienngly sweet lately, and this is what my brain came up with today
Just like many weekends that were left untouched by the demands of the BAU, Spencer found himself in a familiar state of indecision.
He was left with two options—inviting you over to order cheap takeout while debating the terribly flawed plot holes of a bad horror movie, or retreating to losing himself in his freshly acquired collection of books with the hum of Star Trek playing on his small, boxy TV, alone, in the comforting orbit of his apartment.
Spending time with you was Spencer’s favorite thing to do; it didn’t matter what the two of you were doing as long as he got to do it with you.
So when Spencer’s ‘are you free?’ text was met with the first ever, simple ‘I’m a bit busy’ with no elaboration, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sink. It wasn’t just disappointment; it was a sudden realization of how much he relied on your presence to make his days feel complete.
The books on his coffee table lost their appeal, and all he could do was wonder what you were busy with tonight.
He stared at your text, picked at every letter as if the four simple words held more than their meaning.
Spencer analyzed the abruptness that only he was seeing, and quietly questioned if he had somehow overstepped a boundary he hadn’t even realized was there.
The suffocating quiet of his apartment offered no answers. Surely, Spencer reasoned with himself, he could just go outside and see where the evening takes him with no specific plan.
He told himself he was going to clear his head and pick up some takeout from a nice spot near his place.
He had no idea that his restless feet were taking him straight to the restaurant where you were currently sitting alone, staring at an empty chair.
Pure habit guided him to the small, warm-lit cafe across from your favorite park—a place he frequented because the ambient noise was predictable and the food was always good.
The moment he pushed the heavy glass door open, the bell chiming softly, his eyes wandered around the place before fixing on the back of someone’s head.
He knew it was you. Sitting at the table by the furthest window from the door, everything about you was familiar—your hair, your posture, and the distinct way you propped your elbows on any flat surface in front of you.
Spencer froze, his feet rooting to the floor as he stared at you, completely alone, with a closed menu, and a single glass of water sitting untouched in front of you.
He cursed at himself for not trying to look put together before leaving his apartment, his hair greasy and tucked behind his ears, his shirt wrinkled in a way he’d never allow.
You’d probably seen Spencer in his worst states on exhausting, soul-sucking cases where everyone slowly morphed into hollow, sleepless creatures, or on lazy mornings after spending the night on your couch because the two of you had been lost in conversations that lasted into the early hours of the morning. But standing here while you were dressed up and seemingly waiting for someone, felt entirely different.
You looked just as utterly captivating as ever. He didn’t have to see your face to know that you looked like a breathtaking angel that he wasn’t worthy of staring at.
You were a stark contrast to the dim, soft atmosphere around you, and it made his chest ache to think someone was making you wait.
Before he could think better of it, Spencer’s body was already making its way up to you.
“Hey,” he said softly, your face immediately following the unmistakable sound of his voice as you looked up with glassy eyes.
“Oh my god, Spencer.. hi,” you beamed despite the sheer embarrassment burning in your chest, “w—what are you doing here?” you let out an awkward chuckle with your question.
Spencer’s hand instantly went to the back of his neck, his fingers nervously tangling in his hair as he offered a sheepish smile. “Oh, I— I was just coming in to get some takeout,” he gestured vaguely toward the front counter.
His eyes flicked down to your outfit in between his words, admiring the mini plaid red skirt that hugged your hips beautifully before looking back up at your face.
“You look amazing,” he said honestly, his voice slightly quieter than the first time he spoke. “Are.. you waiting for anyone?” he glanced at the empty seat across from you.
“Um.. yeah— I mean, I was,” you muttered, your hands nervously smoothing out your skirt, “but I just got the ‘can’t make it’ text. Twenty minutes late,” you let out a dry laugh, leaning back against the wooden chair, “and he still had the audacity to reschedule for tomorrow!”
Spencer shook his head, his fingers fiddling on the insides of his pockets, “Wow, that’s.. exceptionally poor etiquette.”
He glanced at the empty seat across from you, then back to your face. His stomach did a violent, nervous flip, but the sight of you sitting there, looking way too beautiful to be left alone, gave him an uncharacteristic burst of bravery, “Y’know, if you don’t wanna go home yet, and since you’re all dressed up.. I haven’t had dinner yet. I know I don’t look very presentable right now, but I can assure you I’m a better conversationalist than an empty chair.” he paused at the faint tug of your lips that formed into a little smile, “I actually haven’t had anything in my system since last night, so you’d technically be doing me a massive favor by letting me join you.”
“Are you asking me on a date?” you teased as you cocked your head to the side.
The question caught him completely off guard, making his soft lips part with no words leaving them as he took in the playful tilt of your head.
He cleared his throat, a boyish, endearing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he dropped his hands to his sides, “No! I mean—yes! If.. if you want me to?”
His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to break his ribs and jump out at any moment.
You nodded, “Of course, Spencer. Sit.”
The simple invitation acted like an instant release valve for the tension coiled in his shoulders.
A soft, heavy breath escaped him as he slid into the chair across from you, his long legs awkwardly tangling with yours under the small table for a brief moment, “Sorry,”
Spencer couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was on a date with you.
He knew that the situation he ended up in was a total coincidence and you probably considered this date a friendly hangout more than anything else. But it still somehow felt serious to Spencer, it was his first date ever.
When the waiter approached the table a moment later, Spencer didn’t even glance at the laminated menu resting between the two of you. He ordered a club sandwich and you decided to get the same order as him before a comfortable yet slightly charged silence settled over the table.
Spencer cleared his throat, leaning forward slightly as if he was treading carefully into the subject. “So, um.. If you don’t mind me asking,” he hoped that you would somehow answer his unasked question, “Who was he? The guy who.. canceled on you. You never really.. mentioned anyone like that.”
“It was our first date. I met him a few months ago at the grocery store.”
Spencer’s heart dropped. Although taking someone’s number or going on a few dates didn’t mean that you were completely off limits, it definitely meant that you were interested in someone else.
He knew it’s your right to find love, but he wanted it to be him.
“Oh, and you guys have been…” Spencer trailed off, silently asking what the two of you were for the past few months.
“This was supposed to be our first date.”
“It took you months to go out?”
“I.. actually didn’t really want to at first.” you stared down at your fingers as you laced them together, “It’s nothing against the guy, but dating was never.. something I put much time and effort into—especially with how demanding work is. So I kinda just abandoned that aspect of my life for the past few years.”
The relief that spread through Spencer’s chest when you said that you hadn’t been seeing this guy for the past few months was almost enough to make him reach over the kiss you senseless.
“I get that,” he said softly, “The idea of traditional dating feels almost.. impossible sometimes. The unreliable work schedule and the exhaustion that comes with it plays a huge part as to why I’ve kept my distance from it, and I’d really hate to be an absent partner..” he bit the inside of his cheek, slowly admitting to things he’d never really shared before, “I know some things are out of my control, but I’d die from guilt.”
Before you could respond, Spencer went on, “But I don’t think that is why I’ve never dated.”
“Then what is?” you tried to catch his flickering gaze and lock it onto yours to let him know that you understood.
“I just.. Never found a reason to try.” he murmured, finally forcing his hazel eyes back up to meet yours.
“I’m sure you’ll find someone who’s worth trying for. I know you will.” you offered him a small, tentative smile.
Spencer was an angel on earth—someone you’d always harbored a secret softness for.
Thankfully, before the silence turned awkward, the waiter came back with your orders, and seeing the perfectly cut triangles of your toasted club sandwich made your mouth water, shifting your focus to eating and enjoying the beautiful view in front of you.
Two more orders of fries and one chocolate ice cream you shared, the two of you were surrounded by completely new faces. People were coming in and leaving the two of you were still at that table.
Spencer was completely in his element now, his eyes focused entirely on you, his long fingers animatedly gesturing as he rambled on about everything under the sun.
You listened, laughing whenever his voice turned to a higher pitch when he got to the frustrating parts of whatever he was dissecting, stealing fries from the basket between you, enjoying the sweet and salty mixture with the ice cream.
As you brought some melting ice cream up to your lips, it slipped off the plastic spoon, dripping on your chin and falling onto the clean fabric of your skirt. “Shit,”
Spencer was drunk off your laughs and mesmerizing voice all night in a way that made him reach over and skim the sweet ice cream off your chin before pushing the bowl closer to you.
“So romantic, Spence,” you properly wiped the excess off your chin, “stealing my ice cream off my face?”
All he could do was sheepishly chuckle.
He leaned forward, his hair falling on the side of his forehead, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
You could clearly tell that this was the most romantic experience of his life, and you thought it was sweet.
His innocence and the absolute sincerity he showed you was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.
After the two of you almost got into your first ever fight over who got to pay, Spencer ended up paying before rushing you out of the place to distract you with the quiet park you so dearly loved.
The two of you walked along the perimeter of the park well over five times as time lost all meaning like it always did when Spencer was around.
