@castielhoney. destiel/spn, main account, catch-all for politics or shitposts sometimes
@elliesevileye. ellie williams/abby anderson/tlou, billie eilish sometimes
☆ my tags
all of my original posts will be tagged with either #bowie's yaps (for updates on fics or addressing one of yall) or #bowie's boykisser bonanza. From here on out (02.13.25) I am going to do my best to remember to tag my reblogged fics with #bowie's recs, but don't hold me to it. sincerest apologies if I forget!
☆ one shots
In The Morning I'll Make Cereal: the one where professor reid sees your self-harm scars and wants to know more. PG, platonic.
If I Love You Was A Promise: the one where you have a meltdown and reid stays over to keep you company. PG, platonic.
The Red Means I Love You: the one where we revisit s12 e22: red light, but less... murdery. the first three times you thought: I wonder just how red I could make you. TV-14, fade to black smut.
Don't Call Me Dude: the one where reid takes home a new toy and wants you to try it out with him. TV-MA, smutty smut smut. straight filth
V-day Bouquet: the one where Spencer is in your apartment complex and you buy him a bouquet and chocolate on a whim. fluff, fade to black smut if you squint
☆ series
Neurotech: the one where Agent Jenna Connell (oc) and Reid spearhead an investigation into a pharmaceutical company whose clients are turning up dead
Preacher's Daughter: The one where Ethel Cain grew up with Spencer Reid.
PLEASE read the warnings/disclaimers on the PD masterlist if you're going to read all the way through. It starts out more on the tame side but gets darker as the fic goes on.
☆ my art
boy? consider him KISSED. coloured pencil on mixed media paper.
wip 1 and 2 of the oil painting i'm currently working on
not boykissing but rather girlkissing. i am a man of multitudes. from my brain of a girl I am hopelessly in love with
poem empathizing with cat adams idk if this counts as art but... ?
☆personal notes
Me<3
My name is Beau or Bowie, either is perfectly fine, pick your favourite. I use he/him pronouns. Majoritively write for Spencer, but if a request came in for a different character, I might see about it.
Requests are always welcome!! I love seeing y'all's ideas and am more than happy to oblige, BUT!
There are certain characters I will not write for at all, and some there are limitations on. I will not. Will NOT. ever write a hotchxreader. There are lots and lots of others who write great fics about that, but hotch just puts me off and always has, so I'm not down for that. However, he might appear in plot-relevant fics sometimes.
There isn't really any*thing* I won't write for. Pretty open as far as smut goes, same for angst, and fluff is anything goes.
My DMs are always always open!!!
Hit me up anytime. I'd love to listen to you vent, or hear about something cool that happened, or anything of the like. If you aren't up for that, anons are open for the very same:) to be honest it's kinda my dream to have regular anons so PLEASE hit me up it'll make my year
☆ recs
literally all of the bandages universe: @nereidprinc3ss. i binged it so quick. just flirty reader making spencer nervous for like. a bajillion words.
Covetous Cravings: @burymagdalene. the one where coitus takes place on Spencer's pretty Persian rug
Bad Day: @g4rvez-r3id. the one where you come home from a really bad day and your boyfriend, Spencer is there to save the day… and hold you while you cry.
CLASSIFIED: @ovrgrwnivy. the one where a sleepy morning turns into spencer falling over himself to get to work on time, forgetting his badge behind him.
Red Is Your Color: @esote-rika. the one where you send reid a scandalous christmas-themed photo and he Does Something about it.
@minswriting. the one where you use a vibrator on reid
And they were roommates: @rainydayathogwarts. the one with 0-boundary roomates.
Don't Call Me: @reiderwriter. the one where spencer keeps your cheating ex on the phone while participating in coitus
apparent loss or modification of information: @luveline. the one where reid doesn't remember you but he still has a crush.
Romantic delusions of husband!Spencer Reid (headcanons)
The man who memorized your ring size before you ever talked about marriage. This is Spencer Reid.
The man who leaves notes on your mirror like “you’re the most beautiful woman in the room,” even when you’re just brushing your teeth. This is Spencer Reid.
The man who hums soft facts into your ear when you can’t sleep — little things about star clusters and honeybee navigation — just to soothe you back into dreaming. This is Spencer Reid.
The man who lifts the hem of your dress carefully to kiss your knee, like it’s sacred, like it’s routine. This is Spencer Reid.
The man who asks before touching even after all these years — not because he doubts your answer, but because he loves to hear you say “yes.” This is Spencer Reid.
The man who reaches for your hand in his sleep. This is Spencer Reid.
The man who still gets flustered when you walk into a room dressed up, blinking like he can’t believe you’re his. This is Spencer Reid.
The man who tells you to sit down, relax, let him handle it — then ties your hair back gently and washes the dishes himself. This is Spencer Reid.
The man who thinks being your husband is the greatest thing he’s ever done, and tells you so. Often. Without hesitation. Without shame. This is Spencer Reid.
author’s note: it’s been a while but I promise to get back on track soon :)
how do you think dad spencer would deal with all his hygiene phobias with a kid ?? personally picturing him putting on a brave face and telling himself its fine when his daughter pulls on her rain boots and asks him to jump in muddy puddles with her (but internally hes freaking out and planning to spend like 2 hours in the shower afterwards)
this kind of turned into a drabble. i love girldad!spencer too much
spencer definitely puts on a brave face.
that’s his instinct especially around his daughter. and he knows, logically, that dirt isn’t always dangerous. he knows germs are part of life.
but none of that knowledge prepares him for the moment his daughter tugs on his hand and points with excitement at a huge puddle on the sidewalk.
“daddy, let’s jump!”
his brain short-circuits. bacteria. parasites. the idea of her catching a cold. he bites the inside of his cheek, hard and takes a breath. at first, his concern is completely about her. he kneels down, trying to redirect.
