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pathologicalreid · 1 day

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Spencer x fem!reader fic based on “Work Song” by Hozier?? Whatever storyline or category you want!!

work song | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, near death experience, blood, gunshot wound, hospitals. word count: 1.77k a/n: hozier song request makes my brain go brr. i hope the people of tumblr enjoy this bc i most definitely enjoyed writing it.

boys, when my baby found me

Your hair whipped your face as you spun around through the labyrinth of a warehouse that your team had found themselves in. It seemed like an impossible task, trying to navigate this space, but you had already cleared over half of the space.

A small noise, like a shoe squeaking, caught your attention, causing your ears to rise like an animal hunting for prey. Turning a corner, you had your flashlight and firearm raised, coming face to face with Morgan. The both of you relaxed ever so slightly, no longer ready to pounce.

Ricocheting throughout the warehouse, you heard a deafening gunshot. The sound bounced off of the metal walls of the building, making it almost impossible for you to determine where the sound originated from. Meeting Morgan’s eyes, he nodded his head to the left, signaling for you to go that way while he went right.

You affirmed his tactics, turning slowly and making your way to the left. The rusted building was now so eerily quiet that goosebumps were sprouting across your body, even under your bureau jacket.

Continuing your way down the narrow passageway, you saw movement inside of a room. Sliding your back along the wall, you peeked into the room, seeing two bodies on the ground. You whispered almost imperceptibly into your radio, calling for medical. One of them was the local officer that the BAU had been working the case with.

The other one was Spencer.

You pivoted so that you were entirely in the doorway, facing the UnSub, he raised his gun at you, but you were already pulling the trigger, hitting him square in the forehead. Breathing heavily, you lowered your firearm before scrambling over to Spencer.

I didn’t care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her

In your ear, you could hear Morgan shouting, “Y/N, Reid, sound off, dammit!”

Something needed to happen. You needed to do something, but you had such severe tunnel vision that the only thing you could think about was Spencer.

He was gasping for air on the metal ground of the warehouse, lying in a pool of his own blood. You observed in horror as the red puddle spread with each passing moment.

Launching into action, you tugged your jacket off, stuffing the fabric onto Spencer’s side in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. Even Kevlar vests had an Achilles heel, and the UnSub had managed to strike him precisely where there was a gap in the material. All the while, you were muttering the words, “Stay awake.” Just those two words, over and over again, like a prayer.

You hummed, using one hand to apply pressure to his wound and lifting the other so that you could smooth his hair back. His skin was alarmingly clammy, and you knew that, even with your attempts, he was losing too much blood. “Y/N,” he muttered, sounding like he was using all of his strength to say your name.

Gently, you hushed him, “It’s okay, Spence. Don’t talk, you’re gonna be just fine,” you insisted as his blood soaked through the knees of your jeans. You weren’t sure who you were trying to console at that moment.

“It makes sense-“ he said, being cut off by a cough, sending blood spurting out of his mouth. If his lung was collapsing, there was nothing you’d be able to do. You tried to shush him again, but he had more to say – he almost always did. “That I’d see you while I’m dying.”

Choking on tears, you leaned your face onto your shoulder so that you could wipe them away without moving your hands. “I’m here, I’m really here,” you urged, he wasn’t hallucinating, and he wasn’t dying. Not on your watch. “It’s me, Spence. I’m right here,” you told him carefully.

He opened his mouth again to speak, and you wanted to tell him to save his strength. You also didn’t want to deprive him of his words. “You…” his voice trailed off as he searched for the words, “You’ve always been my favorite dream.”

Sniffling, you shake your head, “I’m not a dream, I’m right here.” You told him, watching carefully as his eyelids grew seemingly heavier, “baby, open your eyes.”

in the low lamplight I was free

His skin was pallid. Even in the dim, orange light of the warehouse, you could see a sickly sheen forming on his skin. His body temperature was dropping, and it was all you could do to not cover his body with yours as you tried to keep him warm. “Spencer, please,” you rasped, urging him to open his eyes.

Your only solace was that his chest was still rising and falling. His breathing was rickety, but he was still breathing, and that had to count for something. “Spencer,” you cried, watching as blood sept through your jacket, flooding between your fingers as you tried to keep him in one piece.

“Love, open your eyes,” you begged, your eyes flooding with tears until everything was just a blur of red.

His heart was beating, you could feel it beneath your hands. A weak, unsteady beat under your trembling hands. “Baby, please, oh my god,” you pleaded, verging toward incoherent babbling.

You were second-guessing if he was still breathing. If his heart was still beating. With that realization, you screamed.

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

At first, you were just screaming, letting the vibrations of your vocal cords portray your emotions, and then you screamed for your team. You had never felt more alone, kneeling in a puddle of Spencer’s blood, and no one was coming to help you.

This couldn’t be how it ended. You refused to acknowledge it, even as you felt the life leave his body.

Leaning your head to the side, you spoke into your radio, “I need medical. I’m in the upper west wing of the building. The suspect is dead, I have an officer and an agent down.” Tears continued to stream down your face.

You heard footsteps behind you as people piled into the room, but you didn’t dare take your eyes off Spencer. Not when there was a chance that it would be the last time you looked at him while you were both still breathing. “Agent,” someone said, but it didn’t register. They kept repeating themselves until two strong arms wrapped around you, dragging you away from Spencer.

Now sat on the floor, you clocked the paramedics that were now frantically working on Spencer, packing his wound, and cutting off the Kevlar vest.

Breathing heavily, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Rossi approached the local officer, checking his pulse. Emily was hovered over the UnSub, collecting his weapon from his corpse.

You were still being firmly held back, trying to pry the tattooed arms of Derek Morgan off of your torso. “Stop, let me get to him. I need to get to him,” you struggled against his grip, but any attempts at freedom were futile. The medics were saying awful things about a weak and thready pulse and pneumothorax.

Clinging to any semblance of hope that you could find, you listened to them talk about Spencer’s pulse, knowing that a pulse meant he was alive.

Your breathing quickened as you looked up at Morgan, Hotch was hovering behind the two of you, “I should’ve called for medical sooner.” Your voice was miserable, you had sat there with your jacket to his side for far too long. He could’ve gotten help from professionals.

“You radioed almost five minutes ago for medical,” Morgan informed you. “The EMTs just couldn’t find you in this damn maze.”

While you had no recollection of calling for help when you first found Spencer, you also knew that Morgan would get no pleasure out of lying to you.

You heard one of the paramedics say there was no pulse, and you didn’t remember anything that followed.

no grave can hold my body down

Crumpled in a ball, you picked at the crusted blood in your fingernails as you focused on the steady beeping of Spencer’s heart monitor.

According to Emily, who had been there when you woke up in the hospital, you had passed out around the time that the medics lost Spencer’s pulse. The doctor said it was just a result of stress. Thanks to some IV fluids and hydroxyzine, you were able to be discharged.

Spencer had been out of surgery for several hours now. The doctors had been careful to use the term “if he wakes up”, while you had made sure to say “when he wakes up.” You were playing the most horrendous waiting game, and there’s nothing worse than playing a game you have no interest in.

You were now donning a pair of black sweatpants and an old Academy t-shirt. Being the only team member permitted to see Spencer while he was still sleeping – girlfriend privileges, as Morgan phrased it – you waited with only the noises of his monitor to keep you company in the ICU.

Nurses came in and out, trying to manage his pain without the use of narcotics, making sure his blood transfusions were helping, and every once in a while, they’d check on you.

At this point, you had been nursing the same cup of ice water for hours, remembering the last thing Spencer had said to you: You’ve always been my favorite dream.

There was something so peculiar about being with someone who read so much, especially when he said such eloquent things while bleeding to death. You sighed, slumping back in the chair, you looked back at Spencer, only to be surprised that he was looking right back at you.

You jumped slightly in the chair, leaning over so that you could look at him, “Hey,” you whispered, maintaining the reverent tones of the Intensive Care Unit. “How do you feel?”

He’d lie to you and tell you he was fine, but you could tell by the way his heart rate increased that it was a lie. His eyebrows furrowed as he clocked the white patient ID bracelet on your wrist and your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been crying,” he observed.

Despite yourself, you smiled softly, “I thought you were dead.” Your voices were each raspy, yours from screaming and his from being intubated.

Slowly, he unfolded his arm so that his hand was extended to you. Without a second thought, you placed your hand in his. He hummed softly, “And leave you? Never.”

I’ll crawl home to her

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #margot's requests #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid whump #criminal minds whump

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rreids · 1 day

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LUNCH BREAK • A. HOTCHNER X READER

fluff; kisses; they just really love each other; reader gives hotch presents; ~500 words; gifs is just bc he's pretty he's v sweet here

an ask from @cerisereids for my sleepover event. prompts: i got you something; i know, your favorite, right?

Hotch had been busy lately. More than normal — personnel reviews, psych evals, yearly and quarterly needs all falling in the same two week window –, and he came home exhausted.

You knew you had permission to visit at work and that he’d never turn you away, but you never took him up on it, shy at the idea. Today, you’d decided to brave your fears.

With a gift bag, coffee, and lunch in hand, you braced yourself before the doors to the BAU. You tried not to shrink under the curious stare of his team, other agents, and analysts as they paused in their work to study you, but your steps became more hurried as you made your way to his office.

You couldn’t maneuver your arms to knock, so you just pushed it open. Aaron’s head rises, mouth opening — probably to chide whoever would come in without notice — before pausing, breaking into a grin as you awkwardly shut it behind you.

“This is a surprise, sweetheart,” he can’t stop smiling, standing and giving you a short kiss before helping settle everything you held on his desk. “Special occasion?”

You shake your head. “Just thought you could use a little pick me up with everything.”

He smiles and kisses your cheek before drawing his chair to sit next to you, fondly studying every plane of your face. “What is all of it?

“Well, coffee — I know you all have a machine, but this is good coffee, not precinct coffee…” his lips quirk up into a smile. “Um, lunch. I got Chinese from this place by home, I hope it’s okay — the fried rice has pineapple! I thought it sounded good.”

He tilts his head and looks pointedly at the bag. “And that?”

Your face burns with heat. “I got you something.”

“Clearly,” he deadpans. “What is it?”

You beam at him. “Open it.”

He sighs but obliges, making a show of pulling out the tissue paper to hear you giggle in delight. His brow furrows as he places the items before he smiles — a new tie, from his favorite brand; a keychain you’d made with a photo with you, him, and Jack; and flowers, red and white roses and lilies.

“You got me flowers?” His voice is impossibly soft and fond.

“Yeah.”

“They’re so pretty.”

“I know,” you smile. “Your favorite, right?”

He’d never really mentioned that, but when you first started dating you noticed he’d have flowers on his table or on a cabinet, and they were always lilies, roses, or a potted plant of some other variation. But the bouquets didn’t change.

“Yeah. My favorite.”

He leans over to kiss you as he sets the flowers down on his desk, unable to stop smiling. “Can you help me put the tie on?”

You nod and quickly undo the one he’s already in, brow furrowing and your lip tucking between your teeth as you carefully and delicately tie and smooth the fabric over his shirt. “Handsome.”

Aaron smiles. “Let’s eat. It’ll get cold.”

He places his hand on your thigh, a casual intimacy that stays between laughs and conversation for the whole meal.

please assume that the bau are being nosy as fuck and comment on the new tie after, thank you. i also like to think that even if it wasn't a clear these are my absolute favorite! in regards to the flowers and was more of a i like the look, they're his favorite now.

#my works #📚 sleepover #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner fluff

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discotitsposts · 23 hours

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i do

spencer reid x fem reader

spencer asks you to marry him and you get married in a quick ceremony (set in like season 11 in my mind)

a little short but silly and fun and i love happy spencer he deserves it

his ass looks so juicy here

—————

Spencer had been nervously shaking all morning. You were really worried about him. Why is he acting so strangely? You wondered while drinking your own coffee.

“Spence, anything the matter love?” You ask softly as you set his mug of coffee down on the table in front of him.

He just lifts his head and reaches into his pocket nervously. He slowly gets down on one knee in front of you. You realize where this is going and gasp. He pulls out a small black velvet box in the shape of a heart.

When he opens it carefully, there sits your dream ring. It’s absolutely beautiful.

“Will you marry me?” Spencer asked tears flowing from his eyes.

“Yes! Of course I will Spencer!” You jump excitedly.

“I know a pastor that can marry us in an hour if you’d like.”

“But I don’t wanna marry a pastor, I wanna marry you!” You pout.

“What? No that’s not what-,” Spencer starts confused.

“I’m kidding! Of course I want to marry you now!! Let’s go!!” You race to grab your phone and call the closest thing Spencer’s got to a real family. The BAU team.

The team was going to meet you down at the church. You had just snagged a wedding dress quickly from a bridal shop. It was beautiful and exactly what you wanted. You were now in an antique shop.

“Ok so your necklace is the something old, your dress is the something new. All that’s left is something blue and a penny in your shoe.”

You lift your heel so he can slip the penny in your shoe.

“What can we find that’s blue?” You keep looking and find nice cufflinks for Spencer to wear. He was currently looking at vintage suits.

“What do you think?” He holds up a dark blue suit.

“Honey I don’t think you can be my something blue.”

“I just happen like the color though.” He pouts.

“Then it looks very nice. Hey what about this?” You hold up a beautiful antique tiara littered with blue jewels.

“Beautiful. Let’s get it.” You both race to the church and change. The girls help you with your hair and makeup.

Spencer goes ahead to meet the pastor at the altar while you wait at the end of the aisle. The BAU team and a few of your friends are waiting there cheering you both on. The organist plays the wedding march and Rossi takes your arm and walks you down the aisle.

JJ’s son follows as the ring bearer.

You’re crying, Spencer’s crying, Rossi’s crying, everyone’s crying. Even Morgan.

You thank Rossi and step up. Emily, JJ, Tara, and some of your friends are bridesmaids and Penelope, being your maid of honor, lifts your dress’s train and adjusts it. Spencer’s best man is Morgan. Hotch and Will are up there with him.

Spencer takes your hand and you speak your quickly written vows. Then the pastor.

“Do you Dr. Spencer Reid, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.” Tears are streaming down his face.

“(y/n) do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.” You’re smiling at him and squeezing his hands.

“You may now kiss the bride.” The pastor smiles proudly.

Spencer kisses you passionately. Then you throw your bouquet to the bridesmaids, Penelope catches it excitedly. Emily doesn’t even try to catch it.

Hotch throws some rice at you guys while laughing. JJ and Will are also throwing some.

Morgan shouts after you guys as you try to escape, “They’re excited to get started on the honeymoon!!”

After you guys leave he turns to Penelope, “Can’t believe the kid finally got hitched!”

That’s just what you guys did, hopped on a flight to anywhere you’ve always dreamed of going, got the biggest honeymoon suite the hotels offered, and enjoyed yourselves.

They lived happily ever after!

The End💘

————

i hope this was even a little bit fun to read, please let me know if you enjoyed.