You spotted the bookstore you’d visited a few times together, noticing that the warm golden lights were spilling through the windows, meaning that it was open. And looking at books together was something you couldn’t pass up on.
“Look, they’re open!” you pointed at the shop at the very far end of the street, tugging on Spencer’s shirt so he’d look in the direction of the light.
Spencer’s legs immediately followed your lead, all his senses wanting to be as close as possible to you as your sides grazed while walking.
You noticed that Spencer was walking incredibly close to you—much closer than usual, but you didn’t say anything.
The shop was completely empty of other customers, leaving just the quiet hum of a vintage radio playing soft jazz somewhere near the back counter. He looked around the place, then turned his gaze to you, his expression softening into that deep, undivided attention he always seemed to give you.
You grazed the spines of a few books, feeling Spencer attached to your hip, his eyes following your finger to read the titles.
The two of you parted ways at bookstores, exploring new finds and bringing them to show one another, or recommending new reads and giving detailed book reviews to one another, but evidently, Spencer did not want to do that tonight.
“What are we looking for?” he tilted his head toward you. He was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath hitting your face, his eyes entirely on your profile rather than the books on the shelf.
“Just looking,” you whispered, trying to tone down your growing smile that came along with the faint blush spreading on your cheeks.
Spencer let out a soft, barely audible hum before turning his gaze back to the books.
“Ooh look, it’s that rare edition of The Idiot, the pretty one I told you about,” you pulled out the heavy hardcover.
Spencer had gotten that exact book a week ago, only a few days after you’d showed him your worn, heavily annotated copy. He knew you liked collecting different editions of your favorite books, and The Idiot was an exceptional example of that hobby of yours.
Getting a book he’d read a million times just because you loved the cover was something he was never planning to admit.
“Oh yeah, I’ve been wanting to get it ever since you showed me your copy!” he lied smoothly—or tried to, his fingers gently brushing yours as you handed him the book.
“Then this is my gift to you,” you softly whispered, as you looked up from the cover to his face.
“Wait—no, you don’t have to do that,” he stammered quietly.
You let out a quiet laugh as you shook your head, “Just shut up,” you rolled your eyes at his stubbornness, “do you want anything else?”
“No,” he mumbled, a soft smile breaking through his flustered face as he clutched the book securely against his chest.
“Then let’s go,” you patted his bicep before heading to the counter where the cashier was reading under a dim lamp in the corner.
Spencer followed closely, the fabric of his sleeve brushing your side with every step as if he couldn’t bear the thought of putting any distance between the two of you.
After paying for the book and leaving, Spencer was still fumbling with the book in his hands, “Thank you,” he whispered, finally looking up at you, “not just for the book, but for.. tonight. I honestly don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop thinking about tonight.”
Maybe Spencer was being too honest for his own liking, but you didn’t mind.
“Thank you, Spencer.” you looked up at him, staring into his puppy dog eyes that almost made you drop dead, “I had the best time ever.”
Spencer was terrified of overstepping, or being too much in any sense of the word, so he took a deep breath and snapped back into your usual friendly dynamic.
“Do you wanna head back to my place?” he asked, his voice softening into that addicting rhythm you were so used to, “We can do the usual. Make some tea and watch some Doctor Who.. If you’re not too tired?”
You slowly nodded, “Yeah, Spence. I’d love to.”
The walk to Spencer’s apartment was usually filled with fast-paced debates about random topics you guys picked apart together, but tonight, silence took over, and every breath and brush of his shoulder felt intentional.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll boil some water,” Spencer murmured, quickly setting his new purchase down on the coffee table.
You kicked off your boots and walked over to the couch, smoothing down the back of the skirt he’d been quietly admiring all night before plopping down on the cushions, dramatically splaying out your limbs in tiredness.
Instead of heading to the kitchen, Spencer found himself sitting next to you, his body naturally leaning closer to you in pure need to stay near you.
It was embarrassing, and he hoped you wouldn’t notice, but of course you did.
“I know tonight didn’t start the way I planned.” you twisted your body to face him, “I think I should thank my missing date,” you giggled.
Spencer chuckled along with you, afraid that he’d been misreading you this whole night, because to him, you looked too cool and composed to mean this in any romantic way.
Your smile softened, the playful giggle dying down as you noticed the slight tremor in his hands.
You don’t know how or why, but you reached up, your fingers tucking his soft hair behind his ear before pulling him down to you. His lips were slightly parted in surprise when yours met his, but the gasp that left him was quickly swallowed.
Spencer froze for a moment, and you applied the slightest pressure, he completely melted into your touch.
It was a soft, hesitant kiss.
His hands came up, hovering awkwardly around your head before they finally settled on your face, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real.
It was probably the doing of your suppressed feelings for Spencer, but he tasted so sweet. And as soon as you pulled away, you already wanted his mouth on yours again.
Spencer’s eyes were entirely blown out as he breathed too heavily for a simple kiss.
Did you do something wrong?
“Is.. this okay?”
“Yes. So okay.” he eagerly nodded, “More than okay.” he breathed against your lips that were only a few inches away from him before he slowly leaned back in.
The angle was too restricting, you two were too far apart.
You anchored your hands on his tense shoulders and shifted your weight, swinging your leg over his, your skirt riding up your thighs as you settled over his lap, straddling him.
A low, ragged gasp escaped Spencer’s throat as your weight pressed down against him. His large hands immediately found their way to your waist. He tilted his head backward to look up at you through his lashes, the soft light above you looking like a halo around your head, making you look more heavenly than ever.
“You have no idea,” he whispered, trying to chase your lips, “how long I’ve wanted this.”
You didn’t make him chase you for long. You leaned down, cradling the back of his head as you captured his mouth in a kiss that was much hungrier than the one before.
Spencer’s slender fingers tickled you through the bunched up fabric of your skirt as they slid down to your thighs, gripping the backs of your thighs because he was that overwhelmed.
The friction of your hips grinding on his lap pulled a needy sound from the back of his throat, making his adam’s apple bob as he deepened the kiss.
“Please,” he breathed into your mouth before widening his lips to let your tongue explore his mouth—his entirety completely surrendering to you.
“Tell me I’m not dreaming,” his voice was thick, and incredibly desperate as his hips bucked up instinctively to meet yours.
A tight knot started forming at your center, quickly tightening at the sound of his ragged, broken breathing.
“You’re—” you were cut off by your own moan, “you’re not dreaming.”
Spencer whined at your moan—your pretty noises making him pathetically much more sensitive to your touch.
As you began to move in a steady, slow rhythm on his already very hard bulge, Spencer started to roll his hips up to match your pace, completely consumed by you.
“I’m—” he whimpered, “I’m so close— I’m sorry, I’m just—shit, I can’t” he stumbled over his words as his fingers dug into your sheer tights.
“It’s okay,” you whispered against his mouth, kissing the corners of his mouth before rolling your hips in a tighter, slower circle against his length.
The mere thought of what Spencer was hiding beneath his slacks was enough to make your pussy ache and pulse around nothing.
You could tell that Spencer was big, and the fact that he never got to use his assets somehow added to the excitement of the moment.
But you wouldn’t want to overwhelm this poor man even though he was more than willing to go as far as two people could go right now.
“No—no, I can hold it,” he buried his face in the crook of your neck as he nodded into your soft skin, his mouth immediately finding the sensitive skin on your pulse point.
You loved the way he was reduced to a whimpering mess just for you.
Ignoring his reassurance that he could hold it, you tilted your hips, picking up the pace just a fraction as you pressed harder against his erection.
“Oh my god..” he heaved against your neck, leaving a sloppy trail against your hot skin, “oh my god, keep going..” he pecked your collarbone, “please.. please, don’t stop.”
A ragged sob was ripped from his throat as his hips bucked up hard and disorganized against you as his firm hands pinned your core down on his covered cock, completely helpless against his orgasm.
Spencer completely melted into the cushions, his mouth quickly going back to yours as he kissed you with frantic, bruising hunger, his moans that sounded a lot like cries.
He shot his load in his cotton boxers, unable to stop the damp heat from flooding and spreading under the fabric. His sticky cum added to the pressure against his aching cock that twitched with intense aftershocks.
Spencer was completely soaked.
You could feel him through your slightly damp panties.
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to come so fast,” he looked up at you with a pitiful, overwhelmed look.
You stared down at his swollen, pink lips, “It’s okay, Spence.” you wiped away the sweaty strands of hair that stuck to his forehead.
You had no idea you could do this to Spencer.
“Can you still keep going?” you pecked his forehead, looking down at him as he eagerly nodded.
“Yes. I can do anything. You’re.. still not done,” his fingers gave your hips a small squeeze.