“hey, honey, look over there. that’s a robin’s nest, see the bird?”
but she’s not even looking. her eyes are still locked on that brown puddle. he hesitates, then sighs and lets go of her hand.
“okay. just be careful,” he manages.
she squeals in delight and jump into the puddle. spencer flinches when a drop of muddy water lands directly on his pants. he tries not to show it. smiles through clenched teeth.
his stomach is doing somersaults, but her laughter is worth it. she’s happy. she’s safe. that’s what matters.
but then she turns. “daddy, come on! jump with me!”
his heart actually stops. “oh, uh—no, that’s okay, you go ahead, i'm just gonna watch—”
“daddy,” she says again, tugging at his hand, bottom lip poking out in a pout that’s both manipulative and completely innocent. she's stubborn just like him.
he swallows hard. internally he’s screaming. crying. calculating the bacteria count per square inch of street water.
but she’s smiling at him like he hung the moon. so he steps forward.
one boot, then the other, and then he jumps. a weak little hop, barely a splash. but it counts. she laughs so hard she almost falls over.
she grabs his hand and demands they do it again. and again. and again.
and for a while his daughter's giggles drown out the panic. he still hates how wet his socks feel. still cringes every time the cold water soaks up higher on his pants.
but he’s laughing now, too. just a little.
by the time they get home, his daughter is yawning and dragging her boots. as soon as they walk inside and he sees the mud streaked across his legs, that’s when the reality slams back in.
“okay, bath time,” he says quickly, voice pitched high. “for me. i mean.”
before you can even ask him if he had fun, he’s gone, practically sprinting to the bathroom, peeling off clothes on the way. you call after him, but all you get is a shouted, “i’m okay! i’m okay!” followed by the sound of the shower on full blast.
you blink, confused until you look down and see the trail of wet footprints and two soaked, dirty boots. your daughter is grinning up at you, soaked from the knees down, her curls frizzy from the rain.
“what did you do to daddy?” you ask, laughing softly as you kneel to unzip her coat.
“he jumped in the puddles with me,” she says proudly. “he was so good at it!”
you smile, heart warm. “i’m sure he was.”
meanwhile, in the bathroom, spencer is scrubbing like a man possessed. there are three different soaps in rotation. he’s mentally cataloging every spot where water hit him.there’s a little voice in his head whispering that he’ll probably need to disinfect his shoes and maybe even the doorknob.
but underneath all the panic, there’s a flicker of joy.
because despite the dirt and the germs, he made his daughter laugh. and he’ll do it again tomorrow if she asks.
every time they make spencer reid bloody and sweaty and disheveled and pathetic i black out ascend to a higher plane of existence and return as an even more crazed version of myself
girl dad!spencer who called himself “the happiest man in the world” when you gave birth to your first daughter, his eyes practically glinting with joy.
girl dad!spencer who didn’t just want a wife and a kid, but wanted to be a husband and a father. and that’s what made you want to marry him in the first place.
girl dad!spencer who was so scared to reproduce his own father’s mistakes, that he spent your entire pregnancy reading books on parenthood.
girl dad!spencer who doesn’t sing your daughter to sleep like you do, because he’s got a terrible singing voice. instead, he whispers random facts and stories to her, even though she doesn’t understand half of it.
girl dad!spencer who gets up early on saturday mornings to make pancakes for both of you, and never raises his voice when the little girl spills maple syrup everywhere.
girl dad!spencer who lets your daughter do glam on him, even if his colleagues laugh when he presents cases with pink nails.
girl dad!spencer who never ever treats her like a baby, having regular talks with her about life and her favourite books, to make her feel important.
girl dad!spencer who comes back from week long cases and wants to make it up, so he makes her skip school and takes her to the park, never without getting ice cream.
girl dad!spencer who regularly acknowledges the fact that you’re an amazing mother. in his mind, he’s not even half a great as you are, and he never takes you for granted.
girl dad!spencer who almost tears up when his two favourite girls wake him up on father’s day, practically crushing him when you attack him with cuddles
top five most important things you can give a character. 1. bisexuality. 2. autism. 3. so much negative rizz it loops around into irresistibility. 4. so many bad events. 5. a coping mechanism that’s cute and silly provided you don’t think about it too hard
this is not instagram or whatever other like-based social medium, likes don't matter that much, your experience is not shaped by an all-knowing algorithm, but by you and reblogging is the lifeblood of this godforsaken corner of the internet
if you love tumblr and if you want to show your appreciation for the creators of the content here, you reblog
this is not instagram or whatever other like-based social medium, likes don't matter that much, your experience is not shaped by an all-knowing algorithm, but by you and reblogging is the lifeblood of this godforsaken corner of the internet
if you love tumblr and if you want to show your appreciation for the creators of the content here, you reblog
this is not instagram or whatever other like-based social medium, likes don't matter that much, your experience is not shaped by an all-knowing algorithm, but by you and reblogging is the lifeblood of this godforsaken corner of the internet
if you love tumblr and if you want to show your appreciation for the creators of the content here, you reblog
summary → When Spencer returns home from a brutal case with his mind anxious and too loud, you have the perfect solution to help your pretty boy out, making him forget his own name in the process.
warnings → smut (18+ only), pegging, rough sex, afab!reader, sub!Spencer, dom!reader, established relationship, sweet and soft aftercare, no descriptions or pronouns used for the reader, no y/n used
author's note → Y‘know, what can I say? I’m a firm believer in men 👏 getting 👏 pegged 👏 Also, this got a lot rougher than I first planned, oopsie. Inspired by the prompt “Oh, baby, you’re drooling everywhere.” from this list. Let me know what you think about this fic 😉
word count → 2.5k
masterlist(s)
“Oh, baby, you’re drooling everywhere,” you coo, your fingers lovingly brushing through his long brown locks that stick to his forehead and face, damp with sweat and drool. It’s the same with the pillow he had pressed his face into, muffling all the beautiful noises tumbling from his kiss-swollen lips.
