pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader
theme: fluffy suggestive drabble
summary: even dr. spencer reid could be needy sometimes.
content warnings: suggestive!!
The moment she stepped out of the bedroom in a red dress that was, objectively and morally, too short, Spencer Reid’s brain completely shut down. It wasn’t dramatic at first. Just a quiet, stunned inhale. Then another. Then came the slow, unmistakable realization that all his higher cognitive functions had clocked out for the evening.
“Where,” he managed, voice cracking just slightly, “are you going?”
She didn’t even look at him. That was the worst part. She was too busy fastening her earrings in the mirror, calm as anything, like she hadn’t just caused a small-scale emergency in the living room. Three delicate spritzes of perfume followed, one behind each ear, one at her wrist, and Spencer physically slumped back against the couch cushions.
“What do you mean?” she said easily. “I told you this morning, Emily, Pen, and JJ want to go out tonight.”
Spencer blinked. He looked down at himself, rumpled shirt, boxers, books abandoned, askew, and then back at her, glowing and red and unfairly confident. She finally turned and walked over. That was mistake number two. She stopped right in front of him, standing between his knees, the hem of her dress hovering at a height Spencer felt certain violated several unspoken laws of physics. His hands moved before his brain could intervene, resting automatically at her thighs like they belonged there.
“Oh no,” she laughed, immediately catching on. “Don’t you dare.”
“What? I'm just checking,” he said weakly, thumbs brushing upward as if conducting very serious research.
“Spence,” she scolded, swatting his hands away while still smiling, which frankly sent mixed signals. “Emily is literally waiting outside.”
Spencer responded by pressing his face into her stomach with a groan, arms wrapping around her like a man who had lost everything. Her fingers slid instinctively into his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp.
“Take me with you,” he mumbled. “I don’t want anyone else looking at you.”
She laughed again, full and fond, even as his hands very clearly disagreed with the idea of letting her leave. His hands were persistent, slyly sliding under her dress, finding their place on her ass.
“I’m serious,” he insisted, lifting his head just enough to look up at her with wide, betrayed, begging eyes.
She kissed his forehead. “You’ll survive.”
She tried to step back. He tightened his hold.
She sighed, affectionate and resigned, and gently pried herself free. The loss was immediate.
“I’ll be back soon,” she promised, grabbing her clutch and backing toward the door like someone trying not to spook a wild animal. Spencer followed her instantly, abandoning the couch, the books, and all dignity. At the door, he pulled her into a warm and tight hug and kissed her properly this time. It was soft, lingering, the kind that said don’t take too long without actually saying it.
“I promise,” she murmured, smiling against his mouth, “I’ll be quick… in the meantime, you should take care of—”
Her eyes flicked downward meaningfully.
“—yourself,” she finished sweetly.
Spencer made a noise that was not approved by any dictionary. She kissed him once more, quick and teasing, then slipped out the door before he could protest. He watched from the doorway as she climbed into Emily’s car, laughing at something through the open window. The car pulled away. Spencer stood there for a long moment. Smelling her perfume on his skin.