You smiled down at him, satisfied with how he cared about getting you off even when he was clearly hypersensitive right now.
summary: Spencer Reid was always different. It was few and far apart that a woman would catch his eye, and when she did, the statistics of their relationship working out had him pulling away with little effort. However, when Hotch's new assistant walks into the BAU, it's like she's bewitched him. Now, no matter what he does, he seems to find himself working hard, and hardly working.
genre/tags/CWs: workplace romance, hotch's assistant!reader, sunshine!reader, pervert!spencer, infatuated!spencer, male masturbation, fem!reader, reader has a mom that is mentioned, 3&1times!fic, fast burn for Spencer, like Spencer meets reader and is set on fire
a/n: I've decided to post this in smaller chunks so I am more easily motivated to write because it feels less daunting, I hope you enjoy so much! this'll probably end up being four parts long with varying degrees of length :3
w/c: 3.7k
PART ONE: THERE'S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING.
Spencer Reid had always been different. His genius nature had ensured a childhood that was anything but normal. How could he, when he was applying for colleges before he had finished puberty? His high school experience was tumultuous at best, and he was also smart enough to know any girl who may have caught his eye was too many years his senior to consider as a partner. That’s how Spencer was about things– analytical. He crunched numbers, he ran probabilities and searched statistics in his ever expanding brain. Being different was something Spencer Reid was no stranger to.
However, when you joined the BAU, Spencer Reid had come to the realization that something within him was now different in an entirely new way.
You had joined the BAU, not as another profiler, or a new liaison under JJ’s wing, but as Hotch’s assistant. The scope of Hotch’s job was infinite, and he was often burdened by mountains of paperwork. Since Hailey’s untimely passing, the Bureau, which was normally incredibly unforgiving and less than charitable, decided it might be a good idea to pay someone to take things off Hotchner’s plate, if not for his own sake, then for Jack’s. Before Hailey’s passing, Hotch was expected to book hotels, check in, and communicate when the jet would be needed. He would have to mark all of the expenses made by the team and why the money was spent, filling out a ledger that oftentimes took over an hour to complete, over three if the team spent longer in one location than normal. Hotch took care of plenty of large tasks every day, but it was the million little tasks that kept him until the wee hours of the morning some weeks. With a young son, that was too much to ask.
So the Bureau hired you. You, whose task it was to pick up all of the little things before Hotch even thought of them. Fortunately for everybody, you were excellent at your job. You followed the rules your mother had taught you, who was a secretary years before you. You never left before Hotch did, even if that meant spending hours after hours, after long weeks of grueling work. You were constantly busy, but you never overburdened yourself, and you were always happy to help. You came to the bullpen every morning with a smile on your face and a shining gloss on your lips, and a chipper hello to share to all of your coworkers. You walked with a bounce in your step, and a seemingly never ending supply of pocket butterscotch to hand out to anyone who wanted one. Your task book, perfectly organized and personalized, was never far from your reach. You were regarded as the office sweetheart, and everyone but you knew it. You did your best every day, and were happy when you went home every night.
It was because of this absolute purity that Spencer knew there must be something very, very wrong with him. Because despite your innocence, your unwavering ability to bring joy to every room you entered, Spencer’s mind began to plunge into dark, dark places when you were around. Not that Spencer assumed you were some sort of celibate nun, nor that he assumed you didn’t have a sensual streak. You were a grown woman, and a beautiful one at that. He assumed that you had your pick of partners and chose them accordingly, and frequently. But even then, there was a goodness within you that Spencer felt move in the air around you. It was in your voice, it was in your perfume.
Spencer wished he could say he used to be normal about you. That he wasn’t always this way– but he had always been enamored, even upon your first meeting.
-
It was in the briefing room where he met you. Hotch moved aside to introduce you and you flashed your ever-bright smile, and Spencer felt something inside his heart twist. His palms grew sweaty, and his mouth parted slightly. Your white button up was tucked neatly into a knee length pencil skirt. Sheer black tights with not a single tear covered your legs, and a pair of sensible black heels were on your feet. Your hair was tousled just so, like you’d styled it, but not like you had obsessed over it. Everything about you radiated effortless beauty, and Spencer swallowed hard. Something was different about you, something other than the divergent ways Spencer was rebuffed from his peers. Something special, something that had his heart racing.
You met Spencer’s gaze in the room that day, saw the look on his face and felt the corner of your mouth twitch. You looked him up and down, and carefully took note of what you saw. A patterned tie tucked into a simple, cozy-looking cardigan. Fluffed, unstyled curls atop his head– and what must have been the cutest button nose you’d ever seen. His gaze was like a deer caught in headlights, and it made you want to giggle. You hadn’t seen a guy look at you like that since you TA’d a freshman class your senior year at university, and you had been dressed far less professional than today. You tossed him a wink and tilted your head just so.
Spencer finally seemed to register that you saw him staring, and as soon as you winked at him, something terrible happened to him.
His cock twitched in his slacks.
Spencer’s eyes went wide and immediately tried to play it off, giving you an awkward, flat half-smile before tearing his eyes away. Looking away from you felt like getting out of a warm bed before work– leaving the most comforting place in the world to face reality. His dick throbbed, stirring in his pants, the visage of that wink burned in his eidetic memory. Somewhere in that same memory floated reminded of pupillometry, studies suggesting the reason why a wink is disarming in relation to staring. Staring is a nonverbal threat, and by closing one eye and effectively breaking the gaze, the threat is mitigated, not to mention the social connotations of a wink. Should he have winked back? Did you register his gaze as a threat? All of these thoughts bounced around in Spencer’s head as his length continued to grow in his pants. All of a sudden, the gravity of the situation collapsed onto his psyche and all but one thought left his head.
He had a boner. For his new coworker, in a room full of his closest friends and his boss. His stomach dropped and he swallowed again.
You, of course, in all of your kindness noticed only the change in his face to pure discomfort and began to worry. You didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable– what a terrible first impression to make! You couldn’t see his cock below the table, which was jumping as it was trying to make a run for it. Just before you were about to say something, Spencer sat up straight and said, “Excuse me,” in a strangled tone, turning around in his spinning chair and walking straight out of the conference room. Your heart sank and brow furrowed. He hated you, you were sure of it, and you worried about the implications this would have on your relationship with Spencer as members of the same team. Meanwhile, Hotch looked out the door, face stony as ever, but glossed with concern.
“Is he okay?” You asked, unsure if this was typical behavior during a briefing. You hoped it was, feeling incredibly guilty.
Emily, the woman who had just introduced herself to you moments before, waved a hand. “I’m sure he’s okay. Weird of him to just get up and leave like that though,” she said. You frowned, and Derek cut in.
“He probably just realized he washed his hands two times instead of three after pressing the elevator button,” He said teasingly. The man named Rossi smirked. The meeting was almost over anyways, and Hotch soon released you to attend to your matters before the next case arose.
-
“Excuse me,” Spencer said, his tie suddenly feeling far too tight before trying to turn as fast as possible, not wanting anyone to get the slightest clue of what had him leaving in such a hurry. He stood and walked out the door, tugging down his cardigan as far as possible, anxious. He was practically jogging by the time he reached the single-stall restroom and locked the door behind him. Frantic, he panted while his back pressed against the door. What in the world was wrong with him? The image of your smile, your body, replayed in his mind and he buckled as he throbbed again. He took a deep breath, trying to think of anything else but you. His heart filled with guilt, which helped curb the continuation of any growth below. Was he so pathetic, so lonely, that a perfectly normal interaction had him running off to make sure he wouldn’t look like a pervert in front of all of the people he held closest? His face burned, and he moved to the sink to wash his hands and splash his face. The shame that now lived had successfully ceased the blood flowing to his clearly neglected cock. He dried his face and brushed his hair from his eyes.
He didn’t understand what had just happened. Well, physiologically, of course he did. But psychologically, he had no clue why you had such an affect on him, and he sighed deeply. He needed to get laid. Or to kiss someone, or jerk off more or literally anything if a beautiful woman paying him half a second of attention caused him to spiral in this way. He straightened his clothes and turned to unlock the door, praying this experience was singular.
When Spencer returned to the bullpen, he knew he had to rectify the situation post-haste. He probably freaked you out, and the thought of killing whatever professional relationship you could’ve had immediately after greeting you made him genuinely sad. Despite the strange display his body decided to throw at him moments ago, Spencer was a thoughtful man. He wanted to get to know you, find out things about you, become friends. He just hoped he hadn’t ruined his only shot.
You were sitting at your desk, now moved in just across Spencer’s, scribbling something into a to-do list when he approached you. You felt a pang of anxiety flow through you, remembering how uncomfortable he had seemed at your gesture earlier. You turned to face him, and tried to read his body language. He was obviously still nervous. He picked at his cuticles and would only meet your gaze for a few seconds before looking away.
“Uhm, hi,” he said, his throat dry. “I’m, uh, sorry for my behavior earlier. It- I was… nauseous. I tried a new bagel place this morning, and I guess it’s just not for me… Food poisoning is often associated with vomiting, but it can actually manifest in a plethora of ways due to improper food storage for an extended period of time?” His statement came out more like a question, as if he was asking you for verification of the plausibility of his story in correlation with is infodumping.
