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𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥

[insanebookreader]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫! ★

𝐄𝐱. 𝟏𝟗. 𝐛𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥. 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬ׂ╰┈➤ 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍

★𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞

★𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲

★𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜

★𝐔𝐩𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬

𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲!

(Credit's to @ferretmilkshakezzz for the borders I will currently be having on my page!)

©2025 INSANEBOOKREADER

[insanebookreader]

Erm..hey.😅 Been a bit..so..a lot happened! And I started the new semester for college so that's also been taking up my time, I've had a writing slump but I do have some drafts. So I'll be finishing those hopefully posting soon! Love you guys, so sorry.

Niche MGG pic as an apoloogy! <3

[whisperedmeg]

BREAKFAST IN BED ⋆˚꩜｡ spencer reid x girlfriend!reader

summary: you’re sore. spencer’s smug. apparently, breakfast is best served between your thighs.

genre: smut, fluff | w/c: 1.7k

tags/warnings: soft dom!spencer, implied semi-rough sex from the night before, reader is sore from said sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, spencer calls reader angel/sweet girl/good girl, spencer is a smug little shit, written with later season spencer in mind, basically porn with almost no plot, no use of y/n

a/n: based on this anon request! this was delicioussss to write. I am a munch!spencer truther to my core. enjoy!!

It’s the ache that wakes you.

Not sharply, and not all at once. Just a slow, blooming kind of soreness that curls warm around your hips and tightens when you shift — bare skin sliding against the sheets, muscles pulling in places that don’t usually pull. There’s a spot high on your thigh that throbs in time with your heartbeat, and another deeper in your core that stirs when you exhale too hard.

Last night comes back in flashes: Spencer’s mouth at your throat, your wrists pinned above your head, the sound he made when you told him not to stop. A little rougher than usual. A little more. He’d warned you, breath hot against your ear, that he wasn’t going to be gentle, and you’d nodded like someone deprived of air being offered oxygen.

You remember the way his hands shook a little when he touched you afterward, how quiet he got. The press of his lips to your knuckles in the dark, like he still couldn’t believe you gave him everything, no matter how many times you did. Like he couldn’t believe you wanted him that much.

You stretch now, half-heartedly, and the soreness reasserts itself with a wince. You hiss through your teeth quietly.

Spencer is still asleep, one arm slung across your stomach, face buried against your shoulder. His hair is a halo of tangles, his breath steady and warm against your skin. He smells like his usual bergamot soap mixed with sleep and sweat and sex.

You think to yourself that it should be illegal to look that peaceful after doing what the two of you did last night.

Your fingers twitch, tempted to wake him just to say so.

But you don’t have to. A beat later, he shifts — just enough to murmur something soft and incoherent against your shoulder blade and press his nose to your skin.

“Mm,” he hums, a little more awake now. “You’re warm.”

“So are you.” You blink your eyes open and glance over your shoulder back at him. You move again, trying to sit up, and this time the soreness flashes sharp.

Spencer lifts his head and blinks blearily at you. His hair is in his eyes, and he looks younger like this, all sleepy and soft. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, even though your hips are definitely plotting a day of revenge. “Just a little sore.”

He smiles like he was expecting that answer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He hums, amused. “Where?”

You give him a look. “Where do you think?”

Spencer grins fully now, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he kisses your shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

You scoff, but it’s breathless. “Cocky.”

“Confident,” he counters, smug. His hand moves, gliding down your side, dragging the sheet with it. “You didn’t seem to mind at the time.”

“No,” you admit. “But I am going to be walking funny all day.”

He tucks his face back into the curve of your neck, voice low and scratchy with sleep. “That’s my favorite kind of damage.”

You laugh, but your eyes flutter shut again as he moves over you and rolls you onto your back. He kisses down your collarbone, a little lower, then lower still. His hand spreads over your stomach like he’s staking a claim, and his mouth follows suit.

“Spence,” you warn gently, though your voice is already going soft around the edges. “You don’t have to.”

“I’m aware of that. I want to.”

You lift your head to look at him. He’s already halfway down the bed, nosing at your hip, lips brushing skin. He glances up at you, hair falling in his eyes, smile lazily forming.

He presses a kiss just below your navel.

“Besides, breakfast,” he says, licking his lips with shameless smugness, “is the most important meal of the day.”

Another kiss, lower.

“And I very much like the taste of you in the morning,” he says, and the grin that follows is pure sin — cocky and sleepy and devastatingly pretty.

There’s no room to argue, not when he’s already mouthing down your thigh, parting your legs like it’s second nature, like this was inevitable from the moment you woke up. His fingers curl under your knees, coaxing you open even further, and he breathes in against your skin.

You brace a hand against the sheets, the other sliding aimlessly into the tangled mess of his hair. “Spencer…”

“Shh.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Let me make it better. You said you’re sore.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to—”

“I know what it means,” he says, firmer this time. His voice drops low, smooth and certain. “It means you let me wreck you last night, and now I get to take care of what’s mine.”

That word lands hard, curls low in your belly. You don’t answer — you can’t. You’re too busy trying to steady your breathing. He’s already shifting closer, already locking an arm under your thighs to hold you in place.

You feel the brush of his mouth where you’re still tender and already aching again, and the first drag of his tongue is slow and deliberate.

“So sweet,” he hums softly against you. “You know the average person has up to 10,000 taste buds?” He glances up, breath hot against your skin. “Pretty sure mine were made just for you.”

You squirm involuntarily — too sensitive, too much, too soon — but his grip tightens just slightly, pinning your thighs down with practiced ease. His fingers splay against your hips. You’re not going anywhere.

“Stay still for me, angel,” he murmurs, voice warm and unbearably soft, challenging you to complete an impossible task.

You try. God, you try. But he knows your body too well by now. He knows exactly how to curl his tongue just right, how to flatten it where you’re already throbbing — like he’s learning your body the way he learns languages, through repetition and obsession. Like it’s the only fluency that ever really mattered. He moves with a rhythm designed to undo you molecule by molecule, like you’re his favorite unsolved equation.

“That’s it,” he says against your skin when your thighs start to tremble. “God, you’re so soft like this.”

He noses deeper, then closes his mouth around your clit and sucks, and your entire spine arches off the bed.

“Spence—”

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, licking back up, hand sliding to your stomach to press you down with gentle, unrelenting pressure.

You squirm again, and he catches your movement immediately.

“I said stay still,” he warns, low and firm. You whimper, and he smiles against you.

He shifts one arm to slip a hand beneath you, fingers curving under your ass to tilt your hips higher, and when he sinks his mouth back down and—fuck. Your whole body jerks.

“Too much?” he asks, voice hoarse.

You shake your head, breathless. “N-no. Feels good.”

“I know it does, angel girl.”

It’s not fair, the way he’s still so vocal even with his mouth buried in your cunt — praises every breathless twitch of your hips like it’s a gift, worships every sound you make with a reverence that borders on unbearable. His tongue moves like he’s memorizing you, like he’s been starving, like this is the only thing he knows how to do anymore.

He tightens his grip again and devours you, slower this time, deeper, and you come like that — spread out and trembling, jaw slack, hands fisting uselessly in the sheets. Breaths leave you in broken gasps, and still, he doesn’t stop — licking you through it, slow and thorough, like he’s savoring every drop.

You expect him to pull back once your breathing slows.

He doesn’t.

Your thighs twitch, instinctively trying to close, but he just presses them wider with maddening ease — like your body belongs under his hands. Like he’s barely getting started.

“Uh-uh,” he murmurs, voice rasping with satisfaction. “Not done yet.”

“Spence—” It’s barely even a protest. More like a warning, and he knows the difference. Knows the way your hips buck even as you pretend you can’t take more. Knows that the shaky whine in your throat means please, not stop. Knows you too well to listen when your mouth lies and your body begs.

“You can take it,” he whispers, tongue hot and sure. “You’re gonna give me one more, sweet girl. Yeah?”

You try to argue, but then his tongue flicks just right — again, and again, and again — and your spine bows like a live wire. You nod helplessly.

“You taste so good,” he breathes. “Don’t make me beg. One more, angel.”