Spencer nods a little dumbly at your words, too far gone in the pleasure you so readily granted him to have even a single thought left behind those big brown eyes of his that are struggling to focus on you kneeling behind him. His back is arched beautifully for you despite his arms having given out on him some time ago, your hips flush with his and—for the moment—staying completely still.
You hear him whine quietly before he presses himself back against you, desperate for any kind of stimulation you so cruelly and abruptly deprived him of. You chuckle in amusement, letting him get away with it for a few more moments. You watch him push himself up again on his underarms, his hips jerkily rocking back and forth to move the big toy attached to your strap-on in and out of his abused pink hole, doing a poor imitation of the rough pace you just fucked him with.
Suddenly and without warning, your fingers in his hair tighten painfully and yank his head back while your hips slam against his in a single brutal thrust, making Spencer cry out hoarsely and tremble against you. The hand in his hair and the one leaving bruises on his hips hold him in this position for just a few more seconds before you slowly relax your hold on him. Spencer all but collapses forward, hot tears now joining the mess he has made on the pillow already, and you lean over him, pressing yourself impossibly closer while bringing your lips to his ear.
“I’m supposed to be fucking you, remember?” you chide him without much heat behind your words, one hand tenderly trailing up and down the side of his upper body, raising goosebumps in its wake, the other one placed by his shoulder to hold yourself up.
“’m sorry, ‘m sorry.” His words are slurred, and he hides his face in the pillow again, whining helplessly when you shift behind him again to press a kiss to his flushed cheek.
“Oh, I know, I know pretty boy,” you soothe him, leaving another kiss on his spine, right between his shoulder blades before straightening up again. “It’s okay, you’re okay. Just behave and let me take care of you, can you do that for me?”
Spencer chokes on a sob but with a trembling breath his body relaxes, letting himself sink further into the mattress of your shared bed.
“Please—I’ll be good for you.”
“I know you will, my clever boy.”
You gently start to move your hips again, slowly pulling the silicone toy out almost all of the way before deliberately pressing it back into him again, making sure he feels every delicious inch of it before repeating your movements, your pace gradually becoming faster and rougher once more. A relieved sigh falls from Spencer’s lips that makes you smile in sympathy, arousal and affection settling heavy and warm in your stomach, only fueling the need to take care of your boy and make him feel good, make him forget all the things that haunt his beautiful mind even just for a little while.
The case Spencer and his team came back from this evening had been brutal, you saw it in the way he carried himself when he opened the door to your shared apartment, in the way the dark circles under his eyes were so much more noticeable than on other days, hiding his shaking hands from you inside his pockets. You rushed to meet him at the door when he entered the living room, gently cupping his face in your hand, pressing sweet kisses to his lips, his cheeks, the corners of his eyes before you just held him in your arms, letting him all but melt against you.
Neither of you said anything for a long while, Spencer’s face hiding in the crook of your neck as you rubbed a comforting hand up and down the length of his spine, only stopping when you eventually felt him stir against you. The moment his eyes met yours you knew exactly what he wanted—what he needed—and with a small, trembling voice he asked you for exactly that. To take control, make his mind go quiet, make him forget everything but your name falling from his lips like a desperate prayer.
Spencer’s breathy moans and whines get louder and louder with every hard thrust of yours, his sounds joining the thumping of the headboard hitting the wall and the obscene slap of skin against naked skin in a single filthy symphony that you could get addicted to. With each rough movement the base of the toy presses deliciously against your center, sending sparks down your spine and tightening the coil building low in your belly but you ignore it. Because this isn’t about you, it’s entirely about Spencer and his pleasure so while keeping the punishing pace you set, one of your hands trails along your boyfriend’s shaking thigh before wrapping your fingers around his erection, starting to stroke him in time with your thrusts.
You’re rewarded with a full-body shiver and a choked moan from Spencer who is meeting your movements insistently, frantically, and with a wicked grin pulling at your lips you wonder exactly how long your genius will be sore from this brutal fucking. But this is what he asked you for and you know that he loves every minute of it—if his desperate babbling is anything to go by.
Stopping is the last thing on your mind even though your body started protesting a while ago, your muscles growing sore and exhausted, but you fight through the discomfort, your only goal to push Spencer over the edge and make him come undone.
Without slowing down at all you adjust the angle of your thrusts, the slight change having an immediate effect on Spencer. A surprised gasp of your name leaves his lips as his eyes fly open, and with only one, two, three more hard thrusts his body suddenly goes rigid when his orgasm hits him hard, his whole body trembling in your hold, ripping a hoarse cry of pleasure from his throat. Unrelenting, you fuck him through it, his hot and sticky cum painting your fingers but you’re still stroking his cock, still slamming into him until his trembling voice begs you to stop, it’s so much, too much, please, please, I can’t—!
And you do, slowing your movements until you’re carefully pulling the toy out of him, his poor pink hole clenching around nothing. You press a kiss to his lower back before guiding him to lie down, goosebumps rolling in waves over his sweaty and flushed skin, his chest still heaving. You can see that Spencer is overstimulated and completely spent, tears still clinging to his long lashes and his beautiful brown eyes unseeing, his gaze simply passing through you when you get up from the bed to step out of the harness with unsteady legs. You take a moment to catch your breath, keeping an eye on your motionless boyfriend lying loose-limbed and gorgeous on your shared bed, his hair fanned around his head like a tousled halo. You know that it takes him a while to come down from such an intense experience, know that he sometimes doesn’t like to be touched as well so you simply sit down next to him, the mattress dipping under your weight, but he doesn’t react to it.