You gave him a confused smile and stood. “Okay… that’s good. Not good! I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, but I was really worried at first that I’d made a poor first impression. I have a habit of flirting, kinda. Not on purpose. And if I did make you uncomfortable, again, I apologize. It wasn’t my intention– I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Your kind confirmation made something in Spencer’s heart ache. For just a split second, his brow furrowed. He didn’t know why– he knew you were being polite. But Spencer’s feelings were hurt anyway. Not that he wanted you to mean something by it, but it might’ve been nice…
Spencer blinked and smiled back. “No! Not at all- it was just terrible timing. Digestion and all.” His awkward comment made you giggle to yourself and he felt his insecurity creep in once more.
“Of course,” you replied. You decided now was a good time to try a reintroduction. You stuck out your hand and told him your name. Spencer’s arm twitched, like it was trying to stay by his side. Of course, that moment is when Emily decided to look over and saw your mistake before you did.
“Oh! Sorry, but Spencer doesn-” Emily was cut off by the abrupt arrival of Spencer’s hand into yours, and he shook it firmly. Emily blinked as her mouth hung open. Spencer shot her a subtle look and she snapped it shut before turning back. “...Nevermind,” she mumbled.
You were confused, but glad to see Spencer smiling back at you. His heart raced, both at the contact with you just moments after his incident, and at the thought of the germs. Thankfully, however, he didn’t notice any abnormal pulsing going towards unwanted places. He exhaled and smiled back. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, but you can just call me Spencer. Or Reid. It’s all the same to me.”
You released his hand and Spencer felt the absence deeper than he should’ve. Your hand was soft, and warm, and even though he was sure his hands were clammy he wished you hadn’t let go. You gave him one more bright smile before sitting again.
“I’m excited to work with you,” You said finally before turning back to your notebook.
Spencer flushed a little. “I am, too,” he said, knowing all too well that some parts of him were far more excited than others.
–
That night when Spencer arrived at his apartment, he shouldered off his satchel and kicked off his shoes. He headed straight for his bedroom to lay down before remembering he still needed to shower. He huffed, and went to the bathroom to turn on the water. Once the water was hot enough, he stripped down and hopped inside. Spencer relished the feeling of the water– it almost burned him, it was so hot, but it was the only way he’d shower. He wasn’t the most built guy out there, and oftentimes, he found himself just barely too cold. The droplets quickly warmed him, and he tipped his head back to let it cascade down his curls. As the room filled with steam, he began recounting the day in his head. Despite its… unconventional start, the rest of his work went by smoothly. No cases that day, so he spent the time catching up on paperwork and organizing his desk. When he went for coffee at the break station, he ran into you again. You’d had a very pleasant conversation about his interests, how he got his start at the BAU, what he did in his free time. The whole time, even when he rambled on and on about statistics that most people would’ve ended up tuning out, he came to the realization that you hung on his every word. You asked follow up questions, met his passion with curiosity. He felt full of pride and appreciation after. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually listened to him for that long. He, of course, asked you questions in return. He found out you liked to shop and accessorize, and that your career choice was influenced by your mother. However, you did actually enjoy what you did, and didn’t feel overly pressured. You smiled as you recounted your university days, and how you preferred cats over dogs because of their self sufficiency. Spencer found himself entranced by you, eager to learn all he could. He wanted to know everything you had to tell him, and was in utter disbelief that you seemed to feel the same way. He hoped you’d become friends, and stay that way for a long time.
Once Spencer had finished scrubbing his scalp, he realized that at some point during his shower, his length began to grow again. The memories of you must have triggered something subconscious to revisit from this morning, and he groaned slightly. He was all at once disgusted with himself and hazy with lustful thoughts of the other things he had noticed about you. The way your clothes clung tightly to your figure, how your heels caused your hips to sway when you walked. Spencer took the base of his cock in a firm grasp and let out a low moan. He dragged his hand along his length. He knew it was unethical to be jerking off to his new coworker when they'd only met that day, but he convinced himself it was because he hadn’t been jerking off that he was so riled up. It had nothing to do with the way your perfume had etched itself into his nose, or how you were able to make professional attire as alluring as lingerie. Beads of precum dribbled from his tip as he stroked himself faster. He whimpered and brushed a thumb over his sensitive tip, the heat from the shower making the air feel thick. He pumped his dick over and over, taking on a punishing pace. He braced himself with his other hand against the shower wall when his knees began to buckle in the pleasure.
His moans began to break, whines that sounded strangely like your name. “Please…” he croaked out, before feeling his orgasm take over. He blinked rapidly as he painted his shower floor with thick ropes of cum. He typically wasn’t the masturbation type, as it was few and far apart when he found things worth fantasizing over.
Spencer panted as he rode out his high, his mind flooding with dreams of you being in the shower beside him. When he opened his eyes, he felt a pang of guilt and turned to scrub his body, trying to wash away the guilt he felt for his actions alongside it.
-
Thankfully for Spencer, in the weeks that followed, things were normal at work. Well, as normal as they could be. After your first real conversation by the coffee pot, there was some sort of silent agreement formed to meet there every day to talk. You liked Spencer– he was kind. He was a great listener, if a little ramble-y. Not that you minded, in fact, you’d told him once before you thought it was sweet. Spencer had gone red at that, and it made you smile. He was a cutie, and you weren’t fool enough to ignore the feelings you felt building for him.
Spencer would hold the elevator for you, as how work was going, listen as you groaned. You’d always worn your heart on your sleeve, and were acutely aware of how Spencer made your heart flutter. However, you also were smart enough to know that the BAU wasn’t necessarily the place to form a relationship. You didn’t want to wreck the team dynamic when you had only just joined, and decided to just let your crush comfort you in the quiet moments in that break area, content to keep it to yourself.
Well, content may not have been the right word. The first time you heard about the times Spencer had won women’s hearts during cases when you stuck behind at the police station made your heart ache. Apparently, when he was younger, he’d even made out with a witness under his protection after only 48 hours of knowing her. Lucky bitch, you found yourself thinking. You blinked. You weren’t usually so venomous about these things, and you could practically hear your mother’s voice chiding you in your ear.
“Green is not your color sweetie, don’t let it become your signature look.” She’d say. You frowned, and tried to push away the thought. For her information, you actually looked fantastic in green. But you knew the sentiment was right. It wasn’t like you to be so.. bitter. Spencer was changing you in ways you didn’t know how to handle.
Spencer, too, was going through his own kind of metamorphosis. He found himself yearning for things that he’d had no interest in previously. When he’d shook your hand upon your reintroduction, it caused him to picture what it’d be like to just hold it— walk in stride, comforted by each other’s contact. He wanted to know what it’d feel like to have your hands on his body, how your touch would roam over his chest, his shoulders… lower, too.
He wished he knew how to turn off the switch you’d so easily flipped in his brain. That he could get himself to think about anything else when you were around besides your smile made of sunshine. Wanted to redact the uncontrollable desire he had for you that was slowly encroaching in his life.
You wished you could read him easier. That you could see, clear as day, where the line was drawn in the sand. Sometimes, when you made small remarks that resembled flirting, Spencer was able to smile along and reply, bantering like you’d known each other for years. Other times, you’d make yourself less discreet, and his face would heat and he’d begin to ramble barely related statistics, like he was trying to distract you. A push, a pull. A growing tension that neither of you wanted to ignore.
A growing desire to see just how far you could go before the line was washed away by the tide.
spencer reid x childhood best friend who hes secretly in love with and one day they share a piece of gum like maybe he thinks his breath stinks and he asks reader for gum but all she has is the one in her mouth and he js opens his mouth for it and she leans over him and lets the gum drop from her mouth to his, the team is SHOCKED bc spencer doesnt even shake hands but both him and reader are super casual abt ut bc they do it all the time
Here you go <3 tried to make it cuter rather than the ick I felt at the sharing gum thing lol Hope you enjoy and that I did it justice! Thanks for requesting, please continue to do so <3
Title: Familiar
Word count: ~830
The first time the team saw you kiss Spencer, neither of you considered it a kiss. That was the problem. You had stopped by the BAU with lunch after he sent you a message claiming he had eaten, followed by a picture of an empty coffee cup and two packets of crackers.
You had known Spencer since you were seven. He had corrected your pronunciation of pterodactyl and cried after you told him no one liked a know-it-all. You apologized by giving him half your sandwich.
Twenty-four years later, you were still feeding him. “Tell me that isn’t his lunch,” you said, placing a paper bag on his desk.
Morgan held up an empty wrapper. “I tried.”
“You ate one.”
“I was proving they weren’t enough.”
Spencer opened the bag. “You brought soup.”
“And a sandwich.”
“I told you I ate.”
“You sent evidence that you didn’t.”
JJ smiled. “I like her.”
“You say that every time,” Spencer said.
“Because every time she comes in, you get fed.”
You tapped your cheek. “Where's my thanks?”
Spencer sighed theatrically before pressing a quick kiss to it.
Morgan’s eyebrows rose. That should have warned him. Instead, he asked how long you had known each other, and you told the team about Spencer organizing your eighth birthday presents by educational value.
