Marie

yeah idk

[kentqdoll]

✮⋆˙ | Eye Tag

⤷ ゛ SYNOPSIS ˎˊ˗ In which Robert is sick of playing eye tag with you, and decided that SDN’s annual Banquet is the perfect time to make that clear...only, you seem to make it your goal to make him as worked up as possible. :: AFAB!reader x Robert R.

CONTENTS - everyone seems to keep you away from Robert grrr, oral sex m!rec & f!rec a little, 2 creampies (wrap it up), ridiculous tension, exhibitionism and dumbification if you squint, z-team cameo, light choking, marking, p in v, porn with plot, nervous Robert blink and you miss it, spanking, fingering f!rec, deepthroating, slight breath play, Robert is obsessed with your eyes/eye contact, idek this shit just raunchy...

GENRE & WC - smut, 7.4k (oops..)

authors note: not fully edited lawddd, but enjoy

bzzt!

bzzt!

— The faint buzzing in your purse caused you to perk up ever so slightly, hands reaching into your small purse to dig out your phone.

The buzzing seemed to catch the attention of your teammate, and “date”, Victor. His large bat ears twitching as he glanced over at you for just a moment before returning to the back of the drivers head.

“Robert?” Victor questioned, his gaze still locked forward. He was fully aware of whatever weird HR violation you and Robert had going on, often being subjected to hear you ramble about it after work every day…hence why he’s even your date tonight in the first place. You want Robert’s attention, his jealousy. So of course he would help you, like any good friend.

And dammit, if Victor wasn’t ecstatic at the opportunity to piss off Robert. Two birds with one stone.

“God, i hope so.” You grin, biting your glossed up lip as you open your phone, the bright glow causing you to squint for a moment as it illuminated your face in the dark car, all the while you pointedly ignoring the small head shake and snicker Victor gives you. Though the moment your eyes land on your message notifications, they practically light up.

Robert : 8:38pm —

“ Hey.”

“On your way yet?”

You scan over the text quickly before your fingers are flying over the keyboard, typing up a response so uniquely you that you’re sure Robert rolls his eyes when you send it.

You : 8:39pm —

“Why? Do you wanna see me that badly?”

You wait impatiently for his reply as you watch the 3 bubbles pop up in the corner of your text, heeled foot tapping against the floor of your Uber. Meanwhile Victor’s getting invested now, his blinded gaze finally leaving the back of the drivers head as it makes its way to you. “What’d he say?—Actually, what did you say?” He questioned as his eyes narrowed for a moment.

“Just wait…he’s typing.” You huff in response, to which Victor holds his hand up in mock surrender.

Robert : 8:41pm —

“Maybe. Is that an issue?”

You nearly squealed like a school girl. You were an absolute sucker for your ridiculously hot ( and miserable ) boss-of-sorts. The way he seemed to handle your attitude and teasing so easily…the idea of it made you dizzy and fuzzy in the legs. You quickly shook off the thoughts—you had to reply; and fast.

You : 8:43pm —

“Mmm…no.”

“Just wanted to hear you say it.”

You grinned at your own reply, but before you could even think at what he would say, his reply was sent.

Robert : 8:43pm —

“Thought so. Let me know when you get here.”

It's like he nearly predicted your text.

What he couldn't predict? The fact that you wouldn't listen.

You've arrived at the banquet with not as much as a text to Robert about your arrival, your arm was snuggly wrapped around Victors as the two of you walk inside, allowing yourself to admire the large ballroom.

A gorgeous high painted ceiling with dangling chandeliers, your eyes darting around the circular ballroom to the velvet-floored hallways, each leading to a guest's suite, your rooms keycard now snug in your purse.

"Hey...i'm gonna leave you alone for just a sec, alright?" Victor suddenly speaks up, his tone suspiciously sheepish.

"Victor-?" You spoke up, only to see a small white baggy peak from his pocket as he walked off, his arm untangling from yours. You couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"I'll meet you at the table!" He calls over his shoulder, giving a small wave before he disappeared into the crowd.

"Asshole.." You muttered, letting your gaze scan the room, eyes lingering for an extra second on familiar faces...and when the eyes you felt burning into the back of your skull became almost unbearable, you finally crane your neck, looking over your shoulder to meet the gaze of familiar-dark and serious, eyes.

Just as a grin began to form on your lips, you were suddenly tugged forward when a familiar Australian accent rang out in your ears.

"Late, as always," Malevola teased, pulling you along to dance. "Y'know, Robert's been looking for you since he got here,” She snickers, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you swayed.

"I know, he texted me." You replied with a grin, taking the moment to glance back over your shoulder.

And you couldn't hide the shiver you felt when you realized he was still looking right at you.

You decide to play it off, flashing him a smile before turning back to Malevola, your conversation inaudible to Robert from across the room as he narrowed his gaze in your direction, almost desperately trying to read your lips.

"If he keeps this up, he'll burn two holes into your head at this rate," Malevola spoke up over the music, almost sighing as she shakes her head.

"You think so? We've played longer games of whatever this is, believe it or not." You replied, nearly grinning to yourself as you swirled the wine in your glass--which you had swiftly taken from a waiters tray when he breezed by with the quick offer.

"Maybe you should give him a break? Actually speak to him?" Malevola questions, almost, just almost, feeling bad for Robert with your obvious teasing.

"Probably...I was hoping he'd decide to come up to me..but I guess he's being patient," you huffed, cheeks puffing for just a moment before looking back at Robert. only to find him seated at a table. Alone.

"...But I've never been patient, honestly." You shrugged, giving Malevola a swift wave before turning on your heel and making a beeline for Robert, eyeing his black satin button up and the way it fit him in a way that was almost sinful.

When you finally made your way over to Robert, you sat down beside him, your chair facing his as you leaned an elbow onto the table.

"You never texted me," Robert spoke up the moment you sat down, forcing himself to keep his gazed locked on his drink. "Was it on purpose? Or do you just enjoy fucking with me—?" He questioned, his tone laced with sarcasm as usual, but a hint of something else was in his voice. restraint, maybe?

"Maybe. Is that an issue?" You mocked, quoting his text from earlier with a shit eating grin on your face.

His gaze immediately narrowed, biting back whatever slick comment was on his tongue. "Don't even start being like that. You—.." He cut himself off, whatever he was planning to say dying on his tongue almost immediately when he felt your heel graze the inside of his calf.

He nearly gave a sigh.

"Don't what?" You spoke, honeying your tone as you played oblivious, heel running up and down his leg slowly.

"Don't...just don't be an ass, yea?" He suddenly spoke up, rough hand grabbing your ankle under the table to stop you—and to give himself a moment to think about anything but the way you look in that dress. "Quit it, will you?" He mutters, keeping your ankle firm in his grasp.

But you didn't miss the way his thumb ran across your skin for just a moment.

Before you could speak, he sighed, pressing his forehead against his own glass of wine, his eyes shutting for a moment before they opened to find your gaze. "By the way, you...you look—" He began, his eyes trailing down your form before he was cut off by a voice behind him.

"Well! You've finally Arrived, Phenomenal!" Katon speaks up, his chest puffed out and confident as usual. Meanwhile Roberts eyes nearly roll to the back of his head at the interruption.

But It was Katon, Phenomaman of all people. You wouldn't choose him over Robert, that much Robert knew. You knew it too.

So when you agreed to his invitation to dance, you didn't miss the way Robert nearly shattered his glass in his hand at being blown off for the umpteenth time tonight. He was seething.

Dammit, he was needy. And you in that god forsaken dress wasn't helping him at all right now.

You spared him a singular glance over your shoulder, giving him a look and a wave before you blended into the crowd with Katon to dance.

But to Robert, you did the exact opposite. You stood out in the crowd to him like a sore thumb. Your figure swaying along with Katon--and it was pissing him off immensely. You should be dancing with him, you knew that.

So why were you so insistent on being difficult?

He saw you. Saw the way you kept glancing back over in his direction. The way you swayed a little more when your back faced him. He saw it all.

So when you excused yourself from Katon to the ballrooms balcony, he was on his feet following you.

You gave a deep sigh as you leaned on the balcony's railing, the air refreshing on your lungs and the breeze cooling down your skin, until you were suddenly warm again, looking down only to find two arms on either side of you, the familiar black satin rolled up to the elbows to reveal the even more familiar scars.

"Robert,—"

'"What the fuck are you playing at? Huh?" He suddenly snapped, his voice warm against your ear. "You've been acting up all night, the hell's your problem, huh?" He adds, grabbing you firmly by the waist as he spins you around, his gaze burning into yours.

"...Been driving me crazy all god damn night, care to explain why that is?" His voice just barley above a whisper as he speaks, his gaze dropping down to your lips for just a moment before returning to yours, quietly waiting for your response.

You had to fight for your damn life to fight back the smirk that threatened to form on your lips. You had been driving him crazy all night...and you loved the way it was turning out. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about Robert, I've been socializing, who says ive got time to be worrying about you?—"

Roberts grip tightened on your waist, tugging you closer till your noses nearly touched. "Don't give me that bullshit right now. I've been keeping my eye on you. you know I have." He spoke, the end of his sentence sounding almost breathless as his hair gently blew with the wind. His gaze locked on yours.

"I know," You whispered in return. Your own gaze unwavering, stone hard against his own as your hand moved to caress his shoulder, pulling him closer ever so slightly.

"God dammit," He sighed, pulling away as he stepped back, running a hand through his hair then down his face as he turned away from you for a moment, taking in a deep breath--like he was trying to control himself, undoing the top button of his shirt before finally turning back to you. "you—"

"What're you two doing out here? Party's inside, bitches," Alice's voice suddenly rang out, her half pink and half blue bob seeming brighter under the balcony lights, causing a grin to fall onto your lips at Roberts frustration. he looked like he was about to snap.

"Yea...we—" You began before Robert spoke over you, his gaze still locked on you as he spoke over his shoulder. It seems no one could finish their sentences right about now.

"We..were just about to head back inside." He spoke, his tone suspiciously measured as he raised his brows at you in silent warning.

Only when Alice walked back inside did Robert Practically pounce on you, leading you back inside by the wrist as he kept his gaze cool and measured as you both weaved through the crowd and upstairs--to the suites.

"Thought you were all calm and collected Robert, what happened to 'not in a business setting'?—" You snickered as he practically shoved you into his suite. Your purse sliding off your arm onto the small dining table.

Though, before you had the chance to admire the absurdly large Suite SDN gave him, you were being spun around, stumbling until your lower back hit the back of the suites gray couch. One of Roberts hands landing firmly beside you on the couch, the other on your waist as he pulled you in, his lips finally crashing onto yours.

It wasn't soft, it was needy, desperate. Like he had been aching for this moment and was finally letting It all out. His tongue swiped against your lips before slipping past, giving a soft groan as he pressed closer to you.

The kiss was dizzying. He barley gave you a moment to breath, leaving you gasping against his lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling breathlessly when he picked you up by the thighs, staggering to sit on the couch with you perched on his lap.

His hands were greedy, exploring every inch of your body they could reach as his lips stayed on yours.

"Never knew you were so needy," You teased against your mingling breaths, only for him to wrap his hand around the nape of your neck and pull you back into the kiss.

"Shut it." He muttered in reply between kisses, nipping at your bottom lip enough to make you gasp before slipping his tongue back past your lips. His free hand finding purchase on your hip, holding you down firmly on his lap.

You couldn't help the moan that slipped past your lips as he held you down against his lap, feeling something—him, between your legs. You felt a rush of pride as you rolled your hips against his own, pulling a gasp from him before he held your hips still.

"You keep pushing your luck," Robert muttered, pulling back from the kiss as his hands rested on your hips, his thumb running over the skin of your dress as he tightened his grasp periodically.

He fought back a grin when you followed his lips for a moment when he pulled away, scoffing at the small, almost unnoticeable frown that formed on your lips.

You wanted to make a sly remark—anything, just for the sake of being difficult. Yet you only found yourself staring at him, not quite catching whatever look he gave you before Robert—to what you could only name, manhandled you over his lap, one hand holding you down while the other rested on the back of your thigh.

“Maybe.., I should fix that.” He spoke with a quick raise of his brows, tone cool and measured as he began pulling your dress up, the fabric scrunching up right on your hips to reveal your panties underneath.

Your gaze widened at the sudden predicament you found yourself in, collecting your thoughts before looking over your shoulder at Robert as your hands held the side of his thigh tightly.

“You wanna spank me?” You nearly laughed. Robert was the most vanilla looking man you’ve ever seen in your life. No way in hell was this man kinky—let alone into spanking. “You wouldn’t, no, you couldn’t! You’re the same guy who looked at sonar weird for liking cuffs—shit!”

Your ridicule towards him was cut short by a your gasp, followed by a sudden stinging and loud ‘clap—!’ as his hand landed down against your skin, the area slowly beginning to feel warm.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He questions with feigned curiosity, his hand rubbing the reddening skin of your ass as the other held your back down.

Your hands squeezed the cotton fabric of his slacks as you took a moment to recover from the sting, your gaze firm on the carpet floor of the suites living room. "Hah—you are fucking unbelievable, Robert..” You breathed out, a grin forming on your lips.

“If you wanted to touch my ass that bad, could’ve just asked, y’know.” You teased, before you felt his hand land once—then twice, each hit on a different cheek as you kicked your legs up with a small squeal.

“Oh yeah, sweetheart?..you make it sound so easy,” He spoke, his voice lower then before as he gave a sigh through his nose.

Smack—!

“As if you wouldn’t tease and tease, like you already have been all night.” He continues, his hand rubbing the tender skin as he chooses not to comment on the way your thighs squeeze together, only moving his hand to hold them apart.

“Robert—“ You huffed out, trying not to sound as breathless as you actually were. “I thought you’d hit harder than that,” you murmured, grinning at your own comment.

“jesus, you just don’t know when to quit it, do you?” He muttered, suddenly yanking you up so your back was pressed hard against his back, his knees keeping your legs pried open. Before you even had the chance to comment he landed another smack onto you, except this time right between your legs.

“Shit—!” You jolted, your thighs tensing as they tried to close, but his legs kept you open—vulnerable. Your hand reached back to tangle itself in his hair behind you, taking a moment to tug on his brunette locks, the other bracing itself on his thigh.

Robert’s hand slid down from your knee, his fingers grazing over the dampening patch on your panties. “You love this shit, don’t you?” He mutters quietly against your ear, almost like a realization.

He doesn’t flinch when you tug at his hair, only letting his fingers lightly brush over your panties once more before slowly moving to pull them aside, 2 of his rough fingers trailing up and down between your slit. “Fucking soaked. You get off from driving me god damn crazy, pretty? Being all rough with you cause’ you pissed me off?” He spoke, and he nearly scoffed when you gave a soft sigh.

“Mhm…pissed off is a damn good look on you,” You breathed out with a smile as you felt his finger circle your clit, hands tightening in his hair again for just a moment. Your back arched against his touch as he pressed down a little harder, his free hand rubbing up and down your waist.

“you’re annoying as all hell, i hope you know that.” He mutters quietly agaisnt the skin of your neck, his lips brushing your pulse as he nips at the warm skin before soothing the sting with a lick.

