i don’t have a sentence for this but i have this concept. okay so we all know spencah is vocal as fuck during sex right? so what if him and reader got a noise complaint from his neighbors so now when they have sex he’s all embarrassed and is trying to be so quiet but reader is like 🤨😒 and gets him to be loud again and maybe just maybe they get yet another complaint
OKAY THIS!!! MY EXHIBITIONISM KINK IS GOING CRAZY RN!!!!
also the way i’m finally publishing a fic wow look at me go! PLS REBLOG
When Spencer finds an unaddressed envelope on the doormat of his apartment, his immediate thought is along the lines of oh my god, another unsub is out to get me.
You’re sitting inside on the couch, unsuspecting of the panic ensuing in his mind. He tears open the envelope outside— just in case.
Only, it’s not a threat, or a bomb, or an attempt to poison him with anthrax. Instead, it’s a passive letter written to the couple.
Dear tenants in apartment 7B,
Many of your neighbors living in the adjacent apartments have shared complaints about the noise coming from your apartment, especially from the hours of 10 pm to 1 am on Saturdays.
You’re relatively quiet given any other day of the week. But the exceptionally explicit nature of your noises is making some of the other people here very uncomfortable.
Please conduct your business with a little more discretion.
Sincerely,
Fellow residents of floor 7
Spencer whips his head around, afraid he’ll find delighted neighbors laughing at his embarrassment. He never thought he would receive a noise complaint, let alone one for being too— for a lack of better words— vocal.
He steps back inside his apartment, bracing himself on the shut door and letting out an exasperated sigh.
“What’s wrong?” You inquire, pausing the TV so you can address your boyfriends evident frustration.
“I, uh— here.” Spencer tosses the opened envelope towards you.
Your eyes quickly scan the handwritten words on the page, brows furrowed and lip tucked between your teeth.
“You’re fucking kidding me.” You scoff, slamming the letter down onto the coffee table in front of you. “Imagine if we complained about every loud bitch in this apartment?The family in 7J has a baby that screams and cries and whines all the time! I can’t believe—“
“(Y/N),” Spencer interrupts, “Maybe they’re right. We get kind of loud, a-and I’m sure no one wants to hear us having sex.”
“So what are you saying?”
He wrings his hands nervously, “I-I don’t know? M-maybe we should... dial it back a bit?” It’s not what he wants, but he’s rather not have everyone in his floor hate him.
You nod with pursed lips. “Okay. So are we just not gonna have sex?”
“No?” It comes out as more of a question. “I don’t know. Obviously I don’t want to not have sex with you— sex with you is great. I just... maybe we should go as, uh, hard as we usually go.”
“Okay.” You agree, unpausing your television program.
Spencer can’t help but worry that you’re secretly upset with him for being less uninhibited than you. “You’re not... mad, right?”
Your face softens, “Of course not. I’m never going to make you do anything you don’t want.”
But that’s the issue. Spencer doesn’t want to have to be quiet. He likes being loud, arguably more than you do. But his hatred for confrontation outweighs his love for vocal, sloppy sex.
A few days later, when the both of you return back from a hectic case in Georgia, all Spencer wants to do is fall into your arms. His body aches for you to take care of him like you always do.
After completing your nightly routine, the both of you settle beneath the covers of your bed. Spencer’s arms instinctively cradle your waist, practically pulling you on top of him. He places a gentle kiss towards the base of your neck.
“Spence.” You sigh as he feathers more pecks onto your neck and jaw. “What are you doing?”
“Hm? Me?” You’re eyes shut, but you can envision the dopey smile playing on his lips. “I’m not doing anything...”
You chuckle softly, “Sure,” turning into his body so you can press a kiss to his lips.
His large hands cradle your face, pulling you against him impossibly close. Your hand rubs his chest lightly, grasping onto his shirt when he shoots his tongue into your mouth.
“You’re so naughty.” You purr, smirking against his lips as his hand slides beneath your pajama shirt. “What happened to my good boy?”
Spencer pouts, releasing a small whine. “I’m still your good boy.”
“Always.” You smile, capturing his plump lips in another heated kiss. “Take your clothes off.” He waste no time ridding himself of his shirt and pants—always obedient.
Your fingers tease him through his boxers, rubbing up and down the outline of his shaft, occasionally pressing down on the tip of his cock. His lower body squirms, torn between pulling away from or leaning into your touch.
“Please, baby.” Spencer’s voice is strained and husky, overwhelmed with pleasure. This may as well be your thousandth time touching him, but it always feels like the first—life changing. “I need you.”
“Since you asked so nicely...” Shimmying his boxers down, you free his cock, wrapping your hand loosely around its circumference.