He holds you down, murmuring praise between licks, talking you through it in a voice that’s simultaneously achingly tender and overwhelmingly filthy, and you feel yourself unraveling all over again. Your thighs tremble, heels digging into the mattress, and he doesn’t stop. Not until you’re gasping his name on a broken sob, not until your second orgasm rips through you with twice the force, leaving you wrecked and open and shaking.

Only then — when you’re boneless and panting and whimpering beneath him — does he finally ease up. His mouth slows. Softens. Presses one last kiss to your overstimulated skin.

He looks up at you, flushed and glistening and smug, but his eyes are all warmth.

“Good girl,” he says, kissing your thigh again. Then again, higher. “So sweet like this.”

You can barely manage a breath, let alone a sentence.

He grins, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as he pushes your trembling legs gently back together, palms smoothing over your skin like he can’t quite stop touching you. He crawls back up the bed, gaze sweet and tender, and kisses the corner of your mouth. Then your jaw, then your collarbone, then your shoulder.

“Hi,” you finally manage, dazed.

He huffs a soft laugh, leaning over you to press a kiss to your forehead. “Hi.”

You blink up at him, and for a second, neither of you says anything. The quiet hums, warm and full.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, still in a bit of a trance. “Yeah. Yeah, just…”

“Wrecked?” he teases, brushing a knuckle down your cheek.

You roll your eyes in faux annoyance. “Completely.”

He smiles and settles beside you, and you curl into him instinctively.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you mumble.

“I know. I already told you, I wanted to.”

Your cheeks warm. “Still doesn’t count as a real breakfast.”

Spencer grins. “Speak for yourself. I’m full.”

ᝰ.ᐟ

masterlist

PSA: likes do very little for promoting posts on tumblr! if you'd like to support a fic, please reblog!

[insanebookreader]

[luvsvite]

Latch (S.R. x Reader)

18+ MDNI (I beg)

a/n: My first successfully finished attempt at a one shot :') I'm so nervous to post this so please be nice (note that english is not my first language)

Summary: After celebrating her boyfriend Spencer's birthday, reader has one last present left to give him.

Tags: sub!spencer x dom!reader, spencer is a munch & secretly has a mommy kink, afab reader, established relationship, mostly just cheesy stuff tbh but still porn w plot

w/c: 3.5k

With a stretch of your arms and a sigh dramatic enough to make your boyfriend chuckle behind you, you threw your purse somewhere on the fluffy rug of your room. It was dark but the moonlight bleeding through the curtains allowed for some illumination, you couldn't be bothered to turn on the lights. Instead you threw off your heels and jacket before letting yourself drop onto the bed, humming contentedly. Spencer was quick to join you, hovering above you as he smiled.

"Thank you for today, I had fun."

"Yeah?", you asked without opening your eyes, the exhaustion of being on foot all day now catching up to you.

"Yeah.", he reassured with a peck to your lips, fingers coming up to comb through your hair softly.

"And thank you for the gifts also, they were very thoughtful.", he mumbled against your neck, little pecks making their way down to your colorbone. With the little strength you had left, your arms locked around your boyfriend's neck. He smelled of the cologne you bought him.

"You're welcome, love."

Spencer's birthday now coming to an end, you remembered the day you just had. Dinner at his favourite restaurant, a screening of a movie he'd grown to love because of you, a trip around the museum, the tender look on his face when he unwrapped the books you bought him. Everything was perfect. And yet, for the past 24 hours, there had been one thing on your mind you'd been nervous to carry out.

Only having been dating for a few weeks, your and Spencer's relationship was relatively new. In that time, you had been considerate of the fact that Spencer had never slept with anyone, and of course, you would wait as long as he needed. Still, you had done some things. There was that time you were straddling him during a steamy make out session on the couch. You remember his heavy pants the subconscious movement of his very prominent bulge against your core. Tentatively, you'd moved against him, eliciting whines from him that would be burned into your mind for the next two weeks. He ended up coming in his pants, stuttering out apologies despite your countless attempts at reassuring him that no, he didn't need to be sorry, this might've been the hottest thing ever.

You thought about that time a lot. All the time, really.

Then, there was the time you'd come out of the shower in nothing but a towel wrapped around you when Spencer was still at your apartment, reading away sat on your bed. Admittedly, you'd purposely walked in to tease him. And sure enough, your flushed face and dripping, exposed skin created a literal wet dream for him. That time he found himself less capable of holding back as he pulled you onto him, ignoring the question What's gotten into you? But who were you to complain when he kissed you with such desperation, teeth biting at your lip tissue, hands tentatively scraping along your exposed legs as he choked out whines you hadn't heard in two weeks. That evening may or may not have ended with him coming undone, in your hand this time.

And that marks the end of your (very) brief sexual history.

The days leading up to his birthday, you had been toying with the idea of creating a scenario in which you'd get to hear those beautiful sounds fall from his lips again. And what better day to play it out than today.

"Although.. I have one more present for you!"

Spencer liftted his head to look at you, eyes comically lighting up like a puppy as sat up on the bed.

"What is it?"

"I'm going to need you to leave the room for a moment."

The excited look on his face turned into confusion, but you waved him off reassuring he'll love it. With that promise and another peck to his lips, he made his way out of the room. Once the door closed behind him you breathed out anxiously. In a swift movement you got up from the bed to slip out of your dress, letting it fall to the ground carelessly to expose the lingerie set you were wearing underneath- A lacy black two piece decorated with ruffles and little bows around the edges. When you'd picked it out you weren't sure what it would do for him, if he'd even like it. Truthfully, your goal was just to get a reaction out of him, any reaction.

"Can I come in yet?", you heard Spencer chuckle through the door, your nervousness growing more and more each second you dragged this out. You sat back down on the bed, struggling to find a position you felt comfortable enough in to let him see you like this. You settled for crossing your legs as you sat on the edge of the mattress, fingers nervously pulling at the straps of your panties.

"You can come in."

You watched as Spencer pushed the door open, visible confusion on his face that was immediately replaced by a look of shock the moment his eyes met your. It took everything in you to not look away as his eyes burned holes into you.

"Do you like it?"

His mouth opened, closed, opened and then closed again, unsure of what to say, how to put into words just how much he liked it. His eyes traced the way the set hugged your body, lingering on your heaving chest as he gulped nervously. He'd always loved the color black on you, how it fit your confident personality and reminded him of how you'd come into his life and consumed his entire being, like he'd been sucked into a black hole he couldn't get out of even if he tried. Most days you had him feeling like he was floating out in space, you enveloped him, numbed down his senses making it so the only thing he could ever truly see, smell, hear, feel, taste- was you.

Your glance shifted to his fidgeting hands and visible heavy breathing that was now making your own breath come quicker.

"I-", you began, but before you could say anything else Spencer had snapped himself out of his paralyzed state to kneel in front of you, a sight that had you weak in the knees unable to come up with a single thing to say to him. Though, you didn't need to because the next thing you knew, his hands were coming up to brush against your bare legs, fingers stroking along the skin as he scanned your figure.

"You uhm-", he cleared his throat, "You look beautiful."

"Yeah?"

He nodded frantically before you could doubt his words, "Darling girl, you bought this for me?"

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you nodded, warmth spreading along the area on your thighs that his hands were now exploring. You watched Spencer smile in admiration as fingered the the straps of your panties, sending a wave of your heat straight to your core.

"I wasn't sure you'd like this on me."

"I- are you crazy? Yes, I do. A lot."

You knew he was being genuine and still-

"How much?"

-you loved being a tease.

"Let me show you?"

The words had come out as more of a question when he really meant to say I want to show you how gorgeous you are, how I long for you every second of every day.

Yet, when you nodded at him, a look on your face that- if he wasn't mistaken- practically dripping with desire, he forgot all about his inability to articulate what he really meant. He let his actions speak for him instead, hands now coming up to your waist, the grip he had on you being tighter than he'd wanted it to be. His eyes locked with yours as his mouth found your skin. Slowly, he trailed kisses along your stomach, making goosebumps rise on the area.

"Feels good, Spence.", you smiled at him reassuringly.

Spencer grinned against your skin with new found confidence, determined to make you happy. He started to suck little marks along your abdomen, eliciting the tiniest noises from you as your back arched towards the sensation. You couldn't help but keep your eyes locked on him as he made his way down your body, heat spreading across your cheeks as you felt the wetness pool between your thighs.