“They were mostly toys,” Spencer said.
“That was why your system failed.”
“You refused to cooperate.”
“I was eight.”
“You were stubborn.”
“I’m still stubborn.”
“I’m aware.” He said it with a softness and smile you didn't notice. Everyone else did.
By the time he finished half the sandwich, Emily had joined the conversation, and Garcia had appeared with no reason for being there beyond sensing gossip.
You were telling them how Spencer once walked three miles in the rain because you called after a terrible date when he covered his mouth abruptly.
“What?” you asked.
“Does my breath smell?”
Morgan snorted. “Smooth.”
Spencer ignored him and leaned closer with his mouth slightly ajar to you.
You considered the silent request seriously and sniffed his face hole. “Like coffee.”
“That isn’t helpful.”
“You drink six cups a day. It would be strange if it smelled like mint.”
“Do you have gum?”
You patted and checked your pockets. “No. Wait!” You remembered, then took the gum from your mouth and leaned over Spencer’s chair.
He opened his mouth without hesitation. You let the piece drop onto his tongue. Then you straightened. The bullpen went silent.
Spencer chewed once. “What?”
Morgan stared at him. “What do you mean, what?”
Emily recovered first. “Did she just give you gum from her mouth?”
“Yes,” Spencer said.
You frowned. “He asked for gum.”
“That was already in your mouth,” Morgan replied.
“I know where it was.”
“We’ve shared gum before,” Spencer explained.
Garcia gripped the nearest desk. “Before?”
“Since high school,” you said. “Sometimes I get tired of the flavor.”
“And you just take it?” JJ asked him.
“He doesn’t like wasting things,” you answered.
Morgan pointed at Spencer. “You won’t shake hands.”
“Hands frequently touch contaminated surfaces.”
Emily blinked. “And mouths don’t?”
“Not hers.”
The answer came too quickly and Spencer froze.
You smiled. “That’s sweet.”
Garcia whispered, “Oh, he is gone.”
“This is being interpreted incorrectly,” Spencer said, turning pink.
“Is it?” Emily asked.
You stole the remaining half of his sandwich. He let you and that disturbed them almost as much.
Hotch stepped out of his office. “Is there a reason no one is working?”
Morgan pointed at you both. “They shared gum.”
Hotch looked at Spencer, who was still chewing. “I’m not asking.” He returned to his office.
You checked the time and grabbed your bag. “I have to go.”
Spencer stood. “I’ll walk you out.”
“You’re working.”
“I can spare two minutes.”
Morgan muttered, “Of course you can.”
At the elevator, you adjusted Spencer’s tie as you had since he first began wearing them. “Your friends are weird.”
“They think we’re weird.”
“We are weird.”
“Yes, but not for that reason.”
At the elevator, you adjusted Spencer’s tie as you had since he first began wearing them. “Your friends are weird.”
“They think we’re weird.”
“We are weird.”
“Yes, but not for that reason.”
The elevator arrived, and you stepped inside. “You owe me gum now,” you said.
Spencer frowned. “That piece was already yours.”
“Exactly. You still haven’t given me anything.”
“That isn’t how exchanging goods works.”
“It is between best friends.”
Before the doors closed, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Dinner tonight, yes?"
"Sure." Spencer’s hand rose automatically to the place your lips had touched. The doors closed between you.
When Spencer returned to the bullpen, the team was waiting.
Morgan folded his arms. “Tell her.”
“Tell her what?”
“That you’ve been in love with her since puberty.”
Spencer stopped.
Garcia’s expression softened. “Oh, honey.”
“I have not.”
“You let her take food from your plate,” Emily said.
“You walk her to the elevator every time,” JJ added.
“You've shared gum only God knows how many times,” Morgan finished.
“She’s my best friend.”
No one argued.
His phone buzzed.
You: Dinner's at 7. And bring gum.
Spencer smiled before he could stop himself.
Morgan leaned over his shoulder, read the message, and scoffed. “Best friend.”
Spencer covered the screen with his hand. But he was still smiling.
After a four day long bout of insomnia, Spencer calls you to help him through it.
ellie talks- this ended up being WAY longer than i thought it would, which is why it's late. but i actually loved writing this sm. i love him your honour.
wc- 4.2k
cw- s1!Spencer fluff, oral f!receiving, Spencer is an eater okay, protected sex.
Spencer’s hands pulled through his hair, pushing it back as his elbows dropped to his knees. A long, laboured exhale left his lips as he looked up at the clock on the bedside table, and scratched the back of his neck. 3.17am. The numbers burned into his retinas, a glowing green reminder of his latest failure to do what billions of people accomplish every night. Fall asleep. This was his fourth night in a row being unable to sleep for more than two hours, and it had begun to be noticeable, Morgan had pointed out the purple crescents under his eyes at the morning’s briefing. He brushed it off, but the truth was that he was struggling. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw images, dismembered limbs, case files accidentally memorised, even this morning’s paper's mathematical equation that he hadn’t been able to solve because he was just so tired. He had tried everything he could think of, reading, both fiction and non-fiction, pacing the hardwood floor, drinking copious amounts of “Night Blend” tea. Nothing was working. The silence in his apartment was too loud, too suffocating, too… lonely.
He reached for his phone, flipping it open and blinking in the light from the small screen as his thumb pressed down on the button to move through his contacts. There was Morgan, who probably fell asleep hours ago after picking someone up from the bar. Then Hotch, who was almost definitely asleep next to his wife. His thumb stopped when his eyes scanned your name, realising that you might be the only person that he couldn’t be sure what you were doing. The probability that you were asleep was high, and that the phone call would wake you up before a long day did cross his mind. He didn’t want to wake you, he didn’t expect you to answer, he just needed to feel, even for a moment, that someone might. His thumb pressed onto the phone button, and held the phone to his ear, counting the rings as they vibrated against him. One. Two. Thr-
“Spencer?”
Your voice was quiet, sleepily soft and raspy, his back straightened at the sound of it. His chest tightened with guilt, immediately regretting his decision, that he had interrupted your night’s sleep.
“I’m sorry,” Spencer stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose as he cursed his insomnia fuelled decision making. “I didn’t think you’d answer. I’m so sorry, I just… I couldn’t sleep, and my probability calculations for waking you were much lower than reality, and I should let you go back to sleep-”
“Hey, Spencer… breathe,” you interrupted gently, and he could hear the shifting of your comforter as you sat up against your pillow. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. No… Physically, yes. Cognitively, I’m at a standstill.” He murmured, dragging his hand down his face as he flopped back against his bed, his free hand resting on his stomach. “It’s been four days. I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Your heart dropped at the profound exhaustion in his voice, the tremor of defeat that bled through. Spencer had opened up to you about his insomnia before, and you recognised how bad it had gotten. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” You said, pinning your phone between your ear and your shoulder, already pulling on your sneakers.
“Wait, no it’s-” He sat upright, his fingers curling into his t-shirt as he heard the jingle of your keys through the line. “It’s past three in the morning, the safety risks of driving at this hour-”
“I’ll lock my doors. See you in fifteen, Spence.”
The call ended with the dial tone and he pulled it away from his ear, staring down at the phone as he flipped it closed. A warmth spread through his chest as he realised how quickly you had helped, without even needing to be asked. And the way you had called him “Spence”.
When you arrived at Spencer’s apartment twelve minutes later, he opened it after your soft knock, and your heart ached a little at the sight of him. Dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes, his hair mussed at the back where he had been tossing and turning against his pillows. His eyes dropped to your pyjama pants, green and white striped with little cartoon characters dotted around the fabric, and the oversized hoodie that hung from your shoulders. “You didn’t have to come.” He said, though he stepped aside to let you in, his eyes fixed on you as if you were a holy being.
“Well I’m here now.” You smiled softly, setting your keys on the counter as he closed the door with a gentle click. “You eaten anything? Had something to drink?”
“I had tea. It didn’t help.” He said, shuffling awkwardly behind you as you moved to his worn velvet couch. He sat down stiffly beside you, his hands tucked between his knees, looking like a nervous guest in his own home.
“Talk to me.” You said. “Or don’t. You don’t have to explain anything.”
Spencer looked at you, his brown eyes wide, and glassy with fatigue. He paused for a moment, his shoulders losing some of their tension as he watched you sitting comfortably in his apartment, as if you belonged there. “Can I just…?” He gestured vaguely towards you, a rare moment of hesitation from someone who usually had all the words.
You nodded, lifting your arm along the back of the couch. He didn’t need to be told twice. Spencer shifted, sinking sideways against you, hesitating for a fraction of a second before letting his head drop onto your shoulder. His long legs tangled awkwardly on the small couch, but as your hand dropped back down to his shoulder, you felt him sigh, finally letting go of the tension he’d been holding onto for days.
“Your heart rate is remarkably steady,” Spencer mumbled, his eyes drooping slightly from the warmth of your body, the comforting scent of you enveloping him. “It’s roughly sixty-five beats per minute.” You smiled at his calculations, even when he was suffering with insomnia, his mind still wouldn’t stop noticing things. “It’s very soothing.” He added quietly, almost as an afterthought.