“How are you feeling, Spence?”
You keep your voice soft and low, watching him attentively. It takes him a few lazy blinks until his eyes focus and find you, but when they do, they’re oh so gentle and adoring, his whole face lighting up, a contented smile on his pretty lips.
He reaches for you and with an amused huff you let him wrap his arms around your waist, pulling him closer until his head is resting comfortably on your lap. A surprised yelp escapes you when he hides his face in your stomach, his warm breath tickling your naked skin. He’s quick to apologize with a loving kiss to the softness of your belly that tickles just as much, but you don’t mind.
“Thank you, baby,” you giggle fondly, affectionately carding your fingers through his sweaty hair. A contented sigh escapes him and he snuggles closer to you, his weight heavy and warm and perfect against you.
You don’t disturb the quiet calmness of your bedroom for a long while, simply letting Spencer relax against you while you pet his soft hair to your heart’s content. When he eventually shifts, adjusting his position on top of you to get even more comfortable, you speak up again, your voice gentle yet searching.
“Feeling good? That was pretty intense, hm?”
You feel him nodding against your skin more than you see it and before you have to remind him to use his words with you, his sweet, hushed voice reaches your ears.
“It was amazing. You’re amazing. Thank you.”
Spencer tilts his head to look up at you, the love and trust you find in his beautiful hazel eyes are nothing unfamiliar or unexpected, but it still steals your breath away momentarily, the warm feeling swirling in your chest whenever you’re close to him only intensifying.
“You don’t have to thank me, Spence,” you tell him earnestly, “You know I love taking care of you, in whatever way.” You shoot him a playful wink that has him hiding his face in your stomach again, but you feel the smile on his lips on your skin—and the big yawn that immediately follows.
You slowly try to peel away from him then, but Spencer is stubborn, holding onto you with surprising strength for someone who just got their insides rearranged, whining pitifully in protest but you’re strong enough to ignore him and slip out of his grasp. Pointedly, you turn your back towards him because the sleepy and pleading puppy dog eyes that are undoubtedly following your every move now will make you succumb to his every wish and whim if you let your boyfriend lock eyes with you.
“I’m sorry Spence, but I’m not letting you fall asleep like that. You know that.”
He huffs indignantly (like the little brat that he can be) but lets you collect the soft towel from your bed that protected your sheets so you can throw it into the hamper in the corner of the bedroom. You grab your harness and toy to clean tomorrow and pad into the bathroom, quickly washing yourself before preparing two warm, damp cloths to bring them back to Spencer. He doesn’t protest when you hold his jaw and clean his face with one of them, gently wiping sweat and dried tears from his soft skin. You run the other cloth down the rest of his body, cleaning the sticky mess between his long legs, mindful of how sensitive he still is.
When you’re done you press a kiss to the tip of his cute nose and hand him a bottle of water he gratefully accepts. You tidy up the bedroom for a few more minutes before Spencer whines for you to finally come back to bed with him and really, who are you to deny your beautiful and sleepy boyfriend such a request?
So you quickly join Spencer under the covers he holds up for you, wrapping your arms around him and guiding him to lie down with you, his head resting on your chest. He sighs happily when you place an affectionate kiss on his hairline before raising his head just enough to meet your lips for some lazy and sickly-sweet kisses that stir the soft tickle of butterfly wings in your belly into a flurry.
“You were so good for me, Spence,” you whisper against his lips, delighted and only slightly smug about the shiver you feel running down his spine. “I’m so proud of you.”
With a soft whine, he hides his face in the crook of your neck like you knew he would and you chuckle, contented to simply trace random patterns on the expanse of his back for the next few minutes. You pause when you feel one of his hands lightly trail down your body, long and nimble fingers brushing over your stomach and settling between your thighs. But before Spencer can reach your core you wrap your fingers around his wrist and gently tug his hand away, bringing it up to your lips and kissing his palm soothingly.
“You’re so considerate, Spence, thank you,” you smile down at him when his questioning eyes find yours, your thumb rubbing over his knuckles and the back of his hand. “But that can wait until tomorrow, okay? Right now the only thing I want is to fall asleep with you in my arms.”
He holds your gaze for a few seconds longer before a tired smile tugs at his lips.
“Okay. Love you,” he simply says, yawning as he curls into your side even more.
“Love you more,” you reply softly, reaching over to turn off the lamp on your bedside table. Into the peaceful darkness of your bedroom, you whisper sweetly, “Goodnight, Spence”, but he doesn’t respond, already snoring away softly.
You press a final loving kiss to Spencer’s hair before letting yourself be embraced by the inviting arms of sleep yourself.
When you come to the next morning, a single beam of warm sunlight is streaming through a gap in the heavy curtains, little particles of dust dancing in it. Blearily, you rub your eyes, your tired mind taking a lot longer to wake up and catch up with your already very awake, very excited body.
Pleasure is tingling under your skin like an electric current, heat pooling low in your belly and you gasp in surprise when the sensation of someone sucking on your clit hits you hard.
Your hands fly to your boyfriend’s head buried between your thighs under the covers, fingers grabbing onto his brown curls, unsure if you want to push him away or press his face closer to your swollen and already dripping pussy.
Spencer takes that decision away from you when he pulls away just enough to grin up at you with complete and utter self-satisfaction, his lips and chin already shining with your wetness.
“Good morning, angel,” he simply says before diving back into your cunt, his talented tongue greedily tasting you, driving you absolutely crazy in the process.
Definitely a wonderful way to be woken up you decide as Spencer pushes two of his long and skillful fingers inside and immediately curls them just right, ripping a moan from your throat and making your back arch off the mattress.
Good morning indeed.