______

tags-

@whoisspence

@lemonadeinfuser

@fictionalobssed

@exoticisles

@in-another-april

@gallifreyan-idiocracy

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #matthewgraygubler #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 1 day

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Don't Lie to Me

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: life-threatening situations including a bomb and a Branch Davidians-style cult compound, established relationship, hurt/comfort, explicit language, slight emetophobia warning (nothing graphic) Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You thought Emily was just going out on a typical case until you heard about the standoff at the religious compound. You knew her job was dangerous, but this is a whole new level of terrifying. And you can do nothing but wait. Takes place during S4.E3.

Emily stabbed at the last bit of scrambled egg on her plate and pointed it at you.

"I'd bet my life those kids are being abused," she said, chewing.

You took her plate to the sink, washing up from the early breakfast you'd made to send Emily off on a new case.

"I mean, isn't that kind of the whole point of cults?" you asked, scrubbing at the plates.

"It certainly seems like it." Emily walked over and placed an arm at the small of your back. "Thank you for breakfast. Do you need any help cleaning up?"

"No, I'm okay." You liked the repetitive nature of dishwashing. "You know," you thought out loud, "I was in a cult once."

Emily froze and stared at you, blazer halfway on. "What!?"

"Not that kind of cult. And I got out pretty quick. But... I did believe a lot of crazy things, and I was asked to do some illegal shit."

"Y/N, what!?" she said, slinging her go-bag over her shoulder, reluctant to leave. "What kind of crazy things?"

"Oh, I don't know," you said, drying your hands. "I carried anointing oil around for a while. And I thought shadows in corners were demons. Turns out that's just how light works."

Emily placed her hands on your shoulders, a slightly stunned expression on her face. "I have to go, but we will pick this up later because, Y/N, what!? A cult!?" She shook her head and kissed you, then once again on the forehead for good measure.

"It was just a little cult!" you joked, as she walked toward the door. "It's way easier to get dragged in than you'd think. I consider myself a pretty smart person, and even I fell for some of that bullshit."

"Mmkay," she said, leaning in the doorway. "Well, I'll do my best not to join a cult this week, but no promises."

You rolled your eyes at her. "I love you, Em. Be safe."

"Love you too, honey," she said. "See you in a few days."

You shook your head as the door shut behind her. You didn't tell many people about your "cult year," as you liked to call it, because it hadn't been nearly as extreme as most cults were and because you'd gotten out quickly. But, god, you'd believed in some stupid things. The confluence of moving to a new place, developing a severe mental illness, and falling wildly in love with the girl who was second in command had been a perfect recipe for cultish devotion. No matter. You'd made it out. And, well, fool me twice...

______________________________________________________________

Part of the beauty of working from home is that you could do whatever you wanted most of the day–no pants, no bra, watching the news or TV during lunch, calling Emily whenever you wanted.

You made yourself a sandwich and sat on the couch, turning on the news so that you could fiddle around with your laptop but still have some background noise.

You were scrolling through an article on the best laundry detergents when the reporter mentioned something about La Plata County. You glanced up and turned up the volume. Wasn't that where Emily and Spencer were?

"What is reportedly being called a routine questions and answers meeting by Colorado Child Services has turned into a violent and deadly standoff between Colorado authorities and a fringe religious group known as the Separatarian Sect. The raid on the compound..."

Your heart started to pound. Maybe you'd gotten the name of the county wrong, and Emily wasn't even close. But she had said she was visiting a religious compound and that she was going with Children's Services...

Breathing rapidly, you pulled out your phone and called Emily. Straight to voicemail. You called her again. No answer. You tried to calm yourself down–no need to panic until you knew for sure. You sent Emily a quick text:

Hey love💕 You haven't been forced into a Waco situation have you? The news is going CRAZY. Please text or call when you get a second so I know you're okay. I love you❤️

You moved your work stuff into the living room, piling it on the coffee table and keeping the volume on the news up. You felt sick to your stomach, but tried to stay calm. There was no reason to think Emily was there. Colorado was a huge state. Probably dozens of religious sects. Why would she be at that one? But the longer you went without a text or call from Emily, the more anxious you grew.

______________________________________________________________

You managed to make it about three hours before losing your goddamned mind with worry. You texted Emily again, called her again, left her an angry voicemail about how people shouldn't worry their girlfriends like this, all with no response. You'd tried Derek, too, but no luck.

Your leg bounced up and down, and you could feel tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You found one of Emily's sweatshirts in the hamper and pulled it over your shirt, balling yourself up on the couch and breathing in the scent of her. She's okay, you told yourself over and over. She's okay, she's okay, she's okay.

A breaking news alert on the TV prompted another update on the La Plata County situation. Your head shot up, and you turned the volume up, not wanting to miss a thing.

"...tactical team into a forced retreat after losing a 30-minute gun battle with sect members. Nobody knows for sure how many people are inside, but it is believed that at least three of the child service members are still trapped in the compound."

You didn't sleep that night. Not even for a moment. You sat on the couch late into the night, waiting for updates on the standoff. With each hour that passed without contact from Emily, you were more and more sure that it was her and Spencer in the compound. You'd tried calling a few more times, but the calls seemed pointless, knowing where she was. You'd waited until a decent hour the next morning to call other team members again–Derek, Penelope, JJ. No one had answered, and you'd only grown more terrified. You were scared to know for sure, but you needed to.

You looked down at your phone and took a deep breath, looking at the one number you'd resisted calling so far: Hotch. You knew Emily'd given you his number for emergencies only, but what was this if not an emergency?

The phone dialed for a few moments before picking up.

"Hotchner."

"Where is she!?" you demanded, all the emotion and fear you'd been putting off for the last day rushing to the forefront.

"Y/N," he sighed, and you could tell just by his voice. "She's–"

"Don't lie to me, Hotch! She's in that compound, isn't she?"

Hotch's words were calm, determined. "We're gonna get her out."

"Don't lie to me." Your voice shook, tears slipping down your face.

"Y/N, I swear to you, I will get her out."

"Okay," you whispered, feeling small and scared.

"I'll call as soon as I can to let you know she's okay, but it's gonna take some time."

"Thank you." You dashed tears from your eyes, sniffling.

"Of course."

The line clicked off and you sat in stunned silence for a few minutes, watching the repeated footage of the compound flash by on the TV. Emily was in there. Emily was in there. And there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it.

You paced back and forth for a while, waiting and waiting for news updates, then decided that all this waiting was futile. If Emily couldn't get home to you, you'd go to her. You booked yourself on the next flight to Durango, packed just the essentials, and ran out the door, filling Sergio's bowl and making a mental note to text a friend to check in on him if you were gone for more than a day or two.

______________________________________________________________

The hours you were in the air–with nothing but shitty airplane WiFi service–were the worst for you. You refreshed the live news page over and over again, terrified that at any moment, you'd hear news of a mass death.

When you finally got to Durango that night, you drove the rental car as close to the compound as you could, but ATF had it locked down for miles. For now, this was a close to Emily as you could get.

You booked a nearby hotel and, still wrapped in Emily's sweatshirt, sat moon-faced and bleary-eyed on the edge of the bed, watching the news, and waiting, waiting, waiting.

You'd nearly drifted off to sleep when the room filled with a blinding white-orange light. Your eyes grew wide as you watched the screen. The compound went up in flames, debris flying far and wide.

"Oh my god," you said, covering your mouth. "Oh my god."

You ran to the bathroom and vomited, then sat on the cool floor, shaking. You coughed as you hyperventilated, unable to get enough air into your lungs. You wrapped your hands around your head, rocking. There was no way. No way someone would have survived an explosion like that.

You felt like your heart was being ripped apart. It was the hope that hurt the most. The maybe she hadn't been in there? But almost certainly she was. Maybe she was okay? But probably she wasn't. Most likely, she didn't even exist anymore, had gone up in smoke with the rest of the compound, the thought of which made you vomit again. You couldn't fathom it, couldn't envision a world without Emily. You needed her. You hunched on the floor of the hotel room, leaning into the bed, and waited. Waited for news of Emily's death. You hoped that Hotch would call you first. It'd be so much easier to hear it from him, but the reporters were like vultures, and they often got the news first.

______________________________________________________________

At the compound, a deeply battered Emily, now running out of adrenaline, leaned heavily on Hotch as he walked her to an ambulance.

"You don't have to come with me," she told him, her voice gravelly. "It's not that bad."

"Prentiss, you can barely walk," Hotch protested, watching in concern as she winced climbing into the ambulance. "I wish you'd get on a stretcher."

"I am on a stretcher." Emily gave him a little wave from where she now lay, an EMT strapping her in and taking her vitals.

"I meant before now." Hotch smiled slightly. His team was beat up, but they'd be okay.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. "You need to make a call," he told Emily, putting the phone on speaker as it dialed.

"Oh, god," Emily groaned. "She's gotta be worried sick."

When you picked up, your voice was timid, rough with emotion.

"Hotch?" you whispered, terrified of what he might tell you.

"Hi, honey," Emily said, her voice heavy with love and exhaustion. It hit her, all of a sudden, that there was a good chance she might not have made it out. That she would never have seen you again. The thought brought tears to her eyes.

"Em!" you cried between sobs. "Are you okay!? Are you hurt!?"

"I'm a little banged up, but I'll make it."

"You scared the shit out of me!" you yelled, equal parts furious at her for putting her life in danger and relieved that she was okay. Emotions tumbled through your body like ocean waves.

Emily smiled and wiped a few tears from under her eyes. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Is Spencer there? Is he okay, too?"

Emily exhaled shakily. "Yeah, he's fine. We're all fine."

"Where are you?"

"Uh, in an ambulance."

"Which hospital are they taking you to?" you asked, pulling on your shoes and grabbing your keys off the hotel desk.

"Mercy?" Emily said, repeating what the EMT told her.

"I'll meet you there."

"No, honey, you don't need to come all the way here," Emily protested. "I'm okay. I'll be home in a few days."

"I'm already here, Em. Don't even try to fight me on this."

"You're here!? In Colorado?!"

"At a hotel. As close to the compound as I could get."

"You came?" Emily confirmed, her voice quiet, like she couldn't quite believe someone would love her enough to be there.

"Emily," you breathed. "Of course I did."

A few tears escaped Emily's eyes, and Hotch looked away.

"Now," you said, clearing your throat and trying to pull yourself together. "Please, please, let the doctors take care of you. I'll be there soon, okay?"

"Okay," she sniffled.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," Emily said, before hanging up and handing the phone back to Hotch.

The EMT handed her a paper towel to use as a tissue and she laughed, dabbing at her eyes and nose. "Thanks," she said.

Hotch smiled, watching her.

"What?" she said.

"She really loves you."

"I know."

______________________________________________________________

At the hospital, Emily heard you before she saw you. You were the first thing she heard after waking up from surgery, and she couldn't help but smile. You were giving the nurses a run for their money, which was saying something. You were usually so patient, so accommodating. Not today.

"Look," you railed at the nurse's station. "I've been in the waiting room for hours! I have been awake for three days straight, and my girlfriend has been a cult hostage that whole time! I am not in the mood to be held hostage too! Take me to her now, or I swear to god I will get the fucking FBI director on the line."

Emily's face brightened when you came in the room, but yours fell. She looked awful. Her face was bruised and swollen, bandages covered her body, and her arm was in a cast.

"Oh, Em," you said, your voice breaking, as you grabbed her hand, pressing your palm gently to her cheek.

"I'm okay." But she wasn't, and you could tell.

"It's okay, baby," you reassured her, running your fingers gently through her hair. "You don't have to be okay now, alright? I'm here. I'm here to take care of you."

Her breath hitched, and you could tell she was fighting off tears. It broke your heart. She always felt like she needed to be strong. It was time to let someone else be strong for a change.

You lowered the railing of the hospital bed, and lifted yourself in, gently pulling Emily into you. She grasped desperately at your shirt and fought off sobs.

"Shh," you whispered, cradling her head. "Let it out, love. I'm right here. You're safe now."

You held her while she cried, heartbroken that she'd been so scared and so hurt and, yet, proud that she handled it like no one else in the world could. And for neither the first time nor the last, you felt the immense weight and honor of being someone Emily Prentiss felt safe enough to break down with.

When she quieted, you rocked her and held her and placed small, gentle kisses on her head, trying to convey all your love for her, all your protectiveness toward her through osmosis.

You remembered, quite suddenly, the last conversation you'd had before Emily left, about cults.

"I told you," you whispered, giggling.

"Told me what?"

"That it was easy to get dragged into a cult."

"That is not the same," Emily argued, playfully shoving you. "I was held hostage. You were just dumb."

"Ouch."

"You didn't hoard weapons or anything, did you?"

"No," you scoffed. "Of course not."

"Well, what'd you do?" she pressed.

"What do you mean?"

"You said you did some illegal shit in the cult, so what did you do?"

"Oh," you laughed. "Nothing too serious. We bugged some people's rooms, recorded conversations."

"...Why?"

"We thought they were in cahoots with the devil."

Emily laughed, then grabbed her ribs, wincing. "'Cahoots with the devil!?' God, I'm so glad I found you after your religious days."

"What can I say? You get the very best of me."

Emily beamed up at you, pulling you down by your collar to kiss you. You stayed gentle and soft, mindful of her split lip and bruised face.

You held your forehead to hers, breathing in her scent. That familiar Emily scent that you'd been so sure you'd never get again.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," you whispered.

"I won't," Emily said, burying her face in your chest.

"Don't lie to me."

You felt her smile into your skin. "I'll try."

You sighed and grinned. "I guess that'll do. But only because I love you so much."

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss one shot #emily prentiss drabble

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storiesofsvu · 22 hours

Text

Decadent Desires Ch 3

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol, minor political conversation, minor mentions of sexual encounters.

It was the sound of your coffee pot automatically brewing that originally roused you from sleeping, the beeping signalling it was done the reason you finally got out of bed. Traipsing down the stairs still in your silk pj set you yawned, starting to stretch out your body, dropping your phone on the breakfast bar before padding through the living room to open the blinds. The sun slowly rising through the sky and you deemed it warm enough to crack one of the windows, letting yourself actually get some fresh air on a work day. Wandering back to the kitchen you pulled down a coffee mug, adding a bit of creamer from the fridge before filling it with coffee. Right as you went to take your first sip, your phone buzzed on the countertop and you let out a huff, scooping up the device to a text from Heather.

‘You can work from home, it’s a low day.’

‘Thank god. I really didn’t want to put real clothes on.’

‘Well you’ll have to at some point. You’ve got lunch at Old Ebbitt Grill at two.’

‘Who am I schmoozing for you?’

‘Emily Prentiss.’

‘The fed from yesterday? What’d’ you need with the FBI?’

‘She asked to meet with you. You’ll have to discuss it with her.’ ‘Put it on my card.’

‘Alright. Thanks.’

‘Wear that Tom Ford blouse I like so much.’

‘The blue one?’

‘It brings out your eyes.’