He yelps loudly in response, moaning with each upstroke. You pause, leaning over his hips to lick a wet stripe up his length. From this angle all he can see are your mischievous eyes and the way your lips wrap around the head of his cock. Your tongue flattens against the edge of the tip, pressing firmly, encouraged by his moans. Spencer has completely forgotten the noise complaint the two of you received a few days ago. His jaw is pried open, a constant flow of moans and whines pouring from his lips.
“O-Oh! God, yes! F-fuck, (Y/N). Don’t stop!” You can only imagine how irate your neighbors are. You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more delighted to show everyone that Spencer belongs to you.
“You like that, baby?” You tease. “Knowing everyone can hear you moaning— so pathetic. I thought you wanted to be quiet, hm?” When his response gets lodged in his throat, dominated by the pleasure you’re bringing him, you continue to egg him in further. “Poor baby can’t think straight. You’re gonna cum like a fucking slut, yeah?” He nods rapidly, fist clenching on to the bed sheet beneath him.
You watch his hips stutter beneath you, stomach tensing as white-hot-heat erupts in his core. His mouth hangs open, body silently shaking beneath you as your mouth continues to work him through his orgasm. Thick ropes of cum shoot onto your tongue and onto his chest. You do your best to clean him up, licking up whatever you can.
“I love you so m-much.” Spencer gasps, regaining his energy after having his life-force sucked out of him—literally.
You hum, straddling his lap as you peck him on the lips. Just as he goes to flip the both of you over, planning on returning the favor, an urgent knock sounds at your door.
Spencer and you still, neither of you wanting to move. You hear a faint grunt of irritation, followed by padding back to the adjacent apartment.
“I think we’ll be receiving a few more noise complaints.” You chuckle, pulling Spencer in for another kiss.
okay this is super random but i have glasses and was wondering if you could write something where spencer and reader (she/her pronouns) both have glasses. literally anything, but preferably like sub!spencer and it doesn’t have to be nsfw, it could be anything if that works!
sorry this request took so long to get too :/ also this is completed unedited lol sry but i rlly like it anyway
TW: slight allusions to smut?, kissing, slight angst
-
(spencer’s POV)
“Hey, (Y/N)!” Spencer calls over his shoulder, fast fingers typing away at a document on his new MacBook. Penelope aided him in getting acquainted with the technology the other day, claiming that he needed an upgrade.
You approach Spencer’s desk from behind, leaning over the genius’s shoulder to find that he’s learned the shortcut for superscript on his laptop. His wry glasses have fallen down the bridge of his nose, and his hair has grown out into untamed waves.
“Look!” He beams, showing you all the special characters he now has access to. “I can write proper chemical equations and site footnotes now! Isn’t it just...”
His jaw goes slack when he turns to look at you, leaning on the back of his desk chair with the most perfect pair of glasses perched on your nose. You raise your eyebrows in confusion, pushing the glasses back up when they slip down. Spencer’s in awe; you look so stunning, it’s a shame that you’ve never worn them before.
“W-when did you...” he gestures to his face awkwardly.
Your eyes light up, “Ohh, my glasses.” You remove them, inspecting the lenses before wiping them with the fabric of your shirt. “I ran out of contacts and my prescription expired last month. I have to get another eye exam before I can order more, so I’m stuck with these for a while.”
A while... Spencer hopes he doesn’t look as love-struck as he feels. Who would’ve guessed he had a thing for glasses. Well, maybe he just has a thing for you.
“Do they make me look weird or something?” You inquire, uneasy under the weight of Spencer’s stare (or rather, ogling).
“No!” He blurts out, blushing at his urgency. “I-I mean, you look g-great.”
You chuckle, absentmindedly smoothing the fabric of his cardigan down onto his shoulder. Spencer wonders if you know the affect you have on him— how one little touch makes his heart race and his palms sweat. The addition of your glasses sure isn’t helping his situation. Is it possible for someone to look sinful and adorable all at once?
“I’m glad you think I look good.” You confess. “I don’t think I could handle it if you thought I was ugly.”
Now it’s Spencer’s turn to be puzzled. “I don’t follow...”
You sigh, “You seriously have no idea?”
“No idea about what?”
You groan as if Spencer’s somehow inconvenienced you. “I have a crush on you, Spencer, and I’ve been more than obvious about it!”
“Y-you have a crush on me?” His voice raises in pitch due to his disbelief. You, (Y/N), the most string, brilliant, and gorgeous woman he’s ever met, have a crush on little ol’ Spencer Reid?
You toss your hands up in the air, “Yes, I do. I flirt with you constantly, I spend all my free time with you, and literally everyone else on the team knows except you!”