And then, he stopped.

Breathlessly, your now half lidded eyes gave him a confused look as you combed your fingers through his hair in a reassuring manner. Was he uncomfortable? Had he changed his mind?

"Can I- um, kiss you?"

"You are kissing me.", you chuckled.

"Kiss you- uhm, here.", he confessed, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he shifted down to hover above your core, looking up to you through his eyelashes.

"Yes, please.", was all the reassurance he needed from you.

Anticipation bloomed in your stomach when Spencer pulled your panties to the side, a shuddered breath escaping him at the sight of your glistening wetness. Thanks to the moonlight that seeped in through the curtains you could see Spencer's cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red (if that was at all possible) when you spread your thighs open for him. His hands settled on either of them, letting out a whine as he licked a stripe along your pussy. He pecked your clit before tentatively taking it into his mouth as he started to suck. Oh. Oh.

"S-Spencer-", you started but when his gaze locked with yours again, all you could do was shut your eyes closed as if in pain. Having Spencer between your legs practically eye-fucking you was definitely something.

Given his inexperience, he was indecisive as to what to do exactly, so he switched between sucking and circular motions around your clit, occasionally moving down to lap up your juices before going back to making you see stars.

He'd never heard the term before but it was safe to say that, if you were to explain the term 'pussy-drunk' that's how he'd describe this feeling- complete and utter devotion and the yearning to satisfy as a million emotions cursed through his body at the taste of you.

"Who taught you to- fuck - do t-this?"

He released your clit with a pop, long fingers now coming up to resume the motions against you as he spoke.

"Believe it or not, I've read extensively on the subject of cunnalingus-", his thumb was now moving in circles against your clit, making your thighs shake around his neck from the overwhelming stimulation, "-I actually enjoy reading erotica a lot, ha. Ever since we- um. That day on the couch and uh- god-", he breathed out the last part, losing track of his own rambling as his eyes shifted back to his fingers against you. He was mesmerized by your wetness, how it coaxed his fingers and dripped down his hand, almost like tiny stars exploding against his skin, making him weak in the knees. He bent his head down again to lick along them, lapping up everything he could, moaning at the taste.

"Baby, can you finger me? Just-"

Spencer was sure his brain short circuited right then and there but his body quickly shifted to autopilot as he dragged his ring and middle finger down to your entrance, sliding into you with little resistance. The lewd sounds coming from the thrusting of his fingers had him rolling his eyes back as he went back to sucking on your clit, entirely focused on making you cum.

"Just like that, you're doing so good for me.", you moaned, having him speed up his thrusts at the praise.

You were so close already, sure anything could tip you over the edge, before Spencer spoke up again.

"Baby, can you come for me? Please.", he panted against you heavily, his free hand holding onto your shaking thigh as you came so hard you didn't even hear Spencer moaning in union with you, overwhelmed by the fact that he was the one making you feel this way.

After a moment, he slowed the pace of his fingers, helping you through your orgasm before he pulled out of you to kiss along your abdomen, trailing little pecks up to your flushed neck.

"Oh my god.", was all you could bring yourself to say, as you pulled him into an open mouthed kiss by his colar. You swallowed his whimpers as your fingers threated through his damp hair, your own sweat and release dripping down your thighs, making you shiver against him.

When you pulled away from Spencer, he was still panting heavily as he breathed against your lips, "Was I- um. Was that okay?"

"Yes. Spencer, yes. You're so- Jesus."

"I'm Jesus?"

"Stop.", you chuckled against him, giving him a peck on the lips before pulling yourself off of him to look down at the very prominent bulge against his pants. Before the redness could spread on his cheeks again (as if he hadn't just given you the most mind blowing orgasm in the history of orgasms), you pulled him onto the bed, hand lifting his face by his chin, your thumb settled on his swollen lip.

"Need some help with that?"

"No-I. I'm okay."

"Spencer."

He chuckled as he hid his face in your shoulder, ever so embarrassed. He kissed your shoulder blade, breathed against your skin, breathed in your scent- so familiar and safe it made him want to bathe in it, sit in it for hours. You were intoxicating.

"We can do whatever you feel ready to, baby. Just say the word."

"Wanna-", he lifted his head, kissing you again, pulling away, then pulling in again, pulling your lip between his teeth as he savored the taste of your lipgloss. He licked away at his own lips as he asked, "-I mean can I? Baby. My beautiful girl, I'm so-"

"I know, I know. Me too."

"Can I fuck you?"

Your stomach flipped at the way he worded his question, this probably being the first time you'd ever heard your boyfriend use lewd language. You couldn't be bothered to question what had gotten into him, so overwhelmed with the craving of having him inside of you.

"I would love that. But I want to make sure you're ready and absolutely sure you want to do this. It's okay if you were to change your mind."

"I don't- I mean, I won't change my mind. I love you, I'm so in love with you, darling girl. So yes, I'm sure.", he breathed as his hands ghosted along your hips, the cold radiating from his fingertips making goosebumps rise over your heated skin all over again.

His words of affirmation being all the reassurance you needed, you bit down a grin as you started pulling him with you onto the mountain of fluffy pillows behind you. Your hand went up to trace the lines of his face- Fingertips against his cheek, following his nosebridge down to his cupids bow, resting on where his lips were now parting.

"You're so gorgeous."

Spencer had never been good at taking compliments, so in situations like these he'd huff out a chuckle as he avoided your eyes, but you forced his face to look at you by gripping his jaw gently.

"T-thank you.", he wet his lips before he continued speaking.

"Uhm. Do I just.", he cleared his throat in an attempt to compose himself. "What do I do?"

"Tell you what, I can be on top if that would make you more comfortable?", you suggested, which had him nodding in a particularly eager way, drawing a giggle from you. You maneuvered yourself so you were straddling him, hands now unbuttoning his shirt painfully slow as you watched his eyes follow your every movement. With his shirt, you took off his pants, leaving him in his underwear.

"All for me?", you breathed as your fingers traced along the bulge in his boxers.

"Yes.", he chocked out at the feeling of having you touch him like this again. Your fingers were now actively stroking Spencer through his boxers, eliciting the whines from him you'd been dying to hear for the past few weeks, as he began to make the tiniest movements against your hand.

"Can I take your cock out, baby?"

Spencer nearly chocked on his on spit. You never failed to shock him with your blunt way of speaking. "Please."

Please.

You pulled down his boxers, leaving him bare. He looked so beautiful- Hair sticking to his forehead, lips red and swollen, parted as he breathed heavily in anticipation, fingers fidgeting against the bedsheets, cock hard and already dripping with precum.

In a moment of weakness, you found yourself unable to control the instinct of praising him, testing the waters as you longed to know what other reactions you could get out of him.

"Such a pretty cock, baby." , you mumbled, mesmerized as you watched his cock twitch, precum spurting out to pool on his stomach. Bingo.

"You like it when I tell you how pretty you are?", you teased. To your satisfaction, he huffed out another moan, licking his lips as he nodded his head yes.

"So cute.", your lips caught between your teeth , taking Spencer's cock into your hand, slowly pumping it a few times in a painfully slow pace. Selfishly, you wanted to prolong the ecstatic state the control over him had you in. Still, it got to a point where you couldn't ignore his silent pleas, so you began teasing his cock against your clit.

"O-oh-", Spencer's hips twitched upward at the sensation. Wordlessly, you pushed his hips back down shooting him a warning look to which he could only gulp, eyes glued to your hands against him. Something about the way you manhandled forced him to bite down a whine, he wanted to be good for you.

"Ready, baby?"

He could barely choke out a yes as you aligned his cock with your entrance before sinking down on him slowly, giving him and yourself time to adjust to this new sensation. The borderline pornographic moan Spencer let out at the feeling of you around him made you want to ignore the stinging of the stretch, as you sank down further on him until you were fully settled. You looked to your boyfriend for any form of discomfort but beneath you lied but a man lost in the pleasure of your heat around him, half lidded eyes focused on where you two were connected. Slowly, you began to move against him.

"O-oh- jesus.", Spencer moaned involuntarily, making you pick up your pace.

"Feels so good, Spencer.", you moaned as you  started a slow pace against him, hands gripping his sides tightly for support. His own hands rushed to grip hard at your waist.