“Good.” You said gently, resting your cheek against the top of his head, tracing slow, lazy patterns against his arm, just below the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. “Focus on that.” You hummed.
For a few minutes, he kept talking in a low, drowsy monotone, his voice vibrating softly against your collarbone. “There’s a biological phenomenon known as physiological synchrony.” He mumbled, his eyelids fluttering as he fought to keep them open. “When two individuals are in close physical proximity, especially during moments of shared trust… their autonomic nervous systems begin to mimic one another.” He paused as your hand moved up into his hair, slowly brushing your nails along his scalp. “Your steady heart rate is effectively acting as an external pacemaker for my overstimulated amygdala… lowering my cortisol levels… by approximately…”
His voice trailed off, the precise percentage losing its battle against his exhaustion. The spaces between his words stretched longer, turning into quiet, shallow breaths.
“...it’s very…efficient.” He sighed deeply. You held your breath for a moment, listening. The frantic, nervous energy that usually radiated off him had completely evaporated. His breathing had deepened, turning into a rhythmic, peaceful rise and fall against your chest. He was asleep. Truly, deeply asleep.
You gently leaned back, holding his head in careful hands as you maneuvered it into your lap, his cheek pressing against your thigh as you let go. You ran your fingers through his hair again, looking down at him, completely safe, using you as a pillow. And you had no intention of moving until morning.
The pale glow of afternoon light filtering through the blinds was what finally woke Spencer. He didn’t move at first. His brain, usually firing at a mile a minute from the second he opened his eyes, was blissfully quiet. He became aware of three things in record timing, even for his brain: the heavy weight of exhaustion lifting from his chest, the faint scent of familiar perfume, and the fact that he was still completely sprawled against you on his narrow couch. You were awake, propped up against the arm rest, your eyes watching the muted TV while your hand was still tangled in his hair.
You looked down as Spencer slowly lifted his head from your lap, and let your hand drop from his hair. He looked away as his cheeks flushed, finding the textbook on the coffee table more interesting than it should be. You pushed yourself more upright from the slouched position you had been in for the last ten hours. “How are you feeling?” You asked, leaning forward slightly in an attempt to catch his eyes, but they were fixated on the book.
“Yeah-” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, shaking his head in embarrassment before trying again. “Better. Um… I’m sorry for essentially using you as a human sedative and trapping you against the couch.” He said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“There are worse places to be.” You laughed softly. That made him look at you, his eyes quickly moving between yours as if trying to deduce a deeper meaning from your statement. “Besides, you desperately needed sleep.”
His fingers twisted together between his knees, and his gaze dropped to his fidgeting hands. His lips pursed as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, his brows creased in thought. The blush on his cheeks didn’t fade, if anything, it crept down his neck. Finally, he spoke. “I didn’t just sleep because I was tired.” He murmured, his voice dropping to that quiet, vulnerable tone he rarely used.
“What do you mean?” You asked, meeting his brown eyes as he looked back up at you, searching your face with the analytical precision of a profiler, but stripped of all professionalism. “I’ve tried prescription medication, cognitive behavioral therapy, white noise machines, sleep deprivation techniques…” He said softly, gesturing his hand as he listed his methods. “Nothing overrides the hypervigilance. But last night… my brain calculated the highest probability of safety simply because you were in the room…” He looked down at his hands again, swallowing thickly. “Because I was holding onto you.”
You felt your breath hitch a little, your eyes darting between his. “Spencer… you don’t hav-”
“No, I-” He started, running his hand through his hair before realising how abruptly he had cut you off. “Sorry… I just- I noticed it months ago, how my anxiety decreases significantly whenever you’re around, how my heartbeat increases when I can see you from afar,” he continued, taking a slow, shaky breath. Unconsciously leaning in a fraction closer as his thumb picked at the skin around his finger. The slight shift had the space between you feeling charged, and you dipped your head to attempt to meet his eyes. He noticed, and lifted his eyes to you, they moved slower than usual, lingering on your mouth before finally meeting yours. “There was nothing statistical about the way you comforted me last night.” He admitted, the honesty of it hung in the quiet afternoon air.
The corner of your mouth lifted slightly, watching the way Spencer anxiously chewed on his lip. Your arm lifted, reaching out to brush your fingers against his jaw, before your hand settled against his face. “Spence..” You murmured, your eyes dropping to his lip as his teeth finally released it, his throat bobbed as he swallowed, his lips parting as he leaned forward another inch. His skin goose-pimpled underneath your fingertips as you mirrored the action, bringing your faces inches apart. His eyes fluttered closed, and nose brushed yours as his head tilted slowly, your breaths mingling in the minimal space between you. His lips brushed yours gently, not a kiss, but more of a question, asking for permission. Your fingers moved into his hair as you finally closed the gap, sliding your lips between his. The sigh that he let out against you was one of relief as his hands moved to cradle your head, his long fingers holding you against him as if he never wanted to let you go.
The way his lips slotted against yours grew more heated, his fingers curling into your hair as his apprehensive trembling faded. He gasped as your tongue flicked against his, one of his hands moving from your hair to the back of your neck, before his fingertips moved down the line of your spine, the motion sending a shiver through you. You began to lean back, using both arms wrapped around his neck to pull him down with you. He scrambled against the couch to a more comfortable position as he leaned down over you, the hand that had been tracing your back dipped underneath your hoodie, his thumb gently brushing your hip, as he braced himself on the other arm to hold himself above you. His tongue traced against yours, letting out a soft hum in satisfaction of the feeling of you against him.
Your hands tugged at his hair softly, tilting your head as your lips moved against his in a slow, sensual rhythm. His lips pulled away momentarily as he repositioned his head, his eyes stayed closed, his nose brushed against yours, his breath hitching as he leaned back in. His hand traced up your side, his thumb gently caressing the dip of your waist as his body settled flush against yours, melting against you. “Spence.” You mumbled against his lips between kisses. He pulled back, his brow furrowed in concern, his mind racing with the possibilities of what you were about to say, had he done something wrong? Had he taken it too far?
“What is it? What’s wrong?” He panicked, his voice quivering with both want, and nerves. You smiled gently, tucking a stray hair behind his ear before resting your palm against his face.
“Nothing.” You shook your head, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth, watching his eyes drop to the movement, his pupils dilating and his breathing growing more laboured. “Just wondering if you own a bed, or whether you just sleep on the couch every night.” You hummed, twisting his hair around your fingers absently. He let out an amused exhale, half his mouth lifting into a sheepish smile, ducking his head and squeezing one eye closed as he nodded.
“Yeah… Yes I-” He sat back, letting his thumb brush against your waist slowly. “Yes, I own a bed.” He finished, his voice dropping to a quiet, almost shy tone. You stood from the couch, Spencer's hand still on your waist, tilting his head to look up at you for a moment before following suit.
His bedroom was what you would call an organised mess. Books scattered across every surface, empty abandoned mugs around the room. The glow from behind the orange curtains made his features look softer, and the smell of a burnt out candle enveloped you, comforting and warm. Spencer’s hands wrapped around your hips as yours settled against his shoulders as his mouth lowered back to yours, more sure now that he knew you wouldn’t pull away. His fingers toyed with the hem of your hoodie, silently asking for permission. You broke away to pull the hoodie over your head, your shirt coming with it, leaving you in only your bra. Spencer swallowed, an involuntary, breathy “wow,” leaving his lips before he could stop it. You smiled softly, lacing your fingers through his and pulling him with you as you backed towards the bed.
He kneeled on the bed as you lay back, pulling his shirt off before settling over you, his body between your thighs. His skin was warm against yours, his lips catching yours in another deep, deliberate kiss as your fingertips traced down his back, the contact pulling a soft moan from his throat as his hips shifted against you. His lips moved down to your jaw, pressing a line of soft kisses along your neck towards your collarbone, the soft brush of his mouth combined with his breath against your skin had your back arching, pressing your chest against his.
“Is this okay?” He asked as his lips moved down over your chest, pausing just above the line of your bra. You nodded, lifting yourself up slightly to unclasp your bra, and pull it from you. Spencer swallowed thickly, before lowering his mouth back to your skin, slowly moving his lips down toward your nipple. He closed his mouth around the sensitive bud, his hands steady on your ribs as he dragged his tongue over your sensitive skin, his confidence growing with the breathy moans that left your lips. He lifted his eyes to watch the way your head tilted back, the way your lips stayed parted around sighs and gasps as he continued, responding to when his actions gained an arch of your back or a tightening of your fingers in his hair.