“You love it,” You teased, and all he gave in response was a small hum against your neck before his hand on your waist slid down, slipping in 2 fingers, letting them curl agaisnt your gummy walls. His other hand remaining focused on your clit, teasing with feather light circles.

“Mmn—God..” You moaned softly, biting down on your bottom lip as your hips rocked against his fingers, leaning your head back onto his shoulder as he continued peppering kissing and leaving bruising marks along the column of your throat. He gently groaned when you tugged on his hair again, his hips bucking up instinctively before relaxing.

His fingers continued their ministrations, scissoring you open as he kept his face buried in your neck. Your moans and whines made it increasingly difficult not to just fuck you stupid on the couch. When he pulled away from your neck, His hand slipped away from your clit, slowly dragging up your body, grazing your hardened nipples before wrapping around your throat.

Not enough to make it hard to breathe, but enough to let you know he could—and would, if he was tempted.

You whined at the loss of his hand, but it was quickly forgotten when his fingers brushed against that soft spot inside you, starring your vision for a moment as you squirmed, your breathing becoming labored.

“Look at you now, what happened to all that talk, hm? Haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re all whiny.” He couldn’t help but snicker, tightening his grip for a moment when you didn’t reply. “I asked you a question, pretty girl. Answer it.”

You bit at your bottom lip, your hand coming down from his hair to cup your boob, toying with your hardened nipple as your hips squirmed, letting your clit grinding against his palm.

“Keep going,” You breathed—begged. You could be difficult later, right now all you wanted was for the knot forming in your stomach to be satiated.

Robert gave a half-hearted scoff as a small smile fell onto his lips. “Thought so,”

His forearm flexed as he began to quicken the pace of his wrist, your cunt squelching with each thrust of his fingers. Meanwhile your back arched, hands toying with your breast as you moaned you pleas of ‘being so close.’

"Ngh, fuck! Robert, m'comingm'coming—!" You gasped out, vision nearly blurring as one of your hands grasped his wrist, feeling the knot in your stomach come undone as you tried to catch your breath, your thighs shaking as he kept them pried open.

When he finally felt you squeeze around his fingers, his grasp on your throat loosened slightly, letting you ride out your high as his continued to pump his fingers until you began to whin that it was 'too much'.

"Oh, so now you wanna complain?" Robert mocked, his hands rubbing the inside of your thighs before maneuvering you—slightly gentler than before, as he puts you on the floor, the soft carpet grazing your knees as you knelt infant of his man-spread form.

You finally caught your breath, hands resting on Roberts knees are you gazed up at him, eyes glossed over with need. "What? You want me to suck your dick?" You questioned between deep breaths, a grin forming on your lips as you gazed up at him.

"And if I do? You gonna do it, or you going to whine that it's 'too much' again?" He snickered, only for his smile to falter slightly as you reached for his slacks, hurriedly tugging down the waist band along with his boxers, his cock suddenly springing free.

You took a moment to admire him, his cock long and veiny, twitching with need as a drop of precum dripped down the side from his reddened tip. You took him into your hand, gently stroking him as you leaned forward, your gaze never leaving his as you licked your lips.

“You think I can't take it? You've really gotta cool your ego, Rob–” You began, continuing to be difficult as always until Robert took ahold of his cock from you, swiftly leading your head closer by your jaw and squishing your cheeks to open your mouth.

“Open up. Tongue out.” He ordered, his tone not leaving room to argue.

You didn't hesitate to stick out your tongue, feeling the weight of his tip against it as he slowly began sliding himself deeper into your mouth–inch by inch, every bob of your head taking him deeper.

“You wanna act like you can take it? Then take it, and stop fucking talking for once,” He nearly groaned. His head tilted back as his hand found purchase in your hair, guiding your head across his length. Meanwhile you gave a small moan around his cock as he guided your head, gagging around his length.

“Fuck, youre so pretty like this..should keep this bratty mouth stuffed more often, hmn?” He mocked, pushing your head down til your nose brushed against his pubes, leaving you there gagging. Robert moaned your name quietly under his breath, his breathing becoming ragged and deep as he ran his free head over his face.

He kept you there till he felt your nails dig into his thigh, only then did he finally pull you back, giving you a moment to breathe as you gasped and coughed. When you finally calmed down, he guided your mouth back onto his cock, watching as your thighs squeezed and rubbed together before your hand slowly drifted down.

“Hands off.” He spoke up, and when you didn't listen, he pushed your head deeper. He only eased up when we watched your hands fly away from in between your legs.

“Mmnf–” You moaned around his cock, the vibrations making him twitch in your mouth as his eyes rolled back, his chest beginning to rise and fall harshly.

“Shit, sweetheart, m’almost there. Keep going for me, alright?” He breathed out, his hips instinctively bucking into your mouth as you continued to gag around his length. The moment he felt your tongue trace a vein on the underside of his cock, he swore he saw stars. His whole body tensed as he came undone, his hand holding you down as he came down your throat, the feeling of you swallowing around him prolonging his high.

He let go of your hair, letting you pull back as you coughed, your voice hoarse and scratchy as you spoke with a hand coming up to fix your now tousled hair. “That's all you got?” You scoffed, keeping up that same attitude as you looked up at him, but it was obvious you were starting to crack.

Robert couldn't control the breathy laugh that left him, sitting up as he met your gaze. “Listen, if you wanted me to fuck that attitude out of you, y’couldve just said that.”

You couldn't even think of a response before he was picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder. arm wrapped firmly over your back as he made a beeline for the bedroom.

“I can walk by myself, Robert. Put me down–fuck!” You spoke, squirming in his grasp until he landed another firm smack onto your ass, causing you to tense up as you looked back, only to find him already looking back at you.

“No. Quit the squirming already.” He replied before looking forward and opening the room door.

The moment he tossed you onto the bed, you were surrounded by a plush blanket, looking up at the curtains that surrounded the circular canopy bed. Yet you only had a moment to take in the room before Robert began to undo the ties, letting the curtains fall around the bed, effectively hiding you two from the rest of the world.

“What’re you–” You began to ask, keeping that smug look on your face as you looked in Robert's direction, knelt in front of your laid out figure.

“Strip, pretty.” He interrupted suddenly, fully taking off his belt that had already been undone in the living room and tossing it beside you. “Because as much as I love you in that damn dress, I need it off. Now.” He admitted, his eyes trailing up and down your form.

“Cant even ask nicely?” You snickered, taking your time as you sat up on your knees, keeping your gaze locked on his before you slowly–teasingly, began to take off your dress, finally letting it fall off your body as it pooled around your knees, laying back down to fully pull it off.

And he smirked to find that, to his pleasant surprise, you wore no bra. Better for him.

Without another word, he leaned forward, one hand resting beside you while the other squeezed your waist, pulling you up to meet him as he kissed you just as greedily as before. Teeth clashing, tongues tangling around one another as you moaned into the kiss.

He removed his hand from your waist, moving to undo the buttons of his own shirt as he kept his lips on yours. The moment he got to the last button, he pulled the satin fabric off, prying it from his arms behind him before tossing it god knows where, his hands rushing back to find your skin–you. He breathed deeply as his hand tangled in your hair, his hardening cock pressing against your thigh before he began moving down, trailing hot opened-mouth kisses down your hickey adorned neck and sternum until he reached the lacey hem of your panties,

He gave a huff before tearing them without a second thought, his low gaze immediately landing on your blushing clit, not hesitating when he leaned down to kiss and suck on it as you tossed your head back, thighs squeezing around his head before he pulled back.

“Turn around for me.” He whispered, placing one last chaste kiss against your clit before taking your hips to guide you as you turned onto all fours. You felt his hand push your head down against the plush pillow before trailing firmly down your back, leaving you arched downwards.

“Do you do this often with your sex dolls at home?” You spoke over your shoulder, words laced with your usual teasing and honeyed tone as you stretched your arms out in front of you before relaxing.

‘Yes, actually. All the time. I bend them over just like this, and fuck them for hours while i pretend theyre you.” He replied–way too casually. His hand kneaded the skin of your ass before he let his thumb run down the puffy lips of your cunt, marveling at the way your hips squirmed and pushed back against his thumb.

“Are you always this desperate?” He suddenly fired back, raising a brow as he let his thumb circle your clit, watching you clench around nothing.

“Im never desperate, Robert.” You breathed out, but the way you shivered told a different story.

“Right…and I'm the president.” He snickered while pulling his hand away, pulling your hips back to feel his cock resting between your plush ass, heavy and hard.

He reached over you to grab both your wrist with one hand, his other reached beside you to grab his belt, not even blinking once before he began to tie your wrist behind you, letting your binded wrist rest on your back. He watched you squirm and tug on the new restraints with a huff.

“Wow…look at you, huh? How many times have you played out having me bent over in a suite?” You spoke up, giving a breathy giggle.

“Oh, I don't think you wanna know.” He chuckled quietly, before moving his cock to your cunt as he guided the tip up and down your folds, using your cum as a make-shift lube.

“Don’t scream, sweetheart.” He warned with a grin before he slammed his hips against your ass, filling you to the brim in one thrust as one hand rested on your hip, the other holding your bound wrist.

“Oh—!” You gasped, the side of your face nuzzling against the pillow as your back arched deeper, biting down on your bottom lip to muffle a whine that left your lips.

You felt your eyes roll back as Robert began pumping in and out of you, soft pants leaving his lips as he pressed his palm against the back of your head, fucking you into the mattress at a teasingly slow pace.

“How’re you doing down there, pretty? Hm?” He teased, punctuating his words with a particularly harsh thrust.

You gave a gasp as you felt his tip push against your cervix, your nails digging into your palm as you tried to catch the breath he continuously kept knocking out of your lungs.

The way he was talking wasn't helping either, every comment that left his lips only seeming to make you needier.

“Mhmmn. That feels so good, doesn’t it, pretty girl?” He panted against your ear as his hand on your head moved to wrap around your throat once more, his hips quickening their pace. “See how good I can make you feel when you just lose the attitude and behave?”

All you could give was a nod and whine out a pathetic “Mhm!, Yes—God, yes—“ , letting him marvel at just how easily he broke you down. He was so deep couldn't decipher where he’d end and you began.

You felt your vision begin to blur, your breaths labored as you blabbered absolute nonsense about wanting more and wanting it hard.

“Shit, you’re so pretty, sweetheart—Don’t even know what you do to me, do you?” He gasped against your shoulder, his breath hot and heavy. A groan slipped past his lips as he kept his pace quick, the force of his hips jolting you forward with each thrust just for his hand on your throat to keep you in place.

His hand on your throat only egged you on further, a dizzy, fucked-out giggle slipping past your lips before it bled into a moan, wrist still tugging on the tight leather around them.

He gave a shuddered breath when he felt your gummy walls squeeze around his cock like a vice, the faint ‘shlick’ echoing throughout the room as his hips rammed forward against your ass. Each of his thrust added onto the ring of white that’s already gathered on the base of his cock.

You could feel his chest rising and falling against your back as the muscles in your thighs tensed, the waves of hot pleasure shooting up your spine every time be brushed against that gummy spot inside you leaving you at its mercy. Leaving you to just feel.

The smell of sex filled your nostrils, your breath catching in your throat with every pulse and twitch roberts cock gave inside your weeping cunt. You tried to speak, to beg or mock–but your tongue felt fuzzy and heavy against your lips.

You felt that familiar knot of pressure forming in your lower tummy, your whole body tensing as your arms writhed behind you. The feeling of Roberts tongue dragging up and down your neck only pushed you further to the edge, your legs beginning to shake as you felt a wave of pleasure crashing over you.

“You close, baby? Gonna let that pretty pussy finish all over my cock with me?” Robert spoke, his voice low as a moan slipped past his lips, his abdomen tensing as he felt himself get closer with each pump in and out of your dripping cunt. All you could muster was a nod,feeling him twitch inside you like he was trying not to fill you to the brim right then and there,

“Cmon sweetheart, finish for me. And let me see that pretty face while you do.” Robert urged teasingly, watching as your glossy eyes focused back onto his. “Oh, and say thank you.” He whispered against your ear.

The moment your gaze met his, he was a goner. Your fucked out expression was enough to tip him over the edge as he kept his gaze locked on yours. His eyes fluttering as he spilled his seed into you, the sudden feeling sending you crashing over the edge with him.

“Robert, fuck, thank you–!” You managed to blabber out between your muffled moans into the pillow. Your arms and thighs tensing as your vision went white before you blinked all the stars away.

Robert continued to fuck you through the aftershocks, his hips stuttering for just a moment as he groaned against your shoulder blade.

The two of you took a moment to catch your breath, roberts hand leaving your throat as he undid the belt around your wrist before tossing it aside just as before.

Robert quickly flipped you around, the tip of his half-hard cock still inside you as his hands caressed the underside of your thighs before he slowly began pressing them further, and further, until he had you folded into a mean mating press with your calves dangling off his shoulders.

You gave a small groan as you adjusted to the sudden change in position, the hunger in Robert's eyes still visible as you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your eyes trail down his scarred torso.

Suddenly without warning, Robert bottomed himself out inside you once again, groaning at the way your gummy and overstimulated walls practically hugged his cock like they were made for each other.

Your hands immediately began scrambling, one tugging and tightening in his hair while the other found purchase on his back, nails digging into the already scarred skin as you tilted your head back, mouth hung open as you let out a string of moans, every pump of his cock inside your greedy cunt quickening his pace.

Robert swore it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

His hands held your waist tight, leaving you arching up as he kept pulling you back to meet his thrust, his cock pulling out of the tip before slamming back in, kissing your cervix enough times to make your body jump.

“Shiiit–s’too much, Robert–mmn!” you whined out, head still tilted back as he fucked you stupid, your attitude lost somewhere deep in the depths of your brain that refused to function right now.

“Eyes on me baby. Look at who’s making you feel this good, yea? Who’s using you like you’ve practically been beggin’ him to.” He spoke firmly amidst your gasps, one hand moving up from your waist to grasp your chin, leaning your head forward as he made sure your eyes were locked on him.

His head moved down to let his lips graze your tits, his tongue swirling around your perky nipple as his mouth closed around it, watching your back arch before switching to give the other the same attention, all the while his eyes remained locked on your hazy ones.

The way his chest pressed against your inner thighs left you folded like a lawn chair, his cock pumping deeper at the welcoming angle. You couldn't even think, mustering up a slurred “Please–”

You were a writhing mess, Roberts hands back on your waist as he made your back arch up towards him. You nearly squealed when you felt his hand pressing down on your lower stomach, a curse slipping past his own lips as his brow furrowed at the feeling.

“You take me so good, gorgeous...I've got you.” Robert whispered, leaning forward as his free hand raised up to your face, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip before sliding it past, groaning as he felt you bite down and run your tongue over it.

You two were both a panting and sweaty mess, curses and murmurs slipping past both your lips before you suddenly heard a door slam, and what followed after was a stuttering and nervous voice.

Seems Waterboy was still on janitor duty for tonight…even though Robert swears blazer said he could take off.