With half lidded eyes, Spencer caught glimpses of sweat slipping down your skin- Along your neck, past your tits where drops caught on your nipples and dripped down your torso. The moonlight was casting shadows on your body that had him believing you were but a dream he prayed never to wake up from. One of his hands came up to catch a droplet on your torso and he watched utterly entranced as your body twitched against his touch.

He wasn't thinking clearly when he took your breast into his hand, mesmerized by the glistening skin under his fingertips.

"Can I-", he chocked out.

Noticing the pleading in his eyes, you moved closer to him so he could take your nipple into his mouth, his other hand still holding you steady by your side. He nibbled on your nipple as muffled whimpers continued to spill out of him, sending waves of pleasure to your core.

"Fuck, such a good boy for me."

The words spilled out of you before you could even consider the fact that calling him a good boy could've been weird or uncomfortable for him. But with the way his hips stuttered up against you at your words, the worries vanished quickly.

With a pop, he released your nipple, a string of saliva still connecting you to his lips. The sight had you weak, your own hips losing rhythm as you fought back the urge to slide your thumb between his perfectly pink lips and having slick coax your fingers instead. Your mind began to wander to how gorgeous he'd look with his lips wrapped around you, pleading eyes looking up at you for release.

You were ripped from your fantasy as you felt Spencer's fingers working against your clit, aiming to make you cum. He was more than content with the way you nearly screamed at the overstimulating sensation. You looked down to find him biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, knowing he must be close too.

"I won't last long. I'm- god-"

"It's okay baby, I'm close.", you panted.

"Please- oh, mommy I'm gonna cum. I'm-"

At this, you lost any sense of self control, your hand came up to pull at his hair, forcing a whimper out of him, the pace of your movements now erratic as you watched his eyes roll back, his fingers still working against you.

"Gonna cum for mommy?", you played into the dynamik you were now sure he wanted between the two of you just as much as you did. You slid two fingers between his parted lips, watching as he obediently sucked them in, drool dripping down his chin.

"Yes, just- please-", he mumbled desperately around your fingers.

"It's okay, let go for me.", you gave your sort of permission as you watched his eyes roll back.

Spencer came so hard his back arched against you, making it so you lost your composure and fell on top of him, kissing him through the waves of his orgasms as your own release hit you shortly after.

***

"So... mommy kink, huh?", you laughed against Spencer's chest as you both lied on your bed, steadily breathing against each other as you were slowly drifting off to sleep.

Spencer rubbed his face in embarrassment, avoiding your penetrating gaze.

"Don't mention it, please."

"I won't- But noted!", you pecked him on the lips. You caught glimpses of the moon shining through your window as you hugged your boyfriend tightly against your body.

-

a/n: idk how to end fanfics for shit so excuse this mess :')

[insanebookreader]

🕸️🖤🗡️

[reidgif]

[reidgif]

spencer reid

[insanebookreader]

🖤🖤🖤

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

reblog if you’re a sick fuck

[insanebookreader]

[reidgif]

im sorry but these gifs are just giving perv spencer

[insanebookreader]

yes please!

[reidgif]

[insanebookreader]

literally need.

[insanebookreader]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨

Warnings: It's 4th of July and I'm heavily tipsy, explicit content, Spencer Reid being a munch, Spencer Reid mb to the thought of reader, he's a fiend!! Fem! Reader in mind! Female anatomy. Uh lmk if anything else. Please request!

I'm quite tipsy off Limoncello right now so imagine Spencer so addicted to the taste of you on his lapping tongue that he'd be between your legs for hours. He'd hold your hips down with his big, veiny hands as he not-so-subtly bucked his hips against the mattress. (Eventually creaming in his pants like a teenager) His tongue would glide greedily against your swollen clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking on it so obdenietely as he slides two fingers into your entrance. He wouldn't only be addicted to eating you out because it brought him pleasure but also because he just loves pleasing you so much. He felt it was a necessity to be at your beck and call, ready to please because how did he get so lucky to have you? When he'd be away on a case, gone for days and/or weeks- alone in his hotel room he'd let his hand travel down past his waistband and shut his eyes, remembering just how much he loved the sound of your moans, how they'd grow more and more frequent the closer you got, how your thighs would tighten around his head when his fingers would curl against your g-spot so perfectly, hips bucking towards his wet, flushed face to chase his frantic, wanton tongue.

Yeah. He'd gladly die between your thighs.

The results of Limoncello.

[matt-murdockk]

request for spenceeeee (literally my boyfriend)

bau!reader and spencer are dating now, and they're just like talking about how they met and stuff casually and he's like you know i sorta tried to ask you out when we met? she's like what? you're telling me we could've started dating years ago??? he's like hey it's no big deal, ig you just weren't really into me back then and she's like not into you??? my brother in christ i stuttered and rambled for 3 entire minutes when we met what made you think i didn't like you

a whole lot of fluff badically thanks x

helloooo <3333 thank you so much for the request!!!! i had a WIP with sort of a similar theme as the ask so decided to combine them, i really hope you like it xo

Um, actually

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader words: 2.0k summary: A flashback to when you first met spencer helps you realize just how oblivious you were. But so was he, so it's all good. warnings: fluffffffff, possibly incorrect etymology facts, Spencer being a horrible cook for funsies, minor Brooklyn 99 reference (if you caught it i love you so much), glasses spencer !!!!! (not really all that relevant to the plot but i am a sucker for glasses!spence <3), established relationship

"Beeves? Really? Come on, that cannot be a real word."

Dinner conversations were always lively with Spencer. More often than not, it involved facts about the recipe, the origins, the historical significance, different interpretations of the same dish in other cultures, and whatnot. Today, it was etymology.

"It is!" he exclaimed, pointing towards you with his fork, way too excited about beef etymology in the most endearing way possible.

"You see, in the context of 'meat from cows', the plural of beef would just be beef. If we're talking about fights, disagreements, that kind of beef? It would be beefs. But beef also refers to an adult cow, steer or bull. So in this case, the plural would be—"

"Beeves?"

"Bingo."

"Huh, the more you know. You got more weird plurals?"

"Well,"

"Of course you do."

"There's moose, whose plural is actually—"

"Meese, obviously."

"Oh, no."

Eventually, dinner was done, dishes were put away, and you were now cuddled on the couch, his arm around your shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing circles on your bicep over the sleeve of your sweater.

It was quiet. Silent. But not the kind of silence that came with warnings and omens. It wasn't the kind of silence filled with premonition that you had so gotten used to with your job. It wasn't uncomfortable, and it wasn't foreboding. It was the kind of stillness that settled like morning fog over a quiet lake. Gentle, unmoving, and content to simply exist. The air bore a sort of warmth and hope that neither of you had been familiar with in years. Ever, if you're being honest. Beautiful thing, domesticity. Naturally, you were reminiscing.

"Spence?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Remember how we met?"

He tilted his head thoughtfully, lips pressing together as though deep in concentration. “Hmm… you know, I have an eidetic memory, but I can’t say I do—”

You smacked him with the throw pillow. He laughed, pulling you a little closer. “Of course I do. It's one of my favourite memories of us," he admitted, kissing your forehead. He smiled into your hair. “Crazy how much has changed, huh?”

You nodded, eyes still on the soft knit of his sweater sleeve. “Yeah. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“You know,” he said, suddenly bashful, “I tried to ask you out that day.”

Wait, what? Your head snapped toward him. “You did not.”

"Oh yeah. Crashed and burned splendidly."

"Spencer, honey, I feel like I would remember that."

“Um, actually,” he said, adjusting his glasses with mock seriousness, “that’s literally the first thing I did.”

You stared at him, slack-jawed. “Wh— what do you mean? We… we could have started dating ages ago?”

He chuckled lightly, shrugging one shoulder. “I mean, maybe? I thought I was pretty obvious about it. But you didn’t seem interested, so I figured—”

“No, no,” you interrupted, practically sitting up. “Believe me, I was interested, alright? Spencer, I stuttered and— and rambled for like three entire minutes when I met you. I forgot to tell you my name. I—I asked you if you wanted the extra ticket to—"

His eyes widened as he realized where this was going. “Wait, wait. That was supposed to be flirting?”

"Yeah!?" you exclaimed, so exasperated it almost sounded like a question. "Honey, what else did you think it was?"