‘I’m beginning to think you might have ulterior motives going on here...’

‘Enjoy your lunch.’

You dropped the phone back onto the counter with a huff, knowing you weren’t getting another word out of her on the subject. It wasn’t unlike Heather to send you in to do a certain level of dirty work when it came to getting other politicians to do what she wanted. It was technically part of your job, she would simply just suggest you use your assets in a way she couldn’t to get them to lean her way, and it almost always worked. Still, you couldn’t possibly imagine what a Section Chief from the FBI would want with your skill set, surely the bureau had their own type of publicists to deal with whatever kind of a situation this was.

You glanced to the clock above the stove to find it was barely eight o’clock and nearly debated going back to bed but you knew that was a bad idea and turned to your coffee instead. You thought about what to do for breakfast while you grabbed your work phone and laptop from your bag, setting them up on the breakfast bar before opening the fridge. You settled on some easy eggs and avocado on toast and restarted the coffee machine to brew a fresh pot, turning on an instrumental playlist on your phone to get your day going and your brain running.

Finished with the food, you refilled your coffee and settled in at the counter to start sorting through emails, shooting one off to Heather with reminders of all the upcoming week’s appointments, meetings and appearances. The rest of the morning felt rather dull, the anticipation of lunch piquing your curiosity more often than not, sending you down spirals rather than focusing on your actual work. You caught yourself leafing through FBI websites and any news articles you could get your hands on, and considering the status you held, that was more than the general public.

Finally around eleven thirty your brain couldn’t get through another email and you opted to jump over to the gym for a quick workout to distract yourself for a bit. You left more than enough time to shower, making sure you were fresh and styled, selecting the blue blouse Heather had recommended before finally leaving your house.

Old Ebbitt Grill wasn’t far, it only took you ten minutes to get there, especially considering the lack of midafternoon traffic. You’d been there a few times before, a standard choice for business lunches among the elite of Washington, close enough to Capitol Hill that it was convenient but just far enough away that it was slightly more away from eavesdropping ears. You pulled up the drive in front and were offered valet service that you accepted, passing off a five for a tip before heading inside where you were greeted by a young bubbly hostess.

“Hi,” you smiled back, “reservation at two, could be under Walton, Prentiss or Dunbar. I think it’s only for two.”

Her finger began scanning through the reservation look in search of one of the names, “oh! There you are.” She beamed up at you, “Walton for two. You’re the first to arrive, would you like to wait or be seated?”

“I’ll sit.” You laughed softly, “god knows I could use a drink.”

“Of course, right this way.”

You were led past the bar area to the dining room and directed to a green velvet back booth, white table cloth adorning the table. You slid in as the hostess scooped up the extra place settings and wine glasses,

“Can I get something started for you?”

“Uh… two waters and a glass of pinot grigio would be fantastic, thanks.”

With another smile she was gone from the table and you were left to settle in, glancing at your watch you realized you were practically twenty minutes early and let out a soft sigh. Punctuality was almost too much of your strong point, but at least you were never late for things. You scanned the menu quickly, sliding it off to the side to pull out a work file that you’d been putting off looking through, thanking the server that came back with your drinks.

When Emily entered the restaurant she wasn’t entirely too sure what she was getting into, it almost felt weird to be doing this during the day, especially on what was technically a work day. She’d gotten an out of office lunch and work from home afternoon approved so she didn’t have to drive back, and it was Friday so she just kept telling herself it was an early weekend. The hostess picked up right away that she was meeting someone and offered up your last name to confirm before guiding her through the room.

The moment they were through the bar Emily had eyes on you, neatly tucked into a booth, a pen in your hand and a file folder in front of you that all your attention was focused on. Your hair was pulled back off your face but most of it still down and loosely styled. The make up on your face was slightly more detailed than it had been when she’d met you at the office, a little heavier around the eyes, a slightly less neutral lip. Your outfit hugged your frame, accentuating your body perfectly, blue top dipping slightly to expose a tasteful amount of cleavage, black pencil skirt leaving just enough leg out to be admired, and of course designer heels on your feet. It was all accented with a silver bracelet, necklace resting on the swell of your chest and jeweled earrings to match your shirt. You glanced up at the movement coming toward you, a smile taking over your face as you greeted her.

“Agent Prentiss,” you smiled as she slipped into the booth, “or, is that a demotion? Should it be Section Chief Prentiss?”

“That’s way too much of a mouthful.” She laughed, “just Emily’s fine.”

“Alright.” You shot her a grin, flipping the file shut and capping the pen before you slid it back into your purse, “sorry, work never ends.”

“I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?” While she was concerned she may have been late, she was happy to see that you were completely content on your own, and that you took work on the go, already another green flag in her book.

“Oh not at all, I have a habit of being insanely early wherever I go.”

There was a slight pause as the server came over to ask about drinks and Emily glanced towards you, your eyes flicked to your half empty glass and you thought about it for a second.

“You may as well bring another one.”

“Heather okay with you drinking on the clock?” Emily asked with a small grin.

“Have you met a politician who doesn’t?” You laughed, “you know… I think that’s the biggest difference between our branches of government, you’re usually armed. The only weapons we carry are our words and nefarious blackmail.”

Emily chuckled at that, watching as you took a sip, “well I took a half day.” She turned to the server, “I’ll have a sauvignon blanc please.”

A few moments later they returned with Emily’s wine and the two of you placed an order for a round of appetizers consisting of scallops, beet and burrata, calamari and the bread service. Conversation flowed easily enough, chatting here and there about the day, how the weather seemed to finally be warm enough to enjoy being outside, little tidbits about work. Emily found joy in the fact that you could keep up with her when she mentioned work, that it didn’t take an extra three tangents of explaining details for you to understand what she meant. By the time the food came out, the two of you were fully comfortable around each other and after a bite of a scallop, you decided to make the jump to attempt to get to the point.

“So, I know I’ve heard that the BAU’s in a bit of hot water right now, but I didn’t think you needed a full PR takeover. Don’t you have your own communications team for those kind of things?”

Emily stalled, quickly popping a piece of calamari into her mouth to spare her a few seconds to figure out how to start things. “Uhm….” She swallowed the food down, chuckling awkwardly, “that’s not exactly why I wanted to meet. Heather… recommended you for something else.”

“Ah…” You leant back against the booth, your elbow draping over the back of it, “I knew Heather had ulterior motives about today but I didn’t realize she was passing me off to utilize the extra skill set.” You chuckled, having now figured out exactly what Emily was alluding to, but you weren’t going to let her off that easy, you wanted to hear her say it. The corner of your lips twitched up at the way she tensed across the table from you and you went in with another tease and false lead. “You want to know what other PR teams I’m close with, whose assistants have loose lips or an axe to grind, dig up a little dirt on someone. Director Bailey? AG? Who’s the thorn in your side, hmm?”

The knot in her stomach burst at the latter part of your sentence, suddenly distracted she glanced up at you with a furrowed brow, “wait, you could really get in with the AG for me?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded over a sip of wine, “she thinks she’s a good friend, would you like me to do some nosing around?”

“No, no.” She waved you off, “that could get you in trouble.”

“Emily, believe me, with most of them all you need is a few too many glasses of wine, a little flattery, maybe a hint of an illegal substance and they’ll tell you whatever you want.”

She let out a low laugh, “I’m going to ignore that last part.” You chuckled as she picked up her wine, taking another sip while you scooped up another scallop. “You certainly have some kind of pedigree, don’t you?”

“I had a lot of ladders to climb to get where I am now, and a decent education and quick thinking always helps.”

“Was PR always the goal, or did you have your eye on Capitol Hill?” She asked and you nearly snorted.

“Where I am is where I want to be. Communications Major at UCONN, followed by a stint at Georgetown.”

“What does a ‘stint’ consist of?” She asked with a raised brow.

“Just a little law degree, never really intended to use it just wanted the knowledge.”

“Did you write the bar?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded, taking another sip of wine, “passed with flying colours. Just never really saw myself as a lawyer, fighting in courtrooms isn’t my style.”

“So why bother with the extra three years then?”

You shrugged, “Heather paid for it. Said if I was overqualified for a role I could bargain for better pay.”

“Wow…” Emily’s eyes widened, “she must really like you.”

“We’ve known each other a long time. She always knew she wanted me working for her in some capacity and she needed someone who she could trust, someone who was going to know what they were doing and was right for the field. When you work for Dunbar you have to fit the brand. Now making sure that brand is upheld is my job, she had to start with someone.”

“You enjoy working for her? She’s a good boss?”

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed, “being on her payroll is better than any other politician in the country, maybe even the world. She has a much higher level of expectations that always need to be met, she knows quality, she knows class and she demands it out of everyone. So she supplements with extras to make sure we know how appreciated we are and to keep us loyal.”

“Sounds like she knows what she’s doing.”

“She always does.” You leant forward, bracing your elbow on the table so your chin could rest in the palm of your hand, “which is why I know whatever she suggested I help you with is exactly what you need. But I’m starting to feel like I have to sign an NDA to even have this conversation.”

Emily sucked in a deep breath letting out a sigh before reaching for her wine glass, “well… I am hoping for a certain level of discretion and the previous couple of times I’ve tried this it didn’t exactly work in my favour.” She glanced back across the table to find your head still perched on your hand, eyes full of curiosity as you looked back at her and she nearly gulped.

“Do tell… what is it you want from me Agent Prentiss?” Your voice was lowered, both an attempt to get her to own up and to make sure you weren’t overheard, “I work in PR, I know how to uphold an image and believe me, I know how to keep a secret.”

She swallowed down a gulp of wine before slowly beginning to speak, “I’m… looking for someone who is willing to spend a night or two a week together, could be friendly company, could be more if you’re comfortable. And I’m willing to pay.” She winced, suddenly stopping herself, “wait, that sounded bad.”

You chuckled softly, smiling across the table at her to urge her to continue.

“Basically, I’ve got a bit of spare time and extra finances. I need someone who understands I can’t always be around, that work can and will upend plans constantly and suddenly. Someone who values privacy. I don’t have time to do the whole dating thing, the strings that come along with that.”

“Casual intimacy in exchange for fancy dinners, pricey jewels and lavish vacations?” You murmured softly, your head tilting in her direction and she nodded, “well… now we’re finally on the same page.”

“And you’re comfortable with that?”

Your eyes slowly raked over her, taking in her beauty, a small grin on your lips as you nodded, “Mmhm.”

“And the stipulations that come along with my work?”

“Not an issue. As you know, I have my own career and working for Heather can be a twenty four seven, seven days a week job and similar to yours, it includes a lot of travel. Discretion is easily attainable and I know how to uphold a certain image.”

“Good.” She let out a low huff of a laugh, “the last couple of dates I went on before this were garbage.”

“Mmm… I think you likely got caught with the ‘professional’ babies… they don’t want to work; they just want to get paid for being hot.” You rolled your eyes, “they don’t care about careers, they want to be center of attention at all times.”

“And lord knows I don’t have the time or patience for any of that.”

Before you could reply your phone began a series of buzzes on the table top, your eyes flicking to the lit screen and you sighed, “hold on, it’s Heather.” You picked up the device to swipe open the text chain, half muttering to yourself, “bitch said I could work from home today but god knows I can’t go twenty four hours without having to put out a fire.”

“Duty calls?” Emily asked with a near grin, watching as you finished your wine.

“Unfortunately.” You cast a smile in her direction, “and right as we were getting to the good part, sorry.”

“No apology necessary, go. I’ll take care of this.” She gestured to the table.

“Are you sure?”

“All things considered; I think it’s my responsibility.”

“Right.” You laughed softly, popping your phone back into your purse as you slid out of the booth, “you have my number?”

“I do.” She nodded, “I’ll make a reservation for next Friday, we can do dinner and discuss this further?”

“Of course.” You smiled at her, “I’ll see you Friday Emily.”

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @blackbird-brewster @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @honeyycatt @trauma-factory @lisqueen

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #decadent desires #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds fanfic

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bunbunbl0gs · 19 hours

Text

spencer aesthetic

masterlist

criminal minds masterlist

Tag list : @astess @cham9ions

@rosieandthethorns

@watercolorskyy

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multifandomlover01 · 2 days

Text

Is it too much to ask to connect on a deep spiritual level with some peeps who read and write Spencer Reid x reader fics? I literally crave sharing silly little ideas, headcanons, writings, fics, WIPs and just chatting and being down bad together for this man

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic

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sweetismyaddiction · 1 day

Text

SUCROSE

Paring: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: They live in the same building, in the same corridor, just in front of one another… which helps the friendship but couldn't stop Dr. Reid from falling in love

Word account: 1199

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, friends to lovers

A/N: English is not my first language. Reblog, like, and comment. I am accepting suggestions for the next parts (should I already tell about the nicknames?). Please be nice. The Gif is not mine. Credits to the oner

Chapter 1: Derek Morgan, next door

Y/N’s Point of View

The water ran warm against my skin, a relaxing shower was all I needed after one very busy day serving and cleaning, which was not the worst part of the job, the worst part certainly was the clients themselves.

I had a playlist on to help me relax, thank god I had the day off and would go just to the night shift today, so it is a study and cleaning house day. But a noise interfire my peace day. Noises that come from outside.

In the corridor someone knocked on a door calling a name, Spencer’s name… I finished my bath, put on my robe and with my towel dried a little of my hair just taking the exes of the water then brushing it. I came out just in time to see someone kicking down my door and entering my apartment holding a gun.

“What are you doing?”

The man is a black big man, he looks around and then to me still holding his gun pointing it to me.

“Where is Spencer Reid?”

“Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment? Why did you break my door?”

The last sentence was a scream, I can’t believe that a random dude broke my door for no reason. Can’t he see numbers?

“I am SSA Derek Morgan. Now, where is Reid?”

Morgan, the name rings in my ears. Spencer talked about him so many times. Apparently they are friends and coworkers, he can break Spencer’s door, not my door!

“Spencer’s door is the other one.” I point to the one just across the hall. “But relax big man, you do not need to break another door, I have the key, just wait in here and let me put some clothes on. Do not let anyone into my apartment. And put that gun down. Jesus”

Is this a thing? You have to be handsome to join the FBI? After putting a light dress and getting the key I get back to my living room, where that delight for tired eyes wait, he remains stoic, rigid, so tense. Should I be worried?

Knocking soft on the door and calling his name I warne Spencer that me and Morgan are coming in. No response, and the place is immaculate, everything in the right place.

“He must be asleep, he has been very tired those couple weeks. I am going to check his room.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah. What? There is something I should know? He is contagious? A zombie? No? Ok, so I am totally fine going by myself.”

I walk slowly into his room, it is dark and quiet.

“Sugarpout? Spence?”

A peaceful breathing is heard when closer to the bed, he is involved in his blankets, is the sights of heaven, my heart gets warm seeing Spencer resting peacefully.

I sit at the bed and run my hand delicately in his soft hair before resetting it in his forehead checking his temperature, he moves a little moaning in protest.