“This isn’t a joke,right?” A part of his mind is warning him that this is too good to be true, that there’s no way the stars aligned. “Because if this a joke I don’t think I’ll be able to recover, (Y/N).”
“This is not some cruel joke, Spencer.” You mutter, inching your face closer to his. “I like you, so, so much.”
It’s so hard for him to focus when your lips are inches away from his. Your eyes flick between his lips and his eyes, their beautiful hazel color unobstructed by his frames.
“Kiss me.” You whispers, hands wrapping around the back of his neck.
He obliges, unfazed by the fact that you’re kissing him in the middle of the bullpen, the rest of your colleagues soon to arrive. The feeling of your soft, plump lips gliding across his, tongues lacing together perfectly, it’s all he could’ve hoped for and then some. Your glasses clink together adorably, forcing you to pull away momentarily.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You proclaim, adjusting the glasses on Spencer face.
“W-whenever you want to kiss me—if you ever want to kiss me—j-just do it.” Spencer stammers, at a loss for eloquent words.
hii can i request a fluffy pining blurb where the reader realizes that spence is touch starved so she is always affectionate with him and he wonders why?
sorry this took so long to get to! i’m so excited for this request because everyone LOVES touchstarved!spencer.
TW: so cute, & a little bit of spencer being sad n insecure
-
When Spencer says he doesn’t want to shake hands, hi-five, or hug, people usually take that to mean he doesn’t like any physical affection at all.
And for a few months, you were under the same impression— you must keep your distance with Spencer Reid. No sleeping on his shoulder on the jet, no ruffling his hair playfully, and no slinging your arm around his torso.
But then, you did your job. You observed his behavior, essentially profiling him. It doesn’t take a genius with an IQ of 187 to see that Spencer wanted, nay, needed physical touch. The sad face when everyone else would receive a hug but him during parties was enough to kill you; and you hated the hesitancy of others to invite him anywhere just because there’s a possibility of physical touch, which means spreading germs, which means absolutely no Spencer allowed.
So you start asking: asking if he could use a hug, or if he wants to lie with you on the jet’s couch, or if he wants you to play with his hair. And then, he opens up. He starts asking himself (in his usual timid and polite way) if you would like a hug or a snuggle.
It becomes your thing with him— physical affection. For a moment, everyone on the team is bewildered at Spencer Reid holding hands as you fall asleep on the jet, along with the greater implication that sort of action has, especially when done with him. But they leave it be, for now, so that you two figure it out on your own.
Spencer absolutely adores your company. He feels so loved and protected when you’re with him as if nothing horrible could ever happen; no tornado or earthquake or tragedy could ever disrupt this perfect moment. He doesn’t know when the sudden physical affection from you began or why he’s grown so dependent on it, but it doesn’t matter. Spencer’s the happiest he’s been in years.
Paperwork drains the life out of you almost as much as actual cases due. Reflecting on all the gruesome details of a fresh crime wrenches your heart. Spencer finishes his paperwork hours before you and spends the rest of his time playing with various Rubix cubes hidden in his desk. He could’ve left hours ago, but he’s waiting for you to finish so you two can head to your apartment for a viewing of Mr. and Mrs. Smith.
You bid the team goodbye, ignoring the devious little smirks on their faces and the fact that they’re going to gossip about you and Spencer the second you leave the bullpen.
“Are you excited to watch the most inaccurate depiction of a special agent mission you’ve ever seen in your life?” You ask playfully as you sink down onto your sofa. “I hear Angelina wears lingerie as she shoots an M-15 from the 30th story of a building.”
Spencer scoffs, “Sounds accurate and most importantly appealing.”
“That’s the spirit.” You smile as he joins you, sitting flush against you on the couch, his thigh touching yours.
You welcome his touch, allowing him to lean into you. You knew he’d eventually settle his head onto your lap so you could play with his hair, so you place a pillow over your thighs in anticipation.
You press play, and the opening credits of the movie begin. Spencer hums as you wrap your arm behind his head, allowing you to twist and tug at his hair.
“You comfortable?” You ask him.
He nods, a content smile on his face. “Yes— of course. I’m always comfortable when I’m with you.”
You can’t stop the large grin that creeps onto your face. “Good. I’m glad.”
He goes to say something, but you sense the hesitancy on his face. “I— never mind.” Spencer shuts his mouth, turning his head to face your TV.
“Ugh, none of this never mind crap. Tell me.”
He dismisses your concern with a wave of his hand. “I-It’s not important, plus the movie’s starting.”
You roll your eyes, “It’s not 1965, grandpa. I can pause it.” You press the button on the remote, stopping the movie. “Now, what’s up.”
“It’s just— I d-don’t— It’s dumb.”