“Any…Anyone here–In here?” Herman spoke up, his cleaning supplies in his bag as his voice rang out.

The two of you were hidden from the poor man's view by the curtain around the bed, yet you still froze in place, his cock stilling as it remained stuffed inside your cunt. He wouldn't move, christ, he wouldn't even breathe.

Until he felt you clench around him, a small sigh leaving him as he kept his face in the crook of your neck.

And then he dragged his hips back and forth, slow and deep. Once, and then twice, until he found a pace that was enough to make you tense and squirm while keeping the sound of your weeping cunt muted.

“You can be quiet for me, can’t you pretty girl?” He whispered against your shoulder, a hand still pressing down on your lower tummy while his other moved to push his middle and index finger into your mouth, letting you bite down on them as you gave a shaky sigh and a nod.

He smiled at your obvious attempts to stay silent, placing a kiss onto your shoulder.

faint footsteps trail into the room, the sound of fabric on fabric ringing through the quiet room as Herman cleaned up the discarded clothes on the floor. All while Robert continued to bury his cock deep into you. He pulled his fingers from your mouth a shit-eating grin on his lips as he leaned up to kiss you, his movements teasingly slow and hard.

But you could feel how tense he was, your nails digging into his biceps as you kissed him back. He was teasing himself just as much as you by doing this, yet he maintained his semblance of control.

The moment you heard the suite doors shut for a second time, you let out a moan against Robert's lip, one you’d been holding back ever since Herman entered to clean.

Roberts' pace immediately quickened as he panted against your lips–harder, faster. His breaths were harsh as he moved his hand from your lower tummy down to your clit, rubbing and pinching the sensitive bud. “Look at you, pretty, all dumb and desperate for my cock like you need it to live.” He spoke, his own voice beginning to sound needy.

He was close, stupidly close, and he wanted to finish with you.

You felt tears prickling at your eyes from the sheer fucked-out bliss you felt, gasping and whining out half-prayers, half pleas for more.

Robert's thrust grew sloppy and uneven as he felt you clenching around him, your cunt sucking him in so tight he’d think you didn't want him to leave. His rhythm grew completely off–all because of you, and what you didn't even realize you did to him.

His free hand flew to your waist, his grip bruising as he kept you close to him, moans spilling from both your lips like some erotic harmony as you both chased your release. He's muttering breathlessly against your shoulder, as your nails dragged down his back.

“Fuck-s’good–Robert, m’close..” You whimpered against his lips as he went to kiss you, tongue and teeth clashing with pure need.

“Thats it, sweetheart–cmon.” He grunted, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside of you, a shudder running through your wrecked body when you cried out a moan due to him continuing to fuck you through your undoing.

“Too much, please–” You nearly sobbed from the sudden overstimulation, catching your breath with a sniffle as he slowly pulled out with a groan, letting your legs fall onto the bed on either side of him, aching.

Robert quietly mourned the loss of your warm cunt before hands found your face, pulling you into a kiss.

Except this time it was soft–gentle. Like he was conveying every deep-seated feeling he had harbored for you into it.

“Dont ever fucking make me chase you around like that again, pretty.” He whispered against your lips, nearly pleading between laboured breaths as he rested his forehead against your own.

“Youre mine, alright?” He added quietly before kissing you again softly.

You gave him a lazy nod, your body too tired to muster up the energy to speak, simply finding yourself melting into the comfort of the bed, your eyelids beginning to feel heavy.

“Hey…let me get you cleaned up, sweetheart..then you can sleep.” He murmured softly as he got off from above you, placing one last kiss onto your tummy.

You gave a soft grumble in protest, reluctantly opening your eyes as you watched him pull back the curtains, revealing the before messy room to now be organized.

“Huh. Guess Herman did a pretty good job,” Robert spoke with a small chuckle before heading towards the suite's bathroom.

You laid there, eyes quietly roaming your surroundings before a small chuckle left your lips, causing Robert to come back with a damp rag and confused look on his face.

“What’s so funny, sweetheart?” He spoke, not being able to help the chuckle that followed after watching you.

“Just…” You spoke up, voice hoarse. “i always thought you were a vanilla kinda guy,” you whispered with a small snicker, jolting when the cool rag gently brushed against your sensitive cunt.

“Well,” Robert shrugged, gently cleaning you up. “Now you know I'm not.” He murmured, taking a shirt he grabbed from his suitcase and gently helping you put it on.

“Now, quit questioning how kinky I am and get some sleep.” He spoke, laying down beside you as he tugged the blanket over both of you.

“The banquet isn’t that important anyways.” He whispered against your hair as he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close as he let himself relax.

You all but melted into Robert’s arms, cuddling up close to him as you found yourself dulling into sleep almost immediately

And as you drifted off, you found yourself thinking you could really get used to this.

Sonar : 11:28pm —

"Ma'am, you won a fucking award, where are you??"

"..You guys still fucking or what?"

a/n - check out my newest Robert piece here !

[zephyrme]

50 Fluff Prompt List

“Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?”

“It’s you, it always been you.”

“You’re everything I could’ve wanted and more.”

“Kiss me.”

“Home stopped being a place when you entered my life.”

“You should probably go home.” “But i’m already home.”

“You’re an idiot.” “But you love me.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

“You took all the pillows so i’m using you as one.”

“Stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Can you say that again?” “Were you not listening?” “No I was, I just like hearing your voice.”

“I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much.”

“You are my family.”

“I’m right here.”

“Can you just please hold me?”

“I’m pretty sure she/he’s my soulmate.”

“you come here often?” “Well considering I work here, yes.”

“You know, I think my parents would be proud if I brought you home.”

“I just want to see you happy.”

“I haven’t seen them smile like that in ages.”

“You made me a better person. Thank you.”

“This reminded me of you.”

“Your hair is really soft.”

“You’re really warm.”

“Are you blushing?”

“Can I stay here tonight.”

“Because I love you.”

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

“I’m never going to leave you again. I promise.”

“Make a wish.”

“I love seeing your smile.”

“Why are you wearing my sweater?” “Because it smells like you.”

“I just want to be there fro you.”

“I couldn’t just get you out of my mind.”

“You’re a softie.”

“You owe me.” “Fine, whatever you’d like.”

“You’re safe now, I’m here.”

“Why are you scared of loving?”

“You are crushing me right now.”

“Darling I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen.”

“I love you.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Take my hand. Just trust me.”

“You’re hurt. Please just let me heal it.”

“At least let me clean it.”

“I told you to take care of yourself.”

You’re the only thing that matters.”

“Stay.”

“Its okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

[ladylucksrogue]

Ok, genuinely love these prompts. Do I need another drabble challenge in my life? No. Can I help myself? Also no…

If anyone has any requests, make sure you let me know the couple you’d like, you know where to find me…

[frogsrneat]

Need some requests while healing!! Not as long as my usual but I crave to create more one piece nakamaship!!

Send some one piece characters, duos, trips, etc and a number !! :D

[celestialwrites]

flirty or threatening? dialogue prompts

@celestialwrites for more!!

“good god, you are a pain.” “then why are you even here?” “maybe i’m a masochist.”

“say that again i dare you.” “what are you going to do about it if i do?”

“your existence unnerves me.” “aw, i’m flattered.”

“hi honey.” “don’t honey me, you just threw a book at me!”

“huh, you know when you’re not scowling at me your eyes look a little more blue than green.”

“what if one day you wandered off a cliff?” “would you join me?”

“sometimes i feel like you want to get hit.” “by you? most certainly.”

“miss me?” “i had wondered where my headache went.”

“you are certainly interesting.” “is that a compliment or are you making fun of me?” “yes.”

“i’m not docile by any means.” “i’ve noticed, i notice everything about you.”

“i need help to bury a body.” “and you thought of me? aw.” “actually, i’m the only one that would miss you if you went to prison.” “you’d miss me?”

“i hate you!” “as long as you feel something towards me.”

“watch it!” “it’s cute how easy i can rile you up.”

“do you truly hate me?” “i wish that was possible.”

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS!!<3

[celestialwrites]

nightmares prompts + dialogue

@celestialwrites for more!!

♡ their s/o having to shake them repeatedly for them to even notice it was a nightmare.

♡ “you’re here, you’re with me, it’s safe. i promise.”

♡ character thinking about their s/o and them being the only person who can pull them from the nightmare.

♡ “is this the price for my freedom?”

♡ “i live in that nightmare every time i close my eyes! i can’t escape, maybe i was never meant to.”

♡ character spending countless nights not sleeping so they don’t have nightmares but other characters start to notice.

♡ “you got out, listen! you got out.”

♡ character A cradling character B’s head while whispering sweet nothings into their ear in an attempt to calm character B.

♡ “i never wanted you to see this.”

♡ “do you mind staying? just for the night.”

♡ characters who hate each other sleeping in the same room so they can wake each other up if one has a nightmare.

♡ character slipping out of bed in the middle of the night so their love interest doesn’t notice the nightmares.

♡ character sleeping on the floor/couch because they can’t stand the bed.

♡ “how often does this happen?” “the real question is when doesn’t it happen.”

♡ their enemy heard them screaming from down the hall and runs to help just to find the character panting and covered in sweat in bed.

♡ “no one is going to hurt you again. no one.”

♡ character A making excuses to be in character B’s room to comfort them. “oh you know, the air conditioning in my room isn’t as good as yours.”

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS!!<3

[mariasont]

privacy, interrupted

waking up next to spencer on vacation is the perfect morning, until rossi walks in without knocking

pairing: spencer reid r x shy!reader warnings: fem!reader, post prison spencer, reference to sexy time the night before, reader is naked, kissing, established relationship, fluff prompt: here wc: 0.8k

You sense him stirring beside you, all cautious and considerate, like he’s navigating some delicate truce neither of you signed but both seem bound to uphold. Your limbs protest with sleepiness, practically begging you to ignore it, but your brain has other ideas, wide awake simply because it’s him. 

Your subconscious has apparently decreed that Spencer Reid isn’t permitted to be awake alone without your awkward, fumbling company.

And, honestly, you can’t bear the thought of him quietly awake, probably counting obscure facts or memorizing solitude, so, inevitably, your internal clock (diligently trained, very Spencer-oriented) kicks in every morning like some sort of lovesick, overly attached alarm.

Your eyes blink sluggishly open, and yeah, you’re already mentally cursing about the loss of precious sleep.

That is, until Spencer comes into view, giving you a sleepy-soft smile as soon as he sees that your awake that somehow justifies this sappy morning ritual you’ve cultivated.

“Hey there, beautiful girl,” Spencer murmurs, warm enough to render you mushy.

You manage exactly one very brave, extremely fleeting glance into his eyes — long enough for you to panic at just how intense his adoring gaze feels — before you promptly conclude that the only dignified response is burying your burning face straight into his chest.

“Morning,” you mumble, barely audible, and okay, sure, it's a weak greeting, but you're pretty sure he knows that your social capabilities are severely limited before coffee.

“How’d you sleep?”

His fingers leisurely map trails along your stomach, occasionally dipping lower, grazing along your thigh. Your breath stalls at his touch, instantly bringing you face-to-face with the very naked reality (literally) of your current state, and you're vividly aware of why you slept better than you have in years.

You squirm against him awkwardly, deeply thankful your mortification is safely concealed in the crook of his neck. You’re fairly certain there’s no scenario — no alternate timeline or parallel universe — where you’d confess out loud just how blissfully Spencer can apparently knock you out.

“Fine,” you mumble evasively.

Spencer’s fingers move to cup your chin, lifting your face until you’re forced to meet a pair of amused eyes. 

“Just fine?” He eyes you skeptically. “You were snoring pretty loudly for someone who slept just fine.”

You splutter out a laugh, embarrassed and giggling all at once, shoving lightly at his shoulder. 

“Spencer!” you squeak indignantly. “I absolutely, categorically, undeniably do not snore. Take it back right now.”

“Oh, I’m afraid the science disagrees,” he begins casually, hands running absentminded passes over your side as he explains. “Almost everyone snores at least occasionally. It happens when your throat muscles relax during deep sleep. It’s completely normal.” He pauses. “Some might even say cute.”

He punctuates his little speech with a tap on your nose, grinning when you wrinkle it at him. 

“Spencer’s, that’s —” you begin to argue, reader to counter his science, when he suddenly silences you with a kiss, stealing your voice mid-protest.

You try valiantly (well, sort of) to keep arguing, words stubbornly squeezing out between soft kisses that blur your logic.

“I’m serious —” kiss “— you don’t get to —” kiss “— to win arguments —” kiss “— like this,” you mumble, dissolving into breathless laughter as he continues, smugly aware he’s already won.

You’re giggling into yet another stolen kiss when a brisk knock at the door startles you apart, no time to process before Rossi strolls into the room.

“Hey, kid, we’re making coffee downstairs if you —” Rossi stops midsentence.

You barely have a second to manage a yelp before Spencer moves quickly, positioning himself like a very protective, and slightly panicked, human shield in an attempt to salvage your rapidly disappearing dignity.

“Oh my god, Rossi,” you groan from your makeshift hiding spot behind Spencer’s shoulder.

Rossi lets out a thoroughly entertained chuckle, clearly relishing in your horror. He doesn’t immediately move to leave, instead pausing in the doorway.

“Well, it appears you’re both quite awake already,” he remarks, mouth curving into a smirk. “But just in case you decide to join civilization at some point, I’ll put another pot on. Take your time.”

Spencer clears his throat awkwardly. “Thanks, Rossi,” he deadpans. “Maybe next time knock and actually wait for an answer?”

Rossi grins shamelessly, lifting his hands in exaggerated innocence as he backs toward the hallway.

“I’ll consider it, right after you two consider hanging a do-not-disturb sign.”

The second Rossi shuts the door, you collapse against Spencer, sighing miserably, “That’s it. Vacation over. Social life destroyed. We’re never leaving this room again until the end of time, or at least until everyone forgets what just happened — which, spoiler alert, they won’t.”

“End of time feels a little excessive,” he teases gently, nudging your jaw with his nose. “But if it means I get to spend a few more uninterrupted days with you, I might just let you have your way.”

You roll your eyes internally, half-heartedly pretending to be annoyed at Spencer’s ridiculously charming response. Honestly, it doesn't make sense how easily he dismantles your panic with one sentence and that stupidly cute smile. 

Still, your pride demands at least some resistance, even if your heart is enthusiastically voting yes to the bed-hibernation plan. So, fine — maybe hiding here forever (or at least for a couple days) wouldn’t be the absolute worst way to spend your vacation.

Actually, scratch that — it might just be your ideal outcome.

join me at the beach for my 1 year/4k event!

day 2 extras

💌 click here to check in → confirm your room (and crush)

maria's spring break getaway masterlist

[esote-rika]

Hey so ur very deliberate use of like idk how to even describe it, political words??? Truce, decreed, voting, idk the word use to deliver political principles and its connection to post prison Spencer feels so correct in ways my sleep deprived brain can't explain. Like this is adorable, but your stuff is always tooth meltingly adorable, but that little detail just made my heart clench deliciously.