“Shh… it's me Sugarpout, it is ok, you can keep sleeping”

Is a very quiet whisper as I place a tender kiss to his forehead leaving my boy there, his hand landing on top of mine making me smile, as quiet as I entered his bedroom is as I live.

Just at the room door, Derek looks at us, I just make a signal to him to keep quiet and we are back to Spencer’s living room.

“So… you seemed troubled. There is something I should know? Is something wrong with Spencer?”

“Why do you have his keys?”

“Cause I live just across the hall?”

Who does he think he is to interrogate me?

“Serious? That 's why? Common, hot stuff, Reid didn't make a move on that gorgeous woman? Man, he really doesn't have material… or does he?”

Flirtatious Morgan, Reid said he was just like that, all charming. Just bark, don’t bite. Well… I don’t think girls would mind if he bites them, I recognize good stuff when I see it.

“Changing subject that quickly? What are you avoiding agent?”

He just looked at me, no verbal answer, heavy shoulders unmatched with the flirt smile on his face… for a profiler he isn't that good in hiding emotions.

“Seriously” a puff of air came out of me. “Is everything okay with him?”

“Yes, Reid is fine. I… was just worried, we had a hard case and he wasn’t answering the phone…”

“I believe you”

“So… why the keys?”

“I live very close, we are friends and I am his food stealer”

I blinked at the man with a dirty smile in my face mixed with my sweet traces.

“Food stealer?”

“He is out, I need something, I enter his apartment, I grab what I need, and then I come back to my place. Simple”

“Are you confessing a crime to an FBI agent?”

“A crime against another agent. And the other agent is very aware of what I do in his hose”

“Sorry about the door”

“It’s okay, it is nice to know Sugarpout have friend that really care about him”

It is impossible not to smile, I care so much about the genius boy. Knowing other people also care about him warmes my insides, it is really good to know he is well protected in the field.

“Sugarpout?”

My eyes almost fall out of my face. Shit! It is a private nickname.

“Don’t. Do not, ever, ever, talk about it to anyone, It is private, and especial, so please…”

“Okay, a secret. Someday you will tell me?”

“Maybe”

Derek Morgan lives his card with me. He waited about 30 minutes talking to me, but it seemed Spencer wouldn't wake up so soon, so Derek decided to go home, but promised to pay for my door. In my opinion it was the very minimum he could do, but them we have a talk, and his caring by Spencer was more than enough for me to forget about my broken door.

“Sugar?”

“Hey, Sugarpout, did you sleep well?”

I smile going to start to prepare something for him to eat.

“How long have I sleeped?”

“Something around two hours, you needed it. Morgan passed by, and broke my door”

“He what?”

“Broke my door. He was knocking, no one opened, then he kicked in. But surprise, surprise. It was the wrong door.”

“Sorry”

“It is not your fault, and he is going to pay for the repair, he was just worried because you didn’t answer the phone, and the last case was hard. I assume you basically blacked out from exhaustion so I decided to let you sleep.”

The toast is ready as is the coffee, the black coffee with tons of sugar.

“Here you go Sugarpout, you need to eat, and then you should call your people. I am not asking about the case. Just a reminder that you can talk about anything with me anytime, I am just one door away.”

I kiss his head, before going back to my place. I could tell he needed a moment alone to call his friends, especially Derek after what I vaguely told him.

#spencer reid x reader #criminalminds #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 2 days

Text

On Air

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~700

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You're the news anchor for all things crime, and you often cover the cases your girlfriend's team works on. she is always watching you when you're on TV, so you take every opportunity to make sure she knows who she's going home to.

Square Filled: “it’s amazing how quickly things can go from bad to total shit storm.” for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

You use the small compact mirror you have at your desk to check your makeup before you go on air. You’ve done this a million and one times but you’re always so nervous because you don’t want to mess up. One of your coworkers got fired because he screwed up badly on air. You’re not saying you’re going to cuss out a news reporter but that doesn’t make you any less worried about it.

Your phone rings and you turn it over so you can see the screen. You will always have your phone with me because you never know if it’ll be an emergency. Your sister has young kids so you need it on you at all times just in case.

JJ: I know you’re on in a few minutes. Kill it!

You smile at the sweet message from your girlfriend. She always watches your news broadcast since you cover all things crime. You’re the person who usually releases things before the press gets a hold of the information if she doesn’t request a press conference herself.

“Alright! We’re on in ten!” the producer says.

You place your phone face down and fix your hair just as the director points to you to begin talking. One of the weather girls had just got done with her segment which means it’s now your turn.

“Thank you for that update, Lucy. Over the past two weeks, there have been a string of murders where the killer has removed the hearts of all his victims only to leave behind a toy heart in its place. We are unsure of where the real heats are located as they have never been found, so we urge the public to be cautious when leaving their house. The FBI has been called in to assist local police on this investigation, and they’re making headways into potential suspects. Their names haven’t been released to the public as of yet, but as soon as we know more, that information will be available to the public.”

You and your co-anchor talk more about the case but there is so little information to go off of. JJ and her team are working hard to try and put together a profile that can be released to the public, but nothing has come forth yet. Aside from this major news update, there isn’t much in the crime world that needs to be televised at this time. So, you’re back in front of your makeup mirror in no time to do some touch-ups before you go on air again.

Your phone rings and you smile when you see JJ’s picture pop up on screen. You took that picture when you two were on a friend’s boat for an afternoon on the sea, and the sun hit her eyes at the right moment. They are so blue but in the sunlight, they sparkle.

“It’s amazing how quickly things can go from bad to total shit storm around here,” you answer the phone.

“Why are you teasing me?”

Her voice is low which makes you think she’s in a room with her teammates.

“What do you mean?” you smile.

“The button on your shirt is open. I can practically see the pretty pink lace bra you’re wearing underneath it.”

You look down and see that she’s right. It must have come undone from the time you left the makeup chair in the morning to when you sat down at the news anchor desk.

“Oh, would you look at that. You’re right, it is undone.”

“When you do have to go on again?”

“Not for another hour.”

“Good. I’m coming over.”

“Why? Don’t you have to put together a strong profile to catch the bad guy?” you bite your lip to hide your smile.

“I’m not a profiler. I’m the liaison. That’s their job, not mine.”

“So, this visit you want to make isn’t a social call?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Someone comes into the makeup room and knocks on the door to get your attention.

“There’s been another murder. You’re on again.”

“Looks like you’re going to be busy,” you say into the phone while nodding to the man. “I gotta go but I’ll make sure to give you a good view. I love you. Bye-bye.”

You hang up the phone and unbutton one more button that makes the shirt look more open but still looking professional. After all, you have a job to do and you’re going to make sure JJ knows what she’s coming home to at the end of the day.

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street-smarts00 · 26 days

Text

Clingy

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WC: 3.7k

Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited.

Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort

A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.

You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you.

After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love.

At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.

Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically.

It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders.

Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope.

You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact.

When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs.

Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm.

He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind.

You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane.

He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk.

“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started.

He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk.

“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”

“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.

“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair.

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it.

“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen.

His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face.

“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.”

“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.”

“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.”

“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked.

Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.”

Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive.

Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.”

“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships.

“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.”

Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.”

Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought.

He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him.

The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings.

Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name.

He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him.

Something about you.

His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to.

Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home.

The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.

Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door.

“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath.

“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.

He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly.

“Oh.”

“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips.

You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled.

“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was.

The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms.

You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head.

He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need.

He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache.

“You feel tired,” he almost whispered.

“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck.

“Do you wanna lie down?”

You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute

“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.”

His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend.

“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile.

You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him.

You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …”

“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers.

You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had.

He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg.

So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm.

He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did.

He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms.

“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice.

“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you.

You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured.

This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold.

“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?”

He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“

“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.”

You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response.

“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze.

He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.

“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.”

You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank.

“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch.

“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were.”

“Y/N please,” he begged.

“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.”

He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it.

“I was freaking out,” he blurted.

“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now.

“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable”

You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good.

“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?”

He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Here we go. Flood gates.

“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ”

“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence.

The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach.

“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”

He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss.

Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning.

He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him.

When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears.

Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.”

The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”

“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased.

“That too,” he chuckles.

After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes.

“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,”

Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.

“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added.

He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”

His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh.

There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours.

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Tag Requests: @nomajdetective

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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incognit0slut · 2 months

Text

Beyond the limit

>> Part two: the breaking point

Spencer is hesitant when you ask him to be rough, but when he realizes how much you enjoy it, he wonders just how far he can push your limit.

warnings: (MDNI, 18+) dom spence, guided/mutual masturbation, dirty talk, degradation (use of slut), orgasm control, hairpulling, choking, overstimulation, creampie, cumplay, squirting, rough sex, so many body fluids

a/n: 4k words for 4k followers! Thank you all so much, consider this as a token of my appreciation. This one is for you, I love you all ♡

Spencer considered himself as someone with a strong sense of self-control... until he found himself on top of you, right between your legs. How could he resist when your body felt so soft against his? When all his restraint seemed to vanish into thin air?

He had you pinned against the bed, his palms tracing your hips before moving to your breast. You moaned out his name as your nipples hardened against the thin material of your shirt—his shirt, to be exact. After all, it was how it all started.

The moment he was greeted by the view of your perfect ass when he came home from work, barely covered by his shirt you were wearing, something in him snapped. You looked so damn good, so damn tempting, practically begging to be touched.

It didn’t take long for him to discard his bag onto the floor before scooping you in his arms. You simply giggled, amused at his sudden urgency yet eagerly welcoming it as he led you into your shared bedroom.

Now he was right between your thighs, pressing his hard erection right against your panties. You could feel yourself getting wet by the friction and you found yourself parting your legs even further, grinding your hips along with his as his mouth continued to suck on the spot right below your ear.

Anytime you whimpered, he gripped you tighter, and your shaky hands clutched onto button-down shirt. There was something about him still dressed in his work clothes while you were nearly half-naked, his shirt bunched around your waist, leaving your lower half exposed. And you liked it. It made you feel vulnerable being pressed under him like this, sparking a strange desire to submit to him completely.

And now you craved more. You wanted to surrender to him, to let him take the lead. But to your dismay, his movements suddenly slowed down, leaving you momentarily confused because you could feel the way he was holding back. His hands were trembling against your body as if he was consciously avoiding being rough.

You slid your hands up to his chest, lightly pushing him away and he quickly drew back. His brows furrowed as he gazed down at you. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

Shaking your head, you reassured him. "No," you replied softly. "But... you don't have to hold yourself back for my sake, you know.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "I mean, I know you're trying to be careful, but... I want you to take control, without holding back. I want... more.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his features. "You want me to... be rough?" he asked cautiously.

You nodded, a flush creeping up your cheeks. "I do."

"But I- I don't want to hurt you."

You reached out, cupping his cheek tenderly. "I trust you, Spence. I trust us. And I want you to trust yourself too."

His expression softened under your touch. You took it as enough of a sign to push forward as your thumb swept back and forth across his jaw.

"If it's too much I'll tell you," you assured him.

He searched your eyes for a moment, uncertainty flickering within his gaze. "What if I hurt you?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You bit your lip, studying his face for a moment before responding. "I think I'll like it if you do," you confessed, your cheeks flushing slightly. "But we don't have to do anything crazy you're not comfortable with. We don't necessarily have to do something you don't want to."

Spencer swallowed hard, processing your words. "So what do you want then?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand slid up the length of his jaw until your fingers slipped into his hair. Very carefully you gripped a handful of his curly strands in your fist. "Do whatever you want, baby," you answered. "Mark my skin. Pull my hair. Talk me through it."

You noticed the way his lips twitched at your words and you smiled.

"Fuck me hard," you demanded boldly.

His breath hitched as he searched your eyes. He definitely wanted to do those things, too. When he finally relaxed into your touch, a rush of anticipation surged through you, your heart beating rapidly.

"Are you sure?" he asked slowly.

You nodded, gripping his hair a bit harder, enjoying the way his breathing grew shallower. "Please," you whispered, your voice filled with desire.

With a barely audible groan, Spencer gave in to your request, his resolve melting away as his lips crashed against yours. Your pulse sped up excitedly in your chest in response—this was exactly what you wanted. That pure, raw desire that was too strong for him to contain. When he finally pulled away, he was breathing even heavier now, his shoulders heaving with each audible inhale.

"If we're going to do this, we'll do it my way," he declared firmly. "You will listen to me, understood?"

You nodded, feeling a shiver of anticipation run down your spine at the commanding tone of his voice. "Yes," you replied breathlessly.

And just when you thought he was about to delve into another kiss, he surprised you by pulling away. He sat back, his eyes narrowing as he focused on you. "Sit up and lean back on the pillow," he commanded.

Your heart raced as you complied, eagerly following his lead.

"Take off the shirt... leave your panties on."

You followed, leaning forward, your fingers grabbing the hem of your shirt before pulling it off your body, revealing your soft-looking skin to his eyes. His predatory gaze was locked on your breasts, noticing the way your nipples hardened as the cold air brushed your skin. When you leaned back again, he dragged the tips of his fingers up your thighs, gripping your waist for a moment before another demand left his lips.

"Spread your pretty legs," his soothing voice told you, staring intently between your thighs. You did as you were told, parting your knees, your feet propped up on the bed as you waited with bated breath for his next instruction, feeling yourself throb behind the drenched fabric.

"Now touch yourself." You gulped at his tone, sliding your fingers inside your panties. He suddenly called out your name in a warning, his voice alone stopping your hand in its tracks. "Over your panties, I'll tell you when to touch yourself directly."

You nodded, letting your fingers hover over the fabric of your panties. You let out a gasp when you felt how drenched you were before you found your clit. You were hyperaware of every movement you were making, you realized, and it turned you on way more than it should. You choked on your next moan, squeezing your eyes shut as felt the sensation growing along your body.

You suddenly felt a hand gripping your jaw and you quickly opened your eyes, greeted by him staring down at you. "Keep your eyes on me."

There was nothing else for you to do but to oblige. Your fingers continued to press down your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud desperately as he released his hold on your jaw before trailing down your chest, teasing your aching nipples. You whimpered and watched as his eyes traveled down your body.

Spencer hungrily took in the way your legs were spread apart before him, the way you were touching yourself so eagerly. Your fingers moved rapidly over your panties, the material now too drenched as it slipped between your folds every time you moved. Your pussy was barely covered and he could see your arousal dripping down your legs.

"Look at you," he mused, his hand traveling down your body, resting slightly at the inner part of your thigh. "You like putting on a little show, don't you?"

Your breaths came out in shallow, eager gasps, but when you attempted to increase your pace, he quickly shook his head. "Slower. We don't want to rush."

You complied, adjusting your movements to match his pace, and he rewarded you with a smile. "That's it. Nice and slow," he praised, his gaze locked on yours with intensity.

Through hooded eyes, you watched as he began to undress, each deliberate movement teasingly slow. His tie came first, followed by his shirt which he discarded carelessly onto the floor. His pants followed suit, and when he was completely naked, your eyes hungrily drank in the sight of his exposed body.