“Nothing you could ever say is dumb, Spencer. I promise.” Your features soften.
He sighs, “I just don’t know how to word this without it sounding like I’m complaining— I’m not complaining!”
“Okay. Go on...”
Spencer sucks in a shaky breath before speaking. “W-why are you so nice to me? L-like why do you touch me and, you know... p-play with my hair and stuff.” The embarrassed blush on his cheeks is evident. The poor boy is so nervous.
“Spencer,” You pull him tighter against you. “I’m so affectionate with you because you’re the best man I know. The hugs, the snuggling, everything— you deserve it. You deserve to be taken care of.”
“T-thank you, (Y/N).” Spencer looks so relieved, so grateful.
“It’s nothing.” You place a kiss on top of his forehead, relishing in the way his breath hitches.
You’d never admit it out loud, but over the months of being attached at the hip, your feelings for Spencer have blossomed. He went from a shy profiler to an adorable genius, and you could hardly suppress your feelings around him.
But, you’re not worried. You’re a profiler; you can read behavior and body language like a children’s book, and you can tell that Spencer’s desire for your touch isn’t purely platonic either.
But that’s a conversation for another time. There’s no rush. For now, you’re content with snuggling your best friend and watching a movie.
hi! i was wondering if you do something where spencer is super shy with reader and keeps stuttering when he first meets her (reader), and maybe reader interns at the bau as a college student?? idk this sounds bad but ik you’ll make it sound good with ur writing lol
I LOVE THIS CONCEPT UGHH MAKING SPENCER NERVOUS IS JUST SO MMMMM
PT TWO
TW: sub!spencer, fluff
-
The first time he sees her, his brain short circuits.
Anderson enters the bullpen with the express purpose of introducing the new intern to everyone. She shakes the hands of Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi; Penelope hugs her; and Morgan places a kiss onto her hand, followed by a flirtatious comment and wink.
Spencer is well aware that Anderson and the new intern have made their way over to Spencer’s desk, where he shifts nervously in his seat.
“This is (Y/N). She’s in her second year of her Ph.D. at Georgetown studying Philosophy. I bet you’ll have lots to talk about.” And with the clasp of his hands, Anderson leaves the pair to get aquatinted.
He can barely make eye contact with her. Her smile is so radiant, her hair rests perfectly on her shoulders, and she stands with such authority and confidence that it makes him sweat. Her gaze towers over him as he sits in his seat.
“Hi, Dr. Reid! I’m (Y/N)— huge fan of your academic work and whatnot.” She doesn’t reach to shake his hand, relieving some of his anxieties. Though, it means someone’s warned her about his weird quirks, which makes him wonder what else they mentioned.
“R-really?” He stammers with uncertainty.
(Y/N) smiled wider and nods, “Of course! You’re a big inspiration. I feel... comforted knowing that there’s a need for the academics in the FBI. I figured my Philosophy degrees would be useless.”
“D-Doctor of P-Philosophy in Philosop-phy. T-that’s funny.” Spencer can’t control the stutter that’s developed within the last few moments. It makes his sorry excuse of a joke sound even worse.
He can’t think of anything else to say, too entranced by her beautiful appearance and energy. She doesn’t seem to mind the awkward atmosphere that surrounds them. In fact, it almost invigorates her. He’s sure she has no problem with controlling the course of a conversation.
(Y/N) laughs, almost too loudly. “I know right. I love it though. I wouldn’t change my degree in nonsense for anything else.”
Spencer shrugs, “I-I d-don’t think i-it’s nonsense.” He wants to scream with how ridiculously nervous he sounds, but continues anyway. “Philosophy is t-the foundat-tion of almost ev-very study. The w-world’s g-greatest m-mathematicians a-and scientist c-can be r-regarded as philosophers— y-you prob-bably knew all of t-that thought.”
(Y/N) leans herself against his desk, crossing her arms while sporting an unusually pointed gaze. “How old are you, Spencer?”
“T-twenty s-seven.” He has no idea where she’s headed.
She raises a brow, “You look a lot younger.”
“I-I know...”
“I’m twenty-five.” (Y/N) states. “And I think you’re cute, and smart, and a little nervous, but I’m into that.” Spencer’s never had someone come onto him this hard... let alone ever. He doesn’t know how to respond without sounding overeager, so he stays silent. “I know it’s probably a conflict of interest, but would you like to go out with me?”
He nods fervently, “Y-yes! Uh— I m-mean y-yea, please.”
“Okay.” She grins, patting his shoulder. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“O-okay!” Spencer’s beaming at this point, it’s a surprise no one else in the bullpen has noticed.
She walks away, perfectly heel-to-toe, one foot in front of the other— the way that powerful women walk. It gets to him. He really likes her despite only knowing her for ten minutes.