[dearlizzies]

hot girl shit (reading fanfiction on a friday night instead of going out)

[pathologicalreid]

twenty questions | s.r.

in which spencer has all of the answers for stoned!reader's questions

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: drug consumption in the form of edibles! they're emily's (canon compliant), snot, pavlov word count: 504 a/n: we are going to pretend this isn't a request from last summer and that this isn't something i originally wrote for margotober. i was peer pressured into posting this i want that immortalized.

“Exactly how much did you have?” Spencer asked, placing his hands on your shoulders when you started to sway.

You frowned at him, “Two Cheetos worth,” you answer him honestly.

Peering up at you, Spencer studied your expression curiously, “Do you know the milligram amount of cannabinoids in a Cheeto?”

Shaking your head dramatically, you leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, “Nope, they were Emily’s,” you told him honestly, recalling the fact that JJ had been the one to drop you off at home.

Spencer muttered something about not being surprised, sitting down next to you on the couch, “Why does Emily have edibles in the form of Cheetos?”

“Now that is a question for the masses! I haven’t the slightest idea,” you answered, carefully picking at the skin around your nails before leaning over until your head was resting in his lap. “Hi, Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him.

He smiled down at you, “Hi, pretty girl. How are you feeling?”

You sighed in his lap, “I’m high.” In your defense, you didn’t know what the Cheetos were until you had already eaten them. “Why is everything funnier when we’re tired?” You asked, leaning into his touch when he started smoothing your hair back with his fingertips.

“When you’re tired, your body is going through a state of stress. Your body is fighting the onset of sleep by changing the usual mix of adrenaline, endorphins, epinephrine, serotonin, and dopamine in the body and brain,” he continued his ministrations, gently keeping your hair out of your face. “Endorphins are the particular culprit when you feel slap happy.”

Squinting up at him, you nodded in response, “Right, endorphins.” You paused for a moment, “How are boogers made?”

He faltered for a moment, clearly unable to see how you got from point A to point B. “The lining in your nose has the mucous membrane. That’s what makes mucus, or snot. When air hits the mucus and starts to dry out, it becomes a booger.”

You shifted on the couch, “I’m so glad you know everything, it makes my life so much easier.”

“I definitely don’t know everything,” he laughed softly, tapping the tip of your nose with his index finger, “Come on, give me a question that I wouldn’t know.”

Groaning, you pursed your lips, “If someone ate a ton of popcorn kernels before they died, would the kernels pop in the cremation chamber?”

“No,” he answered, laughing at your attempt, “Cremation chambers reach up to 1800 degrees Fahrenheit. The kernels would turn to ash before they've had the chance to pop.”

You furrowed your brows, “Bummer,” you responded. “Hey,” you tried again, “Do you think Pavlov thought about feeding his dogs every time he heard a bell ring?”

A bright smile bloomed on your boyfriend’s face, “You know what, I’m not sure. I think it’s a definite possibility.”

Proud of yourself, you settle your head back into his lap, refocusing your attention on your fingers, “Cool,” you muttered.

[mariasficrecs]

ill actually sob 😭

hi, pretty girl

grrrrrrr like give me him now

anyways this was so so cutie

[deerfawnn]

hiya! i had a cute request if you’re interested in writing it. spencer reid x reader where they finished a case and go back to a hotel to sleep and reader goes to spencer’s room (friends with feelings?) asking if she can sleep with him cause they case damaged her mental state. and it’s just cute and cuddly how they figure out how to sleep and such. maybe they can even sleep through the alarm or maybe emily finds reader missing and goes to spencer to ask if he’s seen her only to see the two of them together.

entangled — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of reader having a rough time with a case ( no explicit mention of the details of the case though ) a/n: hiii !! such a cute idea - i love writing sleepy spencer !! hope you like this <3 also lets just pretend emily got into the room with magic cuz i couldnt figure out how she'd get into the room 😭

You hesitated before knocking, your knuckles barely making a sound against the wooden door. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, tapping your shoe nervously against the carpet.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open, revealing Spencer standing there in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly tousled from sleep. His hazel eyes softened with confusion. 

"Hi," you greeted weakly, offering a tired smile. 

"Hi," he echoed, his brows furrowing. "Are you okay?" 

You couldn't blame him for asking. After all, it was two in the morning, and you'd shown up unannounced at his hotel room after an exhausting day working on the case. You swallowed hard, suddenly second-guessing yourself. 

"I—" You faltered, unable to find the right words. Because no, you weren’t okay. That’s exactly why you were here. 

Spencer didn’t wait for you to finish. Instead, he stepped aside, silently inviting you in.

"Come in," he said gently. 

You stepped inside, as your gaze drifted across the neatly arranged space—the open book on the nightstand, his clothes folded with meticulous precision on the chair. The sight of such organization brought a small, fleeting smile to your lips. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. He was already sitting on the edge of the bed, his long fingers resting lightly against his knees. He gestured for you to sit beside him, and you did, your knees brushing his as you settled in. 

You let out a slow breath. "I just... can't sleep," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. 

Spencer studied you for a moment, and you knew—he knew. He had noticed throughout the day how the case had weighed on you.He had also noticed the way your hands trembled when you thought no one was looking.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked softly, his voice free of pressure, just an open offer. 

You shook your head. “Not right now.” 

He nodded, understanding as always. 

You hesitated before biting your lip, your knee pressing just slightly harder against his. The warmth of the touch sent a thrill through both of you, hearts drumming faster in unison. 

“Can I ask you for a favor?” you murmured, your voice unsure, almost timid. 

Spencer tilted his head, his expression soft but curious. “Anything.” 

Another silence. You exhaled slowly, gathering the courage to say it. 

“Can I sleep here? I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

The words felt fragile as they left your lips, almost afraid of being rejected. You kept your gaze down, suddenly fascinated by the wrinkle in the hotel comforter, unwilling to meet his eyes. 

Spencer didn’t hesitate. He nudged your knee again, firmer this time, silently coaxing you to look at him. And when you finally did, he was already nodding. 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice unwavering. “Of course you can.” 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Spencer, meanwhile, was doing his best to suppress the way his pulse had kicked up at your request. 

He stood up, and instinctively, you did too. Neither of you knew what to do next. 

“So, uh… I can just sleep on the floor. That’s no problem,” Spencer offered, scratching the back of his neck.

His voice was uncharacteristically uncertain, and you didn’t miss the way a faint flush crept up his neck, blooming across his cheeks. But then again, who could blame him? The girl he was in love with was standing in his hotel room, asking to stay the night. 

“No, no,” you shook your head quickly. “Spence, I didn’t come here to take over your bed and make you sleep on the floor.” You gave him a small smile, hoping it would ease his nerves—yours too. “I just… I don’t want to be alone.” 

Your voice was softer this time, more vulnerable, and as you said it, your gaze drifted toward the bed.

And that’s when it really hit you—what you were asking for. To sleep in the same bed as Spencer. The same Spencer you had been in love with for what felt like forever. 

Your stomach twisted, equal parts nervous and thrilled. 

“Oh—oh, yeah. Right,” Spencer stammered, nodding rapidly. His hands twitched at his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with them. “I-I mean, so we can—uh—yeah, that makes sense.” His words tripped over each other, and you swore he somehow got even redder. 

You bit your lip to hide your smile, but a quiet chuckle still slipped out. It was strangely endearing—seeing the usually composed, genius-level profiler completely unravel just at the thought of sharing a bed with you. 

Trying to keep yourself from overthinking, you stepped toward the bed, moving to the left side.

You pushed back the covers, feeling Spencer’s eyes on you the entire time. He hadn’t moved yet, just stood there, frozen, like his brain was short-circuiting. 

“Spencer?” You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. 

“Hm?” He blinked rapidly, snapping out of his daze. 

“You getting in, or…?” 

“Oh! Yes! Right,” he said quickly before practically tripping over his own feet to join you. The bed dipped slightly under his weight.

“I hope it’s okay if I keep a small light on,” he hesitated, his voice softer now. “But if you’d rather have it off, I can—” 

You turned your head toward him before he could finish, smiling at the way he was so concerned about your comfort. “It’s fine,” you assured him. “I actually think I’d prefer a light right now.” 

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, nodding slightly. “Okay.” 

He glanced at you, just for a second, before quickly looking away again. The warmth on his neck deepened, the blush creeping to his ears now. He reached over and switched off the harsh overhead light, leaving only the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

You shifted slightly, turning your head toward him, and Spencer, still lying on his back, hesitated before tilting his head just enough to meet your eyes. 

“I’m sorry if I’m intruding,” you murmured, voice small, genuine. 

His brows pulled together slightly as he found the courage to fully turn onto his side, facing you completely. 

“You’re never intruding,” he said, and the certainty in his voice made your stomach flip. 

His eyes traced the way you absentmindedly brushed a strand of hair away from your face. The small, simple movement felt oddly intimate, and before he could even think about it, his own hand twitched as if he wanted to do the same. 

Instead, he clenched his fingers into the sheets, trying to steady his heartbeat. 

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were. Close enough to see the way his eyelashes flickered against his cheeks, close enough to count the freckles on his nose, close enough that if you moved even slightly forward, you— 

You pushed the thought away. 

“It was a rough case,” you suddenly mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Spencer's hazel eyes scanned your face with concern. Even in the dim light, you could see the way his brows furrowed, the way his lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something but was carefully choosing his words. 

“Yes, it was,” he agreed, his voice soft but laced with worry. 

A beat of silence passed before he spoke again, this time more certain. 

“I hope you know that you did a great job,” he said, his words gentle. A small, nervous smile flickered on his lips.

You bit your lip, your chest tightening at his reassurance.

“Thank you, Spence,” you whispered, letting your eyes meet his. 

And before you could overthink it, you reached for his hand, giving it a small squeeze. 

Spencer froze for half a second, his breath catching in his throat. The warmth of your fingers against his sent a shiver up his spine.

And maybe it was the way your fingers lingered a little longer than necessary, or maybe it was the way you kept biting your lip—something he had long since learned you did when you were nervous—but suddenly, Spencer found himself feeling just a little bit braver. 

So when you started to pull your hand back, instinctively retreating, he didn’t let go. 

Instead, he gently tightened his grip, his fingers threading through yours, locking them together like they were always meant to fit this way. 

Your breath hitched, eyes flickering up to meet his again. 

“I’m glad you came here,” he whispered, his fingers tracing over your hand in slow, delicate patterns. His gaze flickered downward, watching the way your fingers remained tangled together.

“Me too,” you admitted, your voice just as soft. 

You hadn’t even realized you had scooted closer—not until the space between you was barely there.

But then Spencer moved. 

With a shy kind of confidence, he turned onto his back and gently pulled you toward him.Your head landed against his chest, and for a split second, your breath stalled. 

But then you relaxed. 

The warmth of him seeped into you. His heartbeat thrummed beneath your cheek. And even as you adjusted, your fingers never let go of each other. 

Spencer swallowed hard, doing his best to seem normal, like his heart wasn’t practically slamming against his ribs at the fact that you were here, curled up against him, trusting him enough to be this close. 

His free hand hovered for a moment, uncertain, before he slowly—hesitantly—let it settle at your back. 

“You’re warm,” you mumbled sleepily, your voice slightly muffled against his shirt. 

Spencer let out a small, breathy chuckle. “So are you.” 

You tilted your head just slightly, peering up at him. “Is this okay?” 

Spencer looked down at you, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it. “Yeah,” he murmured, like there was never a doubt. “This is more than okay.” 

A small smile tugged at your lips as you settled back down, letting your eyes flutter shut. Spencer’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly.

Both of you ended up falling asleep smiling. And maybe it was because, for the first time in a long time, neither of you felt the weight of loneliness pressing down.

Either way, neither of you stirred when Spencer’s alarm went off the next morning. 

The alarm buzzed faintly before silencing itself, unnoticed by either of you—too wrapped up in sleep and in each other. 

At some point in the night, you had shifted, your body now draped over Spencer’s, your face tucked against his neck. His arm was wound securely around your waist, holding you close as if even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to let you go. 

Neither of you heard the knocking. 

When Emily hadn’t been able to find you anywhere else, she had hoped—guessed—that you might be with Spencer. Maybe going over case notes, maybe just talking. But when she knocked again and got no response, her brows furrowed. 

“Reid?” she called, twisting the handle.

The moment she stepped inside, she froze. 

Her eyes landed on the sight before her—Spencer, tangled up with you in bed, your body curled against his like you belonged there, his arm tight around you, his face buried somewhere in your hair. 

Emily blinked. Then blinked again. 

A slow smirk spread across her face. 

“Well,” she murmured to herself. “Would you look at that.” 

Not wanting to wake either of you (and also definitely wanting to use this as future blackmail), she carefully backed out of the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. 

As she walked down the hall, she pulled out her phone. 

Emily: Guess who I just found cuddled up in bed like a couple of love-struck teenagers? 

A second later, her phone buzzed. 

JJ: NO. WAY. 

Derek: Finally. 

With a satisfied grin, Emily slipped her phone back into her pocket. 

[street-smarts00]

Next to You

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: While spending the night in a hotel for a case, a terrifying nightmare shakes you awake. But someones there to comfort you.

WC: 2k 

Tags: One bed trope BUT WITH A TWIST TEE HEE, HUGE hurt/comfort moment, some touch starved babies, friends to lovers A/N: the relieving feeling of finally finishing a fic!!! This was fun to write, enjoy nerds ;) beta read by the lovely @whats-yesterday00

Your lungs were starting to burn from running so fast. The heavy steps speeding up from behind made your chest tighten. You flinched at the sound of shots fired in your direction but didn’t stop running. 

The SUV’s finally came into view. As you closed the distance, the rest of your team rushed out. As they reached for their holsters, you heard more gunshots. But not from them. 

Half the team was down once you reached them. It didn’t make any sense. You were so far ahead of the unsub. There’s no way he could’ve gotten 3 clear shots to your team. You fell to the snow on the ground, your warm breath turning into a fog in the air as you panted. The sight in front of you ripped your insides to shreds. 

As your heart rate sped up, eyes shot open. You were met with the almost pitch black ambiance of the hotel room. You could feel your heart beating throughout your whole body and could practically hear it in your ears. 

You slowly sat up as the tightness in your chest returned. Tears started to fall down your cheeks.

You didn’t get nightmares often. Before your current job, it rarely ever happened. They became more frequent the more you worked at the BAU. Tonight was one of those nights that your worst fears tainted your dreams. 

Of course tonight it had to happen. When you were away on a case miles away from home and sharing a hotel room. Sharing a room with Spencer. 

You didn’t have any objections to sharing a room with him, but the nerves from your feelings for him never went away. You’d fallen asleep sitting next to him on the jet before, but this was for a whole night- and for possibly multiple nights. The only thing that eased some of your anxiety was that he had his own bed far from you. If you were even remotely close to him you’d have to resist not reaching for him. 

And now you had a nightmare with him in the same room. 

The idea of waking him up made you feel prematurely guilty. The fear of crying infront of him made you mortified. You wiped at your tears and tried to hold back from crying. You kept glancing at the other bed to make sure Spencer didn’t wake up.