Thank you so much for reading <3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!
Feel free to hop into my inbox if you have a fic request or just want to talk ✨
in which you and spencer reid just want to lay around in your room after a day at the beach. the team does not respect your privacy.
fluff (suggestive content)
warnings/tags: implied intimacy, someone knocks on the door as things r getting steamy, the team razzes u for getting it on hehehe
a/n: @mariasont spring break event was so good I was inspired to put the whole team in one air b and b!! She is the bau vacay blueprint!! do you guys remember me...... cause I missed u...... kisses smooches ily!!!!! yayayay summery happy fluff!! I can't believe I wrote this in like two days??? I've been praying for times like this
The air smells clean and too warm, like a laundry detergent that isn’t yours, underscored by the rich, herbal scent of conditioner in still-damp hair. A ceiling fan swirls the heat and dust around the room more than diffuses it—but you don’t mind. It still feels good on your sunned skin.
So too do the tips of Spencer’s fingers, as they drift up and down the softness of your thigh. It’s too hot for him to be pressed right against you, so he’s a little ways away—prone flat halfway down the mattress, whereas you’re sprawled out on too-firm pillows. The comforter has long been kicked to the ground.
Carefully, you push wet hair out of Spencer’s face. It gets richer in color, when he's just out of the shower like this. More a lustrous dark bronze than his usual chestnut. Everything is more vibrant in this light, including his nose, which smolders wildfire pinkish-red.
“You’re so burnt.”
“Hm?” he hums, turning his face up toward you languidly, blinking against the pooling gold. You soften. It’s possible you’ve never seen him this relaxed. This healthy looking, all the perpetual winter leached from his veins—cheeks glowing, eyes shining and satisfied and low.
“I’m worried about your nose.”
Spencer pulls your hand to his lips. Doesn’t exactly kiss—just holds it there. Lets his eyes flutter closed again. Mumbles, “I’ll be okay.”
“But… skin cancer.”
“Is very treatable.”
“You’re not worried enough.”
His response comes on autopilot. Eyes still closed. Words low and honeyed, one sliding into the next, like they’d melted in his head after so many hours under the sun.
“My body is responding to the cellular damage caused by UV rays via rapid immune response, which means increased blood flow to the dermis, which means more passive metabolic activity is required to maintain homeostasis, which means…”
It’s a cue to fill in the blank. You respond softly.
“You’re sleepy.”
“Mhm. Very.” He kisses the back of your hand in reward. “Too sleepy to be worried.”
“But it looks like it hurts. Maybe you should put aloe on it.”
The corner of his mouth turns up. He strokes over the delicate skin of your wrist with a thumb.
“Would it make you feel better if I put aloe on it?”
“I just don’t want you to hurt.”
“I don’t hurt, sweetness. But thank you for looking out for me.”
Your capitulation is careful and unsure. “Mhm.”
Distant crashing waves fight with the ceiling fan to fill in the silence, but only for a few seconds. You’re not relaxed. You’re emitting a frequency of your own, too low to be detected by anyone who is less attuned to you than Spencer is. You watch as he senses it, and blinks his eyes open once more. Chooses consciousness, rolling onto his side, pushing up to his elbow, and pressing a kiss to your knee before swiping it away with his thumb.
“This is new,” he murmurs, voice sanded by a rough grit into something almost smooth. Like salted driftwood.
“What is?”
A stray hand traverses all the way up the inside of your thigh and back down, briefly distracting.
“This freckle.”
You laugh. Eyes alight, he looks up in time to catch it.
“You’re making that up.”
Spencer tilts his head solely to give you an incredulous look. “You think I don’t know what your skin looks like? It wasn’t here this morning.”
“No, I’m not doubting your eidetic whatever, I’m just saying—I don’t believe that you paid enough attention to my knee this morning to remember that there wasn’t a freckle there, and to notice that now there is.”
“I don’t need the eidetic whatever to remember anything about you. I pay plenty of attention, and there was no freckle.”
“So you have every mark on my body catalogued?”
“All dermatological anomalies are thoroughly mapped.” He plants another kiss to the freckle. “And I am promising you with one hundred percent certainty that there wasn’t a freckle here this morning.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Spencer buries a smile against your skin. Kisses softly up your thigh and stomach—so softly you hold your breath. A breeze disturbs the drapery and you breakout in goosebumps.
“You know, if you’re so worried about skin cancer, you should be regularly examining your body for irregular markings.”
The words buzz, tickling. Traces of SPF and coconut chapstick stain your tongue as teeth worry at your bottom lip.
“I don’t think one new alleged freckle after spending the whole day in the sun means skin cancer.”
“No. But you should probably let me check for more.” A kiss lands suspiciously close to the waistband of your shorts. “Are you opposed to a quick scan?”
You aim for dry sarcasm. Miss by a few breathless centimeters. “Not opposed. But I’m pretty sure I was thoroughly scanned in the shower by my doctor.”
“It never hurts to be vigilant. And you shouldn’t shower with your doctor. That’s egregiously inappropriate.”
You let him hook his fingers into your shorts and tug down almost past the point of indecency, painting your hips with kisses—before a knock at the door startles both of you.
His displeasure comes as a slow breath against your skin, before he’s pulling your shorts back up into place and turning awkwardly over his shoulder to address the door. Which is locked, ideally. You can’t remember. “Yeah?”
The blatant irritation must be as obvious to whoever’s knocked as it is to you, because there’s a brief hesitation before they speak.
“Rossi made pasta. I was tasked with retrieving the two of you. If you’re not, uh, busy.”
Morgan. That burning feeling in your cheeks can’t be attributed to sun exposure as you throw your head back into the pillows and cringe.
“We’ll be right down.”
Retreating footsteps.