"I thought you were being polite! And I— I definitely flirted back," he promised, clearly going through that memory inside his head as he spoke.

"Sweetie, when?"

"You know, when I said there was someone I'd like to go with?" He stressed on the word someone far too much, waiting, hoping you would catch his drift. You finally did, after 10 really long seconds.

"Me? You meant you'd want to go with me?" you asked, still incredulous at what he had implied.

"Uh-huh!? Honey, who else—"

"Spencer, Oh my god, I thought you were telling me you had a girlfriend."

"...Oh."

You both sat there for a moment, letting that truth settle between you like dust in late-afternoon light. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Wow. Can’t believe we missed out on years.”

“I know,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, eyes trained on the space between you, like he was watching the shape of time itself. “We're idiots, aren't we?”

"Possibly, but at least we're idiots together now," you responded, leaning further into him, leaving no more space between you, if that was even possible with how close you were sitting in the first place.

"Agreed. If anything, I think our love makes me a better person. Remember when I boiled that egg last week?"

"That was really big. I'm proud of you," you affirmed, your voice sincere.

"Crazy how much hasn't changed, though."

"What do you mean?" you asked, head tilting to look at him. His eyes were already on you, fond, like he was enamoured with you. Like he was going to tell you he loved you, and even after you had already heard it a hundred times by then, it still made you nervous.

"You still don't double-check the mail, even after I specifically—"

Another throw pillow found him, this time directly across his face, muffling the rest of his declaration. He laughed in response to that yet again, smug bastard that he is. You feigned offence at that and attempted to push him off of you, and sat a couple of feet away from him, hands crossed across your chest, face neutral.

But he knew what you were expecting to hear. He also knew that he didn't have to say it loud for you to know. It went without saying how much you loved each other. With every word you ever exchanged, every sentence ever spoken, the unspoken part? The subtext? It was always there. I love you.

He sensed that he had to make it up to you now. He also knew that you weren't really mad, probably loving the banter just as much as he was. Still, he always enjoyed making it up to you way more than he'd ever care to admit, so if it meant he had to come up with an elaborate ruse to rile you up first and then pretend to ask for your forgiveness, then so be it. His arms were around you in record time.

Bonus— a flashback: how our idiots actually met

You were grasping the tickets tight. There had been an oversight. On your part, mostly (entirely, if we're being honest), but you had to fix it as soon as you could, nonetheless. The tickets in your hand did not belong to you. And the longer you were holding them, the more it started to feel like they were burning a hole in your hand. You had to give it to whoever was expecting it, apologize, and get out of their face before you started sensing their judgement. The tickets belonged to one Spencer Reid. Who the hell was Spencer Reid?

A small part of you wanted to get to know him immediately. You don’t find a lot of federal agents who take Halloween seriously, let alone someone willing to spend Halloween weekend at Phantasmagoria. Someone with that good of a taste? Sign me up, you thought.

Your eyes scanned the bullpen of the BAU, searching for any face that might look like it belonged to a “Spencer Reid.” You didn’t know what he looked like. But there was a tall, lanky guy— glasses, brown hair, cardigan layered over a dress shirt, tie slightly askew, gun holster hanging off his waist like it had no business being there. (Is that even allowed?) He was holding a cup of coffee and making his way toward a desk.

Unfortunately, the first thought your caveman brain was able to come up with was— cute. Nope. You were on a mission. You had to focus. Focus, damn it. You figured, if this nice, fine (really fine) and distinguished gentleman, whoever he was, wasn't Spencer Reid, at the very least, he looked approachable and helpful enough to point you in the right direction. Personally, you didn't want haphazard gun holster guy to be Spencer Reid. Hell of a first impression you'd be making, if that were the case.

“Hi! Sorry— um, where can I find Spencer Reid?”

He paused, blinking. “Hmm? That would be me.”

Well, shit.

“Oh? That—It, uh. You?” Brilliant. Very eloquent today, evidently.

“Uh-huh,” he nodded, a little amused.

You nodded like that would help shake your embarrassment off. Be normal, you thought. You're a normal person. Words are easy. Speak. Say things.

“Right. Cool. Hi. I’m Sex Crimes. I mean— I work Sex Crimes. The division. Of the FBI. I don’t— I don’t go around committing sex crimes around town. You already knew that. Obviously. Why am I explaining this?” Oh, sweet Jesus.

He was staring politely now, wide-eyed and politely stunned.

“Anyway!” you barreled on, desperate to claw back whatever dignity you had left, if any. “Lester, the mail guy, yeah, he came in today with this orange envelope? With the pumpkins on it? I assumed they were my Phantasmagoria tickets, so I just took them. To be fair, he tried to, um, stop me, but I was sort of way too excited to listen, and it wasn’t until I got back that I remembered I’d asked for mine to be delivered to my house, not here. So then I looked at the envelope— which, yeah, is what I probably should’ve done in the first place—and surprise surprise, they didn’t have my name on them. They had yours.”

You shoved the envelope into his hands like it might bite you if you held onto it any longer. “So yeah. Sorry. These are yours, is what I am trying to say with way too many words than necessary. I took them by accident. Please take them away from me. Thank you.”

You were looking down at the ground, waiting for it to open up and swallow you whole. The seconds of silence that followed your very passionate ramble were not helping. Any time now, ground. His voice snapped you right back into reality.

“Firstly,” he said, smiling, “thank you. Seriously. And secondly, you don’t get a lot of FBI crowd at Phantasmagoria.”

He glanced down at the envelope. “You said tickets? Plural?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I booked them in August, thinking I’d go with my boyfriend. And, well, come October… I am yet to find him. August me was a little too optimistic.” Exactly why you trauma dumped about your love life to this stranger, you may never know. But he didn't seem to mind all too much, so yeah, what do you know?

He smiled again, warmer this time. It made your stomach flip in a way you did not have time to examine. NO. Nuh-uh. You promised yourself no workplace crushes, and you meant it. Did you mean it? In retrospect, maybe you weren't all that serious. You could make an exception, right? For him? Oh, absolutely. Well, that was a quick change of heart.

“But now that you mention it,” you continued, “there’s an extra ticket. I don’t really need it. So, if you know anyone who might want to go with you…” Smooth. Real subtle. Oh, yeah. Asking him if he's single? You were so smart, you should've been an FBI agent or something. You should've gotten a raise.

“Well, actually…” he started, almost sheepish. “There is someone I’d love to go with. But I have a feeling she already has a ticket.”

Of course, Halloween Jesus wasn't single, you thought. He was too good to be true, right? Your sweet, foolishly sweet brain, interpreted his advance as— Oh, he's taken. Well, couldn't blame a girl for trying (you would later be upset about this for a while).

“Oh. Right. Okay. Well, if there’s anyone else who might need a ticket, I’m two floors down.” You offered a tight smile and turned to leave before you could make it worse. His face contorted in confusion, a hint of disappointment flickered across too, before he quickly recovered.

“Hey— Sex Crimes?”

You turned.

“You got a name?”

a/n: this is all so how i met your mother to me hence the song, in this house we stan idiot4idiot romance, we ♥️ imbeciles, hope you liked it lol<3333

[insanebookreader]

hello I’m chewing my foot rn I love this

[insanebookreader]

me when I'm on my Tumblr grind

[deadbranch]

Reblog if you're okay with receiving asks for backstory info on any/all of your fics.

If not all, specify which ones in the tags.

[foxy-eva]

Scent from Heaven

Summary: Spencer cannot stop fantasizing about you

Request: A fic where Spencer’s crush on BAU!Reader is so intense and he’s having all these sex dreams about her and his main dream for him is to go down on her. He wants nothing more than to go down on her and taste her and worship her.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) Spencer is a bit of a pervert, sex fantasies and dreams, there was only one bed, male masturbation, description of oral (fem receiving) and fingering, coming untouched

Word count: 1.9k

Masterlist

It had to be your scent. 

Floral, sweet and absolutely mesmerizing.

For weeks Spencer had been trying to figure out what it was about you that slowly drove him mad. He even looked at the latest research about physical attraction, only to come to the conclusion that the two of you apparently were a perfect match. 

Only you didn’t know that yet. 

So Spencer had no choice but to indulge in his fantasies about you to soothe his yearning for your nearness. 