Your fingers on your own body slowed down as you took in the sight before you, the way he slowly gripped the base of his cock before squeezing it hard.

"Don't you stop, I didn't tell you to stop," he reminded you, his voice firm.

With a sharp inhale, you resumed your movements, the urgency returning as you focused on pleasuring yourself under his watchful gaze. Then as if to taunt you, he began pumping his length slow and steady as your eyes focused in on the motions.

"S-Spence," you whined, pushing your hips faster against your hand, trying to keep your rhythm in check though the sight of him pleasuring himself had you so weak in the moment. "I- I wanna take my panties off."

He gripped his cock tighter, working his fist quicker along the length as his breaths deepened. "Yeah? You wanna see how wet you are?"

His words sent a surge of warmth through your body, spreading from between your thighs to your cheeks as your fingers quickened in pace and your legs spread further for him to see. "Yes-yes- please," you begged.

"Such a desperate slut," he muttered. His crude words shouldn't have brought you pleasure, but they did, and your tight walls clenched around nothing. He noticed the effect it had on you and smiled. "You liked that, huh? You liked being called a slut?"

You gulped, your fingers moving faster. "Y-Yes."

He simply hummed in response, snaking his hands between you, finally slipping off your panties down your legs. His fingers then gripped the soft plush of your thigh, spreading you open for him, exposing your cunt to the open air as he massaged soothing shapes into your skin.

He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, taking in the mess between your legs. His gaze traveled your stomach, up to your perky breasts, before meeting your half-lidded eyes. He then slowly took your hand and your jaw slacked open when he abruptly sucked your fingers into his mouth.

His tongue felt hot, searingly so, as he laves over the pads of your middle and ring fingers, then dipped between them to caress your knuckles down to where they meet. A wave of heat traveled through you as he held your gaze, licking off your fingers one last time before guiding them back between your thighs.

"Keep going," he instructed, and you wasted no time in rubbing your clit feverishly. Your face twisted with pleasure, brow wrinkled, body tense, and each circle around your sensitive flesh brought you closer to the edge. The bedroom was filled with the sounds of crisp, rustling sheets underneath you and the slick motions of your fingers roaming your folds.

"Do you hear that? You're getting so loud. So wet," he gritted out. His eyes flickered up to your face, observing the delicate scrunch of your nose and your parted lips. "You're close, aren't you?"

You looked over to him. The view of his hand gripping his cock drew you so close to the edge you were balancing on, all the while attempting to feign control to give him the show he requested.

"Y- Yes," you admitted breathlessly, your body trembling with need.

He hummed a reply, soothing your thigh with his other hand. "Be a good girl and beg for it."

A choked whine escaped your lips.

"P-Please, let me come," you pleaded, the desperation evident in your voice as you sought his permission to release the tension coiling in your stomach.

"Ask nicely," he said, his tone firm yet encouraging. "Can I what?"

"Can I... I-I come?" you stammered, your eyes fluttering close, fingers moving rapidly on your clit.

"Look at me. Ask again."

Your eyes flickered open, meeting his intense gaze. "Can I-I come?" you begged, the desperation in your voice echoing your urgent desire.

"I can't hear you."

A moan ripped out of you, your body shaking uncontrollably under his gaze. Tears threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes as you struggled to hold on. "P-Please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. "Please let me come, I-I can't hold on much longer..."

"Louder," he demanded, his voice cutting through the haze of your desire, and that was when everything snapped. It was no longer a plea; instead, you were babbling incoherent words, unable to contain the overwhelming need coursing through your body.

"I-I'm s-sorry, I-I can't—" you cried, your voice strained with the effort of holding back.

But it was too late. Your resolve shattered, overwhelmed by the intensity of your desire. With a tear falling down your cheek, you locked eyes with him desperately as your climax crashed over you, consuming you entirely in its wave of ecstasy. It crept up on you, a gentle crescendo that abruptly peaked before slamming right into you.

Something in him snapped. Spencer never imagined he would enjoy having this much control over your body, but in this moment, he did. It was twisted, and although a hint of remorse flickered within him, his desire overpowered any sense of guilt.

Even as your body trembled uncontrollably from the intensity of your orgasm, he acted on impulse, flipping you over to lie on your stomach. The shift in position only fueled his desire further, igniting a primal need to dominate and possess you completely.

A moment later his hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack that drew a gasp out of you. He then crawled over you as his knees landed on either side of your thighs, the mattress bowing under his weight. Both of his hands dropped roughly down onto your ass, kneading the soft flesh.

You felt him lining his cock up with your entrance, your eyes closing in anticipation of him filling you. And then he plunged himself into you in one swift, sharp thrust which had your head dropping down into your pillow, burying your face in it as you tried to muffle the cry of pleasure that flew out of you.

He began pumping into you, his pace was slow at first, long strokes of drawing his cock out and back in earning quiet whimpers from you against the pillow. One of his hands released your hip before you felt him grabbing a fistful of your hair, just at the base of your skull, and sharply pulling.

"Stop burying yourself," he grunted. "Let me hear those pretty sounds."

You let out a moan, body shaking with every thrust of his hips, the room spinning as he picked up his pace. You felt the slow withdrawal of his cock as his hips drew back from you, but you weren't prepared for the way he rammed himself swiftly forward into you seconds after while tightening his grip on your hair.

A high-pitched, breathy noise of pleasure tore out of you at the feel of it. Encouraged, he repeated the gesture, the tug on your hair even rougher. You moaned loudly in response, your hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as he brutally fucked you into the mattress.

"That's my girl," he praised. "Just like that, let me hear how good my cock makes you feel."

Your eyelids grew heavy under the weight of his words, your mouth going slack. Spencer was as loud as you as he repeatedly buried his cock in you over and over again. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had your eyes rolling back behind closed lids, your mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

He then lowered onto his left forearm as his front molded over your back. The hard, solid feel of him behind you had you pressing back up into him, teeth gritting together as his cock buried itself somehow further inside of you. He released his grip on your hair, his hand swiftly moving to encircle your throat.

A moan escaped your lips as you felt the slight pressure of his grip, a surge of arousal coursing through you. His hand slid up further, encircling the bottom of your jaw as he carefully pulled your head backward, drawing it towards his shoulder until his mouth was beside your ear.

"Is this what you wanted?" Your breath hitched at his proximity, the heat of his body searing against your back as you struggled to form a coherent response. You could only manage a breathless nod in response.

"Let's see how far I can ruin you," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a thrill through you despite the underlying threat in his words.

As his grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly, you couldn't suppress the moan that escaped your lips, surrendering completely as he picked up his pace, his hips rocking more rapidly into you. You were panting hard, your head tilted back against his shoulder.

His lips pressed onto the sensitive spot just between your shoulder and your neck, sucking on the skin while he mercilessly fucked you, his sweat-slicked body still flush to the back of you as he continued his fast, relentless pace. You were vaguely aware of his ragged, drawn-out groan and you could tell he was close.

It was evident in the way he was starting to lose control, his grip tightening around your throat as his breath grew hot and heavy against you. He was on the brink of spiraling, and you welcomed it, giving yourself over completely to please him.

"T-That's it, baby," you moaned. "You fuck me so good."

It was enough to make him come undone. He released inside of you, panting and huffing as he gave into the bliss. His motions slowed but he continued spilling inside your drenched walls, sweat beading against his forehead, lips parted, and face flushed. You squeezed yourself around him just to hear him suck in a sharp breath, gulping and exhaling with his brow wrinkled before he pulled out.

But when you thought he was done with you, he flipped you onto your back again. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release. He ran his fingers over your outer lips, spreading you open to have a better view of the white liquid trickling down your ass. He was quick to collect it with his fingers, tracing it up your folds so he could messily rub it over your clit.

"S-Spence..."

Spencer was known for his aversion to getting dirty, yet he didn't mind the mess he made between your legs. "You should see yourself," he muttered. "You're so pretty like this."

And then to your surprise, he positioned the tip of his cock right at your entrance again. You gasped, prompting yourself on your elbows as you looked down between your legs, wondering how on earth he was still so hard. Then a moan left your lips as you watched him slowly sinking into you again.

"Look at how I'm stretching you," he murmured, pushing his hips further. Both of your eyes were locked on the way your pussy stretched so wide around his girth. His previous release slipped back inside you every time his cock disappeared into your wet cunt, white cream coating around his length.

He moaned when your walls clenched around him, his eyes flickering between your face and the way his cock was stretching you. Spencer should have stopped. You were both too tired and too sensitive to continue further. Even his body ached with exhaustion, but he couldn't stop himself from thrusting forward as your walls swallowed his cock eagerly, practically begging for more.

The rational part of his brain urged him to pause, but the primal, carnal desire within him overrode any sense of restraint. Ignoring the way your body shook with exhaustion and the tension in his own muscles, he focused solely on the intense heat between your legs. So he continued to fuck you.

He was fucking you to the point where you couldn't even moan anymore, your voice caught in your throat with each thrust. He was fucking you so good there were tears in your eyes but you couldn't whimper or blink, you were just staring up at him, wordless and in awe, nails digging in his arms while your knees brushed up close to your shoulders.

He was fucking you roughly, dipping down every so often to press his lips to yours, the times he was not whispering encouragement, telling you how pretty you look, how wet you were, how much of a slut you were, and good you felt wrapped around him. And you could feel it, you could feel how good you were as your walls clamped down, sucking him in.

He thrust into you ruthlessly, consumed by a primal need to push you to your limits, to explore just how much you could take of him. Then when you felt that coil spreading along your limbs, you finally came without saying a word. But he didn't stop, continuing to fuck you into your next orgasm, and even when the sensation began to feel too overwhelming, he abused your clit with his thumb.

That was when everything blurred. The overwhelming pleasure finally consumed you entirely, rendering rational thought as a surge of liquid gushed out between your legs. He moaned in surprise at the sensation, his desire only fueled further by your response.

"Do that again," he begged, his voice husky with need as he continued to roll his hips into you. And you did, another wave of pleasure crashing over you as you drenched everything around you—his body, the sheets, every surface within reach. He moaned again, acutely aware of the mess you created.

Your grip on him slowly loosened and a pang of guilt hit him as he realized your body was already exhausted. Yet he couldn't resist the urge to use you once more. Your silence urged him to continue, thrusting into you relentlessly, your slicked-sweat skin sliding against his as he chased his second orgasm of the night.

He finally came with a grunt, his hips pumping into you with desperation, once, twice, before finally stilling. You cried out at the sensation, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all—the quickening of his breath, the hard grip of his hand on your skin, the throbbing ache between your legs.

Your vision suddenly became a hazy blur, and you gasped for breath, struggling to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. Despite your shaking form, Spencer managed to pull you into his embrace.

“I-I got you," he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of emotions as the rush of dominance that had driven him moments ago was replaced by a wave of panic. He continued to hold you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively as he whispered soothing words into your ear.

You focused on controlling your breathing, inhaling and exhaling slowly as you sought to regain your composure. Gradually, the haze began to lift, and after a moment passed, you found yourself able to see clearly once again. Your eyes traveled to him, and with a tired and sleepy smile, you leaned into his touch.

Spencer released a breath he wasn't aware of holding. "We are never doing that again."

"What? Why?" you asked, confusion evident in your voice.

"You scared me!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with both relief and exasperation. "What if you passed out? What if I had to take you to the hospital and—and explain that—"

"That I passed out because your dick was too good?"

He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're impossible," he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You grinned up at him, feeling a warmth spread through you at his affectionate gesture. "But you love me anyway."

His smile softened as he gazed down at you. "I do."

"And I love you," you assured him. "Don't worry, I'm alright. And be honest with me, you seriously don't want to do that again? Wasn't that hot?"

His cheeks flushed slightly at your question, and he hesitated for a moment before meeting your gaze. "It was..." he began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words. "Intense," he finally admitted, a hint of uncertainty in his tone. "But maybe we should take it slow next time."

"Spencer, you were the one that kept going."

He gave you a sheepish smile. "I guess I got carried away a little," he admitted, a touch of embarrassment coloring his tone.

“A little?”

“Fine, more than a little,” he confessed. “But you didn't stop me either."

"That's because I was enjoying myself."

His embarrassment faded into amusement. "You're going to be the death of me one day, you know that?"

You grinned playfully at his remark. "Only if you're lucky," you teased, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head fondly as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. He studied you, taking in the warmth in your eyes and the happy but serene smile that graced your lips as a surge of affection washed over him. "Then I must be the luckiest man alive."

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violetrainbow412-blog · 10 months

Text

Decoy [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 6.9k

summary: when you go after an unsub who catches students making out, the unit is called upon to resort to desperate measures. Or in other words, where you and Spencer become the decoy to catch a voyeur.

warnings: +16. Making out, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, insinuation of smut, sexual tension

Do yourself a favor and imagine Spencer in these clothes during the case

You sighed, completely frustrated, while you looked for the thousandth time at the blackboard with some information from the profile that you had made for the criminal in this case.

You believed that the unsub was a Caucasian man between 30 and 35 years old, whose motive was to spy on and photograph university students who were escaping in their cars to make out at night, then force them to have sex in front of him and finally kill them cold-blooded. You imagined that he was a person with a mediocre job, that he felt insufficient, and that his voyeuristic behavior probably came from sexual frustration, something that could be corroborated by the violence that he inflicted on the genital area of the students whom he stalked using a knife, his mark on all homicides. You also believed that perhaps the rejection or abandonment of his last partner (preceded by a bad streak from his youth) due to his impotence had been the triggering event for all his repressed impulses to come to light.

All the psychological analysis was fine, it wasn't something you hadn't seen before, but the hard part of all this? Because he only threatened and killed people, he didn't rape them, at first it was almost impossible to tell who it was. He already had 20 victims in total and you weren't even close to catching him. In the last scene he had made the mistake of leaving a fingerprint and Garcia had been able to trace his true identity: Oliver Davis, a guy who fits the description perfectly. Unfortunately, this turned out to be useless because beyond the accusations of being a pervert, the man didn’t have much information that would give a clue to his whereabouts, you had even called the job that he had registered and all you had obtained was that he had several months without working there, which coincided with the beginning of the murders. After that Rossi suggested that he probably lived in a trailer (old, due to his lack of employment) where he developed the photographs and kept his trophies. That only made more sense when you thought that it would make it easier to transport or escape in case things got messy.

But words on paper and intelligent conclusions were of absolutely no use to you. You needed a plan to catch him.

"Do you have something, Reid?" Hotch had asked. You had already interviewed some students, you had set up guard duty to look for any suspicious behavior and you had even shared the photograph of the suspect in the media, but nothing had worked; The only thing left was to carry out the geographical profile to know the area in which he was attacking and thus be able to search for possible targets.