Spencer’s content with watching her walk away, but his heart stops when she turns around, flashing him a smile and a wink. It’s a reminder that this is all real, and that she hasn’t forgotten him yet.
can i request a fic where the reader gets an injury from being in the field and doesn’t have clearance to fly so she is forced to stay back with penelope while spencer is worrying his ass off and lecturing pen on what to do? maybe with a love confession at the end?
Worth The Risk
masterlist
Summary: Spencer let’s a secret slip during a worried rant about Reader’s injuries.
Pairing: SR x GN!BAU!Reader
Category: Fluff!!!!
Warnings: mentions of gunshot wound, fighting, broken bones, injured!reader, and spencer being so cute he is the cutest
-
It’s your first day back at the BAU in two weeks, and you couldn’t be more excited.
After an unfortunate scuffle with an unsub, resulting in two fractured ribs and a gunshot wound through your shoulder, Hotch ordered you to stay home for a minimum of two weeks.
You hated nothing more than being away from the BAU. Your job encompasses your whole life— you’re basically empty without it. You also fear loneliness. Being alone, in your plain apartment, for two weeks— you’d drive yourself insane after the first day.
Fortunately, Spencer announced that he’d be by your side every second he was available. At first, you were grateful that your best friend (and crush... not that you’d ever admit it) was going to be spending time with you.
But one night, he showed up at your door holding two large duffel bags in his hands.
“I’m staying with you for the next two weeks.”
You were puzzled, but let the genius in anyways. Apparently, Spencer requested two weeks off from work so he could take care of you. And according to him, Hotch thought it was an excellent idea.
He spent every moment being your best friend, nurse, chef, and entertainer. It was fun for the most part, but eventually, Spencer turned into a badgering caretaker.
“No! You shouldn’t be standing up so much! You wound will reopen!”
“Stop moving your arm! I’ll feed you!”
“No TV after midnight! Your body needs sleep to regenerate.”
You resented him, and his rules, and how much you wanted to kiss his stupid little face despite all of it. ‘Cause let’s face it, the most challenging part of living with Spencer for two weeks was the fact that you could hardly contain your feelings for him.
So, once your two weeks of bed rest finally finished, you were practically crawling to get back to Quantico (with Spencer following closely behind).
.
You’re unsure of what to expect when you returned to work. And by that, you mean you don’t know how big of a party Penelope Garcia will throw.
Your suspicions are confirmed as confetti is tossed through the air, signaling and celebrating you and Spencer’s return.
“Welcome back!” Penelope shouts, sprinting over in her bright pink Louboutins. “I missed you both so, so much! (Y/N) mostly, but you too, Spencer.”
Spencer rolls his eyes, suppressing his smile. “Oh, thank you, Garcia.” You chuckle at his sarcasm.
“Ugh, it is so good to be back.” You sigh. “Especially since living with Spencer is like having a doctor and a drill sergeant wrapped into one.”
You hear him gasp in offense towards your left. “I am not a drill sergeant.”
“Oh, please. You wouldn’t even let me feed myself— with my good arm!” You raise your left arm and shoulder, causing everyone else to laugh.
“W-Whatever. I’d rather have you hate me than have your injury heal any bit slower.”
“Aw, I could never hate you.” You pull him into your side, ruffling his hair despite his whining.
“How cute.” Penelope gushes, clasping her hands in awe at the sight of you two.
“Hardly.” You scoff, making your way to drop your things off on your desk.
Hotch emerges from his offices, clearing his throat. “(Y/N), Spencer, great to have you back.” He flashes you both a straight smile— classic Hotch. “And you know I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have a case.”
Emily and Morgan let out loud groans, but you smile. “Ooh, Hotch! Where are we going?”
You might as well be jumping up and down, so it pains Hotch to deliver this second piece of information. “Actually, (Y/N)... You’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry— what?”
“You’re working the case from Quantico. The rest of us are headed to Cleveland, Ohio.”
Your brows knit together, and you toss your hands up in frustration. “Hotch! You said nothing about me not being cleared for the field.”
“I know. But I believe it’s in your best interest not to engage in physical activity for the next week.” He mutters.
You’re visibly upset. “Fine. But only one week, right?”
“You have my word. We’ll brief in the round table room, but you’ll stay back and work in Garcia's office.”
That puts a smile on your face.
“Yay! I get the beautiful (Y/N) (Y/L/N) all to myself!” Penelope squeals.
Morgan chuckles, “Try not to be too jealous, pretty boy.”
Spencer blushes and looks in the opposite direction nervously.
“Alright,” Hotch exclaims. “Let’s get started.”
.