Your breath became heavier as little gasps threatened to fall out so you clasped your hands over your mouth. The tears blurred your vision and your head went dizzy as you tried to control your breath. Then, out of your control, a choked sob escaped your lips. 

It alerted Spencer's attention almost immediately. Half awake, he stirred in bed and called out your name to confirm if you were awake. 

This only made you feel worse. You tried to stay as quiet as possible. Didn’t move an inch and didn’t even breathe. But still, small whimpers left your mouth as you resisted from hyperventilating. 

Spencer, now fully awake, shot up as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room looking for you. “What’s wrong?” he asked, full of concern. 

The second he heard you sniffle. he sprang out of his bed and rushed to yours. He sat down beside you and carefully placed a hand on your back. “What’s wrong?” he asked again. 

You sniffled again and met his eyes. You could just barely see them thanks to the small amount of light peeking in through the window. “I- I-” you could barely get out in between gasped breaths. 

He immediately wrapped his arms around you and placed your head on his chest. The embrace made you finally fall apart. You sobbed into his chest and let the tears stream down your face. You clung to him like your life depended on it. In return, he held you as close as he was physically able to. His one arm gently held your head against him while the other slowly caressed your back. The action made you turn to jelly in his arms. 

Once your breathing slowed down and your heart rate calmed, you separated from Spencer. He carefully pushed your hair behind your ears and held your face in his hands. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he whispered.  

You sniffled once more, “Not really.” 

He nodded, “why don’t you try to go back to sleep, okay?” 

You nodded back to answer. 

“If you need me just say the word.” He started to get up from your bed, but before he could leave, you interrupted. 

“Spence, could you uh,” you stumbled on your words. 

He sat back down. Looking at you with the most caring eyes while he lets you take your time. 

You ignored the warning signals going off in your brain. The warnings that told you this was a step too far. The anxiety that told you this action will lead you growing too close to him and hurting your unrequited feelings. 

“Could you stay? Please,” you pleaded in a quiet voice. 

“Of course.” 

The weight on your shoulders started to lift. You resumed your spot under the covers as Spencer walked around to the other side of the bed and followed your actions. He left enough room between the two of you so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed by his presence or be uncomfortable. 

As if you could ever be uncomfortable around him. 

As he whispered goodnight, you carefully reached over to his side under the covers. Your hand found his. He instinctively took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

As the minutes rolled bye, you came no closer to falling asleep. It feels like you’ve spent the past half hour tossing and turning. Every time you closed your eyes, the images from your nightmare flashed before you. 

At some point, you moved enough to wake up the man next to you. 

Spencer called out your name, “you alright?” 

“I’m sorry for waking you up again,” you apologized, deflecting his answer. 

He turned around to face you. “I don’t mind. What’s up?” 

“I can’t sleep. Too scared.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked again. He knew hearing that question in a state of stress could sometimes be found annoying. But more importantly, he knew it was a key way of relieving that stress. 

After a moment of silence from you, he rescinded the question. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t-“

“You died.” 

Your voice sounded quiet and fragile. “And it was my fault.” 

His eyes and voice were full of worry as he spoke your name. 

“I know it’s not real. I know it never happened but… I’ve never felt so scared.” Your eyes threaded to spill with tears and you desperately tried blinking them away. 

Spencer reached for your upper arm and rubbed his thumb against your skin. He saw you start to relax at the contact. 

Your breath shook as you tried to inhale. “I don’t know how I can go to sleep after that.” 

He’s quiet for a moment considering his approach to comfort you. He saw how well you responded to physical touch earlier in the night. When he comforted you with an embrace your stress reduced significantly. 

“I have an idea. Come here,” he moved the blanket to allow you space next to him. 

You nervously inched closer to him. 

“Put your head on my shoulder.” You hesitated before complying and settling at his side. Spencer wrapped his arm around your waist and he himself hesitated before pulling you closer. His hand rested on your back. 

“Is this okay?” he whispered. 

“It’s more than okay,” you muttered back. 

He took that as a sign to repeat his previous actions from earlier and run his hand up and down your back. This time much slower and gentler. The action made you melt in his arms. You reacted to the gesture by burying your face into his neck. 

“Thank you.. for this,” you mumbled. He could feel your breath against his skin. 

“I’d do anything to make sure you feel safe,” he held onto you like you provided the air he breathed. “I’d do anything for you,” he whispered, just barely audible. 

The only reason you could hear him was because he was so close. His words sent shivers down your spine and butterflies in your stomach. 

“I always feel safe around you, Spence.” 

The walls you had carefully built up when he asked you to lay next to him were starting to come down. The moment became too sweet and sensual to ignore. Every one of his touches was driving you to the brink of insanity. Your neck and ears grew in temperature as the feelings overwhelmed you. Your heart rate started to pick up at a racing speed. 

Unfortunately, Spencer noticed. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, why?” you answered much too quickly. 

“Your heart's beating really fast.”  

“Oh,” you breathed. “I’m fine, there’s no reason.” 

He saw through you like glass. “Of course there’s a reason.” Spencer loosened his grip and shifted his weight to get a better look at you. His hand moved to the small of your back. 

“Is it the nightmare? Is it still bothering you?” he asked, his voice quiet and kind. 

You mumbled a timid, “no.” 

He examined your features, watching you get lost in your own head. “What are you thinking?” 

You looked up into his eyes. Your thoughts were swirling with too much to even give him a semblance of what was going on. Everything from his touch, his smell, his irises looking straight into your soul. 

While riding on the intoxicating wave of his care, you let a confession slip out. 

“I think I want to kiss you right now.” 

Spencer's eyes widened and although you couldn't see it, his cheeks flushed with red.

“Oh,” was all he could make out, at a loss for words. 

His pause caused your anxiety to spike. You immediately regret your actions. “I shouldn’t have said that.” 

You started to retract from him and turn away. But before you could flee from his hold, he grabbed your upper arm, pulling you back towards him. In an instant, Spencer's lips crashed into yours.

The initial shock had your lips frozen, before they started to melt against his. As he felt you relax, he poured more passion into you. The kiss tasted like desperation. Like you both were holding in a hunger that had driven you to starvation. 

His hands couldn’t find a place to rest. They were traveling up and down your figure, from your waist, back, hips, neck, and face. Your hands settled at the side of his face and the back of his neck while your fingers played with the ends of his hair. Spencer sighed into your mouth and pulled you closer, if that was even possible. 

As the kiss continued, Spencer's hand traveled down to your thigh. You instinctively wrapped your leg around him. But in a moment of nervousness, his movements glitched and lips slowed. His hand gently resumed its pawing at your thigh as he softened in your hold. 

Time felt like it stood still.  You breathed each other in like it was the first time you felt fresh air. 

The only thing concerning you or him was taking a literal breath of air and releasing from the kiss. 

You both pulled away gasping for breath and started to fall down from the high. As heavy exhales leave you, Spencer pressed small delicate kisses against your cheeks and the corners of your lips. His hold on your leg loosened and his fingers slowly traveled up and down your thigh. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like that before,” you admit, sheepishly smiling. 

He smiled back at you, “me neither.” 

“Can we talk more about this in the morning?” you asked. “There’s so much I want to tell you, but I'm exhausted.” After the passion had washed away, you were reminded how much sleep you lost throughout the night. 

“Absolutely,” he said with a fond and relieved look. “Come on, we should get some rest.”

You both settled into a more comfortable position to fall asleep. There was an unconscious understanding between you two and that there was no way you were separating.

[aliteralsemicolon]

Thinking about how Spencer takes care of you when you're too exhausted to take care of yourself.

He walks into your bedroom to find you on the brink of sleep, carelessly curled up on your end of the bed and his brows raise in slight concern as he scans you. You couldn't even be bothered to change out of your day clothes. He chuckles lightly at the sight, as he makes his way to you.

"Baby?" He gently calls to you, rubbing your calf with his hand as he takes a seat next to your legs. You're unable to respond to the sound of his voice despite hearing it. He tries again, this time kneeling on the floor next to your head.

"Angel?" His fingers lightly brush through your hair as he whispers near your ear.

"Hmm?" You reply hazily.

You wait for him to speak so you can go back to sleep but all that follows is silence. He resumes his motions in your hair and it keeps you aware of his presence. He's waiting for you to gain some more consciousness. You rub your eyes, fluttering them open and Spencer's quick to guide your hand away from your face.

Right. Your makeup.

"What's up?" You mumble, stifling a yawn.

"I know you're tired, and I'm sorry for having to wake you up," he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "but you do know why it's bad for you to fall asleep like this?"

This is a topic the two of you have discussed before. You're usually quite meticulous about removing your makeup before bed, but you're also no stranger to nights when you can't find any energy to do so.

"Mhm. Clogged pores, risk of infections, bacteria spread, discomfort…" You trail off, summarising his extensive research.

Getting you up and off this bed is a losing battle tonight and Spencer graciously accepts defeat, sporting an endeared grin.

"Can I at least help you get comfortable? Would it be alright if I took these off for you?" He tugs at your top and waits for your response. You nod, letting out a barely audible hum.

Spencer moves off the floor and begins to remove your clothing. "You're gonna have to help me just a little bit, Angel. Lift your hips for me."

You blindly follow his commands, wanting to get it over with so that he can relax and you can go back to sleep. He doesn't relax, though. As he rids you of the last of your clothing, he mentally fights himself on letting you sleep with your make-up. There are so many risks involved, but hygiene aside, Spencer knows that if you wake up with your pillow stained– or God forbid…a pimple– you're going to be beyond pissed with yourself.

The sudden dip in the mattress slightly startles you, as a cool feeling drags against your cheek and you whine.

"Shhhh, sorry, it's just me." Spencer coos.

"What're you doing?" You groan, squeezing your eyes shut, still in a sleepy haze.

"Just wiping off your makeup, sweet girl. You're going to thank me tomorrow." His finger hooks under your chin and he soothingly rubs his thumb just under your lips.

"Spence…" You begin whining but you're unable to pronounce anything else coherently.

He can tell you're slightly irritated, but he doesn't mind. He knows that it's the exhaustion talking.

"I know, I know." He sympathises with his continually gentle tone. "I'm almost done. You're being so good for me right now."

Your lips pout, but you don't complain any further, his words calming you. By the time he's finished ridding your face of cosmetic residue, you're knocked out again. Light snores can be heard from you. He chuckles to himself at the sight of you. So peaceful. So adorable. He leans in closer and plants a firm, lingering kiss on your forehead before he disappears to get ready for bed himself.

"Spence?"

He turns around at your groggy voice, still half asleep. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Anytime, my pretty girl."

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

sorry if you feel objectified - spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

reader spills to the ladies of the bau... which is fine until spencer hears

requested by: @floraisunwell

genre: fluff (vv silly) wc: 405 warnings: established relationship, mentioned sex, awkwardness, teasing, talk of objectification

Maybe it was a tad inappropriate to be discussing last night's escapades with your boyfriend—and coworker—at work but was it really that surprising? I mean, the team only just find out about you two and you don't have many friends here in DC. It's not like the ladies of the BAU were going to let you skimp on the details, anyways.

So, you tell them everything.

"He did what?!" Penelope screeches. You have to hold a finger to her lips to remind her that you're in the kitchenette and not behind closed doors.

Holding back far too loud giggles, you whisper-yell, "shut up!" After a moment of waiting for her to calm down, you continue the story, "over the couch..."

Emily's mouth opens before she asks quietly, baffled, "over? Like...?"

"I'm not describing our sex positions!" you giggle. Then, with feigned nonchalance, you add, "he looked good doing it, though." And, of course, that's the moment Spencer walks into the BAU with a confused, furrowed brow and red everything. A not-so-amusing, mumbled, "busted," comes from JJ.

Holding up her mug as an act of congratulation, Emily grins, "we've heard great things."

If it's even possible, his face gets even more red. You can only imagine the things he's picturing in his head right now. "W—What have you heard?"

"Nothing! Uh, they heard nothing. Coffee?" you suggest nervously.

You couldn't possibly be even a little shocked that Penelope had told Morgan. Unfortunately for Spencer, that means he's now a victim of his teasing.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Morgan smiles, "how do you feel about being objectified the person you're sleeping with?"

"It's not objectifying," Spencer mutters boredly, pressing a key on his computer's keyboard.

As if he already knew what he was going to say, Morgan hums before responding with, "I don't know, some of the things she said seemed pretty... explicit."

At that, he flushes, most likely recalling last night perfectly, thanks to his eidetic memory. That's when you butt in, not having it with the conversation. "Morgan," you warn.

His hands fly up in surrender and you glare at him. "Clearly you've never heard girl-talk before because that was nothing," you smile innocently. Morgan's eyebrows raise as he backs away towards his desk.

Spencer pops his head up and looks at you over the divider between your desks, brows furrowed and lips parted in confusion. Probably mortification, too.

"That conversation was nothing?"

[kisses4reid]

hot | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

sickness, comfort, spencer panicking slightly, ‘i love you’

just a short one to get me out of a slump, it’s cutesy, classic sick comfort fic. v short.

“Honey, you know how many germs I have right now, you really don’t have to be here.” You batted your eyelashes up at him from your deteriorating state on the couch.

Spencer ignored the nickname, or simply didn’t register it in his worry, “The longer you’re sick the more time the virus has to reproduce and evade your dying immune system. I have to learn to deal with it in order for you to get better.” Spencer spieled, pacing in front of you while wringing his hands.

“Spence, I can take care of myself.” You pleaded, more concerned about his comfort than yours.

“But I want to take care of you. I just have to pretend like you’re not sick when you really are. Badly sick. I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like pretending?” Head tilted, you tightened the blanket around your shoulders.

“I don’t like you being sick. I can deal with germs. I investigate dead bodies most of the time, I’ll be fine. You won’t be.”

You smiled, “Wow. Way to kill my immune system’s confidence.”

“Sorry, I’m trying to pep talk you and myself.” He stopped pacing and looked directly at you, regarding your figure with much concern.

“I know. You’re doing well. I already feel better.” You nodded to encourage him. Things like this was new to him, caring for someone he knew would reciprocate, so you didn’t want him to become insecure about it.

“That’s impossible. You’re still,” he places his hand on your forehead and you sniffle, “burning up.”

“Are you saying I’m hot?”

“Temperature wise, yes. And if you’re trying to insinuate me finding you attractive than yes, that too. I just don’t like the word ‘hot’ to describe you.”

“Why?” Your voice is audibly snotty, it makes you cringe.

“Because you’re not a temperature, you’re a beautiful woman. Who is sick, and needs honey tea.” He places a finger on his lips in thought and nods at his own idea.

“Spence?”

His eyes dart up at the sudden use of his name, “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His anxious motions halted and his ears reddened, he looked down with a tiny smile that hurt your heart with cuteness aggression. You sneezed very loudly, your leg jerking along with it.

“I love you too. Now, I’m making you tea and some noodles. You sit there and look beautiful.”

taglist - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner

[deerfawnn]

worries — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you get hurt while catching an unsub and spencer is worried content warnings: multiple mentions of being held at gunpoint , cut on the cheek bleeding, an ambulance arriving

Your chest heaved as you leaned against the cool brick wall outside the building, trying to catch your breath. The world around you felt muffled, like everything had been wrapped in cotton. The distant hum of sirens, and the occasional crackle of a police radio faded in and out, none of it penetrating the haze in your mind. 