Eventually, he brought his mouth away from your chest, only to press soft kisses along your stomach, shifting backwards on the bed as he brought his mouth lower. His shaky hands moved to the waistband of your pyjama pants, eyes flicking up again, his brow creased in a question you answered by lifting your hips to give him the space to drag them down. His tongue moved out to wet his lips as he pulled your pants down your thighs, placing them gently on the floor as if he would hurt the fabric by throwing it carelessly. He inhaled unevenly, his eyes still locked on yours as he lowered himself down towards you. His lips landed on your hip first, his fingers gently tracing your inner thigh as he moved his mouth down further with each kiss. You gasped when his mouth finally closed around your clit, a soft, gentle movement that already had your body writhing and desperate for more. Spencer’s head spun with want, eagerly obliging in your twitching hips, delving his tongue deeper through your folds. He moaned at the taste of you, a low vibration shaking through your core, his eyes closed as he focused on flicking his tongue in the way you liked.
His fingers drew up your inner thigh until they reached where his mouth was already hungrily lapping at you. You moaned as one finger gently pressed into you, slowly at first, working you open with extreme preciseness and care as he gradually pushed it further. He crooked his finger in time with his tongue, his other hand gripping your hip as he responded to every signal your body gave him. Every moan, every tightening of your stomach, every time your fingers tugged at his hair, every time he felt his hand wet from your arousal, he studied them, locking the information safely in his brain to calculate the best way to bring you to your peak. He moaned against you again as he inserted another finger, feeling you clamp down around them as he curled them just right.
“Spencer…” You moaned, the sound of his husky name from your lips sent ripples of pleasure through his body. “Right there, Spence..” You sighed, your hips bucking into his face as he continued moving his tongue over your clit. Time slowed as he watched you fall apart, the way your body clamped down on his fingers, your thighs closing around his head, squeezing him as you moaned loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. He slowed his movements, letting you ride out your high as your back arched, your fingers tightly tangled in his hair. When your moans turned to laboured breathing, he lifted his mouth away, and carefully withdrew his hand from you.
“What that… Was it okay?” He asked softly, his brow furrowed in genuine question. You opened your eyes and propped yourself up on your elbows, he smiled at the way your hair was messed from the pillows, and the flush across your skin that hadn’t faded.
“More than.” You said, your voice still breathy, and your chest heaving as you tried to regain composure. You watched him wipe his mouth on his arm, and you sat up fully, your hands trailing down his stomach to the top of his sweatpants. His breath hitched as your nails gently scraped his skin. “Do you have…”
“Oh, um… yeah. Somewhere. Hold on.” He moved almost immediately, his long frame extending as he leaned over the edge of the bed to rummage through his pile of clothes. He located his wallet, and pulled out a blue wrapper. “Just check it’s still…” He murmured as he turned it over in his hands to find the expiration date, it had been a long time since he needed one of these. “Yeah it’s um-” He glanced back up at you, at the way you were propped up on one arm, your hair falling behind your back, tangled around your shoulder, the light filtering through the curtains painting you as some kind of sun goddess. “You’re so pretty.” The words rushed out of him in a single breath as he moved back towards you. You smiled gently, using one leg to wrap around his hip and pull him down over you, his mouth met yours with no hesitation this time. Your fingers curled around the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled, he dropped one hand to help, the other stayed in your hair as he kissed you deeply.
Once his sweatpants were discarded, your hand moved to his cock, wrapping around the considerable length as his eyes squeezed closed. “Oh-” He rasped, his mouth staying open and eyebrows shooting upwards as your hand slowly moved. His jaw stuttered as you worked him slowly for a long moment, he finally found it within him to close his mouth, and swallowed hard.
“Okay?” You asked, smiling when he nodded desperately, unable to form any other coherent thought than the feeling of your hand wrapped around him, moving so deliciously slow. Eventually, he fumbled with the wrapper for a moment before finally tearing it open, only then did you let go for him to roll the latex down his length. He leaned over you as you lay back, eyes flicking to yours as he positioned himself, and rolled his hips forwards. He moaned against your lips as you gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails biting into his soft skin as he dropped to his elbow. “Spence-” You whispered as he pulled his hips back before setting a slow, steady pace. His breath was against your ear, his eyes squeezed closed as he let out a low groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him.
“You- God… You feel so-” He choked out, every thought slipping his mind other than the way you felt digging your nails into his shoulders, the way your leg lifted to hook over his hip and pull him deeper, the sounds you were making every time he pushed forwards. He moved his mouth back to yours, catching your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue tangled with yours as he kept his steady, aching pace. Your chest pressed against his as your back arched, one of his hands splayed across your thigh, holding it against him as if he couldn’t bear to have any part of you not touching him. His cock dragged through you slowly, a perfectly gentle pace that had you moaning against his mouth, your hand threading through his hair. His slow, deep thrusts had your head spinning as you reached your free hand between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit to rub tight circles. The extra stimulation had you clenching around him already, his hips faltering for a moment as you grew tighter around his cock.
“I-” He stuttered against your mouth, “I’m gon-” he couldn’t finish his sentence as the ripples of pleasure washed through him, his stomach tensing as he came, his forehead pressed against yours and his eyes squeezed closed, and his fingers tightened on your thigh. Long, loud moans spilled from his mouth as he stilled, his breathing ragged and uneven. As his head stopped spinning, he lowered it to your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your neck as your arms wrapped around him, your fingers carding gently through his hair as his breathing returned to its normal pace. His mind was quiet, for once in his life, he could enjoy the moment, enjoy the feeling of your body under his, enjoy the-
“Spence.” Your soft voice broke his train of thought, and he lifted his head to look at you with sleepy eyes. “You might wanna take that off.” You said, at first, he furrowed his brows, unsure of what you meant, but then it registered, and he laughed softly before reaching down to pull the condom off, before rolling over to discard it in the trash by his bed. He wasted no time returning to his position with his head on your shoulder, his arm slung over your stomach, listening to your heart rate returning to normal as you traced your fingers up and down his spine.
He could definitely get used to this cure for insomnia.
warnings: age gap (21 x 33), mentions of masturbation (both m & f), suggestive clothing mentions ??, spencer is horny as fuck, light dom!spencer sorta, reader isn't really a sub tho, unprotected piv sex, oral (f recieving) #munchreid
i have seen this done before but this is one of my favorite tropes so its my turn now
dr. spencer reid liked his job. one of the simple reasons being, he got to spend hours a week talking about topics that interested him most. he was sure half the students who attended his lectures didn't truly care, but if he was able to get his ramblings out, outside the bau, he had no qualms.
no one usually sat at the very front of his lectures, he noticed. another thing he didn't really mind, because he preferred talking over calling on unsuspecting students, who would ruin his flow of thought.
except you did. you sat at the front. something that caught his attention immediately when you took one of his lectures two semesters ago, seemingly unbothered by his hard stare. he didn't call on you at first, assuming you weren't aware of his teaching methods, or the rigourous coursework. but you kept up, and in fact, he was more than surprised when you would volunteer during class, during any silent pause. you would ask questions, offer suggestions, even probe his teaching further. something spencer had never experienced before, not even through anyone at the bau. he admired how intelligent you were for being so young. it fascinated him.
you took his lecture again this semester, a different topic of course, but chose him out of the more experienced professor that was offered at noon. he taught at night, partly because he was offered the times that no one wanted, and partly because this was still a side job, something that was easily accessible to him in the evenings. for most students, evening courses weren't ideal, and if they did attend, it was because it was their last option. but on the first day, you acknowledged to him that wasn't the case.
"dr. reid!" you had a bright smile for the first day of classes, he thought to himself. he's fairly certain most of your fellow pupils he's seen had the exact opposite expression walking the hallways.
"good to see you again." he nods as you take your seat in the front.
"i couldn't believe you had another lecture. i had to take it." your voice becomes muffled as you lean under your desk to dig something out of your bag. he blinks, processing your confession.
"you wanted to take my course again? i mean, hear my teaching methods? you liked it?" he sounds pathetic, he knows. but he can't help it, for some reason.
you pop back up from under your desk. "of course! you're one of my favorite professors i've ever had."
"well. thank you." he doesn't know what to say, and doesn't have to, as a few more students fill in, causing him to glance at the clock and notice lecture starts soon.
he doesn't want to assume anything. no, because if he did, it would put him in a seriously terrible position. spencer knows the odds and problems with assuming, and the outcomes of doing so. in fact, assuming about this, would lead to a high outcome of being incredibly screwed over. but he can't help but want to assume. more than anything, with his depraved mind, something he never thought he would think about in his life.
you had started showing up in short skirts. and if it wasn't short skirts, tight blouses or revealing tops. the rational part of his brain says that you have a boyfriend, this is for him afterwards. or maybe you just like to show yourself off. nothing wrong with that. but the deeper, needier, part of him? no, that says that's all for him. that's telling spencer, she's doing this for you.
and so, in return, spencer does something he's never done. nothing huge, of course. but he officially marks on the chalkboard his office hour postings.
clearing his throat he announces the new change. "i have added office hours after this lecture, if any of you ever need anything or have questions. you're welcome to stop by or make an appointment." his eyes briefly run over you, where you're already watching him, gaze flickering back and forth from him to the board.
you came up to him after class. he fights, he really does, to keep his eyes level with yours, but you're wearing the tightest white blouse. one that you have popped the buttons on to the second top button, to where he can just see the red of your bra peeking out.