It all began a few weeks ago, just a couple of days after you had started working at the BAU. Spencer stood behind you at your desk, leaning over your shoulder to read over the case report you had just finished. 

He had every intention of giving you constructive feedback but his mind went completely blank once he noticed your scent. It wasn’t some perfume, Spencer was sure about that. It was like your neck emanated some sorcerous haze that rendered him completely speechless. 

Lucky for him, you hadn’t noticed how dumbfounded he suddenly felt around you. 

Later that night, when Spencer was fast asleep in his bed, you visited him in his dream. He noticed your sweet smell before he saw you, waiting for him completely bare, ready to be devoured. There was no hesitation, no holding back before Spencer fell to his knees to worship every part of you. 

He woke up painfully hard the next morning, a desperate sigh escaping his lips when he realized it was only a dream. Spencer felt bad to taint you like that but he couldn’t help but touch himself to the thought of you. 

With closed eyes he let his mind flood with your images. The way your chest vibrated when you laughed, the way you looked at him with wide eyes when he explained something to you. 

A determined hand pulled down the waistband of his pajama pants to free his aching cock. Wrapping his fingers around it, he began moving slowly. A different memory of you appeared inside his head with every stroke.  

He thought about when he watched you stretch your arms over your head at your desk and a small patch of skin became visible just beneath the hem of your blouse. Then, the memory of your scent hit him like a train. 

Desperately, Spencer let his thumb swipe over the leaking tip of his hardness before speeding up his strokes. Biting down on his lips, he held back his desperate whines. 

He imagined how your skin would smell when he’d kiss down your body. How it would intensify the closer he got to your core. He thought about you spreading your legs for him and how your honeyed wetness would taste on his tongue. 

That was what threw him over the edge. With a pathetic whimper he came, spilling his essence over his hand and stomach. The cool shower that followed was not enough to wash away the guilt he felt for doing something so sinful while thinking about the purest thing he’d ever seen - you. 

However, it was nothing compared to how mortified he was when he actually saw you that day. His cheeks were blooming bright pink and he could barely stutter ‘good morning’ once he laid eyes on you. Only focussing back on his job allowed him to take his mind off you for a couple of hours. 

Over the following weeks, Spencer felt like he was going insane anytime he stood too close to you. 

It was the same every time. He sensed your wonderful smell and he was a goner for the rest of the day, already knowing what would happen once he fell asleep that night. The dreams of you became more vivid each time, so much so that Spencer had trouble telling fantasy apart from reality whenever he woke up the next morning. 

When he woke up today, he could have sworn he could still taste you. Lively was the memory of the way your silken folds felt under his tongue and how enchanting your heady aroma was. Only it was not a memory, it was just his mind playing tricks on him. 

Over the past few weeks Spencer had learned to act normal around you despite the peccable thoughts he had whenever he was alone. That was until the two of you were told to share a room on the current case. 

When you noticed that there was only one bed in the room, you let out a breathy laugh, “Of course.” 

Spencer avoided your eyes when you turned to him and you noticed how his cheeks turned pink. “I uh…,” he stuttered. “Uhm I could ask someone to switch rooms?” 

“I’m okay with this if you are,” you told him. “There’s enough room for the both of us.” 

Spencer, however, was not okay with it but had no intention of letting you know that. Not because he didn’t crave your nearness but because he was certain it would be his downfall. After clearing his throat, he tried as best as he could to get his composure back and nod. 

It was already late and both of you were exhausted after working on a very tiring case all day. Spencer was the first one to take a shower and settle down on one side of the bed, a book in his hands, pretending to read until you’d find your home under the covers, too. 

When you stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but flimsy pajama shorts and a white tank top, Spencer’s brain almost short-circuited. It was so bad, he couldn’t even hide his staring. The natural curve of your breasts was visible under the fabric of your shirt, a view Spencer had only imagined so far. 

When he felt too much blood rushing down to his center, he quickly averted his eyes back to the book in his hands, hoping you hadn’t noticed his staring. 

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” 

Your words brought Spencer back to reality. He found your eyes and raised his eyebrows.

“Seeing each other like that, I mean,” you clarified. “It’s very different from our usual work attire.” 

Spencer looked down at his washed-out Caltech shirt. “Yeah, that’s true.” 

He tried not to look at you when you slid beneath the covers right beside him but he couldn’t help but watch the way your body moved from the corners of his eyes. You turned off the nightlight on your side of the bed before laying down. 

“You can keep reading if you want, I don’t mind,” you whispered as you closed your eyes.

“No, I’m really tired,” Spencer said as he turned off the lights on his side and put the book down. “Good night.” 

Once he had laid down, he felt wide awake though. As he listened to your steady breathing, your scent filled the room and began clouding Spencer’s brain. Minutes passed as he just laid there, contemplating how inappropriate it would be for him to make a move. He thought about rolling to his side, wrapping you into his arms and kissing your neck. To keep his indecent thoughts at bay, he forced himself not to take this fantasy any further. 

Finally, his body started feeling heavy and sleep began dulling his senses, relieving him from the torture that was reality. That was until he felt your fingertips gently brushing over his arm, a sensation that almost shocked him. 

“Are you still awake?” He heard your hushed voice. 

“Yes.” 

You turned and slid closer to him until your face was mere inches away from his. There was little light in the room but it was enough for Spencer to notice the smirk on your face. 

“I can’t sleep,” you said. “I can’t turn my mind off.” 

Spencer cleared his throat. “Because of the case? Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, it’s not the case,” you purred. “I just can’t stop thinking about how much I want to kiss you.” 

Before he could ask any more questions, he felt your mouth against his. It was as if a dam broke when he felt your nearness, there was no more holding back. Spencer pulled you closer, his hands on your back pressing you into him, not allowing any distance between the two of you. 

His lips were greedy and demanding, kissing you like he was starving. In a way, he was. When a whimper escaped your throat, he saw it as an invitation to deepen the kiss. His tongue met yours, tasting you for the first time as you two melted into each other. 

It wasn’t enough, though. 

Spencer turned you on your back and hovered over you as he began kissing and nipping down your neck, taking in your sweet smell. 

“You’re mesmerizing,” he breathed against your pulse point before licking along your neck. “I can’t get enough.” 

Hurriedly his hands grabbed the hem of your shirt and you moved with him as he pulled it over your head. His palms were on your breasts before your back could touch the mattress again. His mouth followed his fingers, caressing your chest and hardened peaks until the sounds of your pleasure filled the room. 

“Please, Spencer,” you moaned. “I need you.” 

There was no need to explain any further what you needed, he understood. Slowly, Spencer kissed down your stomach before licking along the seam of your shorts. Then, he sat up and slid the fabric down your thighs before you spread them for him. 

He wished there was more light so he could see all the glory your body had to offer but he had to rely on his other senses to explore you. Spencer lay down between your legs and began kissing your inner thighs while breathing in your infatuating scent. 

The mewls falling from your lips once he licked over your slit with a flattened tongue were driving him insane. But it was nothing compared to finally tasting your heady dew on his tongue. With the utmost care he kissed and licked over your folds, tasting every bit of you while imprinting your uniqueness into his brain. 

Spencer barely noticed how painfully hard he was as he rocked his hips against the mattress ever so slightly. Tasting you and feeling you writhe beneath him was the best sensation he had ever experienced. 

When he let two of his fingers gently glide into you, Spencer was sure he just entered heaven. The way you enveloped his fingers while releasing even more of your honeyed wetness was absolutely magnificent. 

When you began pulsing around his fingers while crying out his name, Spencer couldn’t help but indulge in this sensation with you. He released himself into his pajama pants while grinding against the mattress.

Spencer's eyes shot open while a sigh left his lips. The morning sun was already coming through the curtains of the hotel room window. You were asleep, your back turned to Spencer. He looked at you, wondering how he had just laid between your legs, and now you were lying fully clothed an arm's length away from him. 

He thought back to moments ago. What he first thought was a memory began to blur and fade away. Slowly he realized that none of it had been real. 

It was yet another dream. 