Your hands trembled as you wiped them down your thighs, but the movement did little to stop the shaking.

It had been barely five minutes since the unsub had been standing in front of you, gun raised and finger on the trigger. Five minutes since you’d stared death in the face. 

If it hadn’t been for Emily—her quick thinking, her precise aim—you wouldn’t be standing here now. The thought sent a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through your body, your heart racing all over again. You pressed your back harder against the wall, hoping the solid surface would ground you, give you something tangible to hold onto. 

A few minutes passed, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins as you stood rooted to the spot. The distant wail of approaching sirens grew louder, signaling the arrival of the ambulance.

The sound of a door creaking open caught your attention, and you turned to see Emily stepping out of the house. The moment her eyes landed on you, her expression softened. 

“You okay?” she asked, her voice low but filled with genuine concern. She placed a steadying hand on your back.

You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was true. “Yeah, I think so,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended. 

Emily’s sharp eyes scanned your face, and then she frowned, her brows knitting together. “You’re bleeding,” she said, gesturing to your cheek. 

Your hand instinctively flew up to your face, fingers brushing against a stinging sensation you hadn’t noticed until now. When you pulled your hand back, your fingertips were smeared with blood. 

“I didn’t even realize…” you murmured, your voice trailing off as you tried to recall when or how you’d gotten the cut. The events of the past hour blurred together in a chaotic whirlwind, making it impossible to pinpoint. 

“It looks deep,” Emily said, her tone firm but laced with concern. “You should get that checked out.” 

“I’m okay,” you replied, offering her a small, reassuring smile. 

Emily raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your attempt to downplay the injury. “Uh-huh,” she said dryly. “And I’m the queen of England.” 

Before you could protest, she gently but firmly took hold of your arm, guiding you toward the ambulance that had just pulled up. “Come on,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. 

“Emily, it’s just a scratch,” you tried, but she shot you a pointed look that silenced any further objections. 

As you reached the paramedics, Emily waved one of them over. “She’s got a deep cut on her cheek,” she explained, her hand still resting on your arm as if she thought you might bolt at any second. 

The paramedic nodded, motioning for you to sit on the edge of the ambulance. You relented, sighing as you felt the cool touch of antiseptic on your skin. 

Emily stood nearby, her arms crossed as she watched the paramedic work.

“Thanks, Emily,” you said softly, glancing up at her once the bleeding had been stopped and the cut bandaged. 

As you sat on the edge of the ambulance, watching the paramedic clean up their supplies, another car pulled into the scene.

The dark sedan came to a halt, and you immediately recognized Rossi stepping out.

Emily was the first to approach him, gesturing toward the house as she gave a rundown of the situation.

Rossi nodded, his expression serious but calm, while Spencer stood just a step behind them, listening intently. His arms were crossed, his brow furrowed in concentration as he absorbed every word. 

Then, out of nowhere, Spencer’s head snapped up, his gaze darting straight to the ambulance. His eyes locked on you, and something in his expression shifted.

Concern etched itself into every line of his face as he suddenly stepped away from the conversation, cutting off whatever Rossi had been saying mid-sentence. 

You watched him approach, his pace quickening with every step, and you instinctively stood up, even though your legs still felt a little shaky. 

“Spence, I’m okay,” you started, raising your hands as if to stop him. But the words barely left your mouth before he was standing in front of you, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to reassure himself you were really there. 

“Emily told me…” he began, his voice low and slightly unsteady. He swallowed hard, his hands twitching at his sides as he visibly tried to collect himself. “Emily told me you were held at gunpoint.” 

The worry in his tone hit you like a wave, and you felt a pang of guilt for being the source of his distress. “Spencer, I’m fine,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “It was scary, yeah, but I’m okay. Emily—Emily saved me.” 

For a moment, he just stood there, his lips pressed into a thin line, like he was wrestling with some invisible force. 

Then, without warning, Spencer leaned down, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a hug. 

The gesture caught you completely off guard. Spencer wasn’t usually one for physical contact, let alone spontaneous hugs.

And yet here he was, holding you tightly, his face buried in your hair as he whispered, “I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

You froze for a second, startled by the unexpected intimacy, before the warmth of his embrace began to sink in. Slowly, you lifted your arms, wrapping them around him as you hugged him back. 

His grip didn’t loosen right away—if anything, it tightened slightly, like he was afraid you might slip away if he let go too soon. His breath was warm against your hair, and you could feel the faint tremble in his hands as they pressed against your back. 

“I mean it,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if…” He trailed off, not finishing the thought, but the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. 

You hesitated, unsure of what to say that could possibly ease his worry. Instead, you tightened your hold, resting your cheek against his chest as you whispered, “I’m here, Spence. I’m okay.” 

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes. His face was flushed, his usual awkwardness beginning to creep back in, but he didn’t let go entirely. “Sorry,” he said, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.  

You shook your head, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “Don't be sorry,” you said softly. “That was… nice.” 

Spencer let out a quiet, relieved laugh, finally stepping back but keeping his gaze locked on you. 

You smiled back at him, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest that had nothing to do with the danger you’d just faced.

[angellic4l]

thank you’s - s.r

in which; sunshine!bau!reader is demeaned by an officer on a case and season2!spencer sticks up for her.

content: fem!reader, reader described as having ‘girly’ flair, sexism, mention of blood/bloodstain, mainly fluff, protective spencer, and i think that’s it but lmk.

a/n: i just rawdog it and write on tumblr as a draft so i have 0 clue how many words there are. also, thank you all so much for the love on my first fic, i adore you all. these are my babies now and i hope you love them.

Warm sunlight warms the skin on your back while you’re crouched down at the latest crime scene, examining a bloodstain on the concrete floor. Despite it being November, it’s still considerably warm in Texas, a big contrast to Virginia weather for sure.

Despite official policies about dress code and such, you’re still a fun person, so you like to add your own girly flair to the professional attire you sport almost every single day. It doesn’t harm anybody, it doesn’t break any rules, and it’s cute.

However, pair the cute flair you add to your clothes with your enthusiastic, optimistic, ‘happy go lucky’ personality, and the fact that you’re a woman, and it causes people to make their own assumptions - typically sexist ones.

After doing bloodstain analysis on the red splatter that coats part of the parking lot’s floor, you go to stand up from your crouching position. Mid motion, you spot a small note on the floor, tucked under the wheel of a car. Crime scene analysis requires everything and anything to be processed, and the unsub has yet to make contact with authorities, so you make the decision that it’s worth looking at before motioning for Spencer to come over after seeing him somewhat idle.

He begins to make his way over from the other end of the parking lot as you stay crouching, waiting for him to come over because you don’t have gloves on. What you don’t see after you turn back around is an officer, an average sized male with blonde hair who appears to be slightly older than you, approaching you at the very same time.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, workin’ for the FBI? You sure yer pretty little brain can handle allathat, darlin’?” A man’s voice; a thick, Texan drawl, coated with a somewhat flirty tone, yet at the very same time, it’s seeping with disdain - ambivalence.

Unfortunately, you’re used to that tone of voice and can recognise it all too well. It’s not going to be the first time you hear it, and it certainly won’t be the last, no matter how progressive times are or how you express yourself.

Standing up, spinning on your heels, ready to give the - officer? that’s poor - a rehearsed response to ensure your own safety, yet keep a boundary, you see Spencer stood behind the average sized, blonde haired man that you don’t recognise. He’s giving the officer one of his looks, his face saying everything, as usual, despite the officer not being able to see it.

Spencer’s fully aware his face is saying everything without it coming out of his lips, he’s completely baffled at how someone could say something so demeaning to anybody, much less you. You’re probably the sweetest person he’s ever met, always so supportive and enthusiastic. He feels protective of you. He doesn’t even realise he does until the words are out.

“She’s perfectly capable of doing her job, if not more so than other male agents, not that it concerns you whatsoever. And I’m perfectly capable of reporting a sexist comment to your supervisor.”

Spencer’s tone is defensive, no, protective, and you can feel heat rushing to your cheeks. It’s the bare minimum - sticking up for someone to a discriminatory comment - and you know that. It’s more so that Spencer hates confrontation, but he’s doing it, and it’s for you. Thank God for the Texas weather masking your fluster as warmth.

With the threat of his supervisor being involved, the officer offers a mumbled apology before walking away, almost as if his ‘tail’ is tucked between his legs, like a scolded puppy. A soft laugh elicits from your lips at the sight. Once the sexist officer has gone, Spencer’s eyes find you, his expression changing to one of concern.

“Hey, you okay? That was demeaning,” the brunette offers, his hand coming to rub the back of his neck, a habit he has, typically more often around you.

“‘M okay. Used to it, unfortunately. Thank you, though, Spence. That was sweet; I know how much you hate confrontation,” you say, giving him a soft smile as you do.

It’s Spencer’s turn to blush now, you calling his actions sweet and that soft smile - god, that smile - flushing his cheeks a light pink while his hand still rubs at the back of his neck.

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me. Anyway, you called me over here. What did you find?”

With his question, you’re quickly reminded of why you did call him over, before the sexist comment and mini confrontation that’d ensued with the officer’s presence, but there’s something you want to do first.

“I don’t need to thank you, but I want to,” you reassure him before stepping forward, moving closer to him, leaning up on your tiptoes, turning your head to face Spencer’s cheek, and slowly placing a chaste kiss to his already pink cheek.

Spencer’s eyes widen before they close, realising what you’re doing and wanting to savour the feeling of your lips on his skin. Unfortunately for him, the brief contact is gone just as quickly as it had started. He opens his eyes again and moves his right hand from the back of his neck to touch his cheek, realising what he did in front of you, and acting as if he was wiping away your lip gloss stain.

“Oh, uh.. thanks. Anyway, the, uhm, you called me over to see…?”

Silently, secretly, he wills the feeling of your lips on his skin to never leave his memory, not even when he’s old and grey, and maybe, just maybe, he wishes that you’ll be by his side when he is.

[endearng]

Firsts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: You and Spencer navigate through your firsts throughout your life as childhood friends.

WC: 6k

Warnings: death, grief, use of drugs to cope with grief, uhhhh i guess that's it

A/N: HELLO!!! It's been so so long and I'm sorry I took forever to update — uni's kicking my ass but now I'll try to write a bit more during holidays season. I hope you guys enjoy this one <3 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

| masterlist

"Do you think we'll stay friends?"

"I'm sure we'll stay friends."

For a genius, your best friend, Spencer Reid, never seemed to notice some of his speech patterns — he would echo you sometimes, which you honestly found adorably funny, and he also had a tendency for rambling, even if it wasn't that appropriate at times. When you two were alone, you didn't mind; in fact, you encouraged him and let him talk to you all the way. When there was someone else, like either of your parents or a teacher (these were your regular companions), you would try to tap him on the arm subtly so he would know when to stop. Although it broke your heart, he said himself once that he appreciated when you helped him look more normal.

Right now, things are everything but normal. Spencer had graduated high school at the age of 12 while you were still in seventh grade and he was leaving to study at Caltech. You didn't dare to compare yourself to him, but you would definitely miss him around, since he was the first person you saw everyday (besides your parents, of course) and the one who walked you to school and then went on the way to his. Right now, you are sitting on the floor of your front porch, while Spencer is laying his head on your lap and you have your hands on his hair. You always said to him that he's got nice hair, no matter how he styled or decided to cut it. He blushed every single time.

"You know… I'm gonna miss you, Spencer."

"I'm gonna miss you. But you'll still be in my life."

"Will I?"

"I'm leaving, but I'll try my best to keep in touch. We can call each other. I'll spare a couple hours of my week so you can talk to me." A small grin stretched on his lips when he mentioned talking to you. A crease made its way between your brows when you thought you'd only talk to him weekly.

Trying to play it cool, you asked, just to be sure, just to check if the pang in your heart felt less intense, less hurtful. "Will you?"

"Yes, I will."

Despite having him in your lap, you couldn't see his eyes, for they were closed in delight from your gentle touch. You saw him smile softly and you could see just how relaxed he seemed with this big change — honestly, if you were him, you'd be terrified. Quickly trying to get rid of your sad and fearful thoughts, as you ran your hands through his hair, you poorly fought the urge to chuckle when you thought about braiding his hair. He felt the air that left your lungs hit his face when you did.

Curious, as he always had been, he inquired, "What is it?"

"You'd look good with braids."

"I'm not letting you braid my hair," even if his tone was one of mock offense, a chuckle made its way out of him.

"I didn't ask to."

You saw as he bit back a grin. Little did you know, but he's is heaven, here in your presence. In dire need of some place safe to just be, without the expectations and the big things that are expected from him and to happen to him. As you unknowingly soothed his thoughts with your gentle touch, he thought about how strange it is having someone touch him and not being utterly opposed to the idea. He also thought about how, for one time in his life, he didn't know something, which was the feeling spreading on his chest. Nevertheless, there was a ghost of a small, shy smile on his face as his shoulders relaxed.

He was happy.

—

As you made your way home from your sixteenth birthday dinner, something felt odd. Looking out the window, the city lights seemed to run from how fast your dad is driving. In the backseat, all alone, you tried to figure out what made you feel so empty all night long. As the car went over a bump, you instinctively looked to the side, and then everything made sense. Spencer wasn't there. Usually, after whatever family celebration you'd go to, he would be there (because you'd insist on taking him with you), by your side in the backseat of your dad's car, laughing at whatever funny thing had happened during the event. He was your company to every single thing you did, and you had been missing him quite more often as the contact between you two became more and more scarce.

Turning to look out the window again, your mom saw the frown on your face and sighed quietly, knowing precisely why you weren't chatting like you normally did. The specific pair of ears that you wanted to be listened by were not here. And she didn't blame you one bit.

As you got home, your frown was quickly replaced by a hopeful feeling on your chest and in your features when you found a voicemail addressed to you.

Hey! I hope you get home before midnight so that you won't think, not even for a minute, that I have forgotten about you. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it! I'm really stressed right now because there are too many things happening at the same time and I'm here all by myself, so... I guess you know, better than myself, how I feel. You… You know me so well. It is nice to be known by you. Anyway... Um... I'd like to wish you a happy birthday and, ah, I also would like you to know that I wish I could have been with you today. I'm really sorry because I know how much you love your birthdays. I'm sending you a gift, but I'm not sure if it will arrive on time. I miss you. I miss you and whatever Taylor Swift song you were always humming when we were walking back from school.

Anyway, er... I miss you—hah—I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much I miss you. And how much I miss our time together. Uh, happy birthday!

You didn't know when, but you had teared up at some point listening to him. You didn't know whether the cause was hearing his voice again or because he remembered you or because he told you he missed your time together or that he remembered the silly songs you'd sing when you were walking back home together. Before going to bed, you let your bedside table lamp on, as you always did before so Spencer knew, from the house beside yours, that you were up or you didn't care if he called you in the middle of the night. Either way...