“I triangulated the locations we have of his previous homicides and I'm guessing he hits in this specific area,” he muttered, pointing to a space on the map he had on his blackboard with his middle finger. “Considering it's an area frequented by the age group due to its proximity to the universities and that it has several parks that the students told us they use to drink or go out as a couple”

"So what?" Morgan said from his spot. "We just wait until he kills someone else and hopefully we're near the scene to hear the screams?"

“Maybe we can ask the cops to patrol the area for the unsub's car,” JJ suggested.

“He's smart, there's a trailer park right here. It wouldn't be strange to find one on the streets as well.” Reid was visibly frustrated like everyone else and he ran a hand through his hair with some despair.

Your options were running out and frankly you couldn't think of anything else.

“And if we give him a target?” Emily murmured. Noticing that none of you said anything, she went on to explain her plan, “We ask police officers to send any young people they see around to home so we force our unsub to get close to who we want”

"And what are we going to do? Hire a couple of college kids to stalk them?”

“We can use our own team”

"Not to offend you, Prentiss, but we are no longer in the prime of youth"

"We don't, but Y/L/N and Reid do" when you heard your last name you were surprised, but when you heard your friend's you practically froze. First you looked at her and then at the doctor, whose gaze reflected the same stupefaction as you "You two are young, you might look like students"

"Are you saying you want to send us straight into the hands of a sexual predator?" you couldn't be offended, after all, those risks were part of the job, but you did feel somewhat reluctant about the idea.

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“It doesn't sound so bad” Rossi murmured “It's a smart move”

“Besides, we would be watching around and we would intervene before that madman got close to you. Once we catch him, the photographs and personal items that he probably has in his trailer will be enough evidence, in addition to the fingerprint from the last crime scene” to your surprise, Derek was also pretty convinced of the plan that Emily had just devised.

"Reid, Y/L/N, would you guys be up for it?" Hotch exclaimed with his usual serious tone, looking at you and then at your partner.

Thinking objectively, the suggestion was very good. But thinking about it personally, you felt worried about the danger you two would be running into… oh, God. It wasn't until then that you realized that the plan to catch the suspect involved the two of you making out like a couple of hormonal college kids.

You knew that the options that remained wouldn’t be as opportune as that and taking into account the temporary nature with which Oliver operated, in addition to the fact that he was already deteriorating as a murderer, it was most likely that he was already looking for new victims, so if you did that same night the chances of success were quite high. You were between a rock and a hard place and all you could do was look at him while the gazes of the rest of the room were divided between the two of you.

“I… I'll only do it if you say yes” you exclaimed in his direction, with a cautious voice and a fearful look. You knew your friend and you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable in any way, even though you knew that both you and he knew that your personal interests would take precedence against the possibility that another couple of victims would lose their lives if you refused. It was your job, you had to do it.

"Are you sure you guys are going to catch him before something happens?" Spencer asked your boss. You thought that with his background the last thing he wanted was to end up kidnapped or seriously injured again, even though the truth was that he was caring just as much about himself as he was about you. He had seen the photographs and knew that women were the most affected by the murder weapon… he didn't even want to imagine something like this happening to you.

"Of course. You will have communication with us and if something goes wrong we will get you out of there immediately" Aaron answered and your friend sighed nervously and then looked for your approval. You nodded slightly and he delivered the verdict, to which everyone agreed.

He was still standing, but after that he slumped into the nearest chair as he listened to everyone brainstorming ideas for setting up the scene, distributing the crew, and what they would tell the local police to do to make the decoy effective.

At some point you lost the whole point of the conversation, to start thinking about what was implied by what you were about to do.

The feeling of attraction for your co-worker had been latent in you for a couple of years, but you had never confessed it to anyone to avoid creating tension in the team or suffering the humiliation of certain rejection. Also, you knew that a crush meant distractions from what was truly important and you had tried, in vain, to eliminate it completely. But even if it hadn't completely gone, you had known how to control it, only allowing yourself to look at him with loving eyes from time to time and avoiding being too confident with him during group drinking outings. You even limited physical contact, not because you didn't like it but because you knew your greed would demand more and more of you until it became inevitable to beg for his touch. But now all that good work holding you back was screwed because in a few hours you would have to be passionately making out with him.

Still with the internal crisis, you raised your head to look at him and realized that he too had been submerged in his own tide of thoughts, which you hoped would be more positive than yours. At some point Spencer felt you watching him and when his eyes met yours he gave you that tight-lipped smile that was strangely comforting, to which you responded with the same gesture. After that it didn't take long for everyone to leave the room to fulfill their respective tasks, but you stayed seated because you honestly didn't feel enough energy to move. Besides, you had nothing entrusted to you, you were the bait.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay with this?" Spencer asked you, once everyone else had left. He looked so tired of everything, but at the same time there was a kind tone in his voice about him that made you smile.

“It's just kissing, Spence. I think we'll be fine" you assured him, trying to swallow all your embarrassment and nerves "And you?"

"I agree. I just hope we get lucky today or we'll just have to keep trying”

"Reid, I need you to tell the cops what area we'll be in," Hotch interrupted you from the door. "You still have time to regret it," he added, looking at the two of you.

You immediately denied and after that Spencer withdrew from there in the company of Aaron. When you were about to drop you exhaled, completely concerned about the last thing your partner had said.

We will just have to keep trying. You didn't know if the idea excited you, or terrified you.

As night fell, Spencer drove the old pickup truck the unit had managed to rent for the two of you to drive into the park, with you in the passenger seat and a six-pack of beer in the backseat.

Although you were sure that it would be cold, you had decided to wear shorts and a button-down shirt that you normally wore for work, but that you had adjusted to make it look more youthful. Spencer was wearing an outfit that Morgan had gotten for him from a department store, simple jeans with a rather baggy cotton shirt and some nice boots that you didn't know where he got from, since in Quantico you had never seen him wear anything like that.

Both of you had showered at the hotel (separately of course) and you had made sure to brush your teeth and put on a good amount of deodorant and perfume before getting in the car. You had paid special attention to your appearance, not because it was necessary, but because you wanted to look perfect for him. Even with all this, you were a nervous wreck next to him, not saying a word along the way and only soft music from the radio filling the air.

When you stopped, the two of you put your headphones on to the channel the team was supposed to be on, and Morgan answered in the affirmative.

"Remember, he doesn't have to see the communicator or your weapon," Rossi spoke, who was also in the van, along with Prentiss and Hotch. "García will be watching with the security cameras and he will warn us if the trailer is coming"

"And meanwhile what do we do?"

"Pretend to be a couple, sit on the tailgate and drink beer, laugh, I don't know"

“Did you ever run away like that in college?” you asked, directly at Reid.

“Do you remember that I was like 16 when I studied at the university, right? I wasn't even old enough to drive, much less a car" he muttered and you gave a short laugh "I guess you did"

“I was too busy being the best in the institution to even think about going out and making out with idiots,” you replied, proud of yourself for that. “I mean, it's not like you're an idiot, but they were. You're very smart," you rambled, still twiddling your fingers, "Hotch, you guys will tell us when we're going to start kissing, will you?"

“When the suspect approaches, yes”

"Okay, well... then we have to go out, huh?" you muttered to him as you reached for the beers and tried to open the door to get out. You turned, expecting to see Spencer do the same as you, but noticed that he had lingered in the car for a moment, checking himself in the mirror and applying his lips with chapstick.

My God, could that man make you more nervous?

When he finally caught up with you, you went to the back of the pickup, where you opened the tailgate to sit down with a little hop. Spencer was tall enough to keep up with you just by leaning over the edge, where you watched him cross his arms. You were silent for a few moments, listening to the sound of crickets and cars in the distance.

"Do you think it's a good idea to drink?"

"Only a little. I'm having a hard time thinking while sober, I don't want to ruin the little reasoning I have left” you exclaimed as a joke. Or maybe you weren't joking so much "Just empty a couple of cans and leave them on the floor so he'll think we're really drunk." Spencer was about to do what you said when you noticed an important detail and called him over to look at you "Come here, let me fix your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"You're very well combed, it's not the image we expect" you carefully took his hand until it was close enough to pass the other through all his golden locks, messing them up enough to give him that relaxed touch that he should have. He looked so handsome, but not in the style of a fancy FBI agent but just like a young intellectual who went to parties and smoked weed “Like this. Perfect"

“Do you think we have to think of some backstory?” he asked and you looked at him with a frown. “You know, something about us. What degree are we studying, what are our names…”

"This is not a play"

"It's rude to eavesdrop on conversations, Prentiss," you said visibly annoyed, although looking at your partner that expression softened "As you wish, Spencer. Although being honest, I would say that you study… literature”

"Really?" he exclaimed with slight enthusiasm. You knew that his mother had been a teacher in the subject and you wondered if he had ever considered it.

“Morgan wasn’t wrong to choose those clothes for you. It suits you” you complimented him and Morgan whistled from the other end of the line. You felt like you were having too much fun for the situation you were in, but you needed to talk about something else to put off the reminder of what you had come to do for as long as possible. “I think you would have that hopeless philosopher/romantic vibe who flirts by whispering memorized poetry in your ear.”

“I actually know some good ones”

"Sure you do" you smiled gently, suppressing the thought of him sighing close to your neck at Bécquer "I'd probably study science or something."

"The unattainable scientist with whom the captain of the soccer team has a secret crush, but she is completely unaware"

"Where did you get that? From a 90s movie?

Spencer's laugh was one of your favorite sounds and today that was precisely not helping your situation. You felt intoxicated by how handsome he looked, like you'd discovered a side to him that no one else had, and the thought of kissing him made you tremble a little with anticipation.

“Do you want to share a beer?” he murmured, carefully opening the can and offering it to you first. You knew your partner wasn't the most enthusiastic about doing anything that involved germs, so it made you feel good that he took the lead. You took a big gulp of the drink to gather something of value and when it was his turn to drink he kept looking at you intently, you would even say that he seemed entranced.

You had made sure you were in a strategic position, with enough light for the unsub to see you and quite lonely, except for the patrol cars and the van that had been positioned at a safe distance.

“How does voyeurism develop?” you asked quietly, with genuine interest, as you shifted a bit to get closer to him.

“Voyeurism usually begins in adolescence and since during that age it is usually seen with greater tolerance, there are people who continue with these behaviors until adulthood. When voyeurism is pathological, they spend considerable time looking for opportunities to watch, often at the expense of not fulfilling important responsibilities in their lives, and people reach orgasm by masturbating during or after watching. Although if you think about it a bit, everyone is a bit of a voyeur."

"Why you said so?"

“Many men and women enjoy viewing pornography, which can be classified as voyeuristic behavior. It's not a worrying thing, but it's interesting to think about it” he explained, with those expressions on his face that he had every time he shared knowledge with you. He liked that about you, that you were always willing to listen to his data and statistics even at the most inopportune moments.

"I'm still a little scared that Oliver is trying to do something to us."

“I have my gun. If he tries to do something to you, I'll use it" you knew that killing the unsub was always the last option Reid considered, so you widened your eyes a little to show your surprise "All lives are worth, but when that life has already taken so many and it puts you at risk, I would not doubt it. You have nothing to worry about” he assured you and your heart warmed a little at feeling so protected.

"Do you know if Oliver attacks at a specific time?"

"No, he doesn’t. Just as we can be here for ten minutes, we can also be here all night."

You exhaled loudly, before taking another gulp of beer.

“Drink some, boy. I feel kind of selfish around here."

"I am nervous"

"And why do you think I'm drinking?" you exclaimed wryly, still holding out the can to him, and when he finally agreed he drank a little more than you expected “Have you ever…” you started to say, but suddenly remembered that literally the whole team was listening to you. If the answer was embarrassing, you didn't want to hear Morgan and Emily taunting you all week, so you covered your microphone for a moment and spoke again, but so quietly that only he could hear you. "I suppose you kissed someone, did you?"

"Yes," he said quickly and you sighed with relief. It comforted you a little to know that it wasn't his first kiss, because you didn't want him to have such a bad memory “Do I look so inexperienced?"

"No, that's not what I meant" you smiled "You're handsome, I know you've probably kissed a couple of girls"

"You don't need to tell lies, you know I'll kiss you anyway"

"But it's not a lie. I really think you're handsome" you confessed, gathering all the courage in you, while you smiled at him in the most serene way possible "And if we weren't literally waiting for a murderer, you know I'd be happy to do this with you"

"Smooch me?"

"Having this bad date attempt, Reid," you hissed, flushing red, as you slammed your palm into his forehead with just a little bit of force. Spencer seemed quite pleased that he made you nervous, rather than the other way around, so he grinned, “Though I think we should have brought food. I'm starving,” you pouted, swinging your dangling legs back and forth.

"That's not a picnic, Y/N"

You hated for a second that everyone was so intent on the conversation. A part of you wanted a moment alone with the brunette, even if it was in the midst of such a strange situation.

You began to talk pleasantly about things completely unrelated to the case for a couple of minutes, staying where you were, until Hotch's interruption made you jump a bit in place.

"Garcia intercepted an approaching trailer, get ready” your heart immediately sped up and you noticed him tense beside you, too, probably with the same thought flooding his head.

"Okay, come closer," you exclaimed, trying not to panic, as you spread your legs a little to allow the man to step into the space between. He wasted no time and just as you wrapped your hands around his shoulders you heard the sound of another car pulling up.

"Is that our unsub?"

"It is"

You were about to turn your head to peek when Reid grabbed your cheek and stopped you.

"He's smart. If you look at him, he'll realize it” he reminded you with a serious voice. You were so worried about everything that you were forgetting about your training “Okay, so I… Is it okay if I put my hands here?” he asked with a different tone, nervously placing both hands on your waist. You had always admired the size and anatomy of those hands, but until now you had not had the pleasure of feeling them on your body in this way.

“Tonight everything you do is fine. I promise"

"It would be a good time to start, he'll see you" Emily reminded you and you could only sigh shakily.

You two were adults, why were you so scared about kissing?

"Close your eyes" Spencer whispered to you, masking his nerves better than you "I'll kiss you, just close them," he asked you and you did.

You felt his body lean against you a little until his chest almost touched yours and then his lips shakily pressed against yours. You would always remember your first kiss, which in essence was such a brief caress that you didn't even know if it could be counted as one, the one where he wordlessly asked your permission to explore your mouth. Still with your eyes closed, you pulled him by the neck towards you and started a new kiss, a little more confident and deep this time, allowing you to savor the beer mixed with strawberries and that strange flavor that each person has.

“We…” you started to say, once you separated “you have to do it slowly, what he wants is a show” you exclaimed. Spencer felt unable to say any words and your hands caressing him so deliciously wasn't helping at all “Slow,” you repeated.

You arched your back a little to get even closer and when you finally looked up you met his caramel eyes. You needed a moment to recover and you unconsciously licked your lips, as if you needed to pick up and savor his presence in your mouth again, something that didn’t go unnoticed by his attentive look at your movements.