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings @spensreid @silversprings-mp3 @person-005 @kittyisick @siriuslyval03 @sleepysongbirdsings @brownbunnyb @thegoodwitchs-blog @yourvenusyour-love

[insanebookreader]

💦💦💦

[insanebookreader]

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛<𝟑

Warnings: Explicit content, face-fucking, I was horny, kind of lengthy what was meant to be short blurb (Not as long as his dick), and tears from dick-sucking, mentions of face-sitting- fem! reader in mind and female anatomy is implied.

Enjoy your dinner, loves <3

What am I thinking about? Oh, I don't know. Maybe about this particular photo of Spencer. About how when you're sucking his cock, one hand at the base reaching the length of him you couldn't reach with your mouth, tongue swirling his leaking tip, other hand fondling his balls, his hands would be tangled in your hair, nails scratching against the skin of your scalp.

He'd feel so good, just wanting to thrust his hips into your pretty, drooling mouth but he wouldn't want to hurt you. Even though the thought of you choking on him with tears pooling from your eyes did bring a strange, warm tightening to his lower stomach.

The sight of your swollen lips, furrowed brows, and big, glossy eyes staring up at him just made him want to use your throat. He's never been one to be rough but the way you looked so sinful and heavenly- a contradicting, delicious cocktail for trouble just triggered something in him he didn't even know he had.

When you pulled from his wet, glistening length he whined, your big eyes gazing up at him through those thick curtains of lashes. "I can feel you wanting something. Do you want to fuck my mouth?"And after a few moments of contemplating, discussing safe words and actions- he was thrusting into your mouth like it was your pussy, deep and desperate. His jaw was slack, never looking away from you as he had his hands on the back of your head, fingers gently threaded through the strands. His jaw would clench before it fell open again as he groaned and moaned, vulnerably letting out a few whimpers and whines when you hit just that right spot. When he finally spilled himself into your mouth, his eyes actually rolled back as he deeply moaned your name, chest heaving. Of course, after he'd praise you, telling you "You were so good, love. So good. Let me reward you." And after he had you drink some water, he'd have you ride his face like you owned him.

"REBLOG PRETTY PLEASE"- Matthew Gray Gubler (real)

©2025 INSANEBOOKREADER

[petrichoravis]

Deep in a daydream. | s.r.

summery: Spencer has baby fever while watching you take care of a child victim.

word count: 2k

what to expect: spencer reid x cps!reader, implied fem reader otherwise nondescript, established relationship, angst and mention of case details (murder of parents in front of child), fluff so much fluff!!! English is not my first language.

a/n: picture credit to @reidgif !! if that gif didn’t exist this fic wouldn’t either, so thank u for your service. (fic that won in this poll)

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Spencer had the distinct thought that he had fallen in love with you with a slight bias.

He was very aware that, because of his job and lifestyle, having children of his own would be irresponsible to the child and other parent.

But watching as you crouched down to talk to the small girl the team had rescued on their recent case was like a wave crashing down over him and taking him with the current.

Spencer had always wanted kids of his own, but he fought with the thought that it was unfair to have a child in his current life state. Seeing you make her laugh after she went through the most traumatic thing a person could go through muted that fear.

He knew you could handle every situation that involved children with grace, it came with your job, but

All his head was screaming was ‘I want to have a child with you’.

There were days when he woke up in the middle of the night, with you sleeping next to him, and wondered what it would be like to be woken up by your daughter or son because they were having a nightmare or simply wanted to cuddle.

The way you would groggily reach out one arm and let them cuddle close, the way Spencer would wrap his arms around both of you and kiss the back of your child’s head.

It wasn’t something you spoke about lightly, always cautious and considerate of a person that didn’t even exist yet. It made him want to forget every rational thought you had just discussed.

Now, watching you ask the girl for the name of her puppet, watching the smile spread on your face as she told you that she didn’t have a name and you could name her, it was the knife and the balm at the same time.

He leaned against the doorframe of the interrogation room you had fought to make look less intimidating and more like a children’s playroom. After the officers reluctantly gave you the green light to do whatever you wanted, you went out to bring pillows and toys back to the station. With the team’s help, of course.

Now the room was all soft and colorful, the pillows had leaves on them and little Ruby had enough toys for a lifetime of fun. You had even covered the one-way mirror with a big, pink blanket that had unicorns on it after asking her what her favorite animal was.

If you treated a child that wasn’t yours like that, how would you treat one that was? Spencer let his imagination roam freely.

A mistake. Soon, he was deep in a daydream of spilled foods, stroller rides in the park, first days of school, laughter chasing through hallways. His mind created a world around the three of you.

A gasp made his gaze snap back to you and the agent in him flinched to the ready. But his worries were soothed by a louder giggle.

You and little Ruby were dancing. Or, well, something that could be interpreted as something akin to it, anyway. It was more of a wiggle.

“Whoa, where did you learn those moves?” You asked, laughing, spinning her around.

“My mommy and I always dance.” She replied, then stopped short.

Ruby’s parents were killed in front of her just a couple of hours ago and you had been able to bring a smile back onto her face with a lot of hard work. But it was inevitable that something would remind her of what happened and made it all come crashing down on her little shoulders again.

Your face betrayed no pity, just plain understanding and empathy. “You like dancing?”

She nodded weakly, clutching her puppet. Spencer couldn’t watch the way her lower lip quivered. “With mommy. I want my mommy.”

“I know, Rubs, but she’s not gone. She is watching over you and protecting you in her own way, still. As much as your little head is trying to tell you that she’s gone, she will always live on in the memories you have with her. Every time you dance or don’t want to eat your veggies, she is smiling and shaking her head fondly.”

Ruby sniffled, but her tears had stopped flowing. “I want her to come back.”

You crouched down, opening your arms to give her the choice, “I know, lovely.”

Waddling into your arms, she let you hug her while she kept hugging her doll. Spencer didn’t know if he was still allowed to watch this heartfelt moment.

It was after a minute that you pulled away to wipe her tears off her cheeks with gentle thumbs and tucked her black hair behind her ears. “Okay?”

A nod was all you got, but it was everything you needed. You stood up and turned to Spencer, which confirmed what he suspected; you knew he was there the whole time.

As Ruby saw Spencer, she shied away, hiding behind your legs immediately.

He crouched down to be less intimidating. “Hello, Ruby.” He said softly. “I’m Spencer.”

Despite his attempts to make himself smaller, the little girl said nothing to his introduction, her hands stayed glued to your leg.

You smile at Spencer and turned to face Ruby, crouching, too. “He’s one of the good guys, I swear, Rubs.”

Spencer could only just hear her response of a breathy, “yeah?” and almost melted.

Nodding, you reassured her with a hand on her back. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

The whites of her eyes became more and she nodded eagerly, seemingly having forgotten that Spencer stood just a few steps away or that she was ever scared of his presence. And what she was just crying about.

He couldn’t handle the way you adjusted your wording to sound less harsh, the way you were so tuned in to the little girl. It was giving him a really hard time to do the same.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you nodded, whispering the words like a four-year-old would tell the news to her friends.

Ruby gasped again and glanced at Spencer over your shoulder. “Really?” Her shock was obvious in every one of her features.

At your nod, she got even shyer, but also more curious. She stepped forward to inspect Spencer closely, who was still crouching in front of her.

“Hey, Ruby,” Spencer tried again, holding out a hand.

She just looked at the hand and then at him. “Hi, Spencer. I like your sweater.”

Laughing, but trying not to be too loud as not to intimidate her more, he pulled his hand back. “Thank you,” he looked down at his sweater, then at you with a smile, his voice changed just slightly, “Santa gave it to me on Christmas.”

“I like Santa.” She said excitedly, pulling his attention back to her. “He always brings me what I want.”

“Yeah, Santa is awesome, isn’t he?” He wasn’t really equipped to handle a four-year-old girl who had just lost her parents and was really hoping his awkwardness wasn’t something Ruby picked up on. But she was the age where children were highly attuned to every nonverbal social clue and internalized it, so his chances were slim.

You came to his rescue. “Ruby, do you want to play a game with us? Or draw something?”

She didn’t even answer as she excitedly ran towards the table that had crayons, colored pencils and paper on it. “I already know what I wanna draw!”

Standing up, you took a step to stand next to Spencer, leaning your head on his shoulder. His hand went to your back immediately.

“Hi,” you mumbled contentedly.