You were happy.

—

Underneath the Christmas tree, the glow of the warm white fairy lights you and your mom had picked out was almost blinding. Yet, you and Spencer couldn't care less. You were both too infatuated by the blinding brightness that punished your eyes to care about having problems later. Closing your eyes, you smiled to yourself, happy to be doing something so ordinary, so dumb, with your best friend. Behind your eyelids, the light was not as relentless and it granted some relief from the current sight, which sort of looked like a kaleidoscope of... white. You heard when Spencer turned his head to look at you, but you missed his soft grin.

"It was overwhelming me," you explained.

"I know." He replied, still looking at you.

Your profile, under the yellowish glow, looked almost ethereal. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, everything was forever ingrained into his memory. By now, Spencer could map out every single freckle on your face — especially the particular one on your lower lip. He sighed at the sheer thought of your lips. You were now seventeen and so was Spencer. Puberty had been way gentler on you than it was on him and he noticed with a blush that you were growing up, just as he was. You were a little taller, for sure, and you had put on some weight in all the right places, not to mention your style that matched your personality. As for him, he had that voice pitch swing that he hated greatly, still wore thick glasses and overall went with the nerdy stereotype that everyone picked on him for… while you looked like you were glowing.

You opened your eyes and turned to look at him. You were so close that it almost hurt. Inches separated Spencer from what he thought would be the best feeling of his life. From the person that had him lying awake for hours, tossing and turning on his bed until the sun began to rise. "I can't wait to give you your gift. I think you'll love it!"

He grinned. "I'll be happy with anything." From you, he meant to say, but he didn't finish.

You closed your eyes again, a grin of your own on your face. He wondered... What if he got closer? What if he kissed you? What if you pulled away? What if you didn't pull away? What if you cut him off?

Almost unconsciously, he inched closer and closer to the point your breaths mingled together. You didn't pull away, not even for a second. Instead, you leaned in, getting ever closer to him than you ever had been before. The fairy lights made you look even prettier than before. You looked like a dream.

"I was thinking..."

"About what?" He asked. Despite his gaze being lost in you, he was acutely aware of the words coming out of your mouth.

God, your mouth.

"It's stupid..." You muttered, looking away from his eyes.

"You know you can talk to me." It's not stupid if it's you.

"Okay... okay." You breathed in. "Me and the girls were talking about first kisses. And I felt so, so embarrassed because I haven't had mine yet."

Spencer felt dizzy. Even if he wasn't the best at social cues, if he was reading this right, you wanted him to kiss you too. He exhaled softly, trying to clear his thoughts. His voice was weak when he asked, "And?"

"Have you had yours yet? I know we talk about everything and all that, but... have you?"

He chuckled at your question. How could he, the scrawny little nerdy boy have had his kiss and you hadn't? "You're joking right?"

"I'm not! I'm genuinely curious."

He didn't know, but your heart was in your throat, too scared of a positive answer.

"I haven't had my first kiss yet."

Somehow, that did nothing to calm your racing heart. Inching even closer, you muttered, "we could have it together."

If Spencer didn't pass out with your words, he was sure he would be unshakable for the rest of his life. Whatever life threw at him, it wouldn't matter as much as this moment of sheer strength and self-control, because he didn't pull you in immediately. "Are you sure?"

"I'd be fine with kissing you. You're my best friend. I—I know you won't judge me and you know I won't judge you either. And—and... even if things are... embarrassing... i—it will still be a good memory in the… future." As your soft voice reached his ears, he felt like he was in heaven.

Your arguments for kissing him made him wonder if you had spent that much time considering it as he did. "Okay, you've got a few points. I'm—I'm not... opposed to the idea."

Your heart burned. You both inched closer and closer, a hair width separating your lips. As your eyes fluttered closed and you placed one of your hands on the back of his neck, both hesitantly and surely, Spencer mimicked you and pressed his lips to yours with the lightest pressure as his hand found your waist tentatively. Your lips felt so soft and sweet. He knew he would feel you for days — and hoped you'd feel him for days, too.

Encouraged by him, you pressed your lips a bit harder against him. He gasped softly and you took the opportunity to capture his lower lip between yours and kiss it gently. Spencer could feel his heartbeat drumming on his ears and he tightened his hold on your waist the tiniest bit. Internally, he thought he died and went to heaven and that's how he was welcomed there. Your lips fit together so nicely and he felt his heart burning for you and he knew back then that he would do anything you asked him to in a heartbeat.

You pulled back to lick your lips and fitted them into his again. He sighed, again, moving to your accord as he tried focusing on how good it felt to be kissed by you rather than how you could regret it later. Distancing yourself, your eyes slowly fluttered open, finding his dazed ones already looking back at you. You grinned at him. Another secret between the two of you; but this time, it wasn't an embarrassing one.

He smiled back.

Later that day, Spencer sat on his bed, touching his lips, feeling the tingle yours had left behind. Smiling like an idiot, he wrote that date on the wood of his nightstand, black marker holding the evidence that tonight had actually happened, if he were to ever forget. If anyone asked, well, he would have to come up with something to hide the fact that he was relentlessly in love with you, but he would replay the best memory of his life in the back of his mind as his mouth stuttered out a little white lie.

He was so confused. And screwed. And so utterly happy.

—

At Caltech, at the ripe age of eighteen, on a working day, as usual, Spencer typed aggressively on his keyboard, writing an academic paper on a topic that had come to his mind during one of his classes and later inspired fully by a conversation with this one professor. Looking at the time on his computer screen, he cursed. It was already time he was supposed to be on his way to class, which was unlike him. There was a reason, though.

Last night, he had gotten home late. He had lost track of time talking to a girl whose name was Alex. They were both at the university library, and they hit it off immediately talking about Literature and then more mundane things — he had found out that she was a high schooler having classes with grad students, just like himself a few years back. Getting home late, his entire schedule for the day ahead had been ruined, so everything felt odd as he tried to navigate through his last obligations. He had gone to bed later than usual and overslept for some reason unknown to him.

As he got up abruptly, he knocked his knee on the desk, which was now getting very small for the size he had grown into. Shutting his eyes and suppressing a whine, he breathed in. As he opened his eyes, his line of sight caught glance of one of the two only photos he had hung up on his wall. The first was him and his mother, Diana. The second was you and him.

It was short after your fifteenth birthday, and he finally had had the time to go visit. You had greeted him with a very warm hug. That very same day, you had dragged him to your bedroom, which now didn't have the pink walls and the posters of the bands you liked so much anymore. Now, the walls were a cool tone of sage green and your walls were cleaner, the posters being replaced by photos of you and your friends from school. He had felt a tinge of jealousy, noticing just how much he was missing out on your life. Despite the lingering feeling, he tried to not let it get to him.

You thanked him so much for the gift he had given you, one of those polaroid cameras. He had spent so much time saving money to get you that present. The excited, happy tone in your voice during the phone call you had made to thank him made him feel like it had been worth it to spend that much.

"Hey, here she is! I named her Marie. From Marie Curie, of course." You explained, holding your camera carefully as you both entered your bedroom

"You named 'her' Marie?"

"She has a special place on my heart."

He chuckled. "You're so material, sometimes."

"You gave it to me!"

"I gave it to you." He whispered, a hint of a smile dancing around his features.

You smiled. "Come on, let's take a picture. It's her first. I waited a whole month so you'd be here to take this photo with me. It's only fair you're the first person to be photographed with me by Marie."

"Oh... okay..."

Holding the camera with both of your hands, you held it out so that it would capture the two of you. "Smile." You said, and, without checking his pose, you pressed the button, a big grin on your face, for the photo, of course, but also from being so madly happy that you were with him again. Spencer didn't know what do to, frozen on the spot because you were so, so close. He just looked at you, dumbstruck gaze on him as he watched you smile so beautifully at the camera.

His heart was doing somersaults.

After the flash in your face, you blinked rapidly, chuckling to yourself. "Oooh. That's uncomfortable, heh." You open your eyes and the first thing you see are his beautiful hazel ones, looking straight at you, as if he didn't even blink upon the bothering aftermath of the light on your faces. You nearly had to gulp under the intensity of his gaze. Then, you quickly regained consciousness and started fanning the small piece so that the picture would appear faster.

The result was the one now stuck to his wall: you, with the biggest smile on your face and he, lovestruck, dumb, lost gaze as he looked at you.

Sigh.

Spencer quickly shook his head, not meaning to be later and even more stressed than he already was. He missed you, though. And he let himself relish in that feeling of longing for a minute. Glancing at the photo, he couldn't help but think you were already eighteen. And that he had loved you from the first time he saw you — when he was twelve.

He sat on his bed, having removed the photo from the wall. As he held it delicately between his fingers, he thought of you. He always did. In spite of being late, in spite of everything telling him he had to go through his days, he felt something tugging at his heartstrings, a longing feeling that he should be somewhere else, something that told him something, so he knew.

It was time to go.

—

Back in his hometown, even the air felt different, despite exuding an aroma that reminded him of his younger days. It had been some time since he had visited, and the distance between you and him only grew further. Driving past your house — the state of California had finally issued his license —, he saw a somewhat big crowd of people, all dressed in black.

He felt like the noise around him didn't fully reach his brain. Like he was under water.

Robotically stepping out of his car, he approached the house cautiously. Almost as instantly as your mom welcomed him, he saw you across the room, dressed in black. Bloodshot eyes found him instantly, and a flicker of relief passed your expression — unable to muster up a smile, but oh so willing to show him that you were grateful for his presence. You felt frozen to the spot and had been standing in that corner for hours. A man placed his hand on your shoulder and that's when you looked away from Spencer. He noticed it, of course, and was obliged to acknowledge the blonde man by your side. You didn't smile at him either.

Spencer approached, somewhat relieved that you were okay, but so confused and overwhelmed by the entire situation. Almost unwilling to believe whatever bad thing had happened, because he had been so happy with you in that house.

Once he was within your earshot, you greeted weakly, "Hi."

"Hi."

Silence.

"Can we talk?"

Something about the look in your eyes told him that you desperately wanted, no, needed, craved it from him, his presence. With a subtle nod, you excused yourself from the man and lead him to the backyard. Sitting on the same bench you did when it was too late and you talked about the stars together, you reveal softly as you stare into the distance, "Dad's gone."

Spencer felt like he had been punched and all the air had left his lungs after your confirmation of something he was suspecting already. Finally, he blurted out, sitting down by yourself, "W—what?"

"He didn't wake up."

"He didn't wake up?"

"No... Last night, Spencer..." You begun, your voice thick with emotion, "he said that everything was alright." You frowned, tears streaming down your face, "That he... loves... loved me and mom... and that... that had been his role on Earth."

He stood quiet, waiting for the rest of what you had to say, still shaken by the news. Your broken voice and distant gaze were enough to skyrocket the pain he felt. Spencer absolutely adored your dad, and he was one of the few that Spencer confided in wholeheartedly when things got too rough for him to bear by himself. Even though your dad was the quiet type, Spencer would go as far as saying that he was somehow his dad as well.

With your silence, he had a little time to see past the pain. Analyzing your figure, he knew. He knew you had to leave. If you decided to stay, you'd be rooted to the spot and you wouldn't be able to grow any further, forever stuck into the never ending, relentless force of grief. Spencer knew that because, besides knowing you better than anyone else, he had left in hopes to escape the person he thought he was doomed to become. Your voice brought him out of his reverie. "I laughed. I thought he was joking."

"Maybe he was joking."

"Maybe he knew he was leaving."

Silence.

You look up at him. Asking for answers. For something. For comfort.

Sitting down beside you, he held your shaking shoulders as you let tears fall freely and you lost your breath and you choked on your own saliva. An ugly, guttural, desolate crying. Spencer held you through it all — he was ready to scream at anyone on the garden if they had the nerve to go there, but, actually, in that moment, you didn't care that somebody could see or hear you. The effect of the pills your mother had given you had started to wear off and you felt things way more intensely than when she first broke the news.

Dad's gone, was all that you could hear her voice say as Spencer turned his body to fully embrace you, placing your head on his shoulder and sobbing your pain as an effort to quell the ache of your loss.

It took every single ounce of self-control for Spencer not to break down with you, because in that moment, he preferred to swallow his own pain so that he could be your safe space instead. As your sobs slowly subsided, you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make the pain that invaded your whole body go away.

"I think..." you started, but never finished.

Silence.

"I think you should move away."

You looked at him, baffled, puzzled, hopeful.

"What?" You whispered softly.

"I think staying won't do you any good. And you know I'm right." His gaze never faltered.

You took a deep breath. "M-my mom... Spencer... she doesn't have anyone else. I-I can't do that... to her..." You gulped. The meer thought of leaving felt exhilarating, but you had to stay. You were rooted.

"Your brothers are always around." He replied.

"Not anymore. Much has changed since… since you... left."

"I didn't leave." He said, defensively.

"I didn't accuse you. At least I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Would you consider it? Leaving, I mean?" Please, say yes. Please, say yes. Come with me.

"I would... I don't know, Spencer." Your voice was broken. "Too... too much is going on. I can't just... go."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"There's dad. And now mom. And that stupid college... I don't know where I fit." You fit next to me, he wanted to scream at you, but he realized it wasn't fair of him to demand anything from you at that moment. "I don't know what path to take without my dad here to guide me." A wet chuckle made its way out of you. He hugged you again.

On a sudden wave of boldness, he stated, "If you stay, this will be your life. If you go, you'll have somewhere to come back to if things go wrong. I—I… I know, um, that I sound very insensitive right now, but that's the truth. Why do you think I went away?"

"I can't." And your tears began again, even harder this time.

He sighed, holding you against his chest once again. Despite the unbearable pain of not being able to help, to persuade you, he decided to respect your decision.

“My father's in a casket. I have got no plans.” You muttered softly. His heart broke for you all over again.

“You've got me. And I've got you.”

Looking up at him, your eyes glimmered with hope. Desperate to believe him, desperate to leave. With him, if he'd have you.

But that wasn't how it worked.

You buried your face on his chest again, willing the tears to stop, to have some control over yourself again.

He held you through it all. He was there for you.

Spencer's stay didn't last long, even though it was filled with an unspoken, desperate beg for you to come with him, even if he didn't quite know how things would work once you accepted. After some thinking, he realized he was asking too much of you for the sake of trying to protect you from what he knew was going to happen. Losing his own father, albeit for a different reason, had changed him permanently and he was scared that you, losing yours, would turn into a different person too. The mere thought of losing you to grief was too much to handle, even if he understood that his pleas were unfair to you, not to mention absurd.

Spencer's brain was turned into a whirlwind of thoughts, all of them desperate to find a way out of this situation, to find a way out to get you out of that place — both physically and mentally. As he stood by your side during your dad's burial, he let you squeeze his hand as if that would somehow make the pain less intense for you. It didn't, but it felt nice to have someone to carry the weight with you.