Spencer looks up at you from your hips, lips parted and pinker than ever. For a moment, there is only tense silence—then you can’t help but laugh and lace your fingers through his hair as he drops his head to rest against your stomach.
“That was…”
“It’s fine. At least it wasn’t your boss.”
“No, it was just the guy doesn’t feel a professional obligation to refrain from commenting on my personal life. Explicitly and ad nauseum.”
“We weren’t even doing anything. We were napping, until, like, one minute ago.”
Spencer sits up, half-smiling and gaze trailing after his hands as they drag down your bare thighs. “I think I blew our cover when I snapped at him.”
You reach out for Spencer, and he lowers himself carefully atop you. The light coming in from the window is hotter up here. Onyx eyes catch the fire of the setting sun and turn molten amber, throwing light back at you in dazzling, liquid prisms.
“What if we don’t go downstairs?” you whisper, gaze flitting between either of his eyes, hard-pressed to pick just one.
He dots a kiss to your nose.
“I think we should probably make an appearance. Then we can retire early, no questions asked.”
“Deal.”
Mindful of his burn, you press a very careful kiss of your own to his nose. Spencer huffs, pleased and warm. Charmed by your gentle show of measured affection. His lips find yours. Just once. Just for a moment.
And then again.
And again.
And again.
His affections are considerably less restrained.
The two of you creep out onto the back deck twenty minutes late for dinner, in lambent and unmistakable disarray. Plates are mostly clean and eyebrows are very high, but nobody says anything as you squeeze yourselves into the remaining spots around the table. Spencer clears his throat awkwardly into a glass of lemon water. You serve yourself cold pasta and press your lips into a thin line, trying with all your might not to laugh.
“How was dinner?” Emily asks Spencer, breaking the silence. He nearly drops his glass, spluttering hopelessly as water goes down the wrong pipe.
“She was putting aloe on my nose,” he insists, wiping droplets from his chin as his entire face goes sunburn red.
Morgan claps him on the back. “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”
OKAY SO you know that one post and its the husbands first day of college and their sons first day of school? Spencers first day as a professor and babies first day of school‼️
warnings : nsfw! explicit sexual content, light d/s dynamics, oral (f receiving), praise kink, mild spanking, orgasm denial-edging?, overstimulation, aftercare, softdom! spencer cause hell yeahhh, both spencer and reader are little shits
summary : reader gets turned on by spencer playing for the bau’s softball team. a few hits and some shameless eye-fucking later… yeah self control is out of the window!
a/n : this is my second attempt to write smut. had @feralforfrank proofread this!
Spencer had been fussing all week about what Derek had suggested to him.
“You’re gonna like this kid, I promise”
It echoed in his head like the set up to a very bad idea. He wasn’t made for that— playing any sport, let alone joining the BAU’s softball team.
He rambled all week about it— making you shut him up with a few kisses. Just enough to take his mind off it— and the ongoing case in Miami.
Now, standing at the edge of the field with the sun warming his face, Spencer’s nerves settled just a little— mostly because you were there.
You nudged him gently, a smile on your lips. He looked so hot today. Light purple shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows— exposing his hands. Your mouth practically frothed at the sight, but you tried to keep it cool. As if you weren’t in a room filled with the country’s best profilers.
“You got this Spence” you whispered, voice low enough for only him to hear.
“Only because you’re here” He smirked, gaze lingering on your lips just a little more than it should’ve.
Still made your stomach do flips.
You were so close to leaning forward— ready to steal a quick kiss, just a taste—until Derek shouted that it was time to play.
“Come on pretty boy, let’s kick some ass”
Spencer let out a breathy laugh, rolling his eyes but clearly grateful for the distraction. He gave your hand a quick squeeze before jogging off, glove tucked under one arm, curls bouncing with each step.
You watched him go, letting yourself stare at him for a moment too long. The way his shirt clung to his body, his back— and how he tried to tug the hem of it while it was still tucked under his pants. It made your heart throb in the best way.
With a soft sigh, you walked away from the field and onto the benches, sitting near the team.
Emily came closer to you, a devilish smile on her lips. “You gonna cheer him on, or keep undressing him with your eyes?”
Oh.
Oh, of course she noticed.
You gasped, swatting her arm playfully.
“Well, can’t I do both?”
“Fair enough” she chuckled, throwing her hands in defence.
The first inning passed in a blur of light heckling, scattered cheers, and way too many inside jokes flying around the dugout. Spencer stood out—not because he was particularly good, but because of how out-of-place-yet-endearing he looked trying to be good.
He swung the bat like it might break in his hands— and the first time the ball zipped past him, he gave Derek a puzzled look.
“You didn’t say it would be that fast” He muttered under his breath, pushing the fallen curls from his face.
“Come on, Spencer” Cheered the team from behind him, almost adding to his stress. But then he remembered— you were in the crowd as well.
With some miracle, and maybe your loud cheering— Spencer hit the ball on his second? third? try. The team erupted into cheers, while Derek ran to hug him tightly. He wore the biggest smile on his face like a dork— and god, you were falling for him all over again.
By the time the game was over, Spencer was red-faced, sweaty and the top buttons of his shirt were undone.
Dear lord.
You ran to him, a bottle of water in hand with a proud smile plastered on your face.
“You didn’t tell me you were secretly an athlete” you teased, handing the water to him.
He shook his head, breathing hard. “I’m not— my legs are going to fall off tomorrow”
“Still” you protested. “You were good, really good out there”
Fixing his posture, he inched closer to you. Smirking, his eyes flickered down your mouth again— with a little more intent.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You were close again. The team was still lingering behind you, voices fading into the background. And maybe you meant to be good—but then his fingers brushed your wrist, warm and seeking, and you knew exactly where this was going the second you got him alone.