You and Penelope bid goodbye to the rest of the team before making your way back to her office. It’s homey and decorated with the cutest stuffed animals— it’s a shame you don’t spend more time in here.
“You know, I don’t think I’d be nearly as happy if I were stuck here with anyone but you.”
Your words seem to put a genuine smile on her face. “You are so sweet. But don’t let Spencer hear you say that.”
You raise a brow, “Why is everyone acting so weird about Spencer and me?”
She shrugs, “We figured the two of you would be dating by now. Two weeks spent crammed in your tiny little apartment together— I bet you could feel the sexual tension brewing!”
“Garcia!” You groan, leaning back into your chair. “Stop it. Nothing is going on between Spencer and me. We're just best friends.”
“For now... for now.”
You chuckle, dismissing her antics. The two of you run some scans through her data systems, and you work on crafting some sort of a loose profile.
The phone rings, and Penelope claps with enthusiasm.
“It’s the rest of the crime fighters. I’m sure your Spencer will be so excited to hear your voice.”
Before you can object, she clicks the answer button with the back of her glitter gel pen. “Office of Penelope Garcia and (Y/N) (Y/L/N). To whom do we owe the pleasure?”
“H-Hi.” Spencer stammers over the phone. You figured Hotch would be the one to call, asking Penelope to run for IDs based off of new perimeters. “It’s Spencer.”
“We know.” You hope they can’t hear your smile through the phone. Despite being stuck with him and his rules for two weeks, you still loved the sound of his voice. “What’s up? Found anything new?”
“Uhh, no, n-not yet. I just wanted to check on you.”
“Spencer.” You scold. “You left thirteen minutes ago. That’s not nearly enough time for my wound to tear back open.”
“Hey, you never know. You could’ve... I don’t know... reached forward— or back— too hard. If you crane your neck too far to the opposite side, it could stretch the tissue—“
“Thank you, Spencer,” Penelope interjects. “But (Y/N) is completely and totally fine under the care of Penelope Garcia, MD. I won’t let her out of my sight.”
“Just... make sure she’s not in any pain. If your ribs start to bother you take 400 milligrams of Ibuprofen every four hours.” He states.
Penelope groans, “Spencer, (Y/N) will be fine. She’s a grown woman. I’m sure she knows her body well enough not to let her ribs crack open and her shoulder fall off. Do you not trust me?”
“No! No!” Spencer corrects. “I trust you, Garcia. But, I just— we can’t let anything bad happen to her.”
“I’m right here, guys.” You deadpan. “And I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”
Spencer sighs, “I know, (Y/N). I just wouldn’t want you to be in any pain or discomfort because of your injuries. I know how much getting shot sucks, and I can’t handle someone I’m in love with being in pain.”
Silence settles over everyone.
“You’re in love with me?” You whisper, far too shocked to care that your entire team is listening in on your conversation, and that your behavior is far too inappropriate for an agent working on a murder investigation.
“What? When did I say that.” His voice cracks mid-sentence. “I-I never said that.”
“Yes, you did.” You mutter. “You said you’re in love with me.”
“I-I don’t— I’m sorry.” You hear his embarrassment and anxiety through the phone. Knowing Spencer, he’s probably praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
You shake your head, biting your lower lip. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not mad.”
“You’re not?”
You let out an airy chuckle. “Of course not; I’m in love with you too, Spencer.”
You glance over to Penelope, whose palm is slapped over her mouth in pure excitement. You hear gasps coming from the other side of the phone as well.
“I’ll talk to you when you get back, okay.” You’re surprisingly calm despite your biggest dream coming true, mainly because everyone else is listening. “And please, do not call me unless you have new information about the case.”
Spencer gulps, “Y-yeah, the case, the case.”
You nod, “Okay... we’re going to go now. Goodbye, Spencer.”
“B-Bye, (Y/N).” He stutters.
With a shaky hand, you click the end call button on the phone, finally letting out a nervous breath you’d been holding for the entirety of the conversation.
“Oh my god!” Penelope screams, jumping up and out of her seat. “Dreams do come true! Oh my god! This is amazing. You and Spencer— Oh my god!”
“Relax, Garcia.” You shake your head in amusement. “You can celebrate when they finish the case.”
“Because then you and Spencer will talk and finally get together and then get married and have the smartest, toughest, most adorable babies ever. They’ll get the tough from you, obviously.”
You place a hand on her shoulder. “Calm down. You have all the time in the world to be happy for me and Spencer.”
She nods, pointing her finger at you. “I can celebrate this forever?”
“Sure.” You shrug.
If anything, you’d be celebrating with her too— because Spencer fucking Reid in love with you.
Getting shot was totally worth it.