"i hope you don't mind if i stay for office hours. i had a question about the assignment." your voice is like silk.
"of course." he motions towards his desk, where he takes a seat, waiting for you to explain your question.
"the assignment, dr. reid," you begin, casting your eyes down. "where human behavior is reinforced..." your tongue sweeps across your lips, wetting them as you talk, and he can't hear anything else you say. he's transfixed by your mouth.
how disgusting he felt. ogling his student like this.
"dr. reid?" your head was cocked to the side, watching him, his glazed eyes behind his glasses finally snap to.
he clears his throat. "i'm sorry. i must've got lost in thought, i tend to do that lately."
"that's alright. i can come back next lecture, if you'd like. i think i can figure it out, i just wanted some extra clarity."
your tone doesn't seem hurt, he notices, but maybe... frustration? no that wasn't it. he couldn't place it. he runs a hand through his messy brown hair, already tousled from how many times he did it through lecture, trying not to let more thoughts consume him. your lips part slightly, watching him, and he forces himself to look away.
his pants were growing tighter, more uncomfortable, the longer you were there staring at him, your breasts barely hidden in your top, your skirt too short for his liking, leaving him wondering where the hell you could even get such a thing besides a halloween store. or a sex site.
and he should've never thought of you in a sex store, because his next thought was even worse.
"next class would be fine." he rasps. he was tense, he could've almost came in his pants then, he needed you gone.
he realized soon, managing to escape one day of you, wouldn't solve his issue. no, it in fact, made it worse. everyday until his next lecture, he thought about the 'what ifs'. what if he said he needed you instead of pushing you away. what if he took you over his desk, right there. his fantasies led him to palm himself, late at night, eyes squeezed shut, pretending one day it would maybe be you with your hand wrapped around his cock.
he was becoming unhinged. as quickly as he offered office hours, he had them "postponed", due to some scheduling conflicts outside of work. which was bullshit. he just couldn't get his thoughts together, his emotions either, at that. he saw your face fall when he announced it in class, before looking down at your notes once more.
at night, he would think about it. what if he entertained it. but then he thought about the statistics of how such thing affects a students work in class, or around their peers. even if they don't know, and spencer had to squeeze his eyes shut, the number too high for him to want to think about.
you never stopped wearing those all too revealing outfits, though. he wishes you would've, because the lead to his resolve snapping happened in class not long after your first- and only- office hours. about two weeks later, you were in his favorite skirt, because he's started to take note of all of them, and pink button up. spencer had a special distaste for the boys in the back row, who didn't do much most of class and would email him asking for a bump on essays. today, spencer was running late in starting his lecture because he was reading a text from morgan, but he didn't fail to hear what was happening in the room.
"you wearin' those outfits for a reason? bet they'd look good at our party this weekend." a laugh. "or you don't have to wear anything."
he raises his head, seeing your cheeks tinted red, staring at one of the boys in the back, who has a hand inches away from touching the hem of your skirt, as if he wanted to pull it down himself. spencer finds himself talking before he registers it.
"my lectures aren't for harassing women." all heads snap towards the front, the sudden outburst- if you could call it that- causing an uncomfortable silence.
"ah, dr. reid, it was all in good jest." a typical, suave, sort of save, but spencer doesn't bat an eye.
"doesn't seem like she finds it funny." in some world, he's embarassed, because the only reason he's still going at this argument, is because he doesn't like the thought of another man touching you.
your voice pipes up. "it's okay dr. reid. thank you." you take your seat but he can feel the tension in the room. he scans everyone before turning to write on the chalkboard, but he swears he can hear people muttering that he's playing favorites or, worse, "he just wants her all to himself".
he stayed late that day, grading papers, trying to focus his mind on anything else. he's aware that his thoughts haven't been normal lately, in fact, one could call them obsessive. and maybe it's because he is resisting it so much. he knows the psychology behind wanting what you can't have. he sits back in his chair, his eyes fixated on your desk, running through the robotic facts in his brain.
your dopamine assigns higher value to restricted rewards.
anything blocked to you becomes of an inflated value.
he also knows, though, you can't magically fix or stop these things, just because you know it's stupid. he grabs his satchel, fed up with thinking, and trudges towards the outside of the building. it's raining, a heavy downpour at that, making for an uncomfortable drive home. barely off campus, he sees a figure, soaked from the rain, under one of the campus buildings. he doesn't need a second glance to register who it is, he's mapped your shape thoroughly by now. he pulls his car off to the road, in front of the building, and grabs an umbrella from his backseat.
the rain patters loudly on the temporary shelter as he walks, his brows furrowing as you make eye contact.
"i think classes are done for the day." he tries to smile, insinuating he's joking.
"yeah, wish i knew that before my car broke down. you hold your phone up. "and my phone died. i'm a mess. then it started raining." he sees tears forming in your eyes.
"hey, hey! i can take you back. no worries."
your shoulders sag. "it's okay. i really should just wait it out."
"no, no. it's dangerous, it's night and raining. i don't want you to be an statistic i may have to be called in to solve."
he tells himself it's the right thing to do, of course. you're in a dangerous position and he's helping. but you're still in that same outfit from earlier, that's now soaked, clinging to your body, outlining all your features he can never pull his eyes away from to begin with, and he feels the last thread of resolve snapping.
maybe asking you if you needed help getting inside or carrying anything was backed up with the same excuse, he was just making sure you got home safely. what wasn't, couldn't, be backed up with any sort of excuse, is how he helped unbutton your top, peeling away the soaked layer. how he met your eyes, that burned with the same desire his did, before he finally shut off his brain, cupping your cheeks in his hands, and kissing you.
you were both still damp from moving from his car to inside, your skin wet against him, leading you to take off his shirt for him, through the kisses, through the silent pleads for more. you lead him to your bedroom and in the process, somehow, your skirt came off, his pants. spencer felt like he was in a dream, satisfying every thought he's ever had.
"were the outfits for me?" the question tumbles from his lips before he can stop it, but he's hovering over you, his hips aligned in between your legs. he knows you can feel him, feel how hard he is already, and he can feel your warm cunt pressed against him, driving him wild.
"yes." you pause, as if you were choosing your words carefully for the next sentence. "but you stopped doing office hours, and i didn't know how else to get you alone. i thought maybe you'd ask to see me after class. it sounds stupid, i know. like a fantasy." his pulse is racing, despite your eye contact faltering, he assumes because of embarassment.
he moves down you, stopping in front of your pussy, pressing a small open mouthed kiss over your underwear. a broken moan escapes you.
"keep telling me what you wanted and you'll get rewarded." spencer was high off your confession, wanting more, needing more. you swallow, your eyes trained on him kissing around your thighs.
"i... i thought maybe one day you would fuck me over you desk. i thought the one day when i saw you after class, oh fuck, that maybe it would be then." he had pushed your panties aside, dipping his tongue inside you, his mouth finding your clit. your hands fisted your pristine sheets, your hips were rocking against his face. and you kept going. "i got off to the idea of you."
his eyes snapped open, looking at you. he licked a stripe up you, before he pulled away. he needed to be inside you, needed to feel you pulse around him as you did everything he had ever dreamed of, ever stroked his cock to.
"did you touch yourself too dr. reid?"
he pauses as he lines his cock up with your entrance. the name makes him twitch.
"i did."
"will you tell me about it?" his heart rate picks up all over again, his breath coming short. he goes to answer but you have a follow up. "while you fuck me?" all he can do is nod, as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him in as his cock slides into you, your moans mixing together.
"i thought about fucking you in class," he thrusts deep, to the hilt. "i thought about taking off that skirt and white blouse, making sure you'd never be able to wear it again," he pulls out, only leaving his tip in, before sinking back in. a strangled cry for him leaves your lips, calling him spencer instead of dr. reid, and he has to think of all the numbers in plancks constant to not cum right then. his thrusts become needier, more insistent, as he meets your lips as he continuously buries himself deep inside you.
"where do you want it baby." he rolls your nipple in his finger, then alternates, fueling your overstimulation and arousal.
"in me. please. please." you beg, your eyes wide watching him.
"please what?" he needs to hear his name on your tongue again, while he's feeling your cunt squeeze him like this.
"dr. reid?" your breaths are ragged, as your back is arching off the bed, barely able to speak.
he hums. "mm i don't think so." you claw at his arm, seconds away from your orgasm and he knows it.
"spencer. fuck, spencer, please. cum in me. god." your legs shake as you hit your peak, and those words are his own undoing, encasing your hand in his as he feels himself release inside you, barely able to keep his eyes open.
he gently lays down against you, not yet removing himself, as you tangle your hands through his hair. his face is buried in the crook of your neck, as he recalls what he just did. it's incredibly wrong, incredibly against ethics.
but he wasn't going to turn you down when you asked if he wanted to clean up with a shower.