The minute you walked inside his apartment— the air shifted. It’s like both of you knew what would happen, even without saying a word.
Spencer was the first to speak, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. He stepped close, his slender fingers brushing a stray hair behind your ear— making you blush like a schoolgirl. Both of you felt the heat radiating between you, a magnetic pull neither of you could resist.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day” He murmured, voice low.
Your breath hitched, “Me too”
“Is that so, sweetheart?” He teased, knowing you’d been needy for him, especially during the game.
You bit your lip, eyes flickering up to meet his. “Maybe”
His smirk deepened as his hand slid down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He traced soft— almost teasing circles on your skin, making you lose your mind. “You were staring at me the whole time, angel. You think I wouldn’t notice?”
“Well, you were pretty distracting” you admitted, voice dropping down a notch.
Spencer’s eyes darkened with something hungry, but tender. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go anywhere tonight”
He cupped your face, thumb brushing over your cheek, and you melted into the touch. The space between you shrank until there was nowhere left to hide— until you felt his lips against yours.
It was slow— gentle at first. As if he was testing the waters. But as soon as he deepened the kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth— it became sloppy, messy.
Breathless as you were, you pulled back— just enough to look at him. Pupils dilated, dark and deep, reflecting the same way you felt bubbling beneath your skin.
The air between you was definitely thick, electric, and utterly changed.
“You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart” he whispered, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses on your neck— jawline, anywhere he could reach.
Your lips parted, a small whimper coming out from you as he kissed your sensitive skin. Your fingers found his shirt— tugging it.
“Show me” you breathed.
He paused his movements— only to kiss you with full force now, promising you everything and nothing at once.
Your hands were now tangled in his tousled hair— While he was guiding you backwards, slow steps until your knees hit the couch.
Your kisses weren’t gentle anymore. They were urgent, and consuming, his mouth hot against yours as his hands roamed your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.
You barely had the time to gasp before he eased you down, one hand on your hip— pushing you down, while the other came to the side of your head, brushing the sweaty hair that clung to your forehead.
“Thought about this exact moment the entire time I tried to hit the ball” He murmured against your neck, earning a small moan from you.
His heat, the weight of his body— It was too much and not nearly enough at the same time.
“And now?” You asked, voice coming out choked up.
“I want you to say my name again, baby” he smiled against your skin, his hand sliding up your shirt.
His fingers grazed along your ribs as if he was memorising the feel of you.
You arched into his touch, a soft gasp escaping you as your hips instinctively shifted beneath him.
“Spencer” you whispered, breath shaky.
“That’s it” he praised, voice coming out barely above a whisper.
The hand on your hip tightened, grounding you as his other slipped beneath your bra—skin to skin now, and god, he was warm. Gentle, but firm. His thumb brushed over your nipple and you gasped again, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you fiercely, hungrily.
“This” He broke the kiss, tapping on your clothed chest— “has to go off”
You nodded, granting him permission to remove your shirt and bra. His touch was everywhere— Fingers brushing over your nipples at a slow, agonising pace while he kissed you fiercely.
He pulled back, breathless— only to focus his attention on your breasts. Lips pressing soft kisses that made you gasp and tugging your sensitive flesh till you writhed beneath him.
“You’re unreal” He spoke, voice strained.
You fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, growing more and more impatient— needing to feel his skin on yours. Once you’d pushed it off, your nails dragged lightly down his chest making him hiss.
''Need you'' you whispered, voice trembling.
“I’m right here, angel,” he said, eyes locked on yours, the sincerity in his voice making you throb in many, many places.
He ducked down to take one of your nipples into his mouth again, sucking gently while his hand teased the other—alternating between soft, open-mouthed kisses and just enough pressure to make you gasp.
And still, he took his time - like he wanted to savour every inch of you.
His lips trailed lower, till he found your clothed— and aching cunt. He let out a soft chuckle, seeing how you squirmed underneath him. You needed some friction, some relief. And he was a little shit teasing you.
“So eager” He tsked, his index finger sliding down the waistband of your pants.
“You’ve been worked up since the first inning haven’t you, baby?”
You let out a sound— more like a whine mixed with a whimper. Hips arching in his touch, your voice came out strained— but trying to warn him.
“Spence, please”
You could beg all you want, he thought. Teasing you was his favourite new game.
He kissed the inside of your thighs, through the soft fabric of your pants, then nipped gently— enough to make you jolt. “Patience” he teased, fingers dipping inside the waistband, and finally pulling them down.
Slowly. Excruciatingly slow.
He peeled your pants down— gaze locked to the damp spot on your underwear.
“Oh,” he exhaled, soft breath hitting your aching clit. “Look what I do to you”
You were about to reply, something equally snarky and desperate— but he mouthed over your clothed core, hot breath and the barest pressure making you cry out.
“That’s not nearly enough, right baby?” He cooed mockingly, thumb coming along to tease on the edge of your underwear.
“Please” you moaned, hands flying to his curls.
That was all he needed. He rolled your underwear down, pressing a soft kiss to your knee when he spread you open again.
“It’s okay, I got you” he soothed, soft lips coming up to kiss your hot clit. Then finally— finally his tongue flattened against you, in a slow, devastating circle.
It almost made you see stars.
You let out tiny whimpers— ohs and ahhs filling up the room as he licked you.
“Use your words for me, angel girl. Come on” he murmured against your soaked cunt, his voice coming out sweet— like a promise.
“Need you,” you said, voice soft and breathy.
You were panting, back arching as he continued to kiss and lick you with maddening precision. His voice sent chills down your spine.
“Tell me what you need, sweetheart”
You whimpered, barely able to form any coherent sentences. But he didn’t stop— he just slowed down, tongue gentler now.
“Spencer— Oh—“ you moaned, hips jerking.