“Hey,” he said with his hand rubbing your back. “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

You had a deep appreciation for the way Spencer was always able to see you so clearly. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You hoped it was enough for him to see that the exhaustion was there, but that it wasn’t pulling you down.

Ruby kept drawing and you kept watching her. It was easy to forget that you weren’t proud, loving parents watching your child draw a picture of your life.

When she was done, Ruby hopped off the chair with the drawing clutched in her tiny hands. “Look! I drew you a beach! And there’s a dolphin and a sea pony playing together.”

“It’s so pretty, Ruby.” You were grinning from ear to ear, just like she was. “Do you think I could put it on my desk? So I can see it every day and think of you?”

“Yeah!”

“Thank you so much.” She scrunched her nose at you as you ruffled her hair, but it was clear to everyone in the room that it was a fond, admiring look. “Would you draw Spence one, too?”

She glanced at Spencer, the shyness back like a push of a button. But she nodded weakly and scrambled back to her desk.

The social workers picked her up and she finished her picture just before they arrived. You followed them out of the room and crouched down to hug her tightly.

“Here,” she whispered in your ear and pulled back to hand you the paper. “I hope he loves it.”

You looked down at the picture and almost started crying. “He will.” You reassured her, trying to rein in your emotions.

The goodbye was a hard one, but it was safe to say that you would visit little Ruby even after she found her new home.

Behind you, Spencer had walked up to you and glanced over your shoulder to look at what Ruby drew for him.

What he saw made him speechless.

Ruby had drawn two stick figures that looked a lot like the two of you. Your hair and eye color, your work attire. Spencer’s messy brown hair was drawn with looped pencil strokes and she even tried to draw the complicated knitting pattern of his sweater.

Between the two of you was a heart that read your name plus Spence.

“Oh,” Spencer didn’t even realize that he had made the noise before you turned.

With a smile on your face you said, clearly joking, “How come that I get the beach and you get this on your desk?”

He laughed gently, taking the drawing from you, looking at it for a moment before looking at you. You were watching Ruby get escorted out.

“She’s a strong kid.” You said with a deep sigh. Spencer’s eyes were glued to the side of your face. “I just hope she finds the right family.”

He had to stop himself from blurting out the thought he was toying with. Maybe we could take care of her until she has another family to call her own?

Of course, you couldn’t. There were too many papers to fill out and, while both of you had the credentials that would inspire trust, Spencer doubted the authorities would make exceptions for you.

It would be unfair to Ruby, too. To give her a temporary family, just to have it ripped away from her again. Once was enough.

But you looked so good, conjuring the big smile onto her face, so in your element that Spencer forgot all the logical things.

He registered that you were still talking to him and snapped out of his reverie. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted to cook something at my place and watch a movie.” You repeated, laughing softly. “Where’s your genius brain wandering to now? Any statistics I should know about?”

Spencer didn’t know how to tell you that the only statistics in his head revolved around the benefits of creating a family. (With him. Now.) “N-nothing, I’m just tired. Movie sounds good.”

You squinted at him. “Right…” you dragged out. “Let’s go, then.”

A quiet breath left Spencer’s mouth as you took his hand into yours and dropped the topic. For now, eventually, he hoped to bring it up again as a fond memory when you had a little one of your own.

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[insanebookreader]

LOVE, LOVE, LOVEEE<3

[girllblogging777]

IN WHICH you help out spencer reid, who’s being bullied

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ spencer reid x sweetheart reader (highschool AU)

english lit. lunch with the girls. dance class after school. dinner with your parents.

you reviewed your schedule in your head as you walked down the stairs. today was going to be busy with lots of socialising, but it was nothing out of the ordinary for you.

reaching the second floor of the building, you made a left to the languages department, where nobody seemed to be at that time of the day. your ponytail was swinging as you walked, creating a little breeze that contrasted with the warm spring weather. ten minutes until your first class.

after all, you liked it that way. spending time with your friends and family, while trying your best to stay top of the class and take part in activities. it’s not like you’d ever known a single day of rest in your life, and now that you were thinking about it, you couldn’t think of the last time you’d ever been bored.

the empty hallway allowed you to reflect some more, the only sound present being the laughter of some guys that seemed to be walking away. but just as you walked past the lockers, something caught your attention.

sitting down against the wall, with his head between his legs, was a boy.

he couldn’t be much older than you, definitely not. from what you could see, at least, because he seemed more interested in his worn out converse than anything.

“hey,” you spoke tentatively, startling him a bit. he looked up, and - oh, he was beautiful.

the kind of beauty you read about in books. the soft gaze in his eyes was nothing like the lustful one that boys usually gave you. but you couldn’t think about this, not now. so, you brushed it off.

“uhm, are you alright ?”

stupid question, really. because the answer was obvious, and right in front of you.

his lips, pink and soft, were busted. his sharp jaw was clenched in fear. his long fingers, anxiously fiddling with the watch he wore over his shirt. and his eyes, his soft chocolate eyes were glassy, and framed by crooked glasses.

“yeah.” he answered almost automatically, not even bothering to make eye contact. the fact that someone was talking to him stunned him, and he tried his best not to let you see it.

but, as your older brother always said, you were one hell of a stubborn girl. so, you crouched down to his level and offered him one of your most genuine smiles. the kind that would make anyone with eyes fall in love with you.

“my question was stupid, let me try that again. your glasses are broken.” you stated.

he responded with a nod, gingerly taking the broken glasses off his face. not only were they broken, but so was his pride.

“so, who did that ?”

he avoided your gaze, debating wether or not he should tell the truth. “some guys… from the football team”

“right.” you chuckled quietly “of course it’s gonna be the brainless ones”

he couldn’t help but let out a little smile at that, not used to anyone laughing with him instead of at him. “no, pretty brainless of me to assume i’d be left alone for five minutes.”

you were not fully sitting down, cross legged next to him, and rummaged through your bag to take out a tissue and hand it to him. “so, what’s your name ?”

fuck. he’d been so distracted by your hypnotising smile and your sweet voice that he’d forgotten the basics. “uhm, sorry, right. i’m spencer. spencer reid.”

spencer reid.

you took the time to repeat his name, as to test the sound of it, before introducing yourself in return.

and after a couple of minutes, he wasn’t the deer in the headlights you caught moments ago. he was actually looking at you, and answering your questions. so, you learnt a couple of things about him.

spencer was a year older than you, he studied pretty much every subject that was taught here, and usually spent his time in the library, which must’ve been why the two of you had never crossed paths before.

“why exactly are you talking to me ?” he asked you curiously, when you’d let him ramble about the book that had fallen out of his bag.

it’s not that he didn’t appreciate it, he did. and even though you two were still sat against the lockers, he was currently the most comfortable he’d ever been, well, in all his highschool years. and he swore he felt something flutter in his chest when your knee brushed against his.

“because… you don’t deserve what they did to you. the least thing i can do is be there. but trust me, i wish i could beat them up or something” you said, a smile creeping up your face when he let out a real laugh.

so, step by step, he lowered his inhibitions and began talking more and more about himself. he explained, a bit reluctantly, how he’d grown up being used to getting comments from other classmates and that it had only worsened with the years.

when he told you what the boys had done to him earlier, you felt your heart shatter. how could anyone want to hurt this beautiful boy ? his mismatched socks and soft brown hair made him the most intriguing and precious person ever in your eyes.

“look,” you pointed to your ankles, lifting your jeans up to reveal your socks, bright pink and with pink bows sewn onto them. “not as cool as yours, but they’re my lucky pair”

spencer’s eyes brightened, “wait, you sewed that ?”

he didn’t actually care much about the socks, but right now, it felt like the most interesting conversation to have.

“yeah ! i’ve been trying some new things lately, i’d love to sew something on my jeans pockets next”

“huh, that’s interesting”

you nodded and let a couple of seconds pass, before looking back at him and saying “hey, spencer”

he looked up, looking at you with those eyes of his that you were already very fond of. “yes ?”

“i wish we’d met before”

your words, as simple as they were, took his breath away. because despite only knowing you for a few moments, he somehow had let his guard down, and felt like he could trust you. and maybe, just maybe, he dared to hope you could be his first ever friend… or maybe more.

“me too… me too”

[insanebookreader]

oh em gee balls, I love this! melted my heart and I need this💗 amazing.