—

Spencer had joined the FBI at the age of 23, when you were graduating from college. The difference was staggering and it made you laugh the same as it had when he was going to college and you were going to seventh grade. It had been years since you had last met in person, after all, Diana was the main reason he'd go to Vegas, and he didn't go there much because he was often too busy with his studies and his career. Once, he had confided in you, saying that he secretly wished that it would be enough of a good excuse to avoid seeing his mother in a facility and saving them both from the pain. Tonight, though, that would change. You were visiting him in Virginia.

A little nervous, you knocked on his door. Once he answered, you took in his appearance and your heart swelled at the sight. In your eyes, he'd always looked the prettiest, but now… It's like something had shifted: Spencer was all that you saw. And you didn't want to look at anything else anymore.

“Hi,” you greeted in a weak voice. Perhaps the intensity of your smile stole away your will to speak properly.

“You're here.” Spencer muttered, eyes filled with many emotions, but that you decided to read as relief.

“I am.”

“God, it's been so long,” he says, closing the gap between you and him, wrapping his arms around your torso, resting his head on your shoulder, not so subtly trying to smell your perfume. And failing to hide the overdrive when he noticed it was the same from all those years ago, from when you had first kissed.

Pulling away slightly, you cupped his cheeks with both hands and took in his shiny eyes, the ones that you adored so much and now met yours with a new perspective on everything. Once entering his apartment, you found that the place screamed his name, from the scattered books and the endless piles all over his living room. His TV had a documentary in a foreign language on, and you smiled to yourself. Spencer had never changed and, at his core, was still the boy you were once close friends with.

Spencer filled you in on the things you missed. You knew they were mostly about his job because he wasn't one to step out of his comfort zone — not that you'd judge him for it. “I miss having you around, tapping my arm so I know when to stop,” he revealed softly as you two shared a tub of ice cream.

Forget germs, forget pathogens, forget viruses, forget everything. She is here.

You giggled. It set his heart on fire. “Ah, Spencer… You know I only did it when other people were around. Other people are just other people. You're you. And rambling is part of who you are. Don't let that disappear.”

He smiled. You were still you.

“In fact, I have something to tell you.”

His heartbeat fastened, thinking of every possible scenario, reliving every single one of your experiences in the back of his mind. “You… you have something to tell me?” He echoed. He was still him.

Chuckling softly, “I'm glad you're still you, Spencer. I still say your name when people ask me who's my best friend. It's an excuse to relive our favorite stories as I tell them all about you.”

Spencer was left speechless, bashfully looking away from you as he resumed to talk about his days at the FBI. He told you all about his team, the people and what they found on a daily basis. “Do you think it's weird that I study what I do study?”

“No, Spence. You've always had a curious mind. Why do you ask?” You inquired back.

“I don't know… sometimes I think that people find me weird.”

“You're not,” you said, simply. “Your interests are very diverse, and anyone who talks to you will find that out. Being a profiler is not weird.”

He grinned. Your words or arguments about his insecurities throughout your friendship weren't always the most complex, but he always felt better by talking to you. He was never ashamed, never too scared of admitting something or voicing his needs. You made him feel like it was okay to speak, to want, to be. Whatever his limitations were and whatever words he left unspoken, they were never your fault. You'd never frowned at him, not once.

As the night progressed, he filled you in on what he had been doing for fun, mentioning his current readings — one of them on his nightstand. Giddily, you went over to his bedroom to find the novel that he was talking about, so that you could hear him talk about it and recite, by heart, quotes that illustrated his points and interpretation from the book. Upon entering his bedroom, you smiled to yourself. So Spencer. The sand-colored walls, the neat and clean floor, his slightly wrinkled bedsheets, a pile of laundry on top of his bed, a few scattered items on his nightstand — which, by the way, was the same in his mother's house. You had always found it amazingly pretty, the light wood and the black paint that covered the iron of the drawer pulls.

As you reached the piece of furniture and removed the book, you found something scribbled right under where the object had been lying. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind and you opened your mouth, ready to tell him not to ruin the perfect nightstand, but as you turned on the lamp to try and find out what was written there, the writing in black ink made you shiver. You fell silent. It was the date of your first kiss.

Time stopped. Why was that date written there? And why did the possibilities both scared and thrilled you so damn much? You felt someone behind you. “So, you found the book or what?” The question made its way out of his lips in a teasing tone. But, as you turned around softly, the book still clutched tightly in your hands, your eyes questioned him back. Not accusingly, only… curiously.

When he realized what you had discovered, the air left his lungs and he tried desperately to come up with an excuse. It turns out that he hadn't been asked by many people about the meaning of that date — and it's not like he had many visitors, anyway. “I… You… You… Did you… see it?” You managed to nod, weakly.

“What does it mean?” You asked, eyes never leaving his.

Looking away, he replied, “I was scared to forget.”

“Forget?” You inquired, shifting your weight.

“About it…. That night, I mean. about… us.” You gazed at him understandingly once he answered.

“About us?” Funnily enough, now you were the one parroting him. It would have made you chuckle if the situation wasn't that serious.

He breathes out, “Yeah, us.”

A beat of silence. You take a step towards him, and his breath hitches. “Have you forgotten?”

He searches your face. Upon finding nothing but support, he reveals, “There's not a single day I don't remember that moment.” You gulp and he takes a step closer, which makes your grip on the book tighten even more. You closed your eyes — a silent invitation, but it makes him falter once he doesn't have your eyes to navigate him through what he's supposed to do.

I'm glad you're still you, Spencer.

Encouraged by the memory of your words from moments ago and the presence of you, he closes the distance between you, once and for all. There's nothing that could hold him back from loving you once your lips touch and press together in a kiss that makes the book fall to your feet as your hands find their place on the back of his neck.

On any other day, Spencer Reid would be pissed upon seeing someone drop a book, let alone a considerably heavy one, on his feet — that's absurd. That moment, though, he couldn't care less as he squeezed your waist, as if trying to convince himself that you were there, that it was real, and that he finally got to do what he has always wanted.

Spencer and you had been through many firsts during the time you've known each other; some good firsts and some pretty bad firsts. But, there was a quote, from ‘Doctor Who’, that you always reminded him and yourself whenever things got too tough:

"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."

As long as he had you to soften the bad things and had your company during the bad things that made the good ones unimportant, Spencer figured that life would be a pile of more good than bad things.

[angellsell]

Used to It

Summary: you defend Spencer when an officer interrupts him Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader Genre: fluff [oneshot] Warning(s): none A/N: this is part of the teddy-ber event created by me

The precinct buzzed with the usual chaos — phones ringing, officers moving briskly, and the murmur of voices discussing the latest case. You stood beside Spencer Reid, the two of you going over the evidence that had been laid out across a table.

Spencer was explaining a theory, his voice quick but laced with excitement. You loved watching him in these moments, when his passion for solving puzzles took over and he became so animated. He gestured toward the files, threading together connections no one else had noticed.

“And if we consider the unsub’s choice of victims,” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “It’s possible he’s working off some kind of symbolic-”

“What’s your point, genius?” an officer interrupted abruptly, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

The moment felt like it shattered in front of you. Spencer froze mid-sentence, the enthusiasm draining from his face as quickly as it had appeared. His shoulders hunched slightly, and his gaze dropped to the floor.

You saw red.

“Excuse me” you said sharply, stepping forward. Your voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “He was making a point, one that might help us catch the person you’re supposed to be stopping. So, unless you have something more helpful to add, maybe let him finish”

The officer blinked, clearly taken aback by your tone. He muttered something under his breath and walked away, but not before shooting Spencer an annoyed look.

You turned back to Spencer, your anger still simmering. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, but his expression didn’t match the gesture. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he refused to meet your eyes.

“Spencer-”

“You didn’t have to do that” he said softly, cutting you off.

“Of course, I did” you replied, frowning. “He had no right to talk to you like that”

Spencer finally looked up, and the sadness in his eyes made your heart ache. “It happens all the time,” he said with a small shrug. “I’m… Used to it”

You stared at him, stunned. “That doesn’t make it okay”

He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I appreciate what you did. I do. But you don’t have to fight my battles for me. It’s not worth it”

“Not worth it?” you repeated, incredulous. “Spencer, you deserve respect just as much as anyone else here. More, even, because you’re brilliant and you’re kind, and you’re the one figuring out half of what we know about this case. If someone can’t see that, it’s their problem—not yours”

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, to your relief, his lips curved into a more genuine smile. It was small, almost hesitant, but it was there.

“Thank you” he said quietly.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied, your voice softening, “I just… I hate seeing you treated like that”

Spencer nodded, his gaze warm despite the lingering shadows. “I know”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the noise of the precinct fading into the background. Then Spencer straightened, his usual determination returning to his expression.

“Anyway,” he said, his tone lightening, “As I was saying, the unsub’s choice of victims suggests a pattern based on…”

You smiled as he launched back into his explanation, the earlier incident already slipping from his mind. But you knew you wouldn’t forget it — not because of the officer’s rudeness, but because of the way Spencer had tried to brush it off as normal.

You made a silent promise to yourself. You’d always have his back, no matter how used to it he thought he was.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

RESTLESS. 18+

pairing. spencer reid x fem!reader summary. you’re struggling to fall asleep and you accidentally awake spencer in the process. an escalation of mindless touches becomes an attempt to tire you out word count. 1305 warnings. 18+ readers only. mdni!! pre-prison reid was in mind but you’re welcome to imagine another era. titty holding, fingering, pinv, soft sleepy sex, possible somnophilia (but not really bc both end up falling asleep at end) & cockwarming. enjoy x

It’s late, the time on your phone displaying a number far later than you'd like. You’ve been struggling to get to sleep for the last few hours, endless tossing and turning in hopes of drifting off proving to be nothing but fidgeting. 

And so, you place your phone back onto the nightstand after the umpteenth time of checking it, the sound audible through Spencer’s sleep, jolting him awake. You twist to look back at him behind you, his eyes alert — still sleepy— as he looks over you, making sure you’re the first thing he checks on.

“Sorry, I woke you up.”

He inhales deeply and reaches for you under the covers, slipping a hand under your bedtime top and up to one of your breasts — his hold mindless as he cups it. “It’s all right,” he says, voice tired and thick, still asleep. “Have you slept?” he asks, nuzzling his forehead into the back of your neck.

“No,” you reply, speaking softly as not to disturb the rhythm of his sleep more than you have.

“Aw, I’m sorry,” he apologises through his half asleep state, muttering into your skin. “I can stay up with you,” Spencer offers, pressing a kiss into shoulder.

“No, no. It’s okay,” you say, stroking over his arm through your t-shirt. “Get back to sleep, love. It’s late.”

His breathing changes behind you, the pattern more controlled now, like he’s waking up. “I can’t if I know you can’t,” he whispers into the crook of your neck, pressing a light kiss to where he just spoke.

“I feel bad keeping you awake.”

“Don’t.”

You snicker, the sound subtly entertained. “Oh right, yeah, okay,” you reply, tone sarcastic from his twinge of unintentional callousness.

You adjust your position, rolling onto your back to look at him — the moon casting a soft sheen of light on the side of your faces: illuminating his soft features and messy curls. He’s resting on his fist, elbow bent beside your head as he looks over you, expression growing more conscious.

“You know what I meant,” he smiles faintly, eyes closing as he shakes his head, amused. 

With his hand still clasped under one of your tits, you join him, sliding under your top to hold onto his fingers — keeping him to you. He follows your eyeline and mimicks the gaze set on your chest, each of you watching the soft caress under the fabric. Your eyes flicker up to him slightly above you and he follows, now peering down at you nestled beside his upper arm.

Like a mirror, he copies your movements, glancing down to your lips like you did him mere moments before. Each of your glances like a silent question, wordlessly asking if the same thought was on the other’s mind. And it was. 

You itch upwards slightly, neck raising and head lifting to get closer to him — pressing your lips to his. You linger for a brief moment, using the short pause to figure out whether his mind was in the same place as yours. He slips his hand away from under your breast, the act making you think otherwise. But instead he places it under your jaw, his hold almost needy — his fingers crawling across into the hairs at the back of your head. 

He returns the kiss, his one holding far more zeal than your anticipatory one, like he’s wanting to progress things — wordlessly communicating it with you. And with his palm clasped at the side of your throat, you’re slipping into the back of it and peeling him from you, leading  him someplace else.

You guide him down your stomach and down the front of your underwear, pushing your hands under the waistband and to your cunt. You inhale sharply into his mouth, the brisk, faint contact of his fingers over your clit enough to elicit such a reaction. 

Spencer takes your sound as a cue and does it again to gain that same response, only now there’s more of a whine to it — the sound telling him it’s not the time for teasing or games. He straightens his two middle fingers, the pads of each grazing over the mound, more intent behind his touch than the time before.

You place your hand that was between your legs to the side of his face, holding him close as he deepens the kiss. Your small, muffled moans murmur against him with every circle over your clit — the gentle swirls of his fingers warming you up little by little.

He ventures downwards, fingers spreading between your pussy’s lips to feel more of you. On instinct you part your legs, allowing him more space to continue his faint toying. Lending him more access to you.

He tests the waters and dips the tip of his finger into you, pushing in up to the first knuckle. And when he’s met with near no resistance, he’s delving in further, sinking his middle finger inside you completely. The feeling is far from full — it’s enough to notice, but not enough to satiate the need.

“Another,” you murmur into his mouth, nails grazing back into the sides of his hair. You latch onto his curls carefully, the act an urging attempt to redirect him. “Put another one in,” you whisper a faint plea through closed eyes. “Please,” you add, minding your manners.

He does as asked and slips his ring finger in too, slotting it beside his other to begin a very gentle rocking, scooping even. He parts from your lips and attaches to just under your jaw, pressing a litter of kisses to where his hand was all those moments before.

And as he attends to you without a question, you’re sliding your hand between your side and his front, reaching for the bulge protruding into you. You place it over his cock to begin an irregular palming, the feel of his cock growing hard against your touch makes you clench — the action noticeable around Spencer’s fingers.

He works a small trail of kisses to just under your ear before speaking, lips lingering just under the lobe. “On your side,” he murmurs, soft sleepy words laced with a sense of urgency.

You turn over like you were before this all started, and feel him immediately adjust behind you, feeling him scooch down the bed and ruffle with the fabric. 

He grabs a hold of himself, pulling his dick out over the top over the plaid waistband and guides himself towards you under the covers. And as you feel the head of his cock skim against the cheek of your ass, you lift your leg — allowing him space. You reach through your thighs to help him, help him into you. 

You guide him into you from behind, feeding him inside slowly. And when you feel that faint, little sting, each of you quietly gasp — the noise like that of relief as your heads hit the pillow.

He rocks into you experimentally, pushing the rest of himself into you with a faint wind of the hips. Spencer stills, holding the full length of his cock in place as he wraps an arm around tightly you, keeping you close. 

Your eyes grow heavy upon the filling and surrounding feel of him, the warmth of him against your back and the drowsy, languid breathing of him in your ear becomes white noise to you. The combination of it all finally catching up with you and  pushing you into that somnolent state.

You feel his arm grow heavy against you, the grip he has on you loosening. You can only imagine he was feeling a similar sense of contentment at you. And so, you eventually join him in slumber, curled up in his comfort and cock snugly slotted in you from behind, ready for the best few hours of sleep.