His hands found your stomach, holding you firmly down the couch.
“No, baby that’s not enough” He warned you, lips moving from your cunt and pressing featherlight kisses to your inner thigh.
You blinked, lips trembling as you struggled to speak.
“I need you inside me” You finally spoke, voice thin and wrecked. “Need to feel you”
That stopped him in his tracks.
His eyes snapped up to meet yours, darker than before— and pupils were blown. You watched as his throat bobbed, swallowing hard as if he was trying to keep it together.
“Yeah? he asked, wanting nothing more but to give you what you needed.
“Is that what you want, angel? Me inside you?” He said in a sultry voice— fingers caressing your skin, till they ran up and down your folds— spreading you open just how you liked.
“F-Fuck” You whispered, breath picking up.
“Language” He snapped, one finger pushing inside you with little to no warning.
You cried out, hips bucking as he inserted another finger inside you, stretching you out.
“Spence—“ You gasped, thighs trembling as his fingers curled just right inside you.
''Thought you wanted my cock, angel'' he drawled, a tinge of mockery in his tone. ''Can't even handle my fingers''
You clenched around him at that, which he noticed. He noticed every twitch of your body - every stuttering breath you took even if he was being a condescending asshole.
He could feel you getting closer, moans becoming a little louder as his thumb came on your clit, rubbing circles.
But then,
Then he pulled back. He removed his fingers, noticing how your head immediately shot up from the couch.
You gasped, muttering his name while your eyes widened with disbelief. ''Why did you-''
He just smirked, slow and dangerous as he removed his pants and boxers as well.
“Need to hear you beg properly” He whispered, “Thought you were being a little bratty, hm? Don’t you think, sweetheart?”
You blinked at him— cheeks flushed, lips parted. But the defiance in your gaze was still there.
“You’re evil” You whined, hands darting out to bring him closer to you. Your legs closed instinctively— nails digging softly into his shoulders.
He stopped you— pulling back just to spread your legs again, wide and open for him.
“I’ll give you what you want,” he whispered, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance, “But I need you to behave, alright my love?”
Your body practically buzzed under his touch—hot, stretched, aching. And your pride didn’t stand a chance.
“I’ll behave” you whispered, breathless.
He raised an eyebrow like he didn’t quite believe you.
Then he pushed in— slow, deliberate. Like he wanted you to feel every inch. He hiked up your leg higher, so he could push inside you. You gasped— hands flying to his back, digging in.
“Oh my god— baby” You moaned, feeling him everywhere. It stung— but it didn’t hurt.
“Fuck” he groaned, pulling out just to sink deeper inside you now. “You’re so tight, sweetheart”
He gave you just a moment to adjust before he started moving, hips rolling into yours with a rhythm that made your whole body arch. You were gasping already, moaning his name like a prayer—until your hips rolled up just a little too eagerly to meet his next thrust.
He stilled his movements.
You blinked at him— confused until his hand came down hard on your ass with a loud smack.
You yelped, body jolting as the sting bloomed warm across your skin.
“Spence—!“
“I said behave, baby,” He said, his hand now rubbing soothing circles on the skin he’d marked— making your eyes sting with tears of frustration.
He chuckled darkly against your shoulder, pressing a kiss there—soft, maddeningly gentle. “That was for lying,” he said simply.
He pushed inside you again, this time a little slower— gentler than before. One hand anchored your thigh, while the other came to cradle your cheek, thumb wiping any excess of tears that had threatened to fall out.
“Atta girl” he breathed, pressing his forehead to yours as he fucked you deeper, harder. “You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart”
Tears burned at the corners of your eyes again, and you tried to breathe— it was all too much. Not from the pain, but from feeling so full— so,
His.
You moaned his name, back arching— but not enough for him to punish you again. He wouldn’t do it now.
“You close?”
You nodded frantically, feeling the familiar heat pool inside your belly— making your muscles contract.
“Please—“ You cried out, clenching around him.
“Let go for me, baby, shh”
His thumb trailed down your body till he found your clit again— bringing you to the edge. It took you a little longer than you thought— but your body finally surrendered to his gentle but filthy ministrations.
Spencer rode you through your orgasm, chasing his high as well. When you cried out from the overstimulation, he slowed down— trying to soothe you before he pulled out.
Slumping on the couch beside you, he pressed a kiss on your forehead— silently praising you.
He looked down at you, eyes soft but his lips twitching with that familiar nervous energy.
“You know,” he started, voice low but hesitant, “did you know that the average human heart beats about 100,000 times a day?” He glanced up, waiting for your reaction.
You blinked, trying not to laugh as you caught his slight flush.
“Well, after all this,” he said, “mine’s probably done, like, ten thousand extra beats just now.”
He smiled shyly. “Which technically means, um, sex is good cardio? So I guess I just got my workout in.”
You shut him up with another kiss, making him chuckle against your lips.
“Did so good for me, angel” He whispered, caressing your back. “let me take care of you now”
He pulled you closer, arms wrapping around you like you were the most precious thing in the world.
Eyes fluttering shut, you didn’t notice him moving around the apartment. He wore loose pants, shirtless— cloth in his hand. You swore you were dreaming, until the damp cloth hit your sensitive core, and you flinched from the touch.
“Shh, it’s okay. Just me, just wanna clean you up” He cooed, rubbing your thigh soothingly.
You let out a shaky breath, melting into his careful touch despite the sensitivity. His fingers traced slow circles on your hip as the warm cloth glided over your skin, wiping away the evidence of your shared heat.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice soft like a lullaby.
When he finished, he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, then pulled you even closer—body pressed to body, skin to skin.
“Can I stay like this for a while?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“Always,” Spencer promised, fingers threading through your hair as you drifted into a peaceful quiet, wrapped up safe in each other.