It didn't take long for you to give up, as beginning the third kiss you felt that you no longer had any control over your body, your heart, or your mind. And while it was true that neither of you were experts on the subject, you guys managed pretty well as the seconds ticked by. Spencer gasped as he simultaneously felt you pull the hair from his neck and caress his lips with the tip of your tongue, while you were taken by surprise when his hands left your waist and lowered to the height of your hip, where his thumbs gripped firmly on the clip of your shorts.

There was a kiss, then another and another; they became too many to count. You didn't want to touch him anywhere and at the same time you wanted to touch him completely, in the grip of the fantasy that this was real and not just a performance. And even if you were aware that it was all fake, that would probably only have encouraged you to enjoy something to the fullest that you knew would never come back. Amid everything you didn’t know which of the two situations would be worse.

The sound of your lips colliding became so obscene that you were embarrassed, but you had no plan to stop. Your hands slid gently down the length of his neck until you reached his chest and cupped the soft cotton of his garment in your fists to make sure he didn't move away from you. The heat of the moment just went up and up, but a voice on the intercom brought you back with a jolt.

“He started the trailer. He's going to go"

Spencer closed his eyes in frustration, and you sighed. From the position he was in it wasn’t possible to get around him without being seen, so keeping all his attention was on you and him.

Maybe you weren't doing it right? You wondered what the hell this man wanted to see if you were practically eating each other, but suddenly you remembered that his motivation was even more sexual than a couple of wet kisses. Maybe he was getting bored because he needed to see that you were about to… well, do it.

"Take off my shirt," you said immediately, still too close to his swollen lips and looking right into eyes that seemed to be pitch black.

"Take... what?"

"Take off my shirt" you repeated, with a tone that made the man shudder completely. With the hands that were still holding his shirt you pulled him to you and he held his breath “And kiss me better. Like you really want me"

But Spencer didn't need to pretend that he wanted you.

He made you completely dizzy when he began to kiss you so hungrily and you managed to keep enough composure when you felt one of his warm hands travel under your blouse, limiting yourself to letting out sighs that were drowned against his lips. But what finally caused you to let out an indiscreet and unwelcome moan was when he pulled you by the hip until you were on the edge of the tailgate and you could feel the growing bulge in his pants pressing against you. Spencer had almost managed to suppress his, but in the end, you having your own situation down there didn't help one bit.

His trembling fingers fussed with the buttons on your shirt until it ended up somewhere on the floor at incredible speed, leaving you half-naked before him and the collection of FBI agents standing around. You might have been embarrassed if your brain could connect two coherent thoughts, but you'd lost that from the moment Dr. Reid first dared to kiss you.

You carefully guided his hands to the beginning of the curve of your breasts and now you both sighed in unison, feeling goosebumps on every inch of your skin. You pushed yourself forward just for the satisfaction of hearing that guttural sound again and your prayers were immediately answered, for it was enough for him to feel the slightest friction and he would go crazy. It was inappropriate to need him like that, but you couldn't help it.

Holding your lower back, he leaned over you and at the same time pulled you towards him until your breasts collided with his chest. In that position, your neck was exposed and your partner’s hot lips didn't hesitate to go down there, while you sighed agitated just at the height of his ear. Spencer asked you, between each kiss, to look in the direction of the trailer to see if he was still there and as you could you answered yes, which was victory enough for both of you.

As he could, he maneuvered to lay you down carefully on the cold metal of the truck without stopping kissing your neck, and by inertia you wrapped both legs over his hip. When you were hidden by the panels of the pickup he finally looked at you.

"I hope it's enough to get his attention," he said, sounding as agitated as expected, and although the circumstances meant that you two would be taking a break you flatly refused, pulling him back to kiss him.

That kiss did take Spencer by surprise and it was perhaps the sincerest of the night. It wasn’t as passionate as the previous ones, but rather it was loaded with softness and you would even say that a hint of supplication. You were begging for him not to stop, for the night to get stuck in an infinite loop where the two of you could kiss for eternity. And suddenly you felt how he, who had been so tense the whole time, completely relaxed against you, as if he understood exactly what you wanted to say. His hands came to rest on the sides of your head to be able to kiss you more comfortably and you dared to take him by the waist with the same care that you were kissing him, feeling even above the cloth the softness of his skin.

And then he broke up with you. You feared you had done something wrong due to the suddenness of the movement and your frightened eyes searched his gaze for a sign of the reason, without finding anything. He just looked at you with something you couldn't describe, but that made you feel butterflies fluttering all over your stomach... and he stayed like that for a few seconds: just looking at you, as if he wanted to memorize all your features.

You opened your mouth to say something, but your words were drowned in a new kiss, totally different from the previous ones. Spencer was taking time with him, trapping your lower lip between his and sucking on it gently, pressing himself a little more against your body, sighing heavily into your mouth.

Your hand was already running up his side to make its way to his cheek just as screams filled the silence and you hugged him reflexively. The screams had come from Morgan, who had already moved across the park to take down the unsub and was now wrestling with him to get the knife out of his hand. Spencer hesitated for a moment if he should come over to help, but he preferred to hold you better against his body to protect you and wait for Emily to place the handcuffs on the man under her partner's knee.

From a distance you saw that he only brought with him, in addition to the knife, his camera, and a small backpack with some other murderous instruments that they managed to confiscate without any problem.

"All clear, we've got him," Hotch spoke over the radio. As you exhaled in relief too many emotions washed over you, combined with the adrenaline coursing through your body and the arousal still flowing into your crotch.

"Are you okay?" Reid's gentle voice called to you, as he pulled away to check with his eyes that everything was in order. His hair was messy and his lips were so swollen that it was almost painful to look at the image without launching yourself to kiss him again "My God, your shirt..." he said, completely embarrassed, as he bent down to pick up the garment. You looked him up and down and blushed when you noticed how tight his pants were, feeling your stomach turn a little. When he got up, he took the opportunity to look at your chest covered only by the black lace bra and a big gulp of saliva went down his throat.

You thanked him quietly and put your shirt back on, feeling the sneaky glances Spencer was giving you, just before Hotch walked up to you.

"How are you?"

"Very good, excellent" you stammered.

You could perfectly feel your swollen lips, the light sheen of sweat on your face, the heat flowing from all the places Reid's fingers had been, and the abundant moisture between your crossed legs.

After Hotch congratulated you on your performance, the two of you walked as best you could toward the rest of the agents, who were already placing Oliver on patrol. Another group was analyzing the trailer and they managed to pull out enough evidence about the murders that would be very useful in prosecuting the man.

"All good?" Emily asked in your direction, once things had settled down and the rest of the team had gathered in a circle by the van. You and Spencer just nodded at the question.

“I honestly think I'm going to need therapy after what I heard,” Dave murmured, so serious that you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Don't you even dare make fun of this"

“No, we won't. I'm just saying you guys seemed to be enjoying it there."

"That's supposed to be the plan, right?" Spencer said nervously, finally daring to look at you and looking away almost immediately as he smoothed his hair back.

Once your boss said you could retire you escaped in a patrol car as fast as you could, wanting to get home so you could take a cold shower and soothe what wasn’t satisfied by the man. You could hardly sleep that night, still haunted by the ghost of the kisses you received from your gorgeous coworker, and the next morning you hoped that double coffee would do the trick. But apparently you weren't the only one who thought so, because at the same time that you arrived Spencer Reid crossed your path.

"Hey," he said, in that high-pitched voice that came out when someone caught him off guard, "How are you?"

"Fine, and you?"

"Fine too"

You knew that the two of you wanted to talk about what happened, but it only took one of you to have the courage to speak first. At the same time your phones rang indicating a message and you mistakenly assumed that it was JJ contacting you to announce a case. What was your surprise when you opened the file and found a collection of photos from the night before. You knew from Spencer's face that he had received the same thing.

"Garcia did you… did she send you the same evidence?"

"That's right," he said nervously. You had to admit that if Oliver had one quality it was that of a photographer: you were sensual and perfectly captured the desire that had existed between you. Well, the one you had pretended to feel… right?

Spencer held his breath as he came to a picture of you topless in which his hand was practically on your breast, immediately remembering how that had felt. He just hoped his memories didn't affect him too much or it would be embarrassing enough to walk into the boardroom with a boner.

"They're good," you said to the air and he suppressed a laugh "But I can delete them if that makes you feel uncomfortable"

“No, no, I… I think I want to keep them too. After all, the bureau will have them in the files as evidence of the case, I prefer to have access too”

"I just hope she doesn't send them to anyone else, I wouldn't want to see my bra photos going around."

“I'll tell Garcia, don't worry,” Spencer murmured, rushing to type something on his phone.

While you waited for him to type you took another look, feeling your whole body heating up again at the memories. A part of you was grateful to have such material in your custody.

"I never thought of being the protagonist of an erotic photo session and here we are," you said ironically.

“Speaking of which…” Spencer started to say, “Not the erotic sessions by any means, don't think I'm planning on inviting you to one or that, because it would be super weird and inappropriate, but I was thinking if… huh…”

“Sell them online? I thought so too, but it depends on how much profit there is. Garcia can help us find the highest bidder and not get charged for tampering with evidence."

"What? No!" he said, completely shocked, and you laughed because you got the reaction you expected with your joke "Why would we do that?"

“Just kidding, Reid. Those photos are something I prefer to keep to myself" you clarified and your smile made him feel shy "Seriously, sorry for interrupting you. What did you want to tell me?"

"What…? huh, yes, right. It's just that this morning I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about how under normal circumstances you would have liked to have a bad date with me, right? and it just kept spinning in my head, so I was asking if you wanted to go for a drink sometime. Not like a date, of course, I'm not saying it is if you don't want to. I can just be like… well, go get a drink. As friends"

Yesterday Spencer had practically eaten your mouth and now he was nervous about asking you out. So adorable.

“You're not doing this just as compensation, are you? because you know that it is not necessary…”

“I do it because I want to. And I want to believe that… that I didn't misunderstand what happened yesterday."

You no longer even cared that it was unethical to date team members, or that if things went wrong, you would probably go into the worst of depressions. What mattered to you was that Spencer was interested in you, even if he had implied it, and that he was asking you out alone with him. Just the two of you, with fun and alcohol involved, without gossipy colleagues or mortal danger.

"Then I'd love to, Reid."

“Wow, excellent then” he smiled, feeling lucky that you agreed “I know a great bar near here, the atmosphere is generally calm, I like it because they don't play loud music. What day is right for you?"

“I'm available any day you want” you responded genuinely, grinning from ear to ear just being around him. That was the effect Reid had on you.

It was stupid to try to deny that you were still attracted to him, especially since now you had a taste of what he could do with you. You wanted to kiss him again, of course, but you were also anxious to earn that completely adoring look you'd received the night before.

“Today?”

"Yeah, why wait?" you responded, more excited than you wanted.

“Hey, I didn't ask you, but I wanted to know if I didn't go overboard with you last night. I mean… did something bother you?”

It was a smart move, you could see it clearly. It was obvious that Spencer cared about you, but you also picked up on his intentions to find out if you were interested in him too. Well, that's how it was from your perspective, because that probably would have been your motivation being in his place.

Even if it wasn't the case, you weren't going to miss the opportunity to take a little advantage of the situation.

"The kisses on the neck were something he definitely didn't expect, but they weren't unpleasant at all," you assured him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Did it feel good to you?"

"It did"

"So everything's perfect," you murmured, shrugging off the matter. But you both knew you couldn't see each other in the office and acted as if nothing had happened.

Something had happened. Those kisses had only fueled the tension that had always existed between you but that you wanted to ignore.

"Do you want to go after work, then?"

“Sounds good to me”

Spencer gave you one last smile and then went to prepare his usual cup of sugar with a dash of coffee. All day you were thinking about him and more than once he caught you looking at him, but you didn't even care.

So, at nightfall, with a few drinks on you and more courage in your body, you finally confessed that kissing was something you had wanted to do for a long time. You almost didn't believe it at first, coming from him, but when you finally accepted it, it wasn't hard at all to rush at him and kiss him feverishly. And this time there did not impede for you to give free rein to your desires, which led you to the soft mattress in your friend's house and kept you awake until a few hours before dawn.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut

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rreids · 10 hours

Text

SHOW ME • S. REID X READER

gn reader with female anatomy; smut; guided masturbation; unprotected sex w/ no mention of contraceptives (do not do what they do); dirty talk; ~1.4k words

“Spencer?” You ask softly, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater over you. Your hair drips water onto the shirt and the floor. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

His brows raise. “That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

It was, it still was, but you’d thought of him while you were in the shower. Imagined that your hands were his, soaping your skin and sliding over your breasts and the curves of your ass hips. You didn’t want innocent cuddles, it wouldn’t be enough for you.

You swallow. “I mean in another way,”

Spencer sits up. “Sit,” he pats the mattress and you oblige, folding your legs under your and folding your hands politely on your thighs. He tilts your head up to face him, studying you so intently you want to look away. “What’s going on in that pretty head?”

“Thought about how good your hands would feel.” You whisper out the words in a rush. “Mine aren’t good enough anymore, I— I keep—” you sigh and look down. “I keep thinking about you when I get off because nothing else works anymore.”

He hums. “So you’re frustrated?” When you nod vigorously, he sighs, skimming his fingers over your collarbones. “Baby, you have to be sure you want this. I don’t want you to regret it tomorrow.”

You whine, frustrated with him now. “I’m sure, Spence, I’ve thought about you for weeks, but showering — using your body wash and smelling like you, I couldn’t help it… but it wasn’t enough because I knew you were right outside the door — and I—, I just want you.”

Your emphasis on the last word is what gets him.

Spencer leans back and your heart sinks before you see how blown out his eyes are. “Lean against the headboard.”

You scramble to move where he wants and stare at him, wide-eyed, as he creeps a hand under the sweatshirt and pushes it up to your stomach. You squirm. You’re wearing old and worn panties, but he doesn’t seem to mind — if he does, he doesn’t comment. “Spence?”

His heavy stare moves to your face. “Show me what you do when you think of me.”

“But I want you to touch me,” you whine, face burning as he spreads your legs further apart. “Please?” You soften your voice and smile at him sweetly.

“I will. Show me what you like first,”

“But…” your voice shakes with embarrassment and jitters, both excited and humiliated for him to see you like this. “What do I do?”

Spencer settles further, and you swallow at the sight of his hardening cock in his sweatpants. “Do whatever you want, sweetheart. If you show me what feels good, I can do it too.”

You sigh and nod, carefully guiding your hand towards your panties, scraping your nails over your stomach just hard enough to make you shudder. Spencer’s attention fills you with heat. Your fingers slip from teasing yourself over the fabric and into your underwear once his tongue darts out over his lips, tempting and so far away.

When you circle your clit, the muscles in your thighs twitch.

“You look so pretty,” he coos, and you whine in the back of your throat. “Do you just use your hands?”

“No, I— I use toys, sometimes,” your breath hitches and your hips stutter as you press with more force. “‘S not enough, Spence.”

“We’ll make it enough,” he moves to your side. “I want you to take your panties off.”

