in honour of the thigh smiley sighting (thank you Woodland), I present to you the second most important thing you’ll see today. pick a favourite tattoo pls.
Oh Deer
Naughts and Crosses
R.G
Pac man
THE thigh smiley
Manic pixie dream girl symbols on his knuckles (28 included)
That cute cuppa tea
Odds
I will accept other answers but you’d be wrong… tell me in the tags??
Request: from Anon - “Hi! I saw the request you got on your second blog and it got me thinking. Can you write something about reader having a lot of tattoos and spencer thinks she’s a “bad girl” (not that tattoos make you bad but you know... stigma) and that she’ll never want him (maybe early seasons Spence?) and is in literal shock when she asks him out? I just want tattoo representation in fics"
A/N: I couldn't WAIT to write this. As a woman with quite a lot of tattoos this was very inspiring to me. Because there is still stigma surrounding tattoo's, I always get looked at a certain way and people always make assumptions about me due to my tattoos. I loved the idea of Spencer being so into a heavily tattooed female!
CW: vague hints at masturbation (male) other than that just a little pervy Spencer but not too much. Talk of insecurities and being looked at differently because of tattoos.
Plot: Once Spencer notices your tattoos, he can't stop thinking about them. But surely a "bad girl" wouldn't be interested in a guy like him?
Part Two | Part Three
WC: 1K
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From the moment you walked into the BAU on your first day, Spencer knew there was something different about you. He didn’t know what it was, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
It wasn’t until a few months into you joining the team and a case took you to Arizona in the middle of summer that he realised what it was.
He met you at the crime scene way out in the desert and you’d rid your usual blazer, opting for a much more weather appropriate tank top.
You caught him staring at you as you exited the car, pulling your latex gloves on.
“How long has she been dead?” you asked him, trying not to make eye contact with him.
“Uh…” he swallowed. “She uh…”
You sighed, looking back at him to see his eyes raking over your bare arms.
“Stare much?” you put one hand on your hip and raised your eyebrow at him. “Yes Spencer, I have tattoos.”
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the beautiful and intricate body art that adorned your body. You had two full sleeves, from your wrists, stretching up to your collarbones and he could just about make out one peeking out from between your breasts.
“Spencer!” you scalded him as his eyes dipped to your chest.
His eyes shot back up to meet yours, his embarrassment written all over his face. He nervously played with his glasses.
“Uh...sorry.” he chewed his lip. “I uh...I just…”
“When was her time of death?” you asked again, trying to pull his mind back to the case.
It wasn’t the first time you had been looked at in that way. For the most part you tried to keep your tattoos covered at work because there was still a stigma attached to being a tattooed woman, especially in a government job.
People always make assumptions about you and you could tell by the look on Spencer’s face that he was doing just that.
***
Spencer couldn’t get the sight of your decorated skin out of his mind. He didn’t think tattoos were something he would find attractive but seeing them on you had awoken something in him.
They were so delicate and artistic and Spencer wanted to trace his fingers over every single one of them. He wanted to kiss every inch of your inked skin.
The thought of this made him hard beyond belief. Sitting in his motel room later that night he was straining against his slacks as he closed his eyes and pictured your artwork, specifically the one between your breasts he hadn’t gotten the chance to see properly.
Did you have more under your clothes? What else would await him beneath layers of fabric? Maybe your ribs were decorated, your thighs too. God he wanted to find out more than anything else in the world.
But there was no chance of that. You were clearly a bad girl, and bad girls were not interested in Spencer Reid.
He was the perfect depiction of the nice guy. He was awkward and a little dorky with his thick rimmed glasses, parted hair and penchant for ties, sweater vests and pressed slacks.
There was no possible way a woman like you would ever be interested in a man like him.
So knowing never stood a chance with you, he freed his aching member from his slacks and wrapped his hand around his shaft.
He closed his eyes and pictured your glorious body and its stunning artwork as he stroked himself.
It didn’t take long at all for him to reach his climax.
***
Months passed and Spencer kept his desires for you to himself. Every time he caught a glimpse of your tattooed flesh he would add it to his sordid box of images for when he was alone later.
It was coming up a year since you joined the team when the whole team was on a night out. It was a warm night and you showed up to the bar wearing a sundress that showed off your arms and the full extent of the tattoo between your breasts.
It also gave Spencer a glimpse at the tattoos that adorned your calves and thighs.
It drove him wild. And clearly he wasn’t subtle about it because about half way through the night, you sidled up close to him while he was getting a drink.
“You’ve been staring at me all night.” you raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you have a problem with my tattoos?”
“W-what?” he stuttered, staring wide eyed at you. “Far from it, actually.” he chewed his lip, his cheeks turning red.
“Oh.” your own eyes widened. “Oh.”
So that was what this was. Spencer wasn’t disgusted by your tattoos, he was attracted to them.
“In that case,” you stepped closer to him hearing his breath hitch. You placed a hand on his chest and smirked mischievously at him. “Why don’t you take me out to dinner and maybe I’ll let you see the other ones I keep hidden.”
“Ot-others.” he swallowed, his pants tightening.
“Oh yes Spencer.” you let your hand trail to his tie and you toyed with it between your fingers. “There’s a lot more you haven’t seen yet. But play your cards right and you just might.”
Spencer couldn’t talk, he could barely breathe. He just nodded dumbly at you.
“Now I’m going to let you watch me walk away. Pay close attention to the backs of my thighs.” You winked at him before turning your back on him.
He watched you walk away and as your thighs met as you walked he saw it.
Half a heart on each thigh. When brought together, they made a whole.