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a/n: i decided that i liked this sm that i would add a proper summary and description and shit so i could actually call it a oneshot instead of a blurb bc it was already a fucking long you’re welcome
request…. praise kink! Spencer ??? as in Spence praises reader idk I think praise kinks are hot. that’s all. however you choose to write it I’ll love it
OKAYYY YESS
TW: sex, praise!kink **this is NOT dom!spencer. don’t get it twisted**
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You’ve never met a man more wonderful than Spencer Reid. Intelligent, kind, stunning, but most importantly, emotionally perceptive. He knows exactly what to say when you’re having a bad day. He’s truly a national treasure.
Being emotionally perceptive doesn’t come in handy only when in moments of sadness; it also makes for the best, most mind-blowing sex life. Spencer was an open communicator and a people pleaser, and he loved to make you scream, to pleasure you until your legs began to shake. He thought less about himself and more about you.
Spencer is never short of good things to say about you. He showers you with praise constantly, in and out of the bedroom. At first, you bashfully brushed his loving comments aside. That was until you noticed the way it made your heart race. After furthering inquiry, Spencer ‘diagnosed’ you with a praise kink, something very common, so common, in fact, that he had one as well.
“You feel so good, baby.” He moans as the head of his cock slips inside of you. He starts to slowly pump in and out, allowing himself to clothes his eyes for a short moment. “Fuck. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Spence.” You gasp as he brushes over your g-spot.
He rests his hands next to your head, hovering over you between your legs as he snaps his hips feverishly into yours. “You’re so p-perfect. Made for me.”
“Uh-huh.” You moan in response. “Just for you, baby.”
“I love it when you talk to me like that.”
“Yeah?” You bite your lip to stifle your moans.
“No. I wanna hear you.” Spencer demands rather aggressively. “You sound so amazing. I wanna know how good I’m making you feel.”
He rests all his weight on his left hand, using his right thumb to circle your clit as he pumps into you.
“Fuck, Spence.” You moan as you feel your walls tighter around his cock. “Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop; I swear to god of you stop—“
“Would dream of it.” He smiles, continuing his relentless thrusts.
You don’t even have time to announce that you’re cumming before the heat spreads from your lower abdomen throughout your body. You’ve never had a dull orgasm with Spencer in your entire life. They’re almost earth-shattering.
Spencer allows himself to cum once your back arches off the bed and your legs clamp down around his waist. You ride your highs out together.
“You did so good, baby.” He mutters, collapsing on top of you. “I love you.”
“I love you so much.” You pant, kissing him on the forehead.
tying up sub glasses spence and teasing him with a vibrator because hes been naughty and was being a brat at work 😩
K IM GONNA TURN THIS INTO A WHOLE FIC LATER BUT I NEEDED TO JUST SPEW SOME BULLSHIT ONTO A POST BC THIS CONCEPT>>> IS WHEW
*note: i turned this into a whole fic but i’m still calling it a blurb </3
TW: mentions of edging, degradation, overstimulation & dry orgasm, sub!spencer, kissing, use of vibrator (male), ejaculation, crying
Spencer knows what’s in store for him once you two return home.
The entire workday has been hell for you. Spencer made it his life’s mission to tease and touch you at any given moment with little to no subtlety. He constantly paws at your hips and chest, pouting when you don’t allow him to peck you on your lips, even though the only thing concealing your secret relationship from your boss are thin window blinds.
He would work himself up, begging you to help him out in the middle of the day. You’re sure Morgan and Emily have some idea of what’s going on between you and Spencer, but you don’t need the entire world to know your boyfriend is desperate for you to fuck him 24/7.
Once you jam your keys into the front door’s lock, your shoving Spencer inside, throwing your bag and jacket off onto the couch. He chases your face— attempting to plant his lips on yours. But you’re a bitch unhinged, pulling him by his wrist into the bedroom.
You don’t even allow him to loosen his tie before pushing him flat onto the mattress. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself. A slight smirk plays on his lips, and the boner in his slacks is hard to miss.
You watch Spencer intently, stalking him likes your prey. He assumes you’re going to deal out the usual punishment for when he was bratty and needy at work: painful edging until you finally cave in and let him cum.
But today is different.
You wordlessly unbutton his shirt, leaving the tie on so you can yank on it when you please. Once the last button is pried open, your hands lightly run down the smooth, milky skin of his chest, grazing right above the waistband of his bands.
He lifts his hips slightly, displaying his want proudly in front of you. “I need you.” He sighs, flashing you his signature puppy dog eyes.
“That’s what you always say.” You scold, removing your hands from his body.
Spencer whines, “You always look so pretty at work. I want you all the time.”
“So, what you’re saying is you can’t control yourself.”