You hurriedly kick out of them, arching up into his touch as he slides your sweatshirt off too, lingering just a little too long on your breasts.

“I want you to do this,” he gropes your breast, flicking and twisting the nipple and kneading the soft flesh, “with your free hand while you get yourself ready for me.” You hum, hand moving up to cover where his had been.

It’s so much better, just from this. The scent of his cologne envelopes you in more heat, and your hips grind helplessly against your palm.

“Add a second finger,” he sounds far away, and you manage to open your eyes and look at him. His face is flushed at the peaks and, oh, he’s straining against his sweatpants enough that you see a wet spot. “Good, baby, you’re doing so well.” He whispers when you comply.

The sounds of your wetness fill the room, sloppy and needy, and it only furthers your desperation. Without his order, you add a third finger, back arching as the pressure builds in your stomach.

“Listen to yourself,” Spencer murmurs, voice filled with wonder. You’re gasping and heaving shaky breaths, cut with small moans. “So pretty.”

“Spencer—” you whine, voice breaking on the second half of his name. “Please.”

“Shh,” he soothes. “You’re doing so well. Let go for me,”

You see him palming himself over his sweats and that’s what does it for you, quivering as your orgasm crashes into you. You keep working yourself through it until you feel too sensitive.

“You looked so pretty,” he whispers, bending down to finally kiss you. It’s the hungriest his touch has ever been, barely restrained animalistic desire as he swallows your breaths and presses against you more urgently. It’s mind-numbing, the press of his lips to yours and the heat of him so close, how his breath fans over your cheek for just a moment before he dives back in for more.

“Spencer, Spencer,” you whisper between his kisses, whining at the rub of his shirt over your nipples as his chest flattens to yours.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t seem too interested in what you have to say, kissing the column of your throat and sucking a mark right below your ear. Your head lolls back as he soothes it with his tongue, and you paw restlessly at his shirt, wanting his flesh sticking to yours from the heat and sweat.

“Please… I need you,” Spencer smiles at that. “Do whatever you want, just… fuck, I need you.”

Spencer groans, lips crashing into yours again. He only pulls back to tug off his shirt, and you immediately run a hand over his chest and stomach, feeling the muscles tense under your touch.

He undresses hurriedly, rubs a soothing hand over the curve of your hips. “Can you spread your legs more for me?”

You do, whimpering at the sight of him so close to you. Every part of him is even more beautiful than you dreamed, and you want it so badly. Spencer groans softly as he presses into your warm heat, taps your thighs. “Now wrap them around me.”

When he’s fully flush to you, you realize he’s forced an angle into your g-spot, whimpering with each slow, powerful thrust into you.

“Spence, more, I can take it.”

“I know.” His brow furrows in concentration. “But I don’t know if I can, I’m—” he hisses when you clench around him. “Embarrassingly close. You feel so good.”

“Yeah?” You ask, breathless and high-pitched. “Bet you’ll be so pretty when you cum for me, Spence,”

He curses under his breath, picking up the pace. You’re fluttering around him, dangerously close to another orgasm. His brows are pinched, mouth dropped unconsciously, sweat rolling down his temple. You especially admire the veins in his arms, the way his muscles flex as he holds you down to the mattress.

“Spencer!” You cry and he moans in response, leaning down and locking his lips to yours. His hips stutter as you cum around him, and he fucks you through the aftershocks for both of you, whining high-pitched and quietly with each thrust as he twitches in you, spent.

“God, fuck,” Spencer gasps, trying to steady his breathing. “You’re so good.”

You whine and push him to pull out and get off of you before nuzzling against his chest. His fingers begin playing with your hair, almost mindlessly, soothing you as you come down. “Better than anything I imagined,” you mumble. “I’m going to jump you constantly, you know that?”

“As long as I don’t cum in like, two minutes, next time.” Spencer grumbles. “I feel like a teen again.”

“So I make you feel like a teenager in love?” You grin up at him, chin pressing into his chest. He pulls you up towards him and kisses you softly.

“You know you do.”

i dont like this one very much </3 sorry </3 as always not proofread

#my works #📚 sleepover #mdni #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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nereidprinc3ss · 18 days

Text

in the dead of night

in which spencer wakes up in the middle of the night with an overwhelming desire to feel you

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: fem!reader, soft dom!spence (certified nereidprinc3ss classic), sub reader, fingering, piv sex, praise, overstimulation, cr**mp*e (god pls we need a new term) a/n: this is probably THEE most self-indulgent thing i've ever written. but.... lowkey favorite smut i've posted thus far..... i'm such a sucker for disgustingly sleepy needy sex. just.... read it and u will see.... and as usual i love you!!! PLEASE tell me what you think!! MWAH

When Spencer got home around one in the morning, he’d been too dead on his feet to do anything more than get undressed, fall into bed, pull you close, and pass out. Now he’s slightly disoriented as he stirs, pinned between sleep and wakefulness as he realizes how you’ve curled into his side—your face is buried in his shoulder to the point where he’s concerned about your access to air—but each warm puff against his neck assures him you’re breathing alright. One arm is slung haphazardly over his shoulder and your top leg is wound around his. Without thinking, his hand cups the back of your thigh, stroking the bare skin where it presses against his hip. You’re never so soft as you are in sleep; plush, easy, gentle. Spencer realizes with some degree of frustration that he has to fuck you. That’s why he’s awake, and he condemned himself to the fate of it as soon as he touched you.

Sometimes the impracticality of sex becomes so apparent he resents his own mammalian, biological drive to reproduce. It was never like this before he met you. You reduce him to nothing more than a primate doomed to follow its basest instincts. You make him feel stupid.

God, he loves you.

It’s with this in mind he drops his head to kiss your shoulder—a gentle sort of wake up call, as his hand snakes further around to your inner thigh and he presses his lips to your ear.

“Baby?” he murmurs, kneading the smooth warmth of your leg. It doesn’t take much to wake you up. He thought after you’d been staying at his apartment on a semi-regular basis you’d begin to sleep through him getting up and coming home at odd hours, but if anything, you became more sensitive to the floor creaking or the mattress dipping.

“Hm?”

His fingers brush the fabric of your underwear. Your hips twitch.

“Is this okay?”

You inhale deeply, readjusting your arms around him and nodding into his chest.

“I need yes or no, angel.”

“Yes, please.”

The words aren’t desperate. They’re sleepy, mumbled, maybe even a little annoyed that he’s making you jump through hoops. The corner of his mouth twists in amusement at your perfunctory politeness and the way it poorly disguises your habitual impatience.

“Thank you,” he says, rewarding you with his fingers pushing between your folds through the fabric. You say nothing more as he unhurriedly rubs your clothed clit, but he feels the way your breath catches for a moment—before pouring out in one deep tide. He presses slightly harder, transitioning from passes to slow, tight circles that elicit the tiniest, sleepiest moans. This goes on for a while until your hips begin grinding in isolated circles, chasing his hand.

“Touch it,” you beg quietly. He can feel how damp you are through the fabric and realizes he was probably torturing you for several minutes, but sometimes he just gets so lost in touching you it becomes almost meditative. He pulls his hand away and snakes it between your bodies, sliding beneath your underwear and dragging his fingers over your puffy clit. You whimper but he quickly gets distracted when he realizes just how wet you actually are. Spencer sinks his fingers into you and moans lowly at the sound, rubbing at a spot deep inside you and rutting his palm against your clit rather than pumping his fingers.

“Breathe,” he reminds you when he realizes how still and silent you’ve gone. A small amount of air escapes in a tremulous little cry as your hips roll gently against his hand—whether to escape the sensation or get closer is unclear. “You’re all wet, baby. Were you touching yourself before I got home?”

“Mhm,” you hum weakly against him. “Couldn’t come.”

Spencer feels like he could finish at the thought alone—the nightly phone calls while he’s away occasionally devolve into desperate phone sex and he’s gotten off to the image of you playing with yourself in his bed on more than one occasion.

“We’ll make you come,” he promises, dragging his fingers from your soaked heat with bated breath.

He pushes your underwear down first, until you can kick it off your feet (you’ll have to search for it between tangled sheets tomorrow) and then his own, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth as his cock brushes your tummy. Spencer hoists your bent leg further up his body, exposing your cunt a little more and reaching underneath your thigh until he can guide himself between them.

The head of his cock pushes between your folds momentarily before he’s teasing your swollen clit, slipping the underside of his tip over it in lazy, noisy circles until you whine.

“Stop it,” you beg, voice still strained with sleep, “need it inside.”

“You’re right, baby, I’m sorry,” he croons, pressing his lips to your hair as he notches his cock at your dripping entrance and slowly begins to push in. “You’re being very patient—”

He cuts himself off as the two of you moan in filthy harmony. You’re so worked up for him, so defenseless in your half-unconscious state that he slips in with far less resistance than usual.

“Fuck, me,” he groans under his breath, hissing and bucking his hips when you tighten around him and cry out. He shuts his eyes and thinks of the Goncharov conjecture in an attempt to control himself; the i-th cohomology of the complex is isomorphic to the motivic cohomology group—and then he’s fine. He’s at least learned to stop rattling off mathematical paradoxes out loud during sex. “You okay?”

The only answer you have for him is an indecipherable whine that makes his chest ache. He rubs your thigh in sweet, soothing passes.

“I know, I’m sorry.” A thought occurs—he chuckles breathily, seeing stars as you throb around him. “You never let me in that easily.”

“Mm,” you squeak, gripping his shoulder hard enough that it aches and he truly couldn’t care less, “you feel good.”

He exhales shakily, pulling out slightly before grinding his hips even deeper into yours.

“Yeah? So do you, sweet girl.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, and he takes it as a sign that you’re ready to be fucked. Spencer’s not thinking about a whole lot as he withdraws all the way and you clench around him desperately—but somewhere in the back of his mind he’s realizing how much he loves your dirty mouth. When he was younger and dumber, he thought he’d prefer a girl who was soft-spoken and rarely (if ever) cursed. Now that he’s had you, he realizes how compelling and endearing the contrast of your soft voice is when you’re swearing like a marine.

“God, I missed you,” he breathes into your hair as he leisurely finds the right pace and you melt against him. “I missed how soft and wet you get for me,” Spencer admits gently, eyes screwed shut as he rambles from a place of profound affection and not at all thinking clearly, “and I missed how you cry when you need it so bad it hurts, and I missed how sweet you are when you let me fuck you right after I get home and you’re so tired, just like this. You’re always so good, honey, I don’t know what I did to deserve you—” You whine and clench so hard around him it becomes an effort to push back in, and he groans as he realizes you’re already coming. “Good girl, baby. Holy fuck.”

That last part is more so whispered to himself, but he can’t help it as he feels you painting his cock with your release. You’ve never come this quickly before, and he slips his arm beneath the crook of your knee, pulling up and granting himself more access to fuck you harder and faster. You moan brokenly, sinking your nails into his back.

“‘m sorry. That was—I didn’t mean to.”

“No,” he quickly assures you, breathing hard, “that was so good, baby. It was perfect. Don’t apologize.”

It seems the brief window between climax and over-stimulation has passed, and a gasp falls from your dropped jaw, arching into him as your body unconsciously tries to find relief from the sensation.

“Oh, god, Spencer, I—”

“You can take it, we’re getting close,” he promises. Not a demand, but meant as encouragement. “Do you think you can come for me one more time?”

“I don’t know,” you slur, the words rising to squeak.

“I think you can. Come on, show me how you were touching yourself earlier.”

You whimper, but slide your hand from his shoulder and push it between your bodies. A gasp accompanies the jolt of your muscles as you make contact with your clit, probably demanding too much of it. Soon, however, the conflicted mewls melt into a rhythmic string of delicate, short moans, so pretty it’s like a practiced song. Spencer’s brain, usually overflowing with words, is nothing but a void of swirling fog—each of your perfect sounds, a little burst of light. Soon he’s making noises of his own, which you obviously adore if the way you tense around him is any clue. Usually he sublimates them into words, but he’s too tired, and you feel too good. Your combined moans, along with the sound of him fucking you and the sheets moving over skin make for a truly dirty soundscape.

“Will you come inside me?” you beg breathlessly, and he can feel the movement of your hand speeding up as you get desperate. He sucks in a breath through his teeth at your plaintive request—the words bring him that much closer to finishing.

“Yeah, baby. I’m—fuck, I’m not going to last.”

“Spencer—” and somehow, when you say his name like that, he knows exactly what you want. He bows his head and finds your lips, mostly blind in the dark, kissing you messily until that split second where his grip on reality becomes tenuous before the building pressure finally bursts. Multicolored fireworks explode behind his eyes as he moans against your lips and continues fucking you through his orgasm in strong thrusts for as long as he can. Thankfully you finish again just as he’s running out of steam. He rubs the spasming muscles of your thigh deeply as you writhe against him in your typical push-pull style—you don’t know what you want and it’s his job to hold you still and make you take it. After a moment you quiet down, stilling in his arms except for the continued expansion and contraction of your lungs. “Oh my god,” you breathe. “I can’t believe I did that. That’s so embarrassing.” Spencer chuckles breathily—kisses your forehead with his eyes still shut and slips a hand under your shirt to rub your back.

“Why is it embarrassing? I liked it.”

“I have never—it’s never been so fast! It’s not supposed to be!”

“Why not?”

You huff.

“You’re the man. Men come too quickly. Not me.”

“I’m sorry you had to have two orgasms instead of one. Next time we’ll make sure you don’t come so we can even it out.”

You bury your face in his shoulder once more, immediately softening.

“No! I take it back.”

“I thought you might.” His hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass affectionately. “Let's rally. We need to clean you up, angel.”

The pillow muffles your voice as you say, “I can’t. I’m asleep.”

“Can I record you saying that for playback in the morning when you ask me why I let you go to sleep with my come inside of you?”

“Spencer, I am seriously not moving. You woke me up. This is not a me problem.”

That makes him laugh, and he presses his lips to yours softly. After a long moment of his mouth moving slowly against yours, a needy little whine rushes from your nose, and it becomes evident he’s successfully kissed the attitude from you.

“You were so good, honey,” he murmurs against your lips. Another (shorter) kiss. “Did so well. I’m proud of you, baby.”

A second soft whimper from you as you chase his lips and he gives in once, briefly—knowing he can’t make you get up after this. How could he do that to such a sweet girl when she’s obviously completely exhausted? Jesus, you have him whipped. He recognizes that. And he made peace with it a long time ago.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll clean you up.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, already slipping back into unconsciousness like you knew you’d get your way. Knowing your boyfriend, you probably did. “I love you.”

“I love you. Even though you’re a princess.”

You laugh.

Ten-ish minutes later, once he’s done the best he can cleaning you up and is throwing the covers back over both of you, you startle him slightly by speaking. He thought you’d been asleep.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you sigh dreamily, snaking your arms around him once more. Spencer’s cheeks heat up at the memory of the praise he’d shamelessly lavished upon you not long ago. He’s glad you’re barely awake, because he’s too flustered to think of a response.

He loves it when you do that.

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