“N-no... b-but...” He stammers, shaking his head. His glasses fall down his nose slightly, and he rushes to push them back up.
“You’re so fucking impatient.” You growl, gripping his thin tie, yanking his neck up from the bed. “Can’t even control yourself at work. Such a fucking whore.”
“I’m sorry.” He cries.
You let his head fall back onto the bed, “Sorry’s not good enough. You don’t mean it. Are you trying to disappointment me?”
“N-Never! I promise!”
Your hands work quickly, undoing the tie around his neck with ferocity. “Poor slut. Can’t do anything right. They call you a genius, but you think with your dick more than your brain.”
Spencer’s hands tremble as you place them in the crevice of the bed’s headboard, swiftly wrapping the fabric of the tie around them, securing his wrists in a tight knot.
Spencer whines and ruts his hips, desperate to relieve himself. He can’t, and you simply won’t let him.
You take a moment to observe how pathetic (and fucking hot) your boyfriend looks beneath you.
“Is this what you wanted? To be tied up and ruined— fucked like a whore?”
He nods, “Yes! I’m sorry!” His dick is straining painfully against the zipper of his pants. “Please.”
You sit in between his legs, popping the button open and pulling the zipper down— just enough so that you can reach into his underwear and pull his flushed cock out.
Spencer throws his head back and moans as the grip on his cock firms. “Fuck, (Y/N).”
You let go, “Shut. Up.”
You’re gone for a moment, rustling through a drawer before pulling out the slick purple vibrator that you usually used on yourself.
“We’re going to try something different— overstimulation. I’m gonna make you cum so many times—so fucking hard—that you’re crying with nothing else left to give. Does that sound like a plan?”
He nods, “Y-yes, please, miss.”
You ponder over shimmying his pants down to his ankles but decide that the sight of him covering his work clothes in cum would be too hot to give up.
You pucker your lips, letting a bead of spit land on the tip of his dick. The vibrator hums on the lowest setting. He trembles as you trail the toy up his thigh, teasing before it made contact with his dick.
“Fuck!” He shouts, thrashing as the vibrations rushed through the head of his hard cock.
The devilish smile adorned on your face is nothing less than deviant. After a few moments, you switch from level one to level three.
Spencer’s high pitched moans and whines are certainly disrupting your poor neighbors, but you don’t care. He tugs at his bound wrists, legs shaking as he approaches his first orgasm of the evening.
“Oh my godddd.” He moans. “I’m c-cumming! Ah!”
After just a minute of vibrations, Spencer spurts his thick load all over your hands and his lap.
You don’t ease up with the toy— holding it firmly in place as he winces from the overstimulation. He’s sobbing, biting his bottom lip to stifle his cries.
“You can’t take it, baby boy?” You tease, your condescending tone only turning him on further. “I wonder what everyone would think if they saw the real you. How pathetically turned on you get around me. Such a desperate slut.”
Spencer moans at your words, “(Y/N)...”
“Are you gonna come again? Already?”
He nods as best as he can, “Y-y-yesssss.”
The wonderful thing about Spencer is that he always has so much cum to give. His second orgasm rips through him, cum shooting onto your fist and landing in thick ropes on his stomach.
His entire body shakes as you turn the vibrator up to the highest setting. You knew his third one might be a dry orgasm since he’s already come twice within four minutes.
You’re excited to see how he reacts to his first dry orgasm. Most, if not all, of Spencer’s first, were with you, and you’re happy to add this one to the list.
His lips are bitten and swollen, and he has tears pouring down his face. The pleasure mixs deliciously with the pain— and Spencer loves it.
“I’m n-not gonna be able to hold out much longer!” He gasps, arching his back off the bed and letting out a groan.
“Such a whore. Can’t even wait another minute to cum, hm?”
“I-I... I-It feels too good, (Y/N). I can’t...”
You smile, “Such a poor fucking slut. You wanna come so badly? Do it.”
Spencer releases a sharp cry, convulsing as he orgasm with nothing left to give. He’s never felt anything remotely like this before. It’s gritty and rough and unforgettable, and he loves the way your face contorts into a bright smile at the sight of him wholly fucked through.
You lean down, licking the cum off of his lap before moving in to place a firm kiss on his lips. He happily accepts the gesture, forcing his tongue into your mouth to taste himself.
“I knew you would love it.” You grin, running a gentle hand up to his chest. “Your a whore, but your my whore.”
He kisses you again, reaffirming your statement. “Nobody else’s.”
You’re always gentle with Spencer after rough sex. You soothe the fabric burns on his wrists, put his cum-covered clothing in the wash, and tenderly bathe him in a steaming shower.
Even when you punish him, it’s filled with love. You’re all he could ever ask